Home Is The Hunter..

..home from the, erm, Prague.

It's good to be back, as always, but I will yearn for the Czech Republic as it is such a lovely place. I didn't see much more than a fraction of it and it is, like most European nations, steeped in history.

The only negative thing I saw, and I saw it times without number, is the graffiti. All those fantastic buildings, and many of them have been 'tagged' by the graffiti artists. Well, the word artist is wrong in this sense because it just looked like a mess. A shame, really.

Random stuff, seen and heard:


In the hotel restaurant at breakfast yesterday: a pretty lady takes out a pill-box. Takes a tablet, sip of water. Takes a tablet, sip of water. Takes a tablet, sip of water. She did that nine times.


Walked past an American talking on his mobile phone and I hear: "Just kill it! Bury it in the garden!". Kill what? A horse? A dog? A goldfish? An aardvark? I have no idea.

On the way back to the hotel from the pub: Stepping over a guy passed out on the pavement. It was in a small park and there was tons of space for him to have been. He chose to lie lengthways across the path....

In a 1920's tram (hired by the event organisers to transport the delegates to the Palace for dinner): the tour guide said, with great pride "Czechs are Europe's biggest drinkers. We drink around 150 litres of beer a year each and we want to improve on this! Please help us by drinking as much as you can at your gala party tonight! The Czech Republic thanks you!!" (Can you even imagine the puritans response to that statement here?).

In the hotel bar, on Thursday night: a stunning blonde hooker repeatedly tried to catch my eye but there was a tall pot plant in the way. I made a game of it by leaning slightly to my right, then, when she saw an opportunity for eye contact I would lean quickly to the left. (I have no clue why I did this. In mitigation, I had consumed an industrial amount of Pilsner Urquell (the Nations Favourite), gin, wine, and assorted (but bizarre tasting) spirits.

At the airport in Prague last night: the Irishman drinking some sort of alcohol from a bottle in a carrier bag. Sip, furtive look around. Sip, furtive look around. All the time he was ten feet away from me as I sat in the bar chugging down a last Urquell before boarding the flight to Amsterdam. (see image below).

Walking around the city in the evenings: Me, (and my boss), turned down thousands of invites from a) furtive looking geezers and b) pretty ladies waving business cards and leaflets entreating us to "Come to titty bar! Beautiful ladies! Very sexy!" and "Guys, come see sexy show. Very elegant, very dirty!" (Elegance and dirt combined, it was hard to refuse that guy).

In the hotel limo on the way to the airport: the driver had a few words of English and I had no Czech so the conversation was bumpy. He would start a sentence in English and, when he struggled, he would switch to Czech. Even though I was stone cold sober I understood him perfectly well. He then abandoned English altogether and spoke his own language and I spoke mine. It worked oddly well.

The food was excellent. Sausage and red (or white) cabbage doesn't sound too exciting but it was great! Washed down with the Czech beer it made for a great snack or a full meal. It was also a pure pleasure to not have to use euros. The exchange rate at the time was 32 Czech Korunas to the £, so it felt cheaper than it was. Of course, it is all relevant. Pound for pound though, it was still cheaper than here, but then again, most places are cheaper than here...

Get there if you can. You will have a blast.

CR.