Prague
Prague is where I meet up with Justin! I was happy to be on my own for a while, but now I'm ready for a companion.
I'd been to Prague before: 19 hours. It was probably a little more than. 10 years ago, and I basically didn't leave the old town. I checked into the nastiest 4-bed hostel I'd ever stayed in. It must have cost something under $20. I had no plan on even staying there; it was just a place to clean up and drop off my luggage while I got to see everything I could. I remember there were 4 small beds. There was an Asian lady was washing her underwear in the sink and drying it in a makeshift clothesline she strung over her bed. No one in the room spoke English besides me, it was coed and smelly and no one really acknowledged each other. But this situation did force me out into town. I really made the most of my time there: went to a museum (the sex machine museum... it was really cool!), had a meal in a traditional Czech pub, went to a jazz club. Crossed the famous Charles bridge to see the Disneyland-looking church on the hill. I still really can't say it, but it's basically what Borat says in the movie all the time. Djen-kwee or something like that. I tried to go to the Jewish quarter but it was either late or Saturday because everything was closed. I peered through the windows to see tiny Czech glass figurines of Orthodox Jews praying. They were adorable.
So this time around, I wasn't gonna do that again. I booked a hotel in the vinohrady district. It used to be covered in vineyards and now it is an upscale neighborhood where every building looks like it is on Central Park west; ornate with high ceilings and a rainbow of pastel exterior. It's a simply beautiful neighborhood. It's known for having a nice concentration of fancy coffee shops and cocktail bars, diverse cuisine, if you count vietnamese and Italian "diverse." in Prague, I think that's about as diverse as it gets.
I'm a huge believer of eating traditional food when I go somewhere. And Prague is no different, but I distinctly remember the last and only meal I had in Prague was a gut-buster. Beef or pork slabs in a rich brown stew, sweet and sour red cabbage (braised in pork fat, I'm sure) and dumplings. Prague dumplings are like bready dense matzoh balls that are served sliced so that they soak up more gravy. It was tasty, but I remembered how heavy it was and that I didn't think that was something anyone should eat a lot. In summer.
So I was super excited for Vietnamese food, especially since it was right next to the hotel. It was good enough, enough to eat there twice mostly in order to balance out whatever else I was going to do to myself while I was there. But you have to lower your expectations for eating food you're familiar with that's been imported into another country besides your own; it's always different because it's adjusted to suit local tastes. The summer rolls filled with beef and the beef curry were delicious but way too salty; in contrast the pho was not nearly seasoned enough. Justin ordered sushi, but I wasn't fucking with raw fish from a landlocked nation on a Sunday when most shit is closed. He loved it. "And it's so cheap!"
It's all relative. Prague is considerably cheaper than New York, everything at least half price. But considerably more expensive than Bulgaria. An entree in a mid-range restaurant is about $12 here, and in a traditional eatery, less. But in Bulgaria, $5-8. Its strange how quickly you grow accustomed to price differentials. Beer here is about $1-2 for a half pint and a shot of local brandy about the same. And that's what Prague is known for; the word "pilsner" comes from the town of plzen in the Czech Republic. I was pretty sure we'd be spending most of our time drinking beer around town.
We get here on a Saturday afternoon, and get the old town out of the way. Justin is pretty jet-lagged, and I would like to see it again, but briefly. It's a quick metro ride away.
The metro, tram, and bus system in Prague and is extensive and comprehensive. It's on an honor system. You buy your ticket, either 30-minutes worth, 90-minutes worth, or a day/multiday pass. It's 24 Czech koruna for the 30 minute ticket, which is probably about 50 cents. But the problem is that the ticket machines, which are everywhere, only take EXACT CHANGE. And there's very few ticket sellers, so everywhere you go you see throngs of tourists crowded around these damned machines desperately trying, in vain, to follow the rules and buy a ticket. Or, when you encounter the one ticket booth, you have to wait in line for 10 minutes to buy one. Because also, mostly tourists, who haven't quite figured out which coin is which yet and everyone is trying to conduct the transaction in their second, maybe third language. It's a mess. We grab a couple of tickets at the counter for the future and start hoarding change.
The old town was exactly as I remember it, but it has to be one of the most crowded tourist destinations I've ever visited. Maybe only Florence, Italy and Times Square at home are worse. Terrible. Beautiful, but we basically ran through it, noting all of the places I remembered correctly before, saying "oh FUCK no" to the picturesque but claustrophobic Charles bridge. I don't know a lot about physics but I'm pretty sure this quaint pedestrian bridge was NOT meant to support this much foot traffic at once.
