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Day 7: Travel to Prague and First Impressions

We didn’t get very far from Berlin before we had to stop for the night. Once again, we found fairly modern facility, although you could hardly tell from the thick fog that enveloped the Autobahn. Now I know why German automobiles came equipped with fog lights back when they were not common in other makes. Even with the fog people seemed to be driving as fast as ever. I cannot impress upon you the importance of staying in the right lane when driving here. Move to the left only when passing and, even then, make sure that your rearview mirror is clear of traffic. If there is any traffic at all, wait for it to pass; otherwise, before you know it a sports sedan will be in your tail following inches from your bumper and may cut you off if forced to move to the far left.

This seems to be the rule in the Czech Republic too. The only difference is that the car blowing by is bound to be a late-model Skoda (the Czech national brand now owned by Volkswagen as evidenced by their pavilion at Autostadt). When passing it is also important to gain enough momentum so you can finish passing and be back in the right lane as soon as possible. These vans don’t have big engines unlike trucks in the US and they may take a while to get up to speed after being stuck behind truck at 80 kph waiting for traffic on the left to clear.

The next morning we didn’t leave as early as expected but were in the road by 9:00 am. On paper, the entire trip was supposed to take a little less than 5 hours and we had already traveled at least an hour the night before; however, this estimate soon proved to be optimistic at best. We left the Autobahn and started climbing mountains on winding two-lane roads. Truck traffic was extremely heavy and the going was very slow. There were many construction sites along the way, some of which forced us to stop altogether for minutes at a time. It was during one of these stops that the trucker behind us felt the urge to urinate, so he just unzipped his pants and started doing it right in our rearview mirror. This is probably the third or fourth time that we have seen somebody urinating in public. The worst once was right in the middle of Postdamer Platz in Berlin when a man felt the need to irrigate some construction barricades. And these people are not bums but normal looking people. I had heard about the “pissiors” or public peeing booths such as the ones we saw in Berlin and the ones that are common in Paris where you can see people’s feet through the bottom of the partition as they do their business in the middle of the street, but this is ridiculous. Perhaps they need a few more pissiors here and there.

The delays didn’t bother us so much since the scenery was fantastic. We rode through many picturesque little towns full of yellow stucco houses with red roofs and red brick bell towers reaching towards the sky near the center. There were beautiful vistas of green fields and rugged mountains all around. Soon we were at the Czech border. We passed by the endless line of trucks being processed to the right and arrived at the checkpoint. Many of the cars were being waved by with just a cursory glance at the occupants’ papers; however, there were a couple of cars that had been ordered to pull to the side while they were processed. Even though the Czech Republic is technically part of the European Union, it is still not fully integrated and one does have to go through customs unlike when crossing national borders between other EU countries. I gave the officer my passport and he said something back in German. (Everyone assumes we speak German because we have German plates on our van.) I told him “English, please” and he replied: “Registration, please.” I managed to find the book that the attendant at the camper place said contained the registration and prayed everything was in order. It seems stolen car traffic between Germany and the Czech Republic is a major problem and I assumed that was mainly what they were looking for. A van like this would probably fetch a good price on the black market in the Czech Republic and two Americans in a van with German plates could raise some red flags in the eyes of the customs officials. He asked for my driver’s license and I asked him if he wanted my international driving permit too. I went through a lot of trouble to get that thing, so I may as well show it to somebody. He told me to pull off the road and went inside the both.

We waited for a few minutes and soon a lady in green military fatigues and tall boots came out, handed the papers back to me and said something like: “Here you go… Two weeks… Goodbye.” And just like that, we had crossed the border. I didn’t know we needed visas but apparently we got one for two weeks and had our passport stamped to boot.

The first order of business was to find a place to exchange money and buy a vignette. In the Czech Republic the currency is called the crown (Kn) and we only had euros and dollars with us. This wasn’t much of a problem since there are money changing places everywhere and credit cards are widely accepted (though not universally). Additionally, you need a vignette to traverse the highways and can face a steep fine if you don’t have one. Our European camping book said that the price of the vignette was only four euros but we would later learn that the price had doubled. We stopped at the first currency exchange place after crossing the border. The exchange rate didn’t seen to be particularly good but I still exchanged $20 just is case. I asked about the vignette and the lady, who didn’t speak English, indicated that I should tell her what kind of vehicle it was for. I said it was a van and pointed to a van in the brochure she handed me. She said it was 28 euros and I thought she was trying to rip me off since this was the first place after the border and probably a tourist trap. I decided to go on and buy the vignette later but I think that maybe she was thinking that my vehicle was over 3.5 tones and required a special permit.

