This is part one of a three part series (each part will be published on a weekly basis).
Inspiration
“I can’t think of anything that excites a greater sense of childlike wonder than to be in a country where you are ignorant of almost everything. Suddenly you are five years old again . . . Your whole existence becomes a series of interesting guesses.” — “Neither Here Nor There” by Bill Bryson
Vacation
Dedicated to the Green Line
I’ve hinted that a vacation-centric column was coming your way and now here it is: The Prague Vacation.
I wanted to go to Prague for quite some time. I hate to bring up bad memories, but I was supposed to head off to Prague on September 12, 2001. That vacation never happened. After detouring to places like Japan, Hawaii, and Vancouver–I finally found myself booking my Prague vacation.
My adventure started at 10:15 a.m. I walked out of my apartment and headed to catch Bus 90 to Downtown Los Angeles. I jumped off along Hill Street and proceeded down into a metro tunnel to catch the Red Line and then from there the Blue Line. While going past the Staples Center, I couldn’t help but notice that the car I was in was dedicated to the city of Pasadena. Now why would a Blue Line car be dedicated to Pasadena? Shouldn’t a Gold Line car be dedicated to Pasadena instead? Throughout my time on the Blue Line, food vendors walked up and down the aisle selling candy, which resulted in another thought to cross my mind, Why sell food in a metro line that has a $250 fine/48 hour public service penalty for eating on the line?
The train came to a full stop just a short distance from the Green Line connection. The conductor kept on saying that we were stuck due to a disabled train ahead of us and that in three minutes we would be moving again. It sure didn’t feel like three minutes. Bored, I listened in on a conversation between a couple of young men. One bragged that he never paid for the metro. “What happens when the sheriffs are out checking for tickets?” he was asked. “I tell them I tossed it in the trash can and that I’ll go get it – and then I run.” “Don’t they chase after you?” “Yes, but I can outrun their fat asses.”
I arrived at the Green Line connection just in time to see a Green Line train moving away from the station. This meant I was stuck for five minutes waiting for the next one. After getting onto the next train, a trio of girls got on at the next stop and sat behind me. One had an iPod and decided to see if I wanted to listen in on her hip hop music. I declined. They then asked me about my knowledge of various hip-hop groups. I had to beg my ignorance. They asked me about my favorite radio station. I told them I tended to listen to KROQ. “What’s KROQ?” “106.7 FM, KROQ.” “Never heard of it.” I decided to pull out my camera and show them a few pictures of the local bands I follow. Initially, they were worried, “You’re not planning on taking a photo of us, are you?” “No, I’m just showing you what types of bands I follow.” They were only semi-interested. With me so ignorant of their hip hop music, they decided to broaden the conversation to a better known musician, “Have you at least heard of Michael Jackson?” “Of course.” Then one asked, “Did you go to the funeral at the Staples Center?” “No,” I responded. “I did.” “Really, you got a ticket.” “No, I stood outside the Staples Center to show my respect.” One of the girls then mentioned to her friends, “I didn’t even get to watch the funeral.” “You didn’t!?!” “Don’t you remember I was in jail?” I half wanted to ask her why she had been in jail, but couldn’t find the courage to do so – and, well, maybe it would have been an inappropriate question. A bit further from the four of us, I could hear a young woman complaining to her friend in a way too loud voice, “I have a child and my boyfriend won’t even get a job!!!” At the Aviation/LAX stop, I said my goodbyes, and then as I was going down the steps, I saw the G Shuttle leaving for LAX. A 20 minute wait was upon me — all this waiting driven by that stupid disabled train on the Blue Line. As I stood around waiting for a shuttle, I couldn’t help but notice that two G Shuttles were just parked off in the distance, drivers potentially taking their lunch break. A couple (perhaps siblings) started to verbalize what I was thinking, “What are those drivers doing?”
Finally, a G Shuttle came by (not one of the two parked shuttles) and took us on a roller coaster-type ride to the airport. Once at the airport, my life got smoother. The Delta check-in was quick. TSA was super quick with no wait whatsoever, a real difference from my previous vacation to Vancouver. I figured this was not a typical experience going through the TSA line, but then it off-set my metro experience. I then spent the next 17 hours either sitting in an airport or on a jet. On my flight to Minneapolis, I took out my Roaring Spring notebook and spent most of the flight writing my Silverlake Jubilee two-part column (Part 1 here, Part 2 here. Towards the end of the flight, a guy across the aisle from me asked if I was a writer. I responded, “Not really, but I do write for a Los Angeles based blog.” He ripped out a page from Ode Magazine, “You might appreciate this.” It was a small article about someone named Chintana Ahlund and her writing meditation practice. In return, I gave him the web address to intraffik.com.
