Our train was leaving for Amsterdam at 12:30pm, so my sister and I had time to take a leisurely lunch and get to the train station with time to spare. We borded the train, and I settled into my seat with a book. We were halfway through the Netherlands when the attendant started her ticket check. When she got to our seats we handed our Eurail passes up, and after checking them she said to us, "that will be 12 euros please." Naturally, my sister and I were confused, we'd already bought a $280 Eurail pass, which meant any trainride we took within a 2 month period was in a sense prepaid. We asked why, and she told us it was because we were sitting in 1st class. We tried to reason with her, but she said that because we were too close to Amsterdam it would not be possible to "just switch cars." Her attitude was hauty and I could tell she enjoyed every minute as we scrounged around for 24 Euros. Before she moved on she told us that differentiating between 1st class and 2nd class was as easy as reading the giant signs on the side of the cars. "There's a big 1 for first class and a 2 for second class written on the side." If this seems condescending that's because it was, and we were left with even less drinking money as before. Damn!
We pulled into the station, and pulled out the address to our hostel. We walked for two hours looking for it, finally giving up and spending money on a taxi. By this time we were simply on our last leg mentally, spiritually and emotionally, we were missing home, but also determined to squeeze every experience out of our time. But even that can be taxing on the mind and body. After the train and taxi debaucle we were please to have a bed to rest on. The attendant gave us our keys and told us she had a surprise in store. Not knowing what this meant, and fearing the worst, we backed away slowly from the desk and mounted the steps to our room. Opening the door revealed a single room with two beds. I thought there had been some mistake as we had booked a communal room for eight people. I rushed downstairs and told the clerk, but she simply smiled and told me that they had run out of beds in the eight person rooms, and that we could have the single room for the same price. I guess all energy does flow according to the whims of the great magnet.
We left promptly and made for the Leidstraat, or the big commercial street with shops and restaurants. We ate at a well-lit restaurant/pub on Italienne street, and after my sister went in a few shops and I checked out a bookstore. We were drained and so finding out hostel again, this time without a taxi, we decided to crash and relax.
My sister took a nap, and I sat on the balcony reading. Suddenly a the window to the room next to us opened and out popped a guy about my age holding two beers. He was my height with brown hair and a French nose and a weak chin. He asked me if I wanted a beer and I said yes. He said his name was Adrien, and we started talking and I learned he and his friend David were on vacation from Belgium. Soon David popped his head out and said hello, and I told them both about our trip so far. After a few more beers and many stories and jokes, they asked if I smoked weed. I said I had in the past. And they asked if I wanted to smoke with them, and I said sure. David pulled out his stash that he had just bought, which included 3-4 new brands he picked up from a coffeeshop and had never tried before. It was nice to talk to them, even though it was difficult at times due to the language barrier. David hardly spoke english and Adrien's accent was so thick that I couldn't understand half of what he said. It became harder when the weed kicked in, and soon I was marginally catatonic. They invited me to a discoteque, and I told them I wanted to go but was too tired. In reality the beer mixed with weed had caught hold of my stomach and spun my head around making me dizzy and sick. They left, and I promply entered into the room and stood holding the bedpost. My sister said something like, "you look pale." I said something like "Damn right I look pale!" Before rushing to the bathroom and throwing up my dinner. I learned the hard way that alcohol and weed do not mix, and that the Belgian stomach is much more impervious to the effects of drink and smoke than Americans are. Well, some at least.