Later, I stopped at a gas station and asked the young lady behind the counter about the vignette. She said it was 8 euros and I looked at her skeptically and asked if that was really the price since my guidebook said it should be half that. She rolled her eyes and contorted her body and said that that was the price everywhere and that all cars needed to buy it. A tall young man with a bold head came in behind me, put some money on the counter and said, “Amazing how the prices go up, eh?” I bought the thing anyway and, when I went outside, I saw the young man fiddling with his car. I walked up to him and asked him if that was really the price. He said that the price had recently gone up and that he himself had just bought one. He asked where we were from and, when I said we had come from America, he exclaimed: “No f—ing way! That’s where I come from.” He had an accent and I said that we were originally from Puerto Rico but that we now live in Virginia. He said that he was from the Czech Republic but that he lived in Florida. Small world… I guess. When I went to stick the vignette on the windshield, I noticed that this was the third time this van had been to the Czech Republic this year, a testament to how popular a tourist destination this country has become.

The Czech Republic looks very different from Germany. As soon as one crosses the border, the differences are evident. Things are older and more run down and everything seems to be less orderly. The roads have indentations from overloaded trucks that catch your wheels and make driving treacherous. Rest stops are few and far between at least on the E55, though they are more common on the Southern route back to Germany through the D5. The rest stops on this side are little more than a parking lot for trucks. On one such rest stop we saw a young woman standing by the side of the road and, judging by the way she was dressed; we had to assume that she was a prostitute taking advantage of the truck traffic to boost her business. In fact, there were many strip joints along the route that seemed to cater primarily to truckers.

We rode right through lunch since we couldn’t find a suitable place to stop and fix something nor a restaurant that we would want to go into. We seemed to be making better progress when we hit the four lane highways; however, the trip still took the better part of the day. Near the city, traffic was quite heavy and confused. There were several backups and the aggressiveness of Czech drivers reminded me of my homeland of Puerto Rico so I switched to survival mode and soon was honking the horn and driving as defensively as I could. It was a good thing that I had the voice prompts from the GPS because there were many tricky turns where a mistake could have gotten us hopelessly lost.

The campsite was an island not only on the literal sense but also was an isle of calm from the pandemonium of the highway. There are no words to describe how beautiful this place is. The campsite is nestled on the North end of a slender island on the Vltava River. There is only one bridge connecting the island to the East bank (the less touristy more industrial part of town) of the river and the island is over 1 Km in length. The campsite takes up almost the entire width of the narrow island and the part where one parks faces the West bank of the river (the old city) under the shadow of a large castle. When we arrived the weather was perfect, sunny and warm, and there were several sailboats out enjoying the day. From the van one could get an amazing view of the old city on the other side of the river as well as the castle and it’s wall. It was simply idyllic!

I parked the van near the entrance and walked over to the registration. The attendant, who was outside, took the island metaphor one step further by being as casual as I though possible outside of Jamaica. He said we could park anywhere we pleased and hook up to any electrical outlet and that we could take care of the registration later. Then he disappeared after saying something about the ferry. His name was Peter and he seemed like a character out of a World War II movie. Stoutly built and dressed in overalls and a stripped shirt, he was as colorful as the scenery. A few minutes later he came back and I registered. Everything was very informal and he said I could stay as long as I wanted. I told him I would only stay two nights and he proceeded to proudly tell me about the castle and the city and declared, “Who knows? Maybe you stay four nights and say, ‘yea okay’. We leave now…”

After the Berlin bus debacle, I decided to get good directions to the transportation system. Luckily, Peter was prepared and sold me a map of the city showing lines of the buses, trams and the subway; however, one thing I’ve learned by now is that usually when the campground attendant gives you directions to the city it is a vast oversimplification. There is always a hitch, such as a bus that stops running after a certain time or a change in stations on the way back or some little thing that he explained briefly and you missed that is going to get you lost. In this case I thought that the dotted lines on the map indicated the trams when they actually indicated subway lines. I also thought that Peter had said that pretty much any tram would take us to the center but in fact the tram and bus system were quite complicated and the best way to get to the old town was to take the B subway line and get off at the Mustek Station, which is the center of everything.