We walk to the Former Jewish ghetto neighborhood of Josephov. It's decadently beautiful. Top of the line international stores line the periphery. Jewelry stores (naturally.). And it, too, is PACKED. I'm pleasantly surprised so many people want to know about Jews. I'm unpleasantly surprised to see that there's a long line to get into the Jewish cemetery, noted for being so packed full of dead people they had to be stacked 10 deep, I look at the line, and say to Justin that I grew across the street from a cemetery packed full of dead Jews. I wasn't paying AND waiting in line to do this. He laughs at me.
We walk a little further. There's a pack of cops, just sitting there, watching. "They're not gonna try to round us up again, are they?" Justin looks down and shakes his head. He's not even Jewish
We walk a little further to go to the "old-new Jewish synagogue." It's about $15 to get in, and is a separate ticket from all of the rest of the Jewish sites. Ok, fine.
We ask the lady to buy a ticket. She cuts us off mid sentence and barks at us to go to the store outside. She was like the soup nazi. NO TICKETS FOR YOU.
We get the tickets, back on the line. Some young person presents her ticket. The lady scans it. She says YOUR TICEKT IS INVALID. ALREADY USED. The girl tries to protest. It is of no use. The lady says ONLY ONE ENTRY. INVALID. The girl must have tried to take turns with a friend. This lady must have to deal with this all day long. We hand her our ticket, she hands Justin a paper yarmulke without incurring her wrath.
It's one room. Sparse. Painted Hebrew letters saying who knows what on the walls. There's wooden seating on the perimeter. There's a podium. That's it. Completely devoid of grandeur or real decoration. We get up to see the rest. Oh. There is no rest. Unless you count the outside of that room, where the women sit because, oh yeah, during services they sit outside and listen through the holes in the walls.
I'm unimpressed. I'm sure at this point Justin doesn't even know what to do with me.
Back to our neighborhood. It's dead quiet. The streets not too crowded with people or cars. Whatever people are around, in the street, in the park, on public transport, in cafes.... quiet. It's surreal, and amazing. For as crowded as the old town is, the rest of Prague is so peaceful and so civilized. And I don't mean civilized to suggest that I used to think of this place as Barbaric; it's a comparison of how I feel every day I'm at home, surrounded by the cacophony of other people, suffocating in the crowds, waiting in line and yet being in a hurry for everything.
We get to one restaurant which looks very charming, quie. Everyone speaks in whispers. I know I am loud as fuck but I swear I'd be more quiet if I didn't have to listen to other loud assholes all the time. He'll is other people. I order the traditi meal roast duck with dumplings and red cabbage. So basically the same meal I first time I was in Prague, just swapping out the protein. That was fine by me. Justin gets something vaguely similar. It's great. But I knew better than to eat a lot of it. So I eat about half and am thrilled about the prospect of leftovers for lunch tomorrow. I love leftovers. And that red cabbage was divine.
The very effusive proprietor comes over. Imagine the Swedish chef, but Czech. He speaks to us in great English. He looks bothered that I didn't finish my meal. I told him it was wonderful but I can't possibly finish, and I would like it to take home. Ok! He joyfully takes away my meal and asks us if we want drinks. Justin asks about a digestif. He looks at us and says something indiscernible to him and points to me, and says something else. We figured out that he got the manly schnapps, I got the less manly schnapps. To be honest, I don't mind my boozing to be anti-feminist. That shit is strong. I think he got the silvkovicz and I got the becherovka, because his smelled like plums and mine of herbs. Anyway, this guy got it right.
We're there for a bit, and my food doesn't come back. "I'm not getting it back, am I?" Justin says no. I am sad, but really only because of that red cabbage because it was incredible. I'm not going to get upset about what amounted to probably about $1 worth of ubiquitous cabbage but man I wanted to eat that tomorrow. He comes back and I ask him about it and he completely ignores me.
It became obvious as I tried ordering another drink and failing that this very well meaning guy was only output, o input. He was able to speak to us in perfect restaurant English but couldn't interpret anything other than a simple yes or no.
We saw an organ concert in a church. We went to the Rudolphinum building on a Sunday and heard a pianist play in a cafe with almost no one else. We took a stroll in the park and the only voices we heard were ours. Once you get away from the old town, everything is basically yours and yours alone.
