I was a little concerned about this whole trip. Not the going to Prague part of it, but the mode of transport selected. The airline was EasyJet. A budget airline.
I have a friend who works as a contract aircraft maintenance engineer, and he won't fly EasyJet. He shakes his head and says "Its only a matter of time, only a matter of time" But the tickets were cheap, and so we went. As you would imagine, the check-in staff and cabin crew regarded the passengers with thinly veiled contempt (indeed, at the other end the stewardess didn't actually have to say "Get the F**K OFF MY AIRPLANE", her expression did the work for her.)
But we survived, and enjoyed the singing of the stag party that was kicking off in the back of the aeroplane. Especially the one about the four and twenty virgins.
The first two hours were spent locating the hotel. Entirely our fault; we told the taxi driver "Hotel Elite", he took us to "Hotel Knocking Shop". Silly us. It did mean that I got to look at some of the frankly bonkers art scattered around Prague. In this case, a pair of gigantic silver legs. Female, I presume, with a silver thong hanging around the knees. Hmmm.
Hotel located, we set out to find beer, and I took the photo above. As we sat in a pavement cafe and watched the beautiful people file by, we planned the next 48 hours. The trek to the hotel had changed my mind about the format of the weekend. I'd planned to spend the time crawling from bar to bar, doing things that would probably require a liver transplant in 10 or 12 years time. I was unprepared for the beauty of Prague. So I made a radical suggestion. Skip the late night/early morning sessions and make the most of the daylight hours instead. Which led (after a lengthy leer) to a return to the hotel by 1am and breakfast at 8am.
So we crossed the bridge. Replete with big tower.
"Hey, I know" said some bright spark "Lets go up the tower!"
And so we did.
Gosh, what a good idea on what transpired to be the hottest day of the year so far. And me with jeans and t-shirt. Yes, I thought about jumping off. Yes, I fought the urge to yell random obscenities at the people below. No, the stag party weren't around.
The Charles Bridge is a fantastic pedestrian crossing. A little old lady gave us an unwanted lecture in broken english on its history. Little old ladies seem to have a bit of thing for me.
The statues on the bridge interested me. Normally you see halos, or big gold dishes behind holy figures. I can only assume by the propellors on the heads of these statues, that these must be the patron saints of geeks.
And of course, later on in the day, the street musicians come out in their dozens. All more talented than I will ever be, and all playing for a pittance. I wanted to weep for the beauty of their music. All except the guy playing "You Are My Sunshine" on a kazoo.
The whole tower thing got a little out of hand over the course of the day, and by the end we'd climbed five of the bastards. The last one had me visualising dangling the idiot who's idea it was from the top by his ankles. Unfortunately, doing that to oneself is not only difficult, I suspect its illegal. Certainly in some US states at any rate. Ah, but the views...
And of course, there was the Astronomical Clock. A crowd would gather in the square every hour on the hour to watch this thing chime. Little statues rotate around in the doors. I dare anyone who's seen it not to think "Disneyland Small World" aside from the farting sound made by a trumpet at the end. And the frankly bizarre applause from the crowd. I mean, hello? It isn't a performance. Its litte wooden dolls, rotating.
And apparently the guy who built it so impressed the town elders that they blinded him so he coulnd't build any more. Shame no one thought to do the same to guy who built Disney's Small World ride. I hope First-born never reads that bit...
But ultimately, what its all about really is sitting with a cold beer or mysterious spirit based drink, and watching people go by in a beautiful setting.
More later...
