Immediately prior to my departure from the US, I was suddenly struck with inspiration and sent an email to a woman who organizes personal, individualized tours. My hope was that I could secure the services of someone on my first day in Prague, which would - in turn - make it easier for me to get around for the remainder of my trip. Because it was such a last-minute idea, and because I was then unable to check email until I arrived in Prague, I had no idea of whether or not someone would be available to walk me about. Fortunately, someone was - indeed - available.
So it was that I found myself at 9 am, in my hotel lobby, bent over a timeline of Czech history with my guide - Katarina. Katarina appeared to be in her mid-fifties, well-educated, and - as I later learned - well-traveled. Her grasp of Czech history is - frankly - astounding. I understand that her role as a guide lends itself to the development of said expertise, but at times it was truly inhuman. Her conversation would be peppered with phrases like 'why do I mention this,' which - I learned - did not necessitate a response from me. She would launch without hesitation into the reason for mentioning it. In fact, very little of what was said required any input from me. It was, perhaps, little wonder that after five hours of intensive Czech-related education, not broken by any respites or refreshments, I was so exhausted that I could barely understand the ongoing narrative. Perhaps, I allow now, the fact that I landed here only yesterday afternoon also contributes to the fatigue. Regardless of the reason, shortly after calling an end to the tour I found myself back in my hotel room where I napped for three hours.
Despite the chill in the air and the deluge of information, the day was fantastic. I suspect that I am forever spoiled by the personalized nature of the tour. I felt free to ask random questions (Question: Why are there no family members at that wedding? Answer: Russians. What do you expect from them? [insert derisive face, following by face of slight horror as face-maker remembers that she is with a tourist, followed by 'just making a joke face.'] There is much bad blood between the Czechs and the Russians, something that I knew but not in the way that I know now.) When Katarina talked about Prague, particularly about the communist occupation and subsequent Velvet Revolution, she talked about it as someone who has experienced it. She attended the meetings that led to the Velvet Revolution. She described the communist state, and the fear that people felt as they fought against it. She was also an incomparable resource when it came to understanding the 'quirks' of the Czech culture.
So interesting was the day spent with her that I am considering engaging her services again before I leave, to cover other areas of the city. In the five hours that we spent together, we covered only the Old and New Towns. I have so much yet to do! So much, in fact, that I felt a bit guilty when I woke up from my nap and saw the darkness hovering outside my window, pressing eagerly against the glass, hoping that I'd dare to engage it tonight. I did not. I spent some time answering emails, then went for dinner in the hotel restaurant.
As a vegetarian in the Czech (meat-loving) Republic, I am leery of many menu items. This is the standard excuse that I employ in all European countries to explain my wicked-bad bakery habit. I adore European bakeries. Before today, I felt the French and Spanish bakeries to be the best that I had experienced thus far - ranking above Italy, Monaco, and Germany. The Czech bakeries, as it turns out, are giving them a run for the shared title. The pastries (only 1 1/2 days here and I've already had several) are fantastic. This is actually NOT a good thing. What did I have for breakfast? Pastries, albeit with a side of raw vegetables and a bit of cheese. What did I have for lunch? A pastry. What did I have for dinner last night? Pastries, with a side of cheese peanuts and some bizarre rolled tortilla chips. When I am at home, I eat what is possibly an absurd amount of fresh produce. I eat so many fresh fruits and vegetables during the day that I have little room for the sorts of indulgences that I am now stuffing myself with. In the Czech Republic, this does not seem to be practical because 1) produce is more expensive, and 2) I can't figure out how to buy it at the grocery store.
While I would love to exist solely on pastries while here, I realize that it would cause me to have even more sleep-laden days like today, and that I will probably not fit into my clothing for the return trip. That - of course - is why I forced myself to eat an actual dinner this evening BEFORE my pastry dessert. At the hotel restaurant, I evaluated the menu at length, despite the fact that I had already perused it several times in the elevator, where it is handily posted on the wall. After much thought, I ordered the salad with "gratinated goat cheese and toast." I was not sure what "gratinated" meant, but I could tell by the waitresses' limited English skills that she would not be able to enlighten me. The two other salads on the menu were suspicious for fish-related reasons, so I felt that "gratinated" was the safest option.
The salad arrived, topped with a slab of what appeared to be pan-seared goat cheese, adhered to a thin round of dark bread. Perhaps it was toast, but it had already absorbed so much of the vinegar and oil salad dressing that it was impossible to be sure. I stared for a bit, trying to decide if I now understood "gratinated." I did not. Despite this, the salad was quite good, and was the perfect prelude to my final destination: the pastry dessert.
Now it is 8:30 pm here. I debated, at some length, whether or not to go out again this evening. I feel a bit of pressure to 'use my time wisely' while I am here, but I am trying to talk myself out of that approach. It is - I feel - smarter to rest when I need to and to really enjoy myself when I am out - well-fueled and rested - rather than forcing myself from one location to the next, battling exhaustion and forcing 'good memories.' It is with that reasoning that I am putting myself to bed early tonight. Tomorrow I shall - once again - tackle Prague. I do, after all, have to retrace my steps from today. Naturally, my camera battery died one hour into my five hour travels, on what might have been the only sunny day that Prague will see this month. I am certain that - somewhere - the Russians are laughing.
