Praha the jeden
I wake up to overcast skies for the third day in a row, and make my way over to the train station, to catch my 5 hour trip to Prague. As the train rumbles along I take many mental, and a few digital snapshots of the lush green scenery sprinkled with tiny red-roofed houses and cottages. I'm surprised at how hilly the czech republic is, its quite lovely.
Our train pulls into holeosovice station just outside of town and the rain is just heaving down. Worse still, the information booth is closed, and I'm left scrambling for shelter and proper directions to the hostel. Step 1 reads take tram n17, but the only tram station I can find has no 17. The czech language is quite difficult to pronounce, and they employ about 8 different accented characters to alternate pronounciations, and when they want to say 'yes', they actually say 'ano' which when heard sounds like no. I waste about half an hour getting soaked and frustrated before finally locating another tram station. This one has a 17, but I'm not sure if I should be on this or the other side of the street to actually head towards my destination. I roll the dice, and it pays off. I'm heading the right way, and enroute to the hostel, which literally is an old boathouse on the banks of the Vlatva river. Unfortunately, its about 20 minutes south of the city, and completely out in the middle of the nowhere. In and amongst grafitti scribbled on the highway overpass is the word hostel and an arrow pointing left, so I take it as a good sign. Walk past a driving range/golf course and I see the boat house.
Upon entering the hostel, I'm greeted by a sweet old czech lady who shows me around, explains about the home cooked dinner, cheap beer, tram tickets, stamps, noon check-out, and hands me a gift containing post cards and a pen (how thoughtful!). I sign up for that evenings dinner (spaghetti bolognaise), and enjoy the meal immensely. I think its the first time I've eaten more vegetables than lettuce in about a week. The hostel is fairly empty, and the dinner has a very summercampy feel to it (with your mom as the chef!). I chat to an American who has been here for about a week already, and is taking a course to teach english as a second language. He gives me a couple of sight-seeing tips, and we chat over a few beers (20 krown is the cost for a really good half-litre bottle, which works out to about 1 canadian dollar!). I decide not to hit the town that night, but just get some reading and writing done instead. This hostel is the antithesis of all the other hostels I've stayed at on my trip so far. Its much more mellow and relaxed (probably due in part to the surroundings!) but I think I'll welcome the change for now.
Our train pulls into holeosovice station just outside of town and the rain is just heaving down. Worse still, the information booth is closed, and I'm left scrambling for shelter and proper directions to the hostel. Step 1 reads take tram n17, but the only tram station I can find has no 17. The czech language is quite difficult to pronounce, and they employ about 8 different accented characters to alternate pronounciations, and when they want to say 'yes', they actually say 'ano' which when heard sounds like no. I waste about half an hour getting soaked and frustrated before finally locating another tram station. This one has a 17, but I'm not sure if I should be on this or the other side of the street to actually head towards my destination. I roll the dice, and it pays off. I'm heading the right way, and enroute to the hostel, which literally is an old boathouse on the banks of the Vlatva river. Unfortunately, its about 20 minutes south of the city, and completely out in the middle of the nowhere. In and amongst grafitti scribbled on the highway overpass is the word hostel and an arrow pointing left, so I take it as a good sign. Walk past a driving range/golf course and I see the boat house.
Upon entering the hostel, I'm greeted by a sweet old czech lady who shows me around, explains about the home cooked dinner, cheap beer, tram tickets, stamps, noon check-out, and hands me a gift containing post cards and a pen (how thoughtful!). I sign up for that evenings dinner (spaghetti bolognaise), and enjoy the meal immensely. I think its the first time I've eaten more vegetables than lettuce in about a week. The hostel is fairly empty, and the dinner has a very summercampy feel to it (with your mom as the chef!). I chat to an American who has been here for about a week already, and is taking a course to teach english as a second language. He gives me a couple of sight-seeing tips, and we chat over a few beers (20 krown is the cost for a really good half-litre bottle, which works out to about 1 canadian dollar!). I decide not to hit the town that night, but just get some reading and writing done instead. This hostel is the antithesis of all the other hostels I've stayed at on my trip so far. Its much more mellow and relaxed (probably due in part to the surroundings!) but I think I'll welcome the change for now.
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