Czech me out!

It took all my energy not to purchase every single beer mug, shot glass and tshirt which sported that corny pun. But I needed to maintain my image as a serious poet, right?

After a wonderful week spent in Italy, visiting family and a friend from Hamilton (Allison) I had decided it was time to cntinue on my journey. Next destination: Prague. Ah yes, Prague, supposidly the most beautiful city in the world, with good food, cheap beer, friendly people and awesome architechture. Prague, the home of Kafka and apparently a lively spoken word scene I had to see it.

Stepping off the plane to Prague was like stepping into an ice box. My poor blood was so thin from spending the past 6 months in warmer climates (Mexico, Australia, New Zealand), I had to bundle up like I was back up at Hamilton. One tshirt, two sweaters, two jackets, a scarf, woolen mittens, a hat and sunglsses to keep the snow out of my eyes. Oh yes. Snow. In March. Just my luck.

We wandered through the streets of Prague and I was filled with a sense of incredible joy. The buildings were dark and looming, spiraled and ornate covered in light touches of gold that sparkled when hit by the sun. There were beautiful friendly people everywhere, many spoke English but with accents as ornate and dark as the buildings. And they sold us beer in huge glasses for 50 cents. I loved it. I wanted to move there. Immediately I began searching for a job- there had to be some opening with a Peace and Conflict resolution Center there, right? Or maybe some firm needed an events manager? Perhaps a travel writer? Ok Bartender? Fine, Fine.

Because it was Easter week, all the poets had left the city. It was a heartbreaking discovery, that was soon soothed by a hot chocolate made by a Scotish bartender. We asked him how he ended up in Prague. His story is one of those stories that makes me really and truly believe in the goodness of humanity, and the power of being in the right place at the right time with the universe on your side.

He had landed in an airport while coming back from a trip out east. His bags were lost, and he did not have a ticket back to scotland, nor did he have any money to buy one. He had 5 euro in his pocket, so he did what anyone would do. He found the closest bar and bought a beer. while at the bar he sat down next to a man, and told him his story. They got to talking for a while, and then Chris left for a moment to go to the washroom. When he reurned, the man was gone but had bought him another beer. As Chris sat down, he saw that wasnt the only thing that man had done for him. Underneath the glass was folded approximately 300 Euros. Chris bought a plane ticket to Prague with the money and has lived there ever since.

I talked to many foriegners while I was in Prague, especially ones who owned English Language bookshops. I had the great pleasure to stumble into one english language bookshop that happened to run the Prague Writers Fesival in June. When we entered, the owner, in a loud American accent (Boston, I believe) was reccomending to one of his customers alternatives to 1984. `Oh Oh wel if you liked Orwell and you liked Animal Farm, youll lke this book too, its political without all that... animal stuff.`

I liked him instantly. I liked him even more when he gave me his card, told me to email him when I knew for sure if I would be attending the writers festival and he would set up a media pass for me. Hooray for networking.

Prague was mostly spent with wide eyes and full bellies. Its officialy on my list for `places to visit in warmer weather´ and also my ´if i ever becme a broke poet, i will move here´ . Rent, I´m told, is only 600 dollars a month. Who needs Brooklyn?!