The other hitch was getting across the river. I knew that there was a ferry that would take us across for a small charge. Peter confirmed that the ferry left every hour on the hour until 7 pm. After 7, he said that we only needed to go one or two stops further (he wasn’t sure which) and walk a little further across the bridge. Armed with the knowledge (so we thought) to avoid getting lost; we enjoyed a late lunch and prepared to go into town to catch our bearings and maybe find a supermarket or an Internet café. I was surprised to find out that in addition to the campground attendant, Peter was the ferryboat captain. In fact, the ferry was nothing more than a noisy little barge and the crossing took less than one minute. On the other side, we quickly found the station after following the only other passenger on the ferry, who was a local, and crossing the road at the light that ticked like a time bomb and then began ticking really fast when it was time to cross (like it was ready to blow).

We were unsure of where one bought tickets for the tram and we asked at a store inside the train station but we thought that the lady said that we could buy them from the driver when she was actually saying that we could buy them from her, as we later realized. In fact, in order to buy tickets to the tram or the bus, you have to go to the underground station and buy it from a machine, which seems to make perfect sense in the Czech Republic. Also, the machines take only coins, so if you don’t have change you have to go to of the shops around the station and buy them. The tickets must be validated and are good for 75 min after validation on weekdays from 9 am to 5 pm or 90 min from validation on weekends, unless you buy a day pass, which is valid 24 hours after validation. The passes come in different zones but only the three-zone passes seemed to be valid throughout the entire old city… Confused? So were we.

We got into the very first tram we came upon and the driver was locked inside a plastic and Plexiglas cage so we could not buy the tickets and, before we could figure out how to ask him what to do, we were off. We sat down knowing that we could be fined for riding without a validated ticket (and they do check here) and began to try to follow the stations looking at the wrong line on the map. Once it became obvious that we were lost (again), we began asking people. Many Czechs speak English, specially the younger ones, and many people were willing to help out; however, since we were reading the map incorrectly, the directions they gave us seemed to make no sense. We determined that they didn’t understand where we wanted to go but got off at an underground station to look for the information desk. At the station we were finally able to buy tickets; however, looking at the diagrams of the subway lines didn’t help at all. Someone finally told us to get on the A train to a certain station and change to the B train and go to another station and that there would be an information office there. We decided to give it a try since we could only get more lost by now.

The subway was quite crowded and hectic, which only added to our frustration. When we were taking the stairs to the platform, a man dressed in all black approached us and said something we could not understand. He showed us a red badge that looked like the novelty Soviet era badges that they sell here as souvenirs. We tried to blow him off saying that we were not interested, but he insisted saying “Ticket Check” in English. Luckily, we had just bought our tickets. We would get checked once more while we were in the city, highlighting the importance of having a valid ticket specially if you’re the tourist. Getting off the A subway, we met Nichole, a cheery American of Czech parents who was spending some time in Prague with her grandmother. She was very friendly and suggested we follow her. She had been there about a month and still hadn’t figured out the whole thing but knew enough to get us to the city center and point us towards the information office. Stepping off the crowded subway, even she had to take a moment to catch her bearings and determine which exit she needed to take. Nichole was doing a new walking tour that day and was taking a different route than she normally did. The underground stations are a maze and it is hard to know exactly where you are going to come out even if you know you are in the right station.

Once outside, there was an imposing red tower, the Powder Tower, under which ran one of the city gates and a building with a beautifully elaborate portico. The streets were teaming with people, most of whom were as lost as we were. In fact, the city is being overrun with tourist. The word has gotten out that this is the last place where the “real” fairy tale Europe can be found and everyone has flocked here at once turning it even more commercialized and touristy than the places that have already been “spoiled”. We began down the street in search of the Mustek station, dazed and confused, and not sure if we liked Prague or not. The architecture was incredible and there were restored old buildings as far as the eye could see; however, it was also crowded, smelly and the street level was lined with souvenir shops, Internet cafes, restaurants and every other tourist trap imaginable. The whole thing was just a little too overwhelming and left us somewhat disillusioned. Prague was supposed to be this magical land: the most beautiful city on earth, transit-able easily on foot. Thus far it was proving to be none of the above.

