My first Saturday in Prague was to be an early start. I was still pretty tired from the late nights and early mornings I had been experiencing all week and was desperate for a lie in, but there was a tour I was needed on, and so I got up, faced the music and danced myself off to the shower.
Washed and fed, we made our way to the metro station. It was only five stops away and so before we knew it we were at Old Town Square, a beautiful location with three or four churches or something (I didn’t count them) enclosing it. This was to be where we met the red umbrella people who would take us on our tour.
Our tour guide, as lovely as she was, had a voice that sounded like she had a frightened squirrel trapped in her throat. Every time she spoke my brain hated my ears for listening. A man at the front, oblivious to her white noise, kept asking questions, like the annoying nerd at the end of a lecture does when you’re desperate to leave, and so it wasn’t long before I started standing at the back so I couldn’t hear them anymore. This of course meant I didn’t get the chance to know the history of anything and so I was pretty much stood around looking at buildings. This of course, became rather dull, rather quickly. I could do this myself at my own pace, and so when we broke for lunch, me and the girls decided we would go and see Charles Bridge, grab a coffee and then part ways to explore on our own.
Charles Bridge is amazing. Picturesque and bustling with people, the bridge spans a river where boats and swans drift along its banks some distance below. Hundreds of tourists mill around, armed with selfie sticks snapping themselves again and again, whilst the locals line the bridge selling their wares. Buskers ensure the long walk across is paved with music, whilst artists draw caricatures of those fortunate enough not to possess a selfie stick.
We found an equally amazing spot for coffee. A right old sun trap which kept us out of the shade which was colder than our waiter and a French couple, all of who took offence to me moving a chair too close to the French couples table. Ooh la la!
We drank our drinks and then headed in different directions. India to an art gallery, Hristina went back home and I headed back to the bridge via a hot dog vendor.
I still can’t get my head round this money. I paid 80 Kc for a cup of coffee and only 70 Kc for a hot dog which was longer than the queue I waited in for twenty minutes to get. You do the math. Hot dog in hand, I enjoyed the bridge once more and with no map and a memory as hazy as backstage at a Jimmy Hendrix gig, I wandered around aimlessly for an hour or so, (finding a place that shows Premier League footy in the process) before slowly trying to find my way home to stock up on this crazy cash before venturing out for supplies of bread and beer.
I then spent the next few hours, drinking said beer, eating sandwiches and updating this blog. A lie in finally awaits me tomorrow before another day of exploring, and hopefully watching the Liverpool game at the new bar I discovered today. A day of leisure before the real work starts on Monday.