Showing posts with label Belgians. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Belgians. Show all posts
Friday, September 23, 2011
Sunday, May 15, 2011
7-23-09 Prague
Our train left early in the morning, so we grudgingly dragged ourselves out of bed, careful not to disturb our roommates. We shared our room with a couple from Spain, and that meant sharing a bathroom. The shower was poorly designed so that splashing water collected on the floor. My sister and I wore flip-flops in the shower to avoid flesh eating bateria, which we just knew was seething between the discolored tiles. In fact everyone wore shoes to the bathroom because it was the "sanitary" thing 
to do. However, wearing tennis shoes to the bathroom meant that the pools of water would mix with shoe-dirt and you'd be left with muddy footprints and pools of discolored water. Unfortunately, this had happened this morning, and it was brought to my attention by the lovely Spanish woman. She proceeded to explain to me in a half-English half-Spanish transcultural rant that I had muddied up the floor, and that I should clean it up, and that I smell bad. Ok, so she didn't say all of that, but she did yell at me for the shower as me and my sister packed for the train station. All we said was "We're sorry" as we closed the door and headed downstairs to check out.
We arrived in Prague in the hot afternoon, and went to our hostel. We dropped our bags off, and hung out in our four person room. My sister called our mom to tell her we hadn't been abducted yet, and that I had been able to piss off every Spanish person we had met so far. I hung out the window of our room, and watched the sky, which was clouding over. Suddenly there was a crack of lightening, and the boom of thunder as the heat, which had followed us ever since Italy, finally reached its boiling point. It started to rain, and soon it was a torrential downpour. The wind ripped through our narrow side-street, banging the shutters of windows as it passed. We waited while until the rain eased, and made our way to dinner. Welcome to Prague.
It was understood that there was an authentic Czech restaurant just up the street. I was in the mood for beef tongue, so we went to Kovics. Kovics had an underground fight club feel mostly because the bar/restaurant sat in the basement of a building reserved for offices. We ordered a plate of beef tongue for an appetizer, which I can say from experience looks exactly like it should. Ours was sliced lengthwise, however, you could definitely tell what it was. It kept the same shape, and consistency of what you'd think beef tongue would taste like, and I've got to say, it was really good. For dinner I had steak and my sister had chicken. We paid for the meal in Krowns, and everything added up came out to be roughly $30. Prague, I think I'm starting to like you...
We left in search of another bar, and walk around Old Town Square. After awhile we stumbled into a place called Chateau Rouge. We went in partly due to the rain, which had returned, but also because of the beer prices, ($.50 beers are always worth a try in my opinion). Halfway through our second beer, two Belgian women began talking with us. One was a 25 year-old speech therapist, and the other, (much cuter one), was a 26 year-old teacher. We told them that we were brother and sister traveling across Europe for a few weeks.
The Chateau Rouge (sorry for the sizing)
They asked if we were going to Brussels, their hometown. We said we hadn't thought of it, but we might if time permitted. The teacher started flirting with me, and offered to buy me and my sister another beer. We didn't have any more money so I said yes, my sister said no. The teacher's name was Leigh, while we were talking, Leigh kept on playing footsie with me under the table. Though, just when Leigh and I were getting closer, my sister told me she was tired and that she wanted to go back to the hostel. I couldn't have my sister walking around alone in a foreign country, so I escorted her back, but not before I told Leigh I'd be back soon.
When I got back to the bar two guys, who looked like competitors on MetRx's World's Strongest Man, were talking to Leigh. I decided not to die, so I used the bathroom and headed back to the hostel.
On my way up to the room I ran into a three people sitting in the common room. Two had guitars, and the other was sitting at the end of the table listening. One of the guitarist's name was Howlin' Howie. Howie had been playing guitar for 58 years, he was traveling the world playing guitar and singing for anyone who'd listen. The guy at the end of the table was a Frenchman, he was quiet, but I managed to find out that he was going to Vienna next, so I told him about the Belvedere and the crazy drivers.
The last guy was a redhead who went by Brian Policoff. He was from Arizona, but lived in Prague as a street performer. His craft was fire-spinning. He had done it in The Ringley Bros. Circus for years, and before that he had been a singing gondolier at the Venetian in Las Vegas.