In Minneapolis, I found myself having to speed walk from one gate to the next. Once inside the jet, a flight attendant came over and asked, “Are you Notes from Vivace?” “Yes, why?” “Oh, no reason.” For some reason, I felt a bit uncomfortable about that. Was the TSA flagging me or something? A few minutes later, she came back, “Did you check any luggage?” “No, I just have my carry-on.” Whew, no TSA tracking me down, just concern about rather or not my luggage made it to my connecting flight as quickly as I had. (A future read of the following article explained the flight attendant’s possible concern: Delta can’t even get people to the right destination.) A good portion of my flight from Minneapolis to Heathrow was spent listening to a woman describe how she and her friends were putting together a jobs creation proposal that they wanted to send to President Obama. They planned to invite him out to California to listen to their proposal. I didn’t say anything negative, but in the back of my mind I was thinking with sarcasm, Good luck with that.
Once I got to Heathrow, I spent time pacing up and down the shopping area, wondering if I should buy something as a memento of my setting foot on British soil. I resisted the urge. I also felt this urge to take a nap, but I figured if I did I might just miss my flight. From LAX to Heathrow, I’d probably gotten only two hours of sleep. I was intent on staying up until I arrived in Prague and then collapse in exhaustion, my jet lag elimination theory – ahh, that was the intent. I got onto the jet and bang, I practically slept the whole way to Prague. I woke up briefly midway through the flight and noticed a mini-sandwich in front of me. I ate it and then fell back asleep.
Once I arrived in Prague, I made sure my Roaring Spring notebook was in easy reach as I started my way to Czech customs. In my notebook, I had an itinerary of my stay in Prague. After dealing with Canadian customs the previous year, I was ready for a grilling. I figured Canada was our neighbor to the north. If I got grilled there, I couldn’t help but think what kind of grilling I’d get from the Czechs. Here’s a quick quote from my Vancouver column regarding Canadian customs: Allison Weiss is one energetic personality . . . she had an interesting story about her encounter with the border police. “When I got to the border, the border police asked me questions like: Why are you coming to Canada? How long are you going to stay? I responded, I am a musician and I’m doing some sets in Canada. I was getting questioned about everything.” The audience responded, “Yah, they’re all jerks.” She continued with her story, “So when I told them I was a musician, they asked me if I was bringing any CDs into the country. I said yes. I was asked how many. I replied twenty or so. The guy laughed at me. He obviously was thinking that I wasn’t a real musician.”
And my experience with the Prague customs agent? I got in line. I handed over my US passport. He looked at it. He looked at me. He stamped it. He hit the buzzer. I walked through the metal gate. I was officially welcomed into the Czech Republic. Hey wait, what about the questions regarding where I was going and how long I planned to be in the country and if I was planning on visiting any particular Czech citizen and whatever other strange questions could be thought up?
MUSIC TIME
Dedicated to the wild, crazy fans of Matahari
After the first hour, I was feeling rather comfortable in Prague – but within that first hour, I did have a little bit of a problem finding my hotel. I got off the tram knowing that my hotel was within fifty feet of the stop (via the hotel’s website), but I ended up walking in ever larger circles until I finally stumbled across the appropriate street and then from there I was able to find my hotel. The problem is that the street signs in Prague are not the easiest thing to distinguish. The city is split into ten districts. Each building appeared to have a district address, but it was difficult for me to find an actual street address. You would think that like the US, you’d have the street signs posted atop stoplights or a street sign pole, but no, street signs were attached to the buildings. So it took some time to figure that out. And then there was the fact that the street names seemed to change at every slight angle of the road. I have to admit I was very happy I had gotten to the hotel via the tram, because if I had driven I probably would have ended up in Vienna.
After settling into my hotel room (it was a nice hotel room though the view wasn’t the greatest), I decided I was awake enough to venture out into the Prague music scene. (I’d done some pre-homework before heading off to Prague. It was actually easy to find a list of music venues in Prague. Unlike my Vancouver trip, a simple Google search resulted in a list of websites that had sections dedicated to the local music scene. I then printed out a series of maps with Internet markers indicating the various venues and that was that.) In my hotel room, I compared a city map I’d gotten from the hotel desk with the ones I’d printed back in the US and began to match the maps up. I marked the closest music venue to the hotel, Futurum Music Bar (pictured left), on my hotel map. With that done, I went off on my first Prague exploration, ending the night with a walk over to Futurum Music Bar. When I arrived, I went to the ticket counter to pay the cover charge of 150 Kč (approximately $7.50), but was motioned to just go on in. I didn’t mind the free admission (on reflection, perhaps they let me in for free because they knew I was only going to catch a half hour of music). Inside, a band was rocking out, Matahari.
