Hey, Brno! You're boring!

The view from here? Not so good.

It might be naïve of me to have thought that I would like every place I visit during this trip. But even the places I found a little ordinary (Ceske Budejovice) or strange (Karlovy Vary), I could find something that amused and delighted me.

I don't like anything about Brno.

I came in yesterday evening, my train cabin next to some ugly Americans, who were drinking beer, talking on top of their lungs and just being the type of nuisance that made me embarrassed for my country. I found my way to my hotel, which was recommended to me by Steffi, one of the girls I spent my birthday with. She went to university here for a semester and suggested that I stay on the hotel on the college campus because it was cheap. My room is a little dorm, with two single beds, a desk, some chairs, a bathroom and a mini-kitchen. The only strange thing is that there appears to be no one who goes to school here. I have seen only a handful of students.

I found a sheet of paper in my room with Guest Rules and it includes the statement, "Do not hesitate to ask the receptionist about any necessary information." It does not mention that the receptionist does not like to answer questions about any necessary information. I tried to find out about the computer lab (the response was pointing outside in annoyance) to using the laundry room (With a deep sigh: "I guess you can use it, but you can't use it now.")

I took the tram into town for some dinner, and there was no open store or restaurant in sight. It was only 7 o' clock. There were a few people milling about, mostly young people, so they had to be going somewhere. This place, I could not find. I finally went into a coffee shop for some dessert just because it was the only place I saw open, and then I went to McDonald's for dinner.

Sunday was no different. Everything was closed. I wandered about the touristy sights, which had me yawning, the architecture ugly, the air cold on my skin. I found a restaurant that was open, a pasta place, where I ate spaghetti and flipped through a Czech woman's magazine. Inside was one article that I think was supposed to help readers practice reading English. It was an essay written by a British woman defending Americans. She wrote about how Czechs think all Americans are stupid and fat, that no Czech wants to learn American English because they think British English is superior, that Czechs disagree with our government and hate the American commercialism infiltrating their country. In the essay, the writer urged Czechs to have an open mind about Americans, that the stereotypes were not always true, the decisions of the government not necessary any individual's fault. I had heard rumblings of anti-American sentiments in my travels so far. It's one thing to hear it in conversation, but this article, written in a national magazine, took me a little by surprise.

As I am reading, low and behold, the same ugly Americans from the train come and sit at the table right next to me, where they proceeded to have a very loud conversation about midgets.

I needed to get away from them, so I headed to Coffee Heaven, an extremely overpriced European Starbucks-like chain, where I grabbed some coffee and cake, and contemplated my life. Along with this town being a complete drag, all this alone time has made me sentimental and introspective. I found myself getting teary-eyed by the quotes written on the café walls.

"Wheresoever you go, go with all your heart." - Confucis.

This made me think about the day I left New York for this trip, and the knowledge I had then that I was doing something that I really wanted to do, that this trip meant the world to me, that I was going somewhere with all my heart. Would I be able to continue living this way back in New York? Would I really be able to pursue my writing there, with all my heart, or will I drag my feet on the ground because I will be too scared?

Saturated in my thoughts, I went to the Capuchin monastery crypt which was probably the worst place for me to go. Inside the crypt are about a whole bunch of dead bodies from the 18^th century that have become mummified. Walking through the rooms, I saw charcoal grey bodies, mostly bones, through many still had loose skin attached, others still were wearing clothes and their shoes. It was their faces that got me: all of them wore different expressions, but they all looked terrified. Little kids ran by me with wide eyes and donut-hole mouths.

Note to self: When contemplating the meaning of life, don't go to a crypt. It doesn't make you feel any better.

So I did something that does make me feel better. I went to the movies, and went to see an American movie, Becoming Jane, which is a fictious account about writer Jane Austen's life. And there were plenty of Czechs there enjoying the American movie as well.

It is possible that Brno is more lively (at the very least, open) on the weekdays, that the place is truly exceptional in the warm, lazy days summer. I am willing to believe that. But I don't think I ever need to come back to find out for sure.

Back to school: My hotel/dorm.

The bustling main square.

Brno's Cathedral of St Peter and Paul.