You know something, Prague? You’re not as cool as you think. Fact is, there’s a lot about you that’s just downright shitty. Yeah … I said it.
Sure, cobblestone roads are beautiful to look at, but they’re not as charming as you might think. In fact, they’re usually a giant pain in the ass. Try navigating through ’em when you’re rushing somewhere and it’s a little wet out. It’s nothing but a built-in speed bump and rolled-ankle machine.
Bagels are something that should be everywhere. Always. Cheddar cheese too.
And why can’t I just get a goddamn cup of coffee anywhere?! Not an espresso, not a cappuccino, just a simple deep cup of motherfucking black coffee.
And sometimes, just once, I’d love to walk into a place I’m not entirely sure is the place I’m looking for and ask: Hey man, is this the place I’m looking for? And get a quick response. No fuss, no muss, no incomprehensible shouting. But I don’t have that luxury. I haven’t for over a year.
Instead I have the now-familiar game of gesticulating, attempting broken Czech, navigating blank stares, trying to switch to German at times (sometimes it’s me and sometimes it’s them), seeing if there’s anyone within earshot who can act as a conduit for translation, usually topped off with crippling confusion, frustration, and disappointment with about 50% of any and all daily encounters.
If only Czech was an easier language to learn. If I were living in Spain, France, or Germany I would’ve had a serious grasp on those languages by now. Instead, I’m cool, and for some reason decided to choose Slovenian, Finnish, and Czech to study.
But, Prague. Now that I think about it … I guess I’m willing to overlook all these minor inconveniences. Because you’re really quite amazing. Truthfully, I can’t think of anything better I’d be doing at this time in my life. At least nothing as interesting and goddamned fun.
You can go to an old theatre here to watch a movie, and the cupholders are three-pronged: built for beers, wine, and shots … all conveniently served at the concession for a ridiculously decent price.
I can walk over a whole lot of bridges and look at some of the most striking sights of Europe. 9 times out of 10, a giant, stunning castle stares back from atop a hill. The beautiful buildings still give me chills and the sheer, for lack of a better term, different of everything is still as vibrant and novel as it was nine months ago.
And, not to dwell too much on the beer thing, but a night out here is criminally inexpensive. The beer is better than yours … and at a price that would tip even the most reformed alcoholic right off the wagon and into a bottomless beer heaven for the rest of his days.
Oh Prague. I love hate you.
I love that you’ve let me spend so much time inside you. But we’re too different you and I, and I’m not sure if I can stay forever. But baby, I want to.
You’re just so damn easy on the eyes, and even easier on the soul. Prague, you’re a place where going out to blow of some steam with the ones you love is as easy as saying ‘one more’. A night out doesn’t cost you a week’s salary, because hundreds of years of history have decided that such a thing would be considered total bullshit … so it’s not allowed … unless you’re a moron (né: tourist) and can’t figure it out.
I try not to get too close. Try to say that we’re only together for some fun in the short term. But the longer I’m here, the more I just want to stay together. It’s just a really fucking content life, in spite of very little to my name. And that’s what makes it so tough; it’s why I can’t stand you at times. Because you’ll be here forever, you have been for thousands of years, and there’s a good chance that as I go through my twenties and eventually hit my thirties, I’ll be long gone.
Goddamn you Prague! Goddamn you!