this week in the odyssey
12.6.99 -- 12.13.99
prague, czech republic

Getting The Heck Outta Dodge

Departure time on the Odyssey! Five weeks have come and gone here in Prague, leaving us with no recourse other than to pack our bags and head to Switzerland for Christmas festivities with Bohners a-plenty. Before you can get out of Prague, though, you've got to see the sights. It's actually the law here -- if you can't produce ticket stubs from at least four major tourist attractions, the Czech Border Police will not let you out of the country. In fact, the Border Police are actually fully authorized to beat you severely if you do attempt to get out without dropping a few tourist dollars. See those statues pictured at right with the giant figures administering ritualized corporal punishment? Many people don't know it, but those are actually famous depictions of Czech Border Policemen beating a few unfortunates who tried to bypass the law by passing off subway passes as tickets to "attractions." That's also why I'm smiling so widely in that picture at right -- I just scored my fourth ticket and I'm licensed to leave!

By the way, there's absolutely no truth to the rumor that the fellow on the receiving end of that cudgel in the statue above is meant to be Rick Steves, Backdoor Man of American Travel Journalism, whose 1992 edition of "Former Soviet Socialist Republics Through The Backdoor (And Back Out The Frontdoor As Fast As Humanly Possible)" might well have included the offhanded line, "Some people say the Czech Republic doesn't suck -- I'm not one of them." Yes, that flippant little quip ("quipito?") might well have appeared in that book if, in fact, Rick Steves had ever written such a book. As it is, however, I'm pretty much just making this all up since I think a giant statue of Rick Steves being beaten with a cudgel by a mythic figure would actually be a welcome addition to Prague's culturescape. It would kinda break the monotony of renaissance, baroque, baroque, gothic, y'know?

Of course, if you can't have sculptures of Rick Steves tasting the pain, you should definitely have sculptures of cars on legs, right? Of course you should! Thankfully, your good friends down at the German Embassy have already predicted your sculptural needs and provided that Trabant you see pictured at left for your visual delection. Actually, this is much more than a Trabant on legs -- somewhat like Al Gore's claim of inventing the Internet, this is also comic political art of the highest order. Trabants, as you may or may not know, were the East German's car of -- well, not the "car of choice" since that implies that "choice" actually existed in East Germany during the time of the Trabant. Let's say that Trabants were the "car of centrally specified quota" during socialist times. Notoriously noxious and aggravatingly slow, Trabants (in addition to Wartburgs) were probably the only cars you would see on East German streets during socialist times. Now, pay attention, because here's where the art comes in -- before the East German government collapsed entirely, they opened their borders with socialist brother states (your basic former Warsaw Pact countries) in September of '89. Convinced that the West German embassy in Prague was a way-station on the road to the west, thousands of East Germans swarmed to Czechoslovakia en masse in hopes of getting out to the West. In a few days, the West German embassy's grounds in Prague were stuffed with East German refugees, waiting for something to happen. The Czech communist government was quite embarrassed by this spectacle and was eventually forced to allow a convoy of East German refugees to be bused out of the Czech Republic and over to the west. Unfortunately, this solution neglected the East Germans' cars, which were now completely choking the square in front of the German Embassy in addition to the surrounding streets, obliging the West Germans to do something to remove them if they ever wanted to get into their own embassy again. Although probably somewhat irritated at the fact that they were all double- triple- and quadruple-parked (Germans hate it when you don't follow the rules), the folks at the Embassy maintained their cool heads long enough to see a fantastic opportunity for some really great political art. And that's why you see that Trabant on legs there at left behind the German Embassy in Prague, perpetually lumbering its way to freedom. By the way, there is absolutely no truth to the rumor that a sculpture of Rick Steves, bound and gagged, can be found locked in the trunk of that Trabant. None. In fact, I just made that up.