So it was that I found myself at 9 am, in my hotel lobby, bent over a timeline of Czech history with my guide - Katarina. Katarina appeared to be in her mid-fifties, well-educated, and - as I later learned - well-traveled. Her grasp of Czech history is - frankly - astounding. I understand that her role as a guide lends itself to the development of said expertise, but at times it was truly inhuman. Her conversation would be peppered with phrases like 'why do I mention this,' which - I learned - did not necessitate a response from me. She would launch without hesitation into the reason for mentioning it. In fact, very little of what was said required any input from me. It was, perhaps, little wonder that after five hours of intensive Czech-related education, not broken by any respites or refreshments, I was so exhausted that I could barely understand the ongoing narrative. Perhaps, I allow now, the fact that I landed here only yesterday afternoon also contributes to the fatigue. Regardless of the reason, shortly after calling an end to the tour I found myself back in my hotel room where I napped for three hours.
Despite the chill in the air and the deluge of information, the day was fantastic. I suspect that I am forever spoiled by the personalized nature of the tour. I felt free to ask random questions (Question: Why are there no family members at that wedding? Answer: Russians. What do you expect from them? [insert derisive face, following by face of slight horror as face-maker remembers that she is with a tourist, followed by 'just making a joke face.'] There is much bad blood between the Czechs and the Russians, something that I knew but not in the way that I know now.) When Katarina talked about Prague, particularly about the communist occupation and subsequent Velvet Revolution, she talked about it as someone who has experienced it. She attended the meetings that led to the Velvet Revolution. She described the communist state, and the fear that people felt as they fought against it. She was also an incomparable resource when it came to understanding the 'quirks' of the Czech culture.
So interesting was the day spent with her that I am considering engaging her services again before I leave, to cover other areas of the city. In the five hours that we spent together, we covered only the Old and New Towns. I have so much yet to do! So much, in fact, that I felt a bit guilty when I woke up from my nap and saw the darkness hovering outside my window, pressing eagerly against the glass, hoping that I'd dare to engage it tonight. I did not. I spent some time answering emails, then went for dinner in the hotel restaurant.
As a vegetarian in the Czech (meat-loving) Republic, I am leery of many menu items. This is the standard excuse that I employ in all European countries to explain my wicked-bad bakery habit. I adore European bakeries. Before today, I felt the French and Spanish bakeries to be the best that I had experienced thus far - ranking above Italy, Monaco, and Germany. The Czech bakeries, as it turns out, are giving them a run for the shared title. The pastries (only 1 1/2 days here and I've already had several) are fantastic. This is actually NOT a good thing. What did I have for breakfast? Pastries, albeit with a side of raw vegetables and a bit of cheese. What did I have for lunch? A pastry. What did I have for dinner last night? Pastries, with a side of cheese peanuts and some bizarre rolled tortilla chips. When I am at home, I eat what is possibly an absurd amount of fresh produce. I eat so many fresh fruits and vegetables during the day that I have little room for the sorts of indulgences that I am now stuffing myself with. In the Czech Republic, this does not seem to be practical because 1) produce is more expensive, and 2) I can't figure out how to buy it at the grocery store.
While I would love to exist solely on pastries while here, I realize that it would cause me to have even more sleep-laden days like today, and that I will probably not fit into my clothing for the return trip. That - of course - is why I forced myself to eat an actual dinner this evening BEFORE my pastry dessert. At the hotel restaurant, I evaluated the menu at length, despite the fact that I had already perused it several times in the elevator, where it is handily posted on the wall. After much thought, I ordered the salad with "gratinated goat cheese and toast." I was not sure what "gratinated" meant, but I could tell by the waitresses' limited English skills that she would not be able to enlighten me. The two other salads on the menu were suspicious for fish-related reasons, so I felt that "gratinated" was the safest option.
The salad arrived, topped with a slab of what appeared to be pan-seared goat cheese, adhered to a thin round of dark bread. Perhaps it was toast, but it had already absorbed so much of the vinegar and oil salad dressing that it was impossible to be sure. I stared for a bit, trying to decide if I now understood "gratinated." I did not. Despite this, the salad was quite good, and was the perfect prelude to my final destination: the pastry dessert.
Now it is 8:30 pm here. I debated, at some length, whether or not to go out again this evening. I feel a bit of pressure to 'use my time wisely' while I am here, but I am trying to talk myself out of that approach. It is - I feel - smarter to rest when I need to and to really enjoy myself when I am out - well-fueled and rested - rather than forcing myself from one location to the next, battling exhaustion and forcing 'good memories.' It is with that reasoning that I am putting myself to bed early tonight. Tomorrow I shall - once again - tackle Prague. I do, after all, have to retrace my steps from today. Naturally, my camera battery died one hour into my five hour travels, on what might have been the only sunny day that Prague will see this month. I am certain that - somewhere - the Russians are laughing.
Salad with "gratinated" goat cheese and toast. I don't know why I'm labeling it, really - how could there be any question?
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