Prague

Absynth hangover. I woke up in a complete Zombie state and I mean Zombie. Vic would ask a question but no registration until minutes later. I stared at my bag for what seemed like an eternity trying to figure out my next move when I was meant to be frantically packing. I was operating in slow motion (maybe two frames per second) and had absolutely no control over it. It wasn’t a typical hangover, I didn’t feel dusty or sick just slow and sluggish. It lasted most of the day. Horrible.

Missed train. It had to happen at least once. We missed our train to Munich (mainly because of my subdued state) which meant we now had 5 hours to kill. A long lunch including every imaginable course was the best way to fill the gap. I had Goulash because I didn’t know when I’d be having it again (nice but nowhere near as good as the real thing) and Vic went for the lamb. Great way to finish our time in Prague and thankfully my beer allies started to win the battle over the Absynth demons swimming in my head.

Praha. Again it rained for most of our time in Prague but it didn’t at all sour our experience. We fell in love with its charm and inviting culture. We found the people to be pleasant and helpful but surprisingly lacking animation, especially when considering the beer consumption statistics. We enjoyed Prague on many levels but mostly for the café, beer, music and food culture that is so evidently embedded in Prague’s social fabric.

Aussies. Well if we thought that Croatia was filled with Aussie blood then Prague must secretly be the ninth state/territory of Australia. Maybe it’s the fine beer at cheap prices or maybe it’s simply that Victorians have found a home away from home in what could be considered a European version of Melbourne. We didn’t have time to run a survey.

Train. Not sure whether there was much of a difference between first and second class on the train from Praha to Munchen. Not the most comfortable train but thankfully the ride was only a few hours.

Penalty! Vicki quickly ducked out at one of the stops for a cigarette. Moments after she sat back down, two policemen arrived at our cabin. “Passports please.” He handed mine back immediately, hung on to Vicki’s and pulled out his writing pad. “No smoking… penalty” For a few minutes we didn’t know what was happening due to their limited English but soon enough realised that Vicki was being written up for smoking in a non-smoking station. Luckily the fine was only ten-ish dollars, a small price to pay for a pretty cool souvenir.