On the ground, we were picked up by a yo-yoing pal of Jeff’s nicknamed “Korda,” (really-named Jan, pronounced Yan for those of you not speaking Czech, but also called Honza. “Korda” itself is a play off of his last name of “Kordovsky,” so I’m told). As we whipped around the streets of Prague to our current abode, I took quite a few photos of just about everything I saw to satisfy the little tourist in me, as well as for the legion of people back home who have just-short-of-threatened me to take as many pictures as I could (yes you, you’re welcome).
An interesting note to add is how nonchalantly Korda informed Jeff and myself about how old things were around Prague, and that a crumbling brick wall behind the house we were to stay at was only from the 1300-1400’s. Only.
Now, the photos of the house we are at doesn’t exactly give the greatest impression of it, but my opinion of it at the time is clearly evident of this. It was/is a construction site, with the smell of paint, the presence of construction materials on every floor, and a thick coat of sheetrock dust on every flat surface. I mean, I wasn’t good, it still is a bit rough, but we are allowed to stay here for free, and it’s Korda’s father who owns the property. It just took a few hours of sweeping, cleaning, rearranging, airing-out, and patience to make this place go from a construction site to an unfurnished home, as of May 20. Now it’s really sort of nice, aside from no internet or fridge. Working on both of those as we speak.
The house itself, as the pictures show, is a 2.5 story house designed by Korda’s family, with lots of large windowed doors to the outside, large sliding doors on the inside, very modern aesthetics, and two and a half fancy (if not a little bit superfluous) bathrooms. What I mean by superfluous is that there is a tiny, yet still technically a full, Japanese-style bathroom on the top, loft-like story, a closet-sized half-bath on the second floor, and 2.5 connected bathrooms on the lowest floor. I’m sure because of how unfinished the house is making the bathrooms seem so peculiar, but as it stands now, I don’t quite see the point of them all.
After settling in a little bit, Jeff and I walked around the city for a few hours, with Jeff becoming reacquainted with old surroundings (he travelled to Prague last summer through Emerson College), while I was unable to recognize just about anything whatsoever, partly due to my inability to understand most of the Czech language, and partly a bit of culture shock due to the significant differences in city layout, architecture, merchandise, etc., compared to the US. We ended eating at a cafe translated as, well, “Cafe Slavia,” and had a plate of “Svitkova” (sort of pronounced shvitchkova). Svitkova is basically several buttons of extremely tender beef in a thick, vegetable sauce and with several very thick bread dumplings. Not dumplings like the rolled dough with bits of whatever stuffed inside it like one gets from Chinese restaurants, but they are thick, doughy, patty-like, and are perfect for soaking the sauce off of the plate or sitting like bricks in one’s stomach.
Moving on, that first night we were invited out to some sort of yo-yo club meeting at a park in Prague, where prospective and professional yo-yoers alike meet every so often to practice, drink beer, and discuss anything or everything that comes to mind. Jeff and I ran into Korda again at the park, and I was introduced to a few other people that Jeff had met last year or at competitions past. To be frank, I don’t know much of what went on, as the group was speaking mostly in Czech, as well as after Jeff suggested taking a nap under a tree, it was the most beautiful thing I had heard in days. Being up for over 24 hours by that point, very little else but sleep sounded good at that point, so I took it.
I slept. Wonderful, glorious sleep beyond the reaches of space and time, where the knowledge that I had to wake up and realize I was using my shoes as a pillow was completely nonexistent …until Jeff woke me up to tell me we were going to a pub. It seems I had only been sleeping for around an hour, but I simply cannot describe how deep and full that sleep felt. Sort of a band-aid on a bullet wound at that point, but boy, did it ever feel nice. So for better or worse, to the pub we went.
At the pub we met another one of Jeff’s old acquaintances, Korda’s sister Marie (aka Majenka, aka Maja, everyone seems to have at least three names they go by around here). I don’t mean to wish any of the people I met before then any offense, but Marie was the first person in Prague that made me feel actually welcomed in the country. It was friendliness I definitely needed (Jeff says that there is some hesitance for Czechs to speak English to native English speakers, which can explain this impression of disinterest. Regardless, my opinion stands no less for Marie’s kindness).
After a pint of some sort of Pilsner beer (which is most certainly not my favorite kind of beer in the world, being a porter or stout kind of fellow, but I digress) and a few hours of mixed English/Czech conversation, Jeff and I hopped on a trolley (a proper trolley with electric cables and such, not the depressing husks of what once were trolleys like one sees in Boston) to head back home for a night of internet withdrawal and homesickness.
Next: Yo-yo competition, plum vodka, and humidity.