One of the chief attractions of Prague's Old Town is Josefov, the old Jewish Quarter. Former home of Franz Kafka and, well, many Czech Jewish People who didn't turn out to be famous authors, Josefov boasts a number of very interesting attractions. In fact, Josefov boasts so many interesting attractions that the tourist board there has created a very sophisticated system to ensure that you see them all, spending the maximum amount of money in the process. You start by buying your ticket -- simple enough, right? Right. Except in this case, you have to decide between about 75 different combinations of the six or seven individual attractions you want to see. Some of these combinations include a Maxi-Size Fries, some do not. Some require you to see attractions in a specific order, within specific time windows. All of them include a complimentary yarmulke to be worn in the synagogues. We opted for the Josefov Full Meal Deal, allowing us to see each and every attraction at our leisure. The total price for this was about $12 apiece, roughly the same price as a new car in the Czech Republic. We actually felt pretty good paying this price since Josefov truly does have a number of incredibly fascinating synagogues to see (including one dating back to the mid-thirteenth century, the oldest functioning one in Europe!). However, I must admit that I was slightly chafed when I discovered that the folks at Josefov are systematically defrauding customers! Yes, you heard it here first. Your roving Extreme Bargain Hunter is here to tell you that if you argue loudly enough, you may be able to get the special reduced "Czech Price" for Josefov attractions. Apparently, the sign in front of the ticket office prints the prices for non Czech speakers in numerals (everyone speaks numbers, right?), but writes the much lower prices for Czechs out in longhand so that you need to be able to speak Czech to read them! So, this week's Extreme Tip is go to Josefov with someone who speaks Czech and save, save, save!

Of course, cultural attractions are about much more than saving money. At least I think that's what Kristanne was trying to tell me as I boosted her over the wall to check out the Jewish cemetery you see pictured there at right. She may have a point.

Josefov filled an entire day with tourist excitement, leaving us with only time enough to grab some dinner and hit the hay before rising with the roosters (well, the ones that get up around 10:30, anyway) to hit the Museum of Modern Art over in the Holesovice district. The Museum of Modern Art is a pretty well-kept secret in Prague, situated well off the tourist trail as it is. This is really kind of amazing since it has a top-notch collection of modern European art, in addition to a comprehensive set of pieces by Czech artists. Turning every corner, it seemed like there was another vast hall completely devoid of people and another exhilarated gasp from Kristanne as she was heard to say something like, "Well, that's the most important piece by that famous artist dude." Well, except that Kristanne very rarely says "dude." The building itself (built in 1928) was also fascinating, its ultra-sleek interior rising towards the skies like the hull of some pearlescent ocean liner (as you can see at left).

This particular pearlescent ocean liner, however, just happens to be crewed by an unsmiling corps of grim-faced stalkers who would like nothing better than to crush your larynx with their bare hands (also known as the Museum Guards of Prague). Going to an art museum in Prague is a slightly different experience than it is elsewhere in the world. In most museums, guards do not greet you with baleful stares and intimidating flexions of their muscles. In most museums, guards do not address you as "worm." We went to about five art museums this past week, each of which was comprehensively staffed by bitter senior citizens who would follow you around their designated room at a distance of no more than two paces. As you moved from painting to painting, they moved from painting to painting, loudly cracking their knuckles and popping little riding crops against their legs. When you finally left one guard's designated room, the next room's guard would snap from their chair with military precision and repeat the same process.

In addition to being staffed with retired prison guards from the Soviet gulag, each museum also has a designated flow pattern, jealously presided over by the guards. Should you find yourself in a Prague art museum, I do not recommend that you attempt to deviate from the prescribed flow pattern. At one point Kristanne and I wanted to go backwards to compare one work with a work we had seen earlier. As we moved towards the previous room, the guard loudly clicked its heels and hissed "Ne!" while pointing towards the exit we should be taking. Not wanting to anger this particular grandma, we wisely opted to keep our noses clean and do as we were told. Later on, however, I was not so wise. Once we left the area where the paintings were exhibited and entered a sculpture salon, I made the mistake of taking my camera from my pocket and showing it to the guard from across the room with an inquisitive look, asking in exaggeratedly slow English, "Is OK?" Apparently it was not, because at the sight of my camera, this old lady (all 98 pounds and seventy five years of her) launched herself across the room at a finger-wagging dead sprint to lecture me about just how wrong I was if I thought I was ever going to take a picture in the Czech Republic again. Yikes. Unfortunately, I didn't get much smarter at the next museum, either (the Convent of St. George). There, as we exited the exhibition, I thought I'd casually extract my chewing gum from my mouth and place it in the convenient receptacle placed at the exit for that very purpose. Or so I thought. The exit guard apparently caught wind of my little scheme and as I made to discard my gum, shouted at me loudly and actually pushed me away from my target garbage can towards a secondary garbage can some ten feet beyond. "Not in my garbage can, you don't!" she exclaimed. "Not unless you want to end up sharing a cell with Rick Steves!"

