An American Rogue in Europe: Chapter Eight

It seems like a lifetime ago that Mrs. Rogue and I went to Europe. It seems like about 3/4 of a lifetime since I posted the last installment in our travel journal. Sorry I've put it off so long, but you might have noticed that I've created a link list on the right side of this page with links to those previous blogs. So, if you missed them the first time around, or have forgotten where we were in the story, check them out. Even if you remember them perfectly, you might want to breeze through them as they've been updated with photos from our trip. Now, let's get on with it.


The Marathon and the Mean Waiters

Prague was never in our original plans. We only came to the Czech Republic because Allie and Christine were running in the Prague marathon. While the race itself was set for Sunday, they had to sign in and get their gear (passes, numbers, informational maps etc.) Saturday morning. The late night visiting and the jet lag having gotten the better of Ella and I (those couple of rounds at Ublinu probably didn't help either) we, Richard and Alex decided to sleep late, start on our own and meet Allie and Christine in the old town square around lunch. We got to the Metro station (slightly confusing in Czech but incredibly useful) bought our day pass and were on our way.

Before heading to Old Town (the historic center of Prague) we stopped off at McDonald's for my first international McStop. It looked the same, felt the same and smelled the same, but one bite let me know that something was not right. McDonald's (even in the States) seasons their meat with a mixture of salt and pepper.
This particular Czech McDonald's must have loved that seasoning. It was so thick on my burger that it literally crunched when I bit it and burned my mouth as I chewed. Luckily it's pretty much impossible to screw up french fries and mine were outstanding.

Weaving in and out of the streets towards Old Town (kudos to Alex for her excellent map skills) we quickly realized that the National Museum was not the only beautiful building in Prague. Everywhere there were interesting architectural designs and fascinating features waiting to be photographed, and we took plenty. We knew there were going to be quite a few people in town for the marathon, but as we entered the square we were taken aback by the size of the crowd. Thousands of people filled the area as bands played on a stage in the center flanked by a Trinitron. We had barely entered the square before a couple of college students wearing matching t-shirts thrust beers into our hands. Whether the company was promoting a new flavor or just sponsoring the marathon we never found out, but we took them up on the free beers several times that afternoon. Alex had sent Allie and Christine a text message informing them that we had arrived and they replied that they would join us shortly. We found a bench and enjoyed the music, beer and atmosphere.

Having never attended a marathon before I can't be sure whether this party was standard or especially lively because it was Prague, but either way, it was jumpin'! A rock band had been playing as we found our seats but quickly finished their set and were replaced by a Brazilian drum and dance group. If I hadn't been enjoying myself up to this point, I definitely would have been on board now. Good beer, fantastic music, and a massive throng of happy people in the middle of a beautiful city make it hard to be sad. On the way to the square we had passed a cute little open-air cafe called "La Scala Resterante Pizzeria". Once Allie and Christine found us we were all (save me, thanks to McDonald's) sufficiently hungry so we headed back there. The prices were a little higher than Ublinu, but low enough for our budget. Beers for everyone (except Christine who doesn't care for it and instead ordered a tequila sunrise), a hearty Czech "cheers" and we were well into a great afternoon.

Here's a good time for a brief opinion on the service (particularly food service) industry. In high school, I for a (very) brief time worked at McDonald's. Most people think this would have soured me on fast food, but in truth I was astounded at how clean they have to stay (in the kitchen at least) and it actually may have added to my psychotic desire for McFood. In the short time I worked there, I was quite unhappy. It's an unpleasant job and as soon as I saw a way around having it, I left. However, I feel that while I was there, I did the job to the best of my ability and was always more than pleasant and polite to customers. I feel this is the minimum you owe an employer. You don't have to love a job to do it well, and if you are not going to do it well, what's the point of having it?

I know there is an immeasurable difference between serving hamburgers and fries at Mickey D's and waiting tables at a real restaurant. Waiting tables at a restaurant in a tourist section of Prague where more than half of the customers speak a language other than your first, is an even tougher job, but still, I think you should give it your best. Some people claim to be stuck, in dead end jobs, in bad neighborhoods or in habits. Perhaps they are, I'm not them, and I don't know what life is like for them. But in my experience (limited though it is) the U.S. in particular and the world at large is a place where someone with desire to do so can better themselves and their situation. Life is too short to be trapped. In the words of Parliament Funkadelic "Free your mind, and your ass will follow."

While the waiter that afternoon was quite good, later that afternoon we would encounter not one, but two HORRIBLE waiters. But that Saturday afternoon, twenty steps from Old Town Square in Prague halfway around the world from our homes, we were loving life.