I was ready at some point for a traditional Czech pub and some beer. We went to the neighborhood called žižkov, adjacent to ours. It's described like Williamsburg or bushwick might have been at some point: a place for artists, communists, working-class, students, blah, blah, blah. And just like Williamsburg or bushwick, what that means now is that there are bodegas juxtaposed with over-the-top gentrified coffee shops and quaint charming modern hip eateries and bars. And graffiti in the park. There's an old tv tower that has, for some strange and disturbing reason, been decorated with enormous metal babies crawling up the side of it. It's art; I'm sure it means something to someone. To be, it's weird as fuck.
We go to a pub called u sadu and it's packed with locals and tourists, There's an extensive drink menu and the harried waiter swiftly comes by. I've noticed that they're in real hurry to take your order, swift to bring your drink, but not to bring a meal or a check here. That's fine, justin is a simple man, when it comes to drinking at least, and he just orders a pilsner without looking at the menu. I still have the menu in my hand, and I put one finger up and say "give me a minute."
Nope, in Prague that means "I'll have one beer." Dude comes back with two identical beers. This happened more than once. I didn't want that beer, but justin happily drank mine, too. I order a grapefruit beer, a summer favorite of mine. He tells me the grapefruit beer is non-alcoholic. I know they're usually low-alcohol, but none? Im wondering if he's equating "low alcohol" with "none" and I never did figure that out.
Justin and I are a little hungry. Emphasis on "little." So we order for the "bar snack" menu instead of the "dinner" menu. He orders a sausage. The waiter questions. "Only one?" Yes. And I order a bohemian potato pancake stuffed with smoked pork and cabbage.
I don't eat potato pancakes, or latkes, at home because they're usually really greasy and I can't digest that shit. Also, liquid smoke makes me sick, so I usually stay away from things that are smoked unless I know they're not artificially smoked. But YOLO, when in Rome. I can shit my brains out once on this trip. I've been safe so far.
This pancake shows up and it is enormous. Greasy, salty, thick, crammed full of chives, folded over like an omelet. The pork is smoky and the leanest thing on the plate. The cabbage, sadly neither red nor sweet. Is caramelized in pork fat. It also might have been one of the most delicious and satisfying foods I've ever eaten. This is soul food. It could have used a contrasting lightening agent like sour cream, but it was amazing. Yeah, I said sour cream would have been "lightening." You get the picture. I am a fast eater. I ate every bite with a prayer, it took me forever, and I barely made a dent.
Justin, in contrast, had ONE sausage swimming in a pool of gravy. That one sausage was about a hot dog and a half's worth, though.
This meal ends and we stumble back to the hotel, punch-drunk on animal fat. The 5 or 6 drinks we each had seemed to have no effect. They probably never even made it into the bloodstream, confronted and conquered by pig meat.
Justin wakes up a new man, I feel like I won't be able to eat for days.
I am the foodie between the two of us by a long shot, but every now and then I ask justin what he might like. Justin has a wide range of food that pleases him. We've been to 11 Madison park and momofuku ko. He'll eat any ethnicity's cuisine as long as it isn't replete with onions. But left to his own choices and devices, justin will usually pick the nastiest, worst-for-you food possible. Microwaveable pizza. 7-11 hot dogs. And just passing by a msdonalds will make him talk about burgers for an hour.
So this is what he wanted. A burger.
When you've been out of your element for a while, I totally get just wanting a taste of home. When I go to Spain, I have Jamón and cheese and bread every day but at some point you crack and you just want something your body is used to. I get it, truly.
But he's only been here for 2 days. So this burger desire is met with a large eye roll. But I said "you know what? Anything you want." And I meant it. I am so controlling of the food situation and justin is always so patient, waiting for me to choose the "perfect" place that he gets no say in. This is his vacation, too, and I need to compromise. He can have a burger. I'll eat something else.
Justin always teases me about my "research." So he does research, consulting all internet channels available to him, cross-referencing and reading all the comments. And he picks, "and it's in walking distance!" A place called... Bad Jeff's Barbecue...in English.... on "American street."
The burger is more expensive than almost any meal I have seen in any restaurant so far. Granted, that's about $14. But $14 for a burger? In PRAGUE?? He argues it's a good deal because it's $17+ at home. I argue that it's ridiculous to go to an American style restaurant and pay basically American prices for a damn burger.
The biggest problem I had was that I wasn't going to eat a burger, and the only other options were ribs and mac and cheese. I really didn't want to eat American barbecue.
I just couldn't do it. Justin is a prince for giving in. But he talked about burgers for days.
Anyway, we went to a really nice place called u bulinu and enjoyed a lovely meal in a garden with generous portions of modern Czech food. It was so nice that justin didn't mention a burger once.
I never had red cabbage again.
No comments:
Post a Comment