We arrived at the impressive Vaclavske Namesti, a long square leading up to a large domed building that houses the National Museum. Once again, the place was awe inspiring but completely packed with both tourists and vendors hawking every possible kind of ware. We located the information office, which wasn’t really a government-sponsored tourist information office like those in Germany but really an agency that books rooms and sells tours and tickets. In any case, the guy was really nice and didn’t really try to sell me anything. He showed me that I was reading the map incorrectly and that the B subway line would take us straight to the station we started from. He also pointed out how to get to the bridge that we would have to take if we missed the last ferry since it wasn’t on the map. He even recommended a very good (and cheap) restaurant.

Czech food normally consists of some type of meat, usually stewed or in a sauce, and dumplings. It is extremely filling and very cheap, although we did notice that prices could go up as much as 100% or more along the main routes that tourist take. Venture just one block off the main street and your food will be just as good and a lot cheaper. Beer is literally cheaper than water here. It is said that Czech beer is some of the best in the world. I am not a big beer drinker but, given the fame of Czech beer and the excellent value it represented, I made a point of ordering it. It was quite good but I still had trouble finishing it. A “normal” beer around here is 0.5 liter. That’s half a carton of milk full of beer! Add to that to the substantial Czech meal and you will certainly be full by the time you get up from the table. That didn’t stop some visitors from overindulging in Czech beer, however. (Maybe they skipped dinner instead.) This was particularly true of a group we dubbed “the orange crew”. They ran around in orange clothes and silly hats being loud and stopping at every bar in sight. I don’t know what they were all about but they were clearly not in Prague for the scenery. On our last night in Prague we were serenaded by a group of drunks sitting on the table behind us. They sang out of tune English rock anthems and drinking songs until the waiter finally kicked them out. There was a short one that could hardly stay on his feet. He extended his hand to the waiter as a peace offering but the waiter didn’t take it so the little guy started down the street with the help of his friends.

The meal somewhat salvaged the disastrous evening and, by the time we got up from the table, I knew exactly where I needed to go. We stopped at a grocery store in the underground station and purchased one large bread, milk, juice, eggs and several other things and spent what amounted to something like $5. As I said, food is particularly cheap here. We managed to catch the last ferry, which spared us from having to find and cross the bridge. (As we would later learn, this was a substantial walk.) We had to wait for the daughter of some of Peter’s friends who was running late in dropping the car off before going to back to the island. The ferry schedule evidently was fairly flexible and subject to the whims of the captain, which reminded us about the old joke of Puerto Rican time always being half an hour later than the appointed time. Perhaps they have the same joke here.

Day 8: Redemption for Prague

We spent the rest of the evening huddled up with the maps and guidebooks working on a game plan for the next day. We were determined to see all the sights of the city the next day and maybe do some shopping as well. Despite being worn out by the long days in Berlin, we had a long drive ahead of us and wanted to leave the following day by lunch at the latest. We got up early and it was bitterly cold. The first ferry left at 9:00 am so we started by foot down the road back to the bridge. Peter’s “little bit further” turned out to be over 2 Km. After the previous day tram debacle, we didn’t want to mess with the trams or buses, so we walked all the way back to the underground station even though there was a bus station a couple of blocks closer to the campsite. As it turns out, the subway wasn’t complicated at all. There are three lines and a couple of exchange stations. The center of town is just a couple of stations down for the station nearest to the campsite on the B train. The only problem that morning was that we didn’t have any coins left and the machines in the subway take only coins. Coins are still used widely in Europe but particularly so in the Czech Republic. We didn’t see any machines there that would take bills at all. For the subway this is not a big problem as most of the stations have small shops that sell cigarettes and other knickknacks, which also sell tickets. As always, the tickets from the shop must be validated before boarding the train, tram or bus.

