It has been a hectic past week and a half so I have not had the chance to really think about what to write. Finally I have a day off and my feet are able to relax after the hours of walking around this beautiful city. But more on that later.
Happy New Year! Yes, that is a week late, but it had to be said. And, Merry Christmas, I suppose. New Year's was pretty fun. My experience with New Year's celebrations have, on average, been less than stellar. My past experiences include puking, getting ditched, and being punched in the face! So when this holiday comes along, I am usually a little apprehensive. But it went off without a hitch. Our flat was the site of a little party, for the four or five people we know here in the city. Jamie and I had bought 4 bottles of Russian champagne, for ourselves (bad idea), and everyone had their own to boot. Byob and all that good stuff. Basically we drank and played cards, drank some more and forgot about the cards. One of the only guys I know here, Eric, we got to talking about where we come from and our past. This is pretty much the conversation we had right after I learned he was from the Boston area:
Boston? Oh my Dad's from Glosten. Glosten? You mean Gloucester? No, I'm pretty positive it's Glosten. But there's no Glosten. There's a Gloucester. That's where I've lived the past four years being a wood worker. Yeah, thats great, but I know its Glosten. I should remember this. No, but there's not a Glosten. It must be Gloucester. Nope, definitely Glosten. I already told you, there is no Glosten. Oh...maybe it is Gloucester.
Something like that. He didnt remember the conversation the next day. So it goes.
Around 11:40, we went out onto the street and ran to the river. Our flat is in the center of the city, and about a block or two from the river. Prime real estate. The streets were packed with people. Some interesting facts, real quick: Prague is the Number 2 place in the world to be on New Year's, according to a trusted poll (I have no idea from where). All locals leave the city during the holiday. The flood of foreigners (mostly those Brits) take their place, and batter the bulkheads. The view from the river is pretty amazing, with the castle dominating the skyline, while fireworks burst in the air above it.
At this point of course, everyone was drunk and yelling and singing and doing whatever else they were doing. An old man gave out sparklers to us, and looked like the happiest man in the world. Eric and I contemplated jumping over the fireworks set up in the street, and decided wholeheartedly, that yes, that would be the smart thing to do. Luckily for us, that subject was quickly forgotten. I should mention here that everyone was shooting off fireworks. At one point we were walking up a narrow street, and someone at the head of it aimed his rocket up the lane, and fired it off. Instead of going straight up, which is the common practice (and safest way) for a firework, this guy's efficient aiming managed to let the rocket fly just feet over the surging crowds' head and explode somewhere behind us. Jesus, I thought later on. What if that had been aimed a little to the left, or right, and hit the building? Or flown into an open window?
After midnight, we just started walking. And got swept up in the crowd of thousands, walking like the rest of us, but stumbling mostly. Jamie hugged and embraced and shouted 'Happy New Year!' to everyone and his brother. It was ridiculous. I had to keep an eye on that girl for much of the night. At one point, we ran into some Italians who I swore were Spanish. I told them I hated Spain and that they should never have come here. Probably a good thing their English was sub par. Nevertheless, they still looked at me like I was crazy. No, No, they would say, Italiano! To which I conveniently replied, I hate the Spanish!
Yes it was quite a night. Oh, I almost forgot. One thing that all the Czechs here have always told me, was to never go to the Old Town Square. According to them (and I still believe them), people get so rowdy that they start throwing bottles into the huge crowds. Some even throw bottles with fire. I'm not saying Molotov Cocktail fire, but enough to seriously injure people. As our crew walked with the surging crowd, I was looking around and thinking, Huh, this really looks like the way to the Old Town Square. And there we were, at the mouth of the dragon. Shit! How the hell did we get to the place that everyone said not to go to?!? Thankfully, at that moment, around 2 AM, there was no bottle throwing. I could definitely see it happening later on in the morning, but not at that point.
It was pretty uneventful in the Square, to be honest, besides the masses of people. Jamie ran up to a group of Scottish men and tried to look up their kilts. When she found that they all wore underwear, she was mighty displeased. Ten minutes later, one of them came up to our group and showed her his underwear in hand and a smile on his face. Great. The whole time in that square was pretty blurry though. There are conversations that I had with people that I now have no memory of.
Finally we got out of there, and everyone used the bathroom at a strip club. One of the girls, Caeli, who is soon to be in Vietnam teaching English, stole a large bottle of Jagermeister. Smooth. Stealing from pimps and the Czech mob (who run those joints) is the first thing not to do.
It was a fun time. No fights, no puking, and especially no arms or limbs being blown off. When that is accomplished, you know you had a great celebration.