What did I notice? The age range of the audience was anywhere from teenagers to a few individuals who were senior citizens. There was a mosh pit going. And then I realized that I was the only non-Caucasian in the crowd. I started to feel out of place, perhaps standing out too much. I set that aside as I started to get into the set. Now one of the wonderful (or perhaps uncomfortable) things about being in a foreign country is that you have no idea what people are saying. Towards the end of the set, the lead singer was talking to the audience. Here’s my version of the conversation based on what lead singers say in Los Angeles:
Lead singer: “We have two more songs left. Here’s ‘Lepsi to nebude.’ [‘It will get better’]”
Fans: ” No, ten more songs, ten more songs.”
Older guy, who looked like the venue manager, came up after the first of the last two songs: “You all sound awesome. Knock out your next two songs.”
Lead singer: “We will.”
Fans: “Ten more songs. Ten more songs.”
The band dived into their last couple songs.
The cries for more were so strong that the band went ahead and added two encores. The first was a playful song. The backup singers came to the center stage, playing along with two plastic blow-up guitars. And then the lights went on and the set was done. It was only 11:45 p.m. so I hung around waiting for the next band, but the stage guys were breaking everything down. They weren’t just removing the band instruments, but were also removing all the stage equipment. I wondered if the music scene shut down at 11:30 in Prague.
Revision. I learned (assumption) that it is standard practice for the main band to add a couple encore songs.
Tourist
Dedicated to the woman who took a photo of a street performer without tipping
I’m a planner and I spent a great deal of timing planning my Prague exploration. I had five full days in and around Prague and I had a good basic outline of what I planned to do each day. My itinerary was to visit the Prague Castle later in the week. On my first night (before heading off to Futurum) I was walking through Prague and I looked across the way and saw one of the most picturesque views of my life. And I said to myself, Well, that’s where I’m going tomorrow.
First encounter with some fellow tourists. After leaving the Loreta (on my way to the Prague Castle) a woman and her young daughter approached me. “Do you know where the Old Town Square is?” I replied, “I believe you’re in the wrong area. We’re here,” I pointed to my map, “and the Old Town Square is across the river here.” She looked at me, “No, the Old Town Square is here.” She turned to her daughter, “Let’s go to that shop over there and ask inside.” They headed over to a souvenir shop. Sorry, lady, I was right and was just trying to help out but you didn’t believe me.
Second encounter with a tourist. I’d just arrived at the Prague Castle, having bought a pass to explore the various parts of the castle. I really wasn’t oriented. In fact, the only reason I was at the ticket office was because a castle employee saw me walking towards her and correctly assuming that I was an English speaker said, “For tickets, go over there.” And so like any slightly disoriented individual would do, I did what I was told. Inside the ticket office, a woman came up to me rather pleadingly and asked, “Do you know if we have to buy tickets to just roam around the grounds of the castle?” “I don’t know,” I honestly replied. “No one seems to know,” she said as she moved on in disappointment. If we’d only run into each other a couple hours later, I would have had the answer. The answer is yes, you can walk around the grounds of the castle for free. You can even walk inside what I consider the most beautiful part of the castle area for free, which is the St. Vitus Cathedral. You walk into a courtyard and this amazing Cathedral hits you smack in the face. There were moments where the whole passage way that leads into the courtyard was clogged with people just starting up at this amazing structure. Awestruck.
As one might be able to tell, I loved the Prague Castle. I loved the view from the hill top. I spent three hours on my castle tour and then I came back multiple times during my stay.
What did I notice? I suppose like many other castles around the world, the Prague Castle has the palace guards. The first two guards I came across looked very serious, looking straight ahead, one even refusing to blink. I was like, Wow, these guys are serious about decorum. There was; however, one specific guard that gave off a slightly different impression. I do swear that he gave a not so subtle Zoolander-look while a young lady was standing next to him for a photograph.
And. There were kids all over the grounds. I couldn’t help but wonder: Is this Learn-Your-Czech-History Month?
As for my dedication. As I was walking down from the Prague Castle, I walked pass a street actor dressed like the Tin Man from Wizard of Oz. A fellow tourist found this most intriguing and decided to take a photo of the guy. She walked on without leaving a tip. Hey, woman, you’re supposed to tip the guy – don’t you know that like on Hollywood Blvd, Los Angeles you leave a tip if you wish to photograph?
Keep an eye out for Part II of Notes from Vivace’s adventures in Prague coming next Tuesday
