Change of plans

View of me and the city of Prague.

In the fashion that one would lay out their clothes on the bed the night before a big day, I went to bed Tuesday night, the entire day Wednesday mapped and planned out. I would wake up, have breakfast at the hostel, then go to a café and begin working on my creative writing (now that my classes are over, I plan to spend some time each day writing some fiction and/or studying Polish). I would follow that up with a bike tour around the city, and then meet up in the evening with two girls I had met earlier for a pub crawl. I wiggled into my sleeping bag, feeling content with my plans, the other five beds in my room empty, topped with white folded comforters.

I woke up to find that I had three new roommates: all of them male. Standing there in my pajamas, hair sticking up, bad breath, I made small talk with two of them who were from Philadelphia, while at the same time, tried to discreetly find a clean pair of underwear in my bag. Welcome to hostel living!

I was eating breakfast alone when an Andre Agassi look-alike, with a shaved head and coffee brown eyes, sat by me and we started chatting. His name was Adam, he was 33 years old and he was from Australia. He had spent most of the summer surfing on the French coast and was now journeying through some cities in Europe before he headed back home. I told him about my goals for the day, and he said he wanted to go to Prague Castle. I had been planning to go to the castle on Thursday, but after some more easy conversation, it occurred to me that I liked talking to him. So in one full swoop, I ditched all my plans. It was kind of exhilarating.

We met up a few hours later, and walked around the castle grounds. We purchased a ticket to only see the highlights, which included the Old Royal Palace, St. George's Basilica and the Golden Lane. We also took a look inside St Vitus Cathedral, the largest church in the country. I had been to Prague Castle the last time I was here in 2000, but I have few memories about it. Now I know why. While the castle itself and the views of the city are magnificent, the rooms and displays inside were completely underwhelming. I was glad to have Adam with me, as we kept ourselves busy with conversation about everything from religion to work to film.

Adam is a definite fun-pig, a person who seeks balance in his life, the epitome of a person who works to live. He is probably one of the most well-rounded people that I have ever met: he enjoys all kinds of sports, surfing being his favorite, which he does every weekend back home. He loves movies, speaks French, indulges in expensive clothes, enjoys his food and drink, has a million friends. He is the type of person who can speak well about any topic.

"Is there anything you are not good at?" I ask him.

"I am a person who is good at many things but not excellent at anything." If he could be excellent at one thing, he wishes he could speak every language.

I could tell that he had the type of personality that could adapt to anyone, and I could tell that maybe I was not the type of person who he would normally hang out with. He was sort of a daredevil, a complete optimist. I, perhaps too sedate and moody. And so I kept waiting for him to get bored with me, but we just kept talking. Even when I told him that I had a boyfriend--which I know from experience can sometimes change everything--he didn't say anything, afterwards suggesting we go out to dinner at a pub.

The pub was coincidentally Australian-themed, the food simple but quite delicious. I was excited to discover that they served wine, and so the two of us downed three glasses of Chianti each. By the end of the meal, it was 6:30 and I was completely drunk. I was a little embarrassed. I tried to keep cool, even when I went to the bathroom and found myself washing hands next to a man peeing in a urinal.

Seeing my state, Adam suggested we go back to the hostel. I was positive that Adam would ditch me now, but he came around while I tried to sober up and write emails, inviting me to his hostel room. We popped open a bottle of wine he got from Germany. We drank from plastic cups, mine kept leaking, and we listened to bad eighties music. I downloaded a bunch of "so bad, it's good" songs for my ipod, including Lost in Your Eyes by Debbie Gibson.

Sitting there in that little room, I couldn't believe that I was in Prague, with a guy I just met, someone who was so different yet so the same as me, sharing some great wine, talking the night away. The day turned out better than I ever expected. I went back to my room late, met one of my other roommates, a Mexican guy named Carlos, who tried to encourage me to continue the party with some whiskey and tequila. I declined, crawled into my sleeping bag, with a sweetly fuzzy mind, and no plans for the day ahead.

Prague Castle



St. George's Basilica



My home in Prague.