YOEJ, day 2, part 2
(wrote this last night, before I passed into wonderful, undisturbed slumber)
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(heading into oblivion, but jotting down a few things from day 2 of Ye Olde Journey)
(it’s 12:43 AM in Prague, January 6th, technically, as I write)
Just got back from a bar in Prague where you can smoke indoors. I started with a Jameson, and switched to a Becharova, which my friend calls Christmas in a Glass. Or something to this effect. It is, in a whiskey sort of way (although I don’t think it’s whiskey).
The bar happened after we spent a while looking for an ATM, which led us on a lovely walk that started out along the Vlatava river, and took us around near the foot of a large mountain leading to Prague Castle, the foot of which (or the part we passed) is home to a monument/sculpture dedicated to the victims of communism – emaciated figures staggering eerily down steps illuminated with discs of light. From far away I saw only the lovely discs of light, and remarked upon it creating an atmosphere of inviting fairyland. The my friend pointed out the emaciated figures, and the actual substance of the lights and monument in general, and I stood corrected: not a fixture of inviting fairyland. In my defense, I hadn’t slept in over twenty-four hours, and was/am delirious.
We wound through a very popular district whose name I’m forgetting and went to the Charles Bridge, which is very impressively fortified on either end, and which offers lovely views in all directions –
Okay, really fading now, so just a few more impressions/thoughts/memories in note form:
- Prague is fucking beautiful.
- Both winter and cold seem to suit Prague.
- It’s not that cold, except when I consider it from the perspective of the hands, which truly suffer without mittens. But I have mittens. And my hands suffer without mittens in nyc, too.
- There is good public transport here, like in London. Like in nyc.
- I loved london in large part due to the surprising awesomeness of my Virgin Atlantic row-mate/neighbor, whom we’ll call L. (because doing so fully protects his identity while also acting as a truthful if incomplete textual representation of him, since “L” is, in fact, the real first initial of his first name). He was shockingly hospitable, inviting a total stranger to share a car ride, some croissants, and frenchpressed coffee (with steamed milk), and made me an avocado-with-marmite toasted bagel for the road, which I gradually finished over the next several hours, finishing it upon landing in Prague while still in plane; marmite + avocado bagels will forever hold a special place in my heart. Were it not for L., I would have spent eight long hours avoiding sleep in the London Heathrow airport, instead of getting homemade coffee, food, and a few hours to wander around Piccadilly circus; fortunately, I felt compelled to interrupt the calm of my fellow passenger’s descent into London by asking him if he had any suggestions as to how I might best spend a full-day’s layover in the airport. I think his rush of hospitality might have been inspired by a mixture of pity and shock at my stunning display of laziness/lack of imagination. Anyway, I am very grateful to him.
Oh crap I need to go. Really fading. Falling asleep as I type. More later.
