Travels and travails during our one year stay in Orleans, France
At work I mentioned that we were planning to visit Prague to one of the Sales interns, Liang (or Jason as he has been dubbed). Within a few hours he sent me an email asking if he and his girlfriend, Kathy (I’m guessing this was not her real Chinese name either), could ride with us. This was fine with us and we made plans to leave on Thursday evening. After nearly 5 hours we arrived in the Alsace region of France near the border with Germany. Our hotel was another bargain affair and the staff had retired before our arrival leaving only an electronic screen to dispense room keys. We had a few minutes of uncertainty as the machine did not recognize our reservation code. Ultimately when Jason inserted his credit card he was rewarded with a key. But we had left our seemingly useless Discover card back at the apartment and were forced to make a new room reservation. But we were just happy to have bed to sleep in. The next morning I seemed to be successful in explaining the issue in French to the receptionist, who took our address, copies of the receipts and promised a check would be mailed. We will see if a check arrives before we are on our way back to the US.
Friday morning was a long drive across Germany. The Autobahn is probably the best highway for long trips. Not because of the long stretches with no speed limit (there are frequent places with speed limits that you need to keep your eyes open for, and I think I may have gotten a ticket from one of the movable automatic cameras), but due to the smoothness of the relatively narrow, curving road, with dramatic differences in speed between the pokey Opel’s in the right lane and the zipping BMW’s in the left. There is no camping out in the passing lane here, it’s pass and get back to the right as quickly as possible.
We were ready for a break when we reached the Czech border, so we pulled off into the parking area. Which was ill-defined, but numerous cars were aligning themselves along a concrete barrier so we followed suit. Exiting our car, yellow-vested Czech’s asked if we needed a highway sticker. Obviously we did not have a Czech highway sticker so we sprung for the 11 Euros and received a sticker for the front windshield. During our trip no one else asked for this, and I am not entirely convinced that it was not a scam. If we had not stopped, we could have driven right through without getting a sticker and I don’t believe anyone would have cared. We trekked several hundred feet to the toilets, only to find that coins were required to enter, retraced our steps to the car for the coins, back to the toilets where a girl in a similar situation asked for an extra coin to enter (but we had gotten only just enough for ourselves), and finally finished our business.
A few hours later we were approaching Prague (as in Germany, we were fortunate to travel on free highways in Czech, quite different from the expense of toll roads in France where we spent about 70 Euros on tolls). Jason and Kathy were in a different hotel than us, so we made plans to meet them for dinner on Sunday evening, and then left them for their own adventures the next few days. Our hotel was a significant disappointment. A 20 story building standing on the outskirts of the city, it was in poor repair. The first room we were given was obviously dirty; we asked for another that was only marginally better. Apparently this hotel commonly puts up sports team and there is little reason to maintain the rooms if the teams will destroy them. After withdrawing 3000 Czech krowns from the ATM (this was just under $150, which would turn out to be exactly enough cash to get us through the weekend) we decided the quickest way to satisfy our hunger was at the hotel restaurant. Shereen munched on chicken fingers and fries while I bit into the thinnest hamburger possible. Stacking 5 of these patties together would be equivalent to a McDonald’s burger, but unfortunately there was only one patty. At least the lettuce was fresh and the price was right.
We still had a few hours that evening so we decided to take the tram into town. Until the last day, we didn’t quite figure out the tram/metro. Although once you did it was a breeze to navigate the city. Prague is a huge, sprawling city, somewhat comparable to Barcelona in feel and energy level. We rode the tram for about 20 minutes, exiting as the line curved near an imposing stone building. Our destination was Wenceslas Square (really a long, broad street, and yes, the same Wenceslas as in the Christmas song, apparently he actually was a well-loved king back in the day). It wasn’t obvious to us how to get from the tram stop, across the street, around the building, to the square. The others on the tram were walking the opposite direction. So we ran across a street, jumped a concrete barrier and dodged an iron railing blocking the sidewalk. Within a few steps we realized this was not one of our smartest moves. Armed guards and concrete barriers were all around the building we were near. Two started walking towards us shouting in Czech. We continued to walk, responding in English. The younger one was the tough guy, but his older companion recognized our confusion and was kind enough to allow us to pass into the square with the admonitions of the younger in our ears. This took less than a minute, but we more careful the rest of the trip.
We were now at the end of Wenceslas Square, near the statue of Wenceslas on his horse, surrounded by imposing Communist era buildings. Atop the one were the ubiquitous black statues, colored by pollution that seemed to stalk us everywhere we went. In this square was where thousands of people gathered in 1989 as rumors of the collapse of the Soviet Union swirled and candle clenched in hands signified hope. It was remarkable to stand in a place where just 20 years ago the USSR held a firm boot to the throat of the Czechs, but now the sprigs of capitalism were present everywhere we looked. It was amusing to contrast the blackened, Communist statues of the working-man (machinists turning bolts, farmers carrying grain) against the modern advertising banners. I could not resist taking a picture of a huge Lacoste banner with prancing models adorning a building under which 4 stooped, working-man statues hunched miserably. It felt good to support the infant liberalism by meandering through the shops. Usually we refrain from too many purchases, but the favorable exchange rate (or maybe we were just trying to spite the silent statues) required splurging a bit and we had high plans to complete our gift lists for those back home. We were able to traverse the length of the Square to the other side, squeeze through the narrow street crowded with Easter tourists and enter the Old Town Square. In the darkness we watched the clock on the town hall strike the hour. This complex Astronomical Clock attracts a huge crowd at the top of each hour. At this time Death (represented by a skeleton) pulls a chain with a small bell, then 2 doors open above behind which the 12 apostles parade briefly viewing the gawkers below, and finally the huge bell dongs the hour.
