Letters From Praha

It was an early day this Wednesday that my companions and I boarded a bus and headed out of the city. I had the biggest headache and I swear that every tour bus I've ever been on was built for the average height of a pigmy. Now mind you I've never thought of myself as a tall man in this age of six footers, but the accommodations were close. We had to be on board the bus at eight O'clock this morning, and this isn't especially early, but we had to be at the Jarov dorm's to do this. And as you've no doubt come to realize by my frequent whining that this locations is at least one inconvenient hour by any form of mass transit; away from where I live. So My alarm sounded off this morning at six AM and it was still dark, and cold here in this side of town, as I'm sure it would have been at Jarov, had anyone been up at this hour over there. We climbed aboard the tram at six forty five, and headed east. On board was this kid, some punk, hunched over in his chair with his head between his knee's. He looked like he was still breathing so I didn't mess with him any, but their was some speculation later as to whether he really was breathing or not. So to say the least this rough morning didn't come without complications unto itself , in a way that only Praha has presented to me so far. After several herky-jerky minutes on board this tram we came to a subway station and took the metro in an attempt to speed up the process. Leaving behind the well past inebriated youth, with what was not a tram crowded with passengers, and after a quick jaunt on the metro, were back on another tram, again headed west. In what amounted to about an hour, we finally arrived at the dorms, cranky, and ready to get this show on the road. "Where are we going again?" Someone shouted out. "Karvoly Vary" came another voice. Craig who was sitting next to me, and was not feeling well at all asked me at this point what the "Vary" meant in Czech. The best I could do was "Spa" for him. Karlovy Vary is the Czech name for what most know as Carlsbad, or the springs of Charles. Here hot springs flow up from the earth, twelve of them I think. Each one having different properties, and since the 1800's have been prescribed as they still are by doctors to cure various ailments of the digestive system. But this town has more distinctions than that, oh to be sure, but which of them should I begin with. How about Becherovka. Here this potent herbal liquor has been produced sine 1808, and like the hot springs has been prescribed for just as long to be taken medicinally. We toured the distillery and received a sample, which like anything that is 38% alcohol did most of us who were under the weather right up. It's not like any taste that I can describe to you, and I can only say look for it at home, and try it. The recipe is only know by two people, a generation and locked in the local bank as well for safe keeping, and they prepare each batch. Strange stuff, but it works for the Czechs so I'm gonna go with it too. This was called the thirteenth spring of Carlesbad and soon they added a fourteenth and fifteenth to the list with two variations for diabetics, one with little and one with no sugar. Very considerate of them, I thought to myself as I saw the 4000 liter casks of the stuff aging in the cellars. Another interesting facet of this town is that it is an active spring and medicinal spa, and so draws people from all over the world. Mostly Germans and Russians at this point, which I will come back to in a moment. Here it is situated on a small creek like a slice of Venice on a canal. The building's are hard to describe they are so beautiful, and for anyone who knows worlds end state park in Pennsylvania, it is set down in a valley like the loyalsock creek. So we stood in the afternoon sun and walked along this waterway looking up at the buildings and hills, and you could understand how you would come to this place regardless of the water if you weren't feeling well. This leading to the current trends in visitation. Now besides us, a groups of students, promised a beautiful city and a distillery, there are a lot of Germans. This has been for a long time a popular and historic resort and Germany knew this, that's why it has a German name as well! So that takes care of them, but the Russians. Now it's rumored that this is the new hot spot for the Russian Mafia, and that they not only come here to relax, but own a huge stake in the town. Here the members of their organized crime families, come and make their deals, buy and sell, ect. Here the signs are in Russian, and German first and Czech last. And as we found out being very rudely served by a waiter, that if you can speak some Russian, you'll be treated better here. Needless to say he did not receive a tip for his attitude, as it wasn't listed on the menu card. But we sat and I enjoyed a cup of tea, and listened to the sounds of the cafe and a soft harmonica drifting up from up stream. Then departed on the walk that generated all of the pics I'm attaching to this E-mail. As I walked about, the idea crept up, could you take such a place for granite, and I think not as I've always been awed by our beautiful places at home, no matter home many times I've been there. After a few hours I was back on the bus again, with the promise of dinner. Great I thought, we'll be eating in one of the local places. I'm fond of stopping in the Hospudkas, or pubs, but no. After a lengthy trek back toward Praha, we stopped at a place akin to any truck stop dinner in the stated and ate. Nearly thirty of us mind you, and we were all hungry. So after about an hour we were being served, the smallest chicken schnitzel I've ever seen, along with some less that savory potato pancakes. I ate it all, even the garnish. And as my mother has said in the past, and was proved once again, I'll never go hungry. It didn't matter what it was at that point, I was hungry, and it tasted good, and since CESP was getting fifty krone's of the bill I didn't even pay too much for it. So needs were met, and hunger was appeased. The ladies working there were really nice, and knew that we didn't all speak Czech, nor read it, but only had German menus and could only speak German as an alternate language. I had no problems as I can speak, and read enough of both to get what I like on the menu, and the rest of the class managed pretty well with some help of those of us who new the languages a little better. After another hour and a half, we were boarding the bus again and headed home. It had just begun raining and we all felt relived to have missed the rain, having a cool, but sunny day out. And the best news was that we were going to be dropped off back at our hotel, and spared the torturous tram ride back. And so now after a cup of hot chocolate I've being petitioned to once again go out. This time to the Bar-Bar up the road, to catch a pint, but again as you've no doubt gather by my letter continuing on, I've turned it down. Sitting here in the comfort of my room, braces and laces, and a little Ska music is just too much to give up to the now cold and damp night. Because tomorr'a, will be, another beer, don't you think Scarlet should have said that. Well she's never been to Praha either, so she wouldn't know any better really.