Firespinner: Exhibit A
After a few hours of guitar and singing and talking, I said goodnight to them and went upstairs. I was careful not to wake either my sister, or the two girls, who were our new roommates, after all I'd already pissed off that Spanish couple, I was determined not to have a repeat in Prague.
to do. However, wearing tennis shoes to the bathroom meant that the pools of water would mix with shoe-dirt and you'd be left with muddy footprints and pools of discolored water. Unfortunately, this had happened this morning, and it was brought to my attention by the lovely Spanish woman. She proceeded to explain to me in a half-English half-Spanish transcultural rant that I had muddied up the floor, and that I should clean it up, and that I smell bad. Ok, so she didn't say all of that, but she did yell at me for the shower as me and my sister packed for the train station. All we said was "We're sorry" as we closed the door and headed downstairs to check out.We arrived in Prague in the hot afternoon, and went to our hostel. We dropped our bags off, and hung out in our four person room. My sister called our mom to tell her we hadn't been abducted yet, and that I had been able to piss off every Spanish person we had met so far. I hung out the window of our room, and watched the sky, which was clouding over. Suddenly there was a crack of lightening, and the boom of thunder as the heat, which had followed us ever since Italy, finally reached its boiling point. It started to rain, and soon it was a torrential downpour. The wind ripped through our narrow side-street, banging the shutters of windows as it passed. We waited while until the rain eased, and made our way to dinner. Welcome to Prague.
It was understood that there was an authentic Czech restaurant just up the street. I was in the mood for beef tongue, so we went to Kovics. Kovics had an underground fight club feel mostly because the bar/restaurant sat in the basement of a building reserved for offices. We ordered a plate of beef tongue for an appetizer, which I can say from experience looks exactly like it should. Ours was sliced lengthwise, however, you could definitely tell what it was. It kept the same shape, and consistency of what you'd think beef tongue would taste like, and I've got to say, it was really good. For dinner I had steak and my sister had chicken. We paid for the meal in Krowns, and everything added up came out to be roughly $30. Prague, I think I'm starting to like you...
We left in search of another bar, and walk around Old Town Square. After awhile we stumbled into a place called Chateau Rouge. We went in partly due to the rain, which had returned, but also because of the beer prices, ($.50 beers are always worth a try in my opinion). Halfway through our second beer, two Belgian women began talking with us. One was a 25 year-old speech therapist, and the other, (much cuter one), was a 26 year-old teacher. We told them that we were brother and sister traveling across Europe for a few weeks.
The Chateau Rouge (sorry for the sizing)They asked if we were going to Brussels, their hometown. We said we hadn't thought of it, but we might if time permitted. The teacher started flirting with me, and offered to buy me and my sister another beer. We didn't have any more money so I said yes, my sister said no. The teacher's name was Leigh, while we were talking, Leigh kept on playing footsie with me under the table. Though, just when Leigh and I were getting closer, my sister told me she was tired and that she wanted to go back to the hostel. I couldn't have my sister walking around alone in a foreign country, so I escorted her back, but not before I told Leigh I'd be back soon.
When I got back to the bar two guys, who looked like competitors on MetRx's World's Strongest Man, were talking to Leigh. I decided not to die, so I used the bathroom and headed back to the hostel.
On my way up to the room I ran into a three people sitting in the common room. Two had guitars, and the other was sitting at the end of the table listening. One of the guitarist's name was Howlin' Howie. Howie had been playing guitar for 58 years, he was traveling the world playing guitar and singing for anyone who'd listen. The guy at the end of the table was a Frenchman, he was quiet, but I managed to find out that he was going to Vienna next, so I told him about the Belvedere and the crazy drivers.
The last guy was a redhead who went by Brian Policoff. He was from Arizona, but lived in Prague as a street performer. His craft was fire-spinning. He had done it in The Ringley Bros. Circus for years, and before that he had been a singing gondolier at the Venetian in Las Vegas.Firespinner: Exhibit A
After a few hours of guitar and singing and talking, I said goodnight to them and went upstairs. I was careful not to wake either my sister, or the two girls, who were our new roommates, after all I'd already pissed off that Spanish couple, I was determined not to have a repeat in Prague.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)