It was now late and we began the walk back. Wanting to avoid the brutish guards we turned a different way to navigate back to the tram stop (we were to learn later that there was a metro stop in Wenceslas Square). But our stroll brought us to another tram stop and we hopped the same number tram thinking it would take us back the same way we had come earlier. Well, apparently the trams at different stops, even with the same number, take different routes. After a 30 minute ride the tram reached the end of the tracks, everyone exited, including the driver. At this point we didn’t know where we were. Not knowing when or if another tram would take us back, we began walking. This would turn into a long walk as it took us over 90 minutes to get back to hour hotel. Following the tracks we were able to get to a gas station. Here we bought water, and showing the map to the lady at the register, were able to figure out where we were. After that it was a long trudge. We were already tired from walking and too much time in the car. But thankfully we arrived back at the hotel without incident, other than sore feet.
Breakfast the next morning was as disappointing as the burger the day before. The Czechs seemed to be happily munching as we perused the trays of pale, sliced meat, deep pans of hotdoggish sausages and soft-boiled eggs, containers of cereal flakes and oatmeal. I was able to cobble together an acceptable breakfast, but Shereen’s more discriminating palette could only handle an egg dipped in salt and pepper. Our plan for the day was more shopping in the morning, Prague castle in the afternoon, then back to the hotel to get cleaned up for a Mozart opera, Don Giovanni, at one of the nicer theaters. We meandered back through Wenceslas square, to the Old Town Square. The square was filled with red huts selling all kinds of food, huge sausages, skewers of chicken and veggies, and unique, sugary donuts in a cylindrical shape. People were everywhere; we enjoyed ambling amidst the throngs. Wandering through the square we wrapped around the statue of John Hus, where a blacksmith and his son were shaping swords and bells, penned sheep and goats were gawked at, and puppets and trinkets were sold. Lunch was cheap, but filling: a juicy sausage with spicy mustard for me and a long chicken skewer for Shereen.
Turning toward the river, we followed the crowds. With narrow, meandering streets, squeezed amongst overhanging buildings, Prague is difficult to navigate. We popped out near the river, but several hundred yards from the Charles Bridge we were trying to reach. This bridge is guarded by another gauntlet of black statues spaced along the length of the bridge. All are black except for a bronze one of St John of Nepomuk. At the base of his statue are scenes of when he was thrown into the river for refusing to tell the king what the queen had confessed to him. The bronze scenes are polished a bright gold from the hands that touch them believing that their wish will come true.
By this time it was afternoon, we were both getting tired from walking all morning on top of the extra walking the day before. But we pushed on to see Prague castle, not knowing the extent and steepness of the walk to reach it. We arrived at the castle exhausted and not interested anymore in spending time there. After seeing the French chateau and cathedrals, the Prague castle is not very impressive. It is really a huge complex, with a cathedral as its centerpiece (nice enough but inferior if you have been to Chartes or Paris). It may be interesting for the well rested, but we did no more that a spin around the grounds, took a picture of Shereen kissing one of the guards, and then headed downhill. We stopped to purchase a few wooden puppets at the Charles Bridge before going back to the hotel.
By the evening we had figured the tram system out, and were able to exit within a block of the theater. The theater was impressive; we thoroughly enjoyed sitting in the center and looking up at the rows of boxes extending to the ceiling above us. Prague has a great mix of music and theater events. The churches offer concerts almost nightly, the black-light theater is inexpensive, and there are numerous concerts and operas. The opera was well done; we were able to follow the Italian singing by reading the English translation projected on screen high above the stage. The story was a version of Don Juan with his hundreds of girlfriends. It ends with Giovanni being dragged down to hell for his misdeeds; the moral being to such ends arrive all evildoers. It may have been that my consciousness of the communist history tuned me in to this, but midway through the play there was a song that included a line something like “Viva la freedom” that was sung with far more gusto and energy. These actors would have experienced the communist oppression and I like to think they were shouting their pleasure at being able to express themselves without regard.
The next day our express goal was to minimize walking. We spent some time shopping in the morning, and then took a paddleboat ride on the river. The sun was great as we floated within sight of the Dancing House, evoking Astaire and Rogers, with curving glass and wire mesh. Leaving the boat we had time to munch on KFC before entering another classic theater for an afternoon opera. We enjoyed this one as well, named in Czech the Secret. We were surprised to see the main actors from the night before on the stage again. Hard workers, these actors. After the play we slurped real fruit smoothies, browsed the wares of the market, and found a bench to relax and watch the passersby. For dinner we met Jason and Kathy by the Old Town Clock for our first meal inside a traditional Czech restaurant. The food was excellent, cheap, and in good quantity. I munched happily on a porky pig leg bathed in sumptuous sauce. Our companions shared heavy dumplings from their combo platter. It was fitting end to our trip as we wedged our way to the door through the crowd of guys quaffing beers and watching a soccer game.
The only other excitement on our trip came after we crossed Germany and approached the border with France. The Germans were doing random checks of the cars going through and we were picked. Unfortunately we had left our passports at home, and Kathy had only a copy of hers. After several minutes of sitting, then a bit of a tongue lashing from the German (at Kathy “these Americans are a problem, but you are more of a problem” and "you're from China, the Republic of China?"), threats to fine us each 30 Euro, comments on “what would the American government do to you now”, referring to torture, he let us go. I had not considered that traveling with Chinese citizens could be a problem and we could have been harassed for longer, but fortunately we looked innocent enough.
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