(Editor's note: Dad did actually come from Gloucester. The coy in the last post were actually carp. They are from the same line of...fish. But not the same.)
Happy New Year! Yes, that is a week late, but it had to be said. And, Merry Christmas, I suppose. New Year's was pretty fun. My experience with New Year's celebrations have, on average, been less than stellar. My past experiences include puking, getting ditched, and being punched in the face! So when this holiday comes along, I am usually a little apprehensive. But it went off without a hitch. Our flat was the site of a little party, for the four or five people we know here in the city. Jamie and I had bought 4 bottles of Russian champagne, for ourselves (bad idea), and everyone had their own to boot. Byob and all that good stuff. Basically we drank and played cards, drank some more and forgot about the cards. One of the only guys I know here, Eric, we got to talking about where we come from and our past. This is pretty much the conversation we had right after I learned he was from the Boston area:
Boston? Oh my Dad's from Glosten. Glosten? You mean Gloucester? No, I'm pretty positive it's Glosten. But there's no Glosten. There's a Gloucester. That's where I've lived the past four years being a wood worker. Yeah, thats great, but I know its Glosten. I should remember this. No, but there's not a Glosten. It must be Gloucester. Nope, definitely Glosten. I already told you, there is no Glosten. Oh...maybe it is Gloucester.
Something like that. He didnt remember the conversation the next day. So it goes.
Around 11:40, we went out onto the street and ran to the river. Our flat is in the center of the city, and about a block or two from the river. Prime real estate. The streets were packed with people. Some interesting facts, real quick: Prague is the Number 2 place in the world to be on New Year's, according to a trusted poll (I have no idea from where). All locals leave the city during the holiday. The flood of foreigners (mostly those Brits) take their place, and batter the bulkheads. The view from the river is pretty amazing, with the castle dominating the skyline, while fireworks burst in the air above it.
At this point of course, everyone was drunk and yelling and singing and doing whatever else they were doing. An old man gave out sparklers to us, and looked like the happiest man in the world. Eric and I contemplated jumping over the fireworks set up in the street, and decided wholeheartedly, that yes, that would be the smart thing to do. Luckily for us, that subject was quickly forgotten. I should mention here that everyone was shooting off fireworks. At one point we were walking up a narrow street, and someone at the head of it aimed his rocket up the lane, and fired it off. Instead of going straight up, which is the common practice (and safest way) for a firework, this guy's efficient aiming managed to let the rocket fly just feet over the surging crowds' head and explode somewhere behind us. Jesus, I thought later on. What if that had been aimed a little to the left, or right, and hit the building? Or flown into an open window?
After midnight, we just started walking. And got swept up in the crowd of thousands, walking like the rest of us, but stumbling mostly. Jamie hugged and embraced and shouted 'Happy New Year!' to everyone and his brother. It was ridiculous. I had to keep an eye on that girl for much of the night. At one point, we ran into some Italians who I swore were Spanish. I told them I hated Spain and that they should never have come here. Probably a good thing their English was sub par. Nevertheless, they still looked at me like I was crazy. No, No, they would say, Italiano! To which I conveniently replied, I hate the Spanish!
Yes it was quite a night. Oh, I almost forgot. One thing that all the Czechs here have always told me, was to never go to the Old Town Square. According to them (and I still believe them), people get so rowdy that they start throwing bottles into the huge crowds. Some even throw bottles with fire. I'm not saying Molotov Cocktail fire, but enough to seriously injure people. As our crew walked with the surging crowd, I was looking around and thinking, Huh, this really looks like the way to the Old Town Square. And there we were, at the mouth of the dragon. Shit! How the hell did we get to the place that everyone said not to go to?!? Thankfully, at that moment, around 2 AM, there was no bottle throwing. I could definitely see it happening later on in the morning, but not at that point.
It was pretty uneventful in the Square, to be honest, besides the masses of people. Jamie ran up to a group of Scottish men and tried to look up their kilts. When she found that they all wore underwear, she was mighty displeased. Ten minutes later, one of them came up to our group and showed her his underwear in hand and a smile on his face. Great. The whole time in that square was pretty blurry though. There are conversations that I had with people that I now have no memory of.
Finally we got out of there, and everyone used the bathroom at a strip club. One of the girls, Caeli, who is soon to be in Vietnam teaching English, stole a large bottle of Jagermeister. Smooth. Stealing from pimps and the Czech mob (who run those joints) is the first thing not to do.
It was a fun time. No fights, no puking, and especially no arms or limbs being blown off. When that is accomplished, you know you had a great celebration.
(Editor's note: Dad did actually come from Gloucester. The coy in the last post were actually carp. They are from the same line of...fish. But not the same.)
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