I spend my second day in Prague partying madly. Well, not really.
I meet a British guy in his late fifties and he offers to buy me a coffee in return for me entertaining him with my dazzling wit and equally impressive cleavage. He lives in a van in Cambridge, England, which he drives to the south of France (think St Tropez, Cannes…) each year for the summer. I think I might LIKE that!
In the evening, I go out for a beer with an English-Slovakian woman and we exchange tales of cheating boyfriends, to mutual satisfaction and lipsmacking over enormous frothing trenchers (until I knocked mine all over the floor with a particularly expansive gesture). Her parting words ‘Don’t go back to him, will you!’. So I go back to my hostel and text him directly with this information, only to have my final homily bounce (my mobile has culture shock).
Back in the hostel, there’s a cute Scottish girl who’s obsessed with Dracula. Instead of traipsing around the streets looking at stuff, she spends all her time curled up in bed reading the sequel to Bram Stokers Dracula (with some disgust, as she says it’s crappy) on her i-phone. Coincidentally, everyone is woken up in the middle of the night by a spooky wind which moans and howls through the cobbled alleys and fetches up against the dorm windows with a huge crash, as of an undead monster trying to break its way in. The Scottish girl snores and farts right through it, though.
The next night Christian from the hostel takes us all on a night tour of Prague. He has nothing good to say whatever about the Czech President, who apparently was caught on camera pocketing an official pen that didn’t belong to him, at a treaty signing event.
Totally embarrassing, for one’s national leader (almost as bad as OUR national leader-in-waiting posing around in red tighties).
Seen by the Voltova – a team of Garnier people offering to clean people’s windscreens. Are Garnier now producing premier quality windscreen detergent, in addition to anti-ageing creams?
Lots of people have tiny dogs here. They’re allowed everywhere, even on planes. There are very few ‘no dogs’ signs, which I think is the way it should be. I SO wish I could take my dog to work, it would make the inane drudgery slightly more bearable and I’d have someone intelligent to talk to.
Physiognomy used to be a really popular pastime back in the 19th century – people reckoned you could tell a lot from the shape of someone’s skull. I personally can’t see how this can be anything but rubbish. Why SHOULD determined people have bigger chins? And yet, perhaps genes for big chins GO with genes for determination? The whole thing annoys me because people think, just because I was born looking like Virginia Woolff, I AM like Virginia Woolff. Actually, I’m more like Anna Nicole Smith, only not dead.
Having said that, it’s interesting how Slavic faces seem to migrate towards the middle. Long flat mouths sitting up tight under long flat noses. Most are overweight and badly dressed. This is a disappointment because I always thought they looked like this.
On the way to the station to leave Prague for Vienna, I see an old lady walking along with her fly wide open over pantihose. I stop politely and mention it to her, only to get a sour WTF look – on closer inspection, it was actually an old man. Oh well.