We woke up early again, but skipped breakfast for an early lunch at Restaurace U Vejvodu. I ordered the beef goulash with bacon dumplings and a cappuccino. This was not the traditional “hungarian” goulash I became accustomed to growing up, but another dish that I actually DESPISED when grandma served it. We jokingly called it “beef on bread with gravy crap” when we were little – and here I was, ordering it off a menu in Prague. The goulash was almost like a beef stew served with the bacon dumplings and four huge slices of thick white bread. It was an awesome meal, by the way… and WAY too much food (again).
This second day of tourist activities included the walk over the Charles Bridge. I have to emphasize WALKING, as there is a lot of it and thank God for the tennis shoes I packed (and wasted space my two pairs of heels took up that I’ll never attempt with all cobblestone, all the time). The bridge is one of those world sites you can never really imagine the emotion that overtakes upon actually viewing in person. I believe, looking out from the bridge to the city, this was truly the “moment” I realized I was in Prague. There was an awesome small Slovak musical grou
p playing instruments on the bridge and many artists selling their handmade souvenir pieces.
After for what felt like miles walking uphill through the Little Quarter, we head to Pražský Hrad a Hradčany (Prague Castle). There was the “smallest orchestra of the world” performing outside the castle grounds. After a few classical pieces, they announced the changing of the guards. Of course, after the post change, I had to take a picture with the expressionless guard.
Inside the castle lies St. Vitus’ Cathedral. The architecture from the outside and in is beyond breath-taking and incredibly emotional (especially from a religious and spiritual perspective). I got caught up in the Chinese tour group somehow and my friend broke out ahead and it took me seriously ten minutes to get out and around them. From the stained-glass windows, to the gothic vaulted ceilings, to the actual tombs inside – Silver tomb of St. John Nepomuk (the patron saint of Prague) was certainly the most memorable – my head and eyes were moving in a million directions to take in everything. Also, below Nepomuk’s statue on the Charles Bridge, people rub his image for good luck, and is a brighter copper color where everybody has touched. I really would have loved to have visited the additional crypts in the cathedral, but the guided tour times were a lot later than expected.
We walked around the castle again and back into Little Quarter (this time thankfully, down hill and stairs). I also cannot forget to mention the 5Kc to use the public restroom on the castle grounds. I saw a few T-shirts that were hilarious – with sexual references “Don’t Stop” and “No Smoking” – only later mentioning the shirts did I find out what “smoking” refers to exactly while in Prague. So awesome, and I wish I would have brought that back home with me.
While trying to find the closest metro station, we accidentally came upon jazz music from behind a wall. A sh
ort walk down the path, we find an open door that opens up to these beautiful Parliament Gardens and a live jazz band performing on the steps in front of the fountain. The gardens are amazing and there is a really strange looking “stalagmite” wall to the left. The wall was eerie in the way that if you stared long enough, you could find faces and creatures sculpted into the strange rock. Kind of like if you stare at clouds long enough, you see shapes.
The exchange rate eventually kicked in somewhere along the trip and I was prompted to purchase my own Metro ticket without translating to English and with no help from my friend. He certainly did help with more Czech translations, informing me that “no” means “yes” and that “Fakt, yo!” really wasn’t swearing. Do you know how funny to an American it is traveling around the city and hearing old ladies and kids… well, everyone saying “fakt” (its slang casually resembles when we would say “really”).
We found this really dank, dungeon-y cellar bar called U Karla IV, with what we called “the American room” where they were blaring The Prodigy (awesome) and a cloud of pot smoke lingered above the bar. After a few beers, we realized we needed food.
We had dinner at Dogs Bollocks. Our order consisted of penne pasta, potato pancakes bramboráčky (trying to explain to the waitress what “sour cream” was… I didn’t get any) and the guys got wings. At this time, another American friend (from California) joined us that also moved to Prague. Our pivo was Staropramen (favorite Czech beer so far, and not only because it sounds like “strap-on”). We also end our meal with real B-52 shots. I realized that I said the shot was flaming at Harley’s bar – it wasn’t. This was our first flaming B-52. This had even more absinthe in it and was awesome. My lip was almost immediately numb.
That night we went to the dance club called Le Chatteu L’enfer Rouge. There was a house DJ spinning until well-after 4 a.m. when we decided we were exhausted from our day. Again, I have “Waldo” (a female) try to get me up to dance with her. After the second shot of absinthe, I was just plain silly. Also, there was a group of American girls that looked as if they were celebrating a bachelorette party or birthday – and I knew they were American by their “woo-ing.” My friend knew by their stomach pouches. See, no Czech woman has that; they walk EVERYWHERE. (I have it too, by the way… just that small pouch that no matter how much you work out, it exists because we DON’T walk anywhere). There was also a group of “douche bags” to our right in the booths (smoking pot openly, mind you) that we nicknamed “Side step, side step… Rocky V… Flash” for all his fantastic dance moves. The “Rocky V” move was when he punched. The “Flash” was when he pulled his shirt up over his shoulders. Hot, I tell you.
I also received some more language lessons (by the Californian – you could tell he was a teacher), by learning what sounds animals make in Czech. Huff for a dog, Boom for a cow, and giddy-giddy-giggdy (or something easily as funny-sounding) for a rooster. I’m sure you realize how entertained this kept me for the remainder of my trip.
I cannot fail to talk about the further silliness of the walk home when I came upon a toy store window with flying kites. Yeah. I think that two shots of absinthe is plenty.
