Polish Ham: Czech, Please

Me in the Old Town Square.

The last time I went to Prague, it was seven years ago, and I arrived in a vintage silver Volkswagen Beetle. I took the 11+ hour journey from Warsaw with Jacub and one of his friends, the car being Jacub's, he being the driver. My memories of that trip are a little fuzzy, but I do remember the ride there. In

Poland

, there are no major highways so in order to get to the Czech border, we had to drive on all these little two-lane roads, which winded through so many towns, for what seemed like an eternity. Then we crossed the border, and all of a sudden, there were fast, multi-lane highways. After driving through what seemed like every town in

Poland

, the Czech Republic road system seemed so much more efficient.

My experience crossing the border from Poland to the Czech Republic wasn't as dramatic this time around since I took the train. But again, I did notice an immediate difference. This being my fourth trip on a Polish train, my experience shows that there are never any station announcements, the stations themselves are often times badly marked, the conductors brisk and annoyed. Therefore, you always have the feeling like you're not totally sure where you are.

This train ride was no exception until we went to the Czech side and all of a sudden, we were getting long announcements about where we were and where we were going. Stations were clearly marked with uniform blue signs with white letters. The conductor smiled and answered questions. It finally felt like someone knew what they were doing. In Poland, I was never quite sure.

It didn't stop there. When I arrived, it took me a few minutes to figure out how to buy my Metro ticket, but once I did and saw the station, I nearly jumped for joy. There were subway maps, lots of them, and they were easy to read and made complete sense! After the Metro, I hopped on a tram, which is similar to what they have in Krakow, but here they told you what stop you were at and all the stops on the line were clearly indicated. In Krakow, I learned after time that there was some kind of tram map (which one knew where to get) but the stations were never announced; you always had to figure out where you were by instinct or good luck.

After checking into my hostel, I decided to wander around the Stare Mesto, the old town of Prague. I barely opened my guidebook, deciding instead to wander about and get lost in the beautiful cobblestone streets with cotton-candy colored buildings. Besides the sights, there were tourists everywhere. Nearly everyone standing around had a camera in hand and for the first time in a month, I kept hearing English being spoken. Not British English or some other kind of accented English, but American English. Americans were everywhere.

I was among them. It was impossible not to walk around mouth agape and take as many pictures as possible. Everywhere I turned, I saw something beautiful. Every building was different. I marveled at many, each with is own story told in architecture, colors and statues.

I finally opened my Lonely Planet guide book and found a French patisserie called Au Gourmand that sounded heavenly. When I walked in, I was immediately in love: there was the old-fashioned décor and then there was a gorgeous array of French desserts.

I pointed to the strawberry and raspberry tart shyly, indicating that I didn't speak Czech.

The man behind the counter snarled in English, "Do you want to eat here or takeaway?"

"Oh," I said, somewhat surprised. "Here."

"Then why are you ordering at the counter? You can sit down."

In Krakow, all ordering is done at the counter. And no one would speak English like that to me. And it suddenly occurred to me that I was experiencing a little bit of culture shock.

So I sat down. He brought me my food, and I am telling you, this berry dessert was the best thing I have eaten in a month, maybe more. After eating it, I decided my next trip will be to France, my blog will be called French Cheese. And if I get fat, it will be so worth it. I watched the three counterboys/waiters talk to each other as I ate.

"This is the best thing I have eaten in a month," I told one of the waiters. "Did you make it?"

He got embarrassed. "No, the chef did."

I wanted these waiters to be my friends but they weren't interested in talking to me. I waved good-bye to them and they weakly waved back in return. Their bad luck. It's a good possibility that I will return.