Alex had studied the city's history and sights and had a plan of attack for the afternoon. We saw the Charles Bridge (spectacular) and enjoyed music provided street performers as we strolled across it. Artists sold photos and paintings of the city, beggars pleaded for our Krohns and music (jazz, tribal and blues) filled the air. The views from Charles Bridge really are amazing. You can see the city as it was and has been for centuries. The bridge is decorated with a series of beautiful statues, all religious in nature. the crowning glory is a crucifixion statue mirrored by a simple cross on the opposite side of the bridge.

When we first passed under the tower and entered Charles Bridge, I needed to use the bathroom. By the time we were nearing its end, it was becoming an emergency. Voicing my concerns to Richard, he imparted that he was experiencing the same difficulty. Less than 100 meters (look at me, using the metric system) from the end of the bridge, we found a set of stairs leading to a side street full of restaurants. Certain we could find a WC somewhere there, we took the side street and began the search. Building after building passed with no luck and I was beginning to contemplate using the alleyway when Richard saw a toilette sign inside a cafe. We ducked in, always maintaining that look that says "We belong here" and answered nature's call without incident. Relieved and rejuvenated we joined the girls who had already found the restaurant they wanted to eat dinner in.

Anyone who has ever gone to New York knows that the restaurants right around Time Square are more expensive than similar restaurants just a few streets away. Largely the same is true in Europe. Having just left Charles Bridge and still being in the historic part of town, near the river, we knew dinner would cost us a bit more. The restaurant the girls had fallen for couldn't have been in a more picturesque spot, right on the edge of the river, with the city skyline and Charles Bridge in the background. The piece de resistance (or however you say that in Czech) was the alleyway that led to the restaurant. The only way to get there was down a set of stairs so narrow that only one person could go at a time, and there was no room to pass someone headed the opposite way, so the alleyway stairs were equipped with a traffic light. A byproduct of this charming entryway is that it becomes a barrier to your swift exit, as we would soon find out.

We found a table and sat down, only to be shuffled to another section, then another. When we finally did get to relax and enjoy the view it included ridiculously high prices on the menus. As a group we decided to just order a few appetizers, a round of beer and wine and enjoy our surroundings before moving on for a cheaper dinner. Alex ordered an appetizer and was told it was unavailable. She requested another and that also was "Not available." I ordered french fries (clearly listed on the menu as two euro) and was told they only came with a meal. The waiter already had our drink orders (including what we discovered was a two Euro glass of tap water for Ella) and as we all sat in stunned silence he snapped, "Only drinks," and marched off. Truthfully, we didn't even want drinks from him and this restaurant anymore but the narrow exit (and Allie's conscience) kept us from running out on our (beverage only) order. Upon returning with our drinks the waiter demanded payment immediately (confirming our assumption that he didn't think we had any money) and then glared at us from ten to fifteen feet away until we left.

One experience like that in an evening would be enough, but on our way to the metro we saw a great outdoor restaurant with dark beer advertisements and a sign touting "roasted piglet." That sealed the deal for Richard and we found a table. After what seemed like several minutes of sitting by ourselves, passed up by the one waiter working the courtyard, finally he approached our table. "What do you need?" he asked as he flipped open his notepad. We all looked at each other, wandering if we'd missed his speech about the specials of the day or if AGAIN we'd gotten a classically rude waiter.

Alex broke the silence, "Can we have a menu?" she asked in Czech. Our waiter huffed, but did stalk off to retrieve the menus. As he slapped them down in front of us he barked, "To drink?" Richard ordered the dark beer whose signs decorated the courtyard. "No dark," the waiter said, less informative and more denial. For a moment Richard discussed what he meant by "no" but eventually felt that they'd just run out and settled for the light beer. Put off by the entire thing (and still peeved about paying three Euro for beer I didn't want at the last restaurant) I passed altogether. The waiter left to fill our orders and while he was gone we discussed our bad luck and what we might have done to anger the restaurant gods. Suddenly, Richard noticed another waiter delivering a tray of drinks to a table behind us, a tray that included three dark beers.

Shortly our waiter returned with our drinks, and a light beer for Richard. "I wanted dark beer," Richard said. "Yeah, it's out," the waiter replied. "They just got three," Richard said, pointing to the table behind us. "Well, there's no more now," the waiter finished, and walked away. Those that had ordered downed our drinks, left exactly enough Krohns on the table to pay for them (and nothing more) and left. This time we headed straight to Ublinu, our own personal Czechoslovakian cheers, where everybody knows our name...or at least brings us the food we order. Surely, lightning wouldn't strike three times.