We Now Return You To Your Regularly Scheduled Prague-ramming (Okay, That One Was A Bit Of A Stretch)

25 09 2012

Percy had always wanted to try real absinthe.  There was something about the idea of drinking absinthe that made Percy think of the artists and writers of days gone by; of Toulouse-Lautrec, of Oscar Wilde and especially of Ernest Hemingway, one of his favorite writers.  And so on his last night in Prague when he came across a cozy little place called, as if by fate, Hemingway Bar, that just so happened to serve the green fairy, Percy was enchanted.  Here was his chance to have a tiny little piece of the expatriate experience that he had heard so much about in his college literary classes; here was his chance to taste inspiration.  He waited patiently, watching each ice cold drop of water trickle over the carefully perched sugar cube into the chartreuse liquid below, savoring the moment.  He took a sip, expecting bliss, and then coughed, discreetly he hoped.  Why had nobody thought to ever tell him this stuff tasted like licorice?  Percy hated licorice.  Upon further investigation, he realized anise and fennel, two of his most hated seasonings, made up key ingredients of the spirit.  Percy took a deep breath and drank the rest of the absinthe and decided to move on to the rest of the cocktail menu instead, which looked delicious.  At any rate, he had tried something new, and he was pretty sure that Ernest Hemingway would have approved of his choice to drink rum or champagne, so long as he was drinking in general.  Overall, this vacation in Prague had been a smashing success; might as well spend the last night getting smashed.

I don’t normally promote things here (my audience is tiny anyway), but believe me when I tell you that Hemingway Bar in Prague has the best cocktails I have ever tasted.  Plus, it’s cozy and has great ambience, the bartenders are friendly and knowledgable, and it’s just great all around.  I love it.  We spent parts of three of our six nights in Prague here.  Seriously, you have to go there.  Do it!

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The Czech Is In The Mail (This Is Hard. YOU Try Coming Up With Words Starting With “Prague.”)

20 09 2012

Shopping for the perfect souvenir to take to certain people back home had, as usual, proven difficult, as Percy had never been great at gift-shopping to begin with.  Most of the stuff in these touristy shops was crap, and he didn’t want to bring home knick-knacks that would end up getting dusty on a shelf or thrown away in a few years time.  The things that did look nice in the not-quite-as-touristy shops were either too expensive and/or easily breakable, and he didn’t want to spend money on something that might be broken in his suitcase on the way home.  (Baggage handlers could never be trusted.)  Percy gravitated, as usual, to the ubiquitous wall of refrigerator magnets, but now he was faced with the tough decision of what to pick.  Which magnet would say “I’m too cheap to buy you a real present, but not so cheap that I didn’t bring you anything at all”?





The Prague-tologist Said To Turn Your Head And Cough

15 09 2012

Percy wondered if the guards at Prague Castle liked their jobs or not.  It was probably an occupation that carried a lot of ceremonial importance, he thought, but he could see how having tourists take your picture every minute of every day could get old.  Did they feel objectified, or perhaps reduced to a novelty that people from other countries without working castles could never fully appreciate?  Did their knees get really stiff?  How much effort would it take to get them to break character and smile?  Like, let’s say a topless woman wearing bunny ears danced the Roger Rabbit in front of this guy, would that crack his steely exterior? Realizing that he was never going to get an answer to these questions, Percy supposed the only thing to do was to do the same thing as everybody else and get somebody to snap a photo.  As he continued with the rest of his castle tour, he hoped that behind the serious facade there was a man who liked to have fun and laugh once in a while.





Please Submit Your Prague-ress Reports By Friday

13 09 2012

Percy had always believed deep down, that if he tried really, really, really hard he could fly.  Although he had always been told if you believe in yourself that you can do anything, he suspected that perhaps here, high up on the walls of Prague Castle, was not the best place to test out this theory.  Yes, he had just learned about the Second Defenestration of Prague, whereby someone had survived a 70-foot fall after being thrown out one of the castle windows, but he wasn’t sure he would be so lucky if his dreams of flying didn’t pan out.  Also, this drop looked like it might be more than 70 feet, and he was pretty sure dying would most likely ruin the view.





The Doctor Told Me The Prague-nosis Was Good

11 09 2012

The thing that people seemed to say the most when Percy told them that he was going to Prague was that the beer was cheap, and for the most part, it was.  But while Percy knew that many beers in Europe were supposed to be somewhat heady, he took a little offense to the fact that they never seemed to be as full as he thought they should be.  Look at this pint, he had thought. He hadn’t taken a sip yet and it already seemed to be a quarter empty.  Ah, well, he reasoned, he might be getting a little swindled but there wasn’t much point in getting upset. He didn’t want to be “that” American who was picky and obnoxious, and besides, the sun was shining, the city was beautiful, and you couldn’t really complain about any beer that was only a couple bucks when you figured in the exchange rate. The only beer you could get at a bar back home that for that price was Miller Lite on happy hour special, and this real Czech pilsner was way better than that crap.





The World Hates Short People

19 07 2010

The photo booth’s instructions said to adjust the stool height to camera level.  The stool was helpfully marked with arrows so that you knew to rotate it clockwise to move down, and counter-clockwise to move up.  It was only after the guys had put their two dollars in the machine that they discovered the stool was stuck.  Four blank pictures later, they were understandably peeved.





USA! USA! USA!

12 06 2010

In the hours leading up to the much-hyped USA v. England match, Alistair tried to explain the offsides rule to his American friends, who didn’t appear to know or care that much about football (oh, ahem, excuse me, they call it “soccer” here).  He didn’t really know why he bothered.  What was the point of teaching them the subtle nuances of a game they were just going to forget about after World Cup for the next four years, anyway?  England was going to crush these uncultured former colonists.