Yup, that's right. I spent my day, today, in Kutna Hora while they were wandering past the castles, and main square in Prague. Hey – lets be honest, I've seen castles – and the square? I was there last night. And Kutna Hora? Well it has something you just don't see back at home. And I invited them. Don't you think for a second, I didn't invite them. Because I did. The excuse I heard was something along the lines of not wanting to be eternally cursed and suffer a terrible future in damnation.
Kutna Hora is home to the Bone Church.
This is a church, the interior of which is decorated with human bones. Bones from over 40 000 people line the walls, make up the pyramids in the corners, work to create the breathtaking chandelier, the coat of arms, and the flowers by the alter.
It's not a large building, and there's not much to explore. In fact, standing in the right place you can literally see everything. Well, provided that you can turn, or were genetically modified like Geshy (candy!). Still – by the time I left, I realized that I had spent forty five minute within the post-modern crypt.
From Prague's main station it's a one and a half hour train ride out to Kutna Hora, with a quick change over in Kolin. Round trip? 178 Czollars – so, just about ten bucks Canadian. The tours run ten times that price. Mind you, they also take you through the picturesque gothic UNESCO recognized town here, as well. To be honest, I couldn't be bothered with seeing the town. I came with one thing in mind, saw it, and headed back to the train. At the station I realized that getting back to Prague might not be as easy as I'd hoped.
This was a small town, with farms lining that tracks, and most of the booths and rooms closed and locked up. Inside was one lady working the information desk. And she spoke no English. I tried to communicate that I needed to get back to Prague – or Praha. And eventually she printed out some information. But it did not match the information on the boards that I was trying to piece together.
On my three hour journey I was allowed the pleasure of reading a script for an Untitled Western that one of my buddies has brought over. His brother had written it – his brother who is ever so talented, yet is yet to make a move towards getting his material published. It's a shame really. But it made for the perfect reading while trundling down the tracks past fields and fields of crops yet to grow, with the setting sun ever nearing the horizon. Nothing like some good reading to enhance and journey down the rails.
And then I was back in Prague.
Meeting up back at the hostel, it was decided that we would go to Jagr's sports bar, where a replica of the Stanley Cup was proudly displayed. Out into the night we ventured – and when we go to the correct address we found - - - an Irish Pub. Apparently Jagr's bar didn't do so well, and has since been replaced. Inside the Irish pub the tvs are still arranged as they were before, to look like a hockey score board. But Stanley Cup, and appropriate atmosphere there no longer is.
As I had not eaten since breakfast, I was in need of some nosh – and since we weren't going to stop here, it was suggested that we head to the main square. Apparently the food is good there. On route I had a hot dog stuffed in bread, filled up with mustard and ketchup. I never thought that I would live to say this but, wait for it, there was way too much ketchup in that bun. I mean what type of sick person eats that much ketchup? Who would want that much ketchup? Who could enjoy such a thing? It was like a jelly donut, double filled – because your friend works behind the counter – but not full of jam, or fantastic Boston cream, no – ketchup! I mean honestly.
And – understand – when I say this... it means something.
At the main square I was entranced by the five potato pancakes served with a side of sauerkraut. My wasn't this a treat! Cover the fried potato cakes in the sauerkraut and you're in flavour country. All five of them? It's a big country. And after consuming those I wasn't done! There's no easy way to describe this next bit of food, but I'll try – and let me tell you it was delicious. But it won't sound that way. But it was. (no time!)
It was bread, covered with garlic, then covered with ketchup (a reasonable amount this time) then covered with cheese. You could also get the same bread covered in Nutella if you so wanted. The magic was this fried goodness. I tell you – Europe – man does it know how to do bread right!
And then that was that. Back to the hostel – and back to the room.
It's odd travelling with other people. There's great moments, and then there are moments where you think “hmm – I can't just run off on my own.” Well – I could, but... And I kind of did that already. But that was the last time. I'll be sticking with the tour from here on out. And if I start to go a little mad? Well I'll do my best to conceal it.
Until then, night night, sleep tight, don't let the snorflog's bite.
[authors note: I find the tone of this entry is different – it's hard to write these things with people around. Hmm. I'll adapt. I must! P.S. I am still super psyched that they're here!]
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