We took the subway back to the Mustek station and, as soon as we emerged onto the Vaclavske Namesti, we saw the city in a different light. In the haze of the early morning and almost devoid of visitors, the city seemed at peace. We were free to stroll down the street towards the city gate as we admired the amazing architecture. The entire city is like an open air museum. Everywhere you look you see something interesting, whether it be an elaborate statue inside its niche atop a doorway, brightly colored frescoes on the side of a building, facades painted to give the impression of three dimensions or hidden courtyards or cafes in between buildings. Before we realized it, we arrived at the city gate and marveled at its size. We walked through the gate and observed the details inside the arch. We continued towards the old town square stopping to check out a couple of the many shops that lined the streets. Without the throngs of tourists everywhere, the souvenir shops and exchange houses didn’t seem quite as offensive to the character of the city as they did the night before.

Upon arriving at the old town square we had to pause for a moment and take it all in. We looked around the square with mouths open as we admired one building after another. The square is dominated by a giant statue of Jan Hus, a Czech preacher who was tried for heresy and burned for preaching against church corruption a hundred years before Martin Luther.

On one side of the square rise the spires of Tyn Church, so named because of its interior courtyard that leads inside. In fact, we had trouble finding the entrance to the church because the outside of the courtyard is populated by cafe and there is only a narrow doorway in between the tables that leads into the yard where the entrance is located. Even though the church has been rebuilt and added to, there are records that mention a church and a nearby hospital in that same site since the 1200s.

We walked over to the Old Town Hall and saw the people gathering for the show as the astronomical clock chimes every hour on the hour, but the clock was being repaired. We had heard that the mechanical figures that danced around were nothing to write home about anyway so we went inside to climb up to the tower for a view of the city. After climbing several flights of stairs, one pays the admission and there is a glass elevator that only has two buttons: one for the top and another for the bottom. After some initial grumblings, the elevator took off and whisked us speedily to the top. The view from the narrow walkways around the tower was amazing. As far as the eye could see there was nothing but old buildings. I had seen a similar view in Salzburg on my previous trip to Europe but here the old city was much larger and almost all was extremely well preserved.

We set off in search of the Charles Bridges, which we had been told was not to be missed. Walking down the labyrinth of medieval streets, we were on the lookout for a place to have lunch since we had had an early start and were already famished. All of the restaurants along the route most tourist take to the bridge were twice or more what we paid the night before for the same food! Arriving at the bridge was like a revelation. There were Postcard-perfect views of the river in every direction. The bridge itself is a major art piece with intricate statues every few meters. By this time the tourist were out in force and the bridge was already pretty crowded; however, that didn’t matter to us anymore. We were happy to take our time crossing the 1,700-foot span admiring the artwork that formed the bridge itself as well as the artwork being sold by local artists along the way and the amazing alpine landscape that surrounded us. Near the center of the bridge there was a band playing Dixieland jazz. This odd soundtrack did not seem out of place, however, since there was such a festival atmosphere throughout the entire bridge.

On the other side we ventured off the main street to find a place to eat and our theory was confirmed as less than one block from the main thoroughfare was an Italian brick-oven restaurant with very reasonable prices. The food was quite good and substantial and the place had spades of character even if it wasn’t local cuisine. We took our time during lunch and recharged our batteries for the long trek uphill to the fortress that dominates the old city.

On the way to the castle, we stopped at the church of Saint Nicholas where Mozart once played the imposing 2,500-pipe organ. The incredibly ornate interior of the church, made up of white and pink marble and yellow gold, stood in stark contrast to the austerity of the German churches we had visited before. Every inch of the ceiling was covered in frescoes depicting angels and clouds and sky making you feel like you weren’t inside a building at all. The paintings also contained arches and towers with shadowing that created a three-dimensional quality and added to the illusion that the church went on and on forever without any ceiling. I guess the designers’ intention was to give the visitor a feeling of eternity like in heaven. We checked out the chapels were multiple clergy are buried and went upstairs to an exhibit of a series of paintings depicting the passion of Christ. On our way up, we saw a lady intently looking out a window. She happened to be Latin American and, when we stopped to see what she was looking at, she explained that they were unearthing a skeleton on an archeological dig next door. We thought there was just some construction going on; however, there was in fact an almost intact skeleton, skull and all, being unearthed. Even though some of the buildings we’ve been looking at date only two or three centuries in their present form, people have been living, worshiping and dying here since the first century and there is always the possibility that any new excavation could reveal ancient artifacts or even human remains.

The walk up to the castle was monumental to say the least. We had already walked quite a ways from the campsite to the city and we still had a lot more to walk. Once on the top, we were rewarded with even more amazing views.

We decided to forgo the museum located inside the palace and went straight to the Cathedral of Saint Vitus, which was only finished in 1929 but was started 600 years before that. If the size of St. Nicholas was impressive, St. Vitus was downright gigantic. It’s spires that reach up to the heavens and are decorated with every sort of mythical demon imaginable. Our European history book says that the decoration of doorways and spires of cathedrals was where medieval artisans could let their imaginations soar and I can see why. The outside of these large churches is completely covered with gargoyles and monsters more inventive than any modern sci-fi or horror movie creator could dream up. One could spend years trying to decipher every figure on a single church and would not be able to count them all; it’s incredible.

The church is done in a gothic style which, as we have learned, is meant to let more light in with its thin structure and arches filled in with stain glass; however, because of the darker materials used inside, the church looked gloomier than St. Nicholas. The stain glass does create a nice effect and when you look at it from a distance, you can see how detailed the scenes depicted in them are. It is hard to believe that the medium is crystal and not paint.

We descended from the castle and were able to witness the changing of the guard on one the guard posts leading outside the castle. I had gotten so good at navigating now that we were able to go straight to an underground station (which just happened to be the same one we arrived at the previous day when we were lost) and take the train to our next stop which was the so called Old-New Synagogue. This 700 year-old synagogue is one of the oldest in Europe and still remains after multiple fires and many massacres. The interior was solemn and simple with rough wooden benches around the perimeter and few furnishings and artifacts used for worship. Right in the center of the temple, sat the rustic stand where scripture is read using large rolls as has been done since antiquity. The building gave a sense of being much older than 700 years since it was remodeled fairly recently in an orthodox style. One could easily imagine such a temple in Israel during Jesus’ time or even earlier.

I wanted to visit the old Jewish cemetery, where 100,000 people are buried but, by the time we found it, we discovered that there was a separate ticket that needed to be purchased that gave you access to several sites and there wasn’t enough time to see them all. I had already purchased another ticket for the synagogue and it would not have been worth it to spend the money on the extra ticket and see the cemetery alone. Besides that we were so tired by now that I don’t even know how our legs were still able to hold up. We did not go back to the camper after the cemetery, however. We wanted to leave early the next day and still had some shopping to do and wanted to get online to talk to the family. Brenda was able to find some very unique jewelry at a place called Pilgrim and we bought some souvenirs; however, the rest of the shopping wasn’t that great. Designer clothing was particularly expensive here. A polo shirt from a place like Tommy Hielfiger or Lacoste would cost what amounts to over $100! There were T-shirts that were $80 and up and jackets that were almost $500! This stuff is overpriced as it is, but the prices here were incredible.

After spending some time at yet another smoky Internet café, we went in search for a restaurant. We ended up eating at the same place as the night before since it was very good and the prices were great. By the time we got back, we had missed the last boat and had to walk all the way back. On the island the road was in almost complete darkness at times and we prayed that this was a safe neighborhood but there was virtually nobody out in the street. Needless to say, when we finally arrived at the van, we were probably as exhausted as we’ve ever been. Despite the unbelievable surroundings this campsite has facilities that are… shall we say… “rustic”. We had considered putting off the shower for the next day when we would hopefully arrive at a modern and better-kept facility; however, after such a long day we needed the shower. You needed to put in a 40-crown coin to get hot water for something like 4 min. I was too slow and did not have any more coins so I had to finish showering with cold water in the unheated bathhouse when it was something like 40 degrees outside. Ouch! At least I forgot about how tired I was for a while. In the end Prague redeemed itself and seduced us so with its charms that we ignored the throngs of tourist and walk to exhaustion in order to experience every once of the city.