There has been a lot of talk surrounding this feature lately. A lot of rumors and innuendo. Don't think we haven't heard the whispers -- "Oh, Sid and Kristanne don't really look like that. They use highly paid stunt doubles." Or, "The entire feature is digitally remastered in Silicon Valley by a crack squad of graphics pros using a Cray supercomputer rendering 3-D images 24 hours a day. Sid and Kristanne don't actually exist." For the most part, these rumors are not true -- for example, we do exist. However, until now, we've thought our true appearances were a bit too bizarre to share with you, the reading public. That's why we've employed the services of stunt doubles for the last seven months. In the interest of full disclosure, however, we provide the following picture to show you what we really look like. You can thank us by email -- this is the spectacle from which our stunt doubles routinely protect you.

Not pretty is it? The truth rarely is. I must warn you that in addition to our two foot torsos and bizarrely misshapen heads, I also have questionable breath and a tendency to make bad puns. We just thought you should know the truth.

After four days of hardcore tourism, my enthusiasm was beginning to flag. Still, nothing gets you up in the morning like the prospect of climbing to the top of Petrin Hill and checking out the Loreto Chapel. Well, that and your wife holding the alarm clock against your ear as she tickles you. Both of those things get you up pretty darn fast. Before we could make it to the Loreto Chapel, though, we had to negotiate the perilous square outside the Strahov Monastery. This turned out to be one of the more surreal experiences of our time here in Prague. As we entered the Philosopher's Library at the Strahov Monastery (a fabulous place) we chanced to observe what looked like nothing so much as a drug deal going down. This was strange -- picturesque squares outside monasteries with panoramic views of beautiful cities are not where you typically expect drug deals to be going down. Especially not with tons of tourists around. Shrugging it off as a consensual illusion, we checked out the fabulous Philosopher's Library and then returned to cross the square and head off to the Loreto Chapel. We were about a third of the way across the square when a well-dressed fellow with a map approached us, haltingly figured out that we spoke English and began to ask us where the Charles River Bridge and the Japanese Embassy were. There was something very strange about this guy -- he wasn't Japanese and the Charles River Bridge is perhaps the easiest thing to find in all of Prague. Why was he bothering us? After about 30 seconds talking with this guy, two younger fellows made a rapid approach to us, flashed some sort of badge, and briskly stated, "Passports, please. Your papers. Identification."

This was strange -- we'd never seen anything like this at all during the previous four weeks here. Not only were these guys not wearing uniforms, you don't usually see the police hassling tourists in Prague. Our scam feelers definitely up, we informed him that we didn't have our passports (the truth) but that I had a driver's license. Meanwhile, the two "cops" were going through the Japanese Embassy Dude's money, deeply suspicious of the fact that he had bills from about six different countries (changing money on the streets is very illegal here). Then, they asked to see my money. I didn't like this very much, but since I only had about 10 bucks in different currencies in my wallet (Czech, Swiss, Belgian, and U.S.), I let him check it out. The cop suspiciously held the U.S. $5 bill up to the light, scratched at it, tasted it, finally crumpling it up into a ball and stuffing it inside his nostril for a good sniff, all the while acting as if there was something vaguely criminal about us for possessing something as incriminating as a five dollar bill. Then, after much hemming and hawing, he gave me my money back (all of it, even the five dollar bill that I really didn't want now that it had been up his nose), told us not to change money on the street, not to buy drugs from Japanese Embassy Dudes in front of the Strahov Monastery, and to always brush after meals before wishing us goodday. The whole thing just felt bizarre -- like they were after something that we didn't happen to have (our passports, probably, since a U.S. passport is reportedly worth $1000 U.S. on the black market). Since we didn't have our passports (and ten bucks isn't very much to risk getting caught over), we figured that they were probably waiting to run their scam (with Japanese Embassy Dude) on the next likely-looking tourists that happened by. We were a little bit shaken up by the whole thing, but moved on to the Loreto Chapel, ready to finish off Prague's sights and get the heck back to Switzerland for Christmas!

The Loreto Chapel was quite interesting. In addition to housing an exact replica of the house in which Jesus was reportedly immaculately conceptionized (umm, "conceived"), it also features the Most Dangerous Sweater In The World. Since the Office Odyssey audience is, as ever, an ultra-informed one, I feel little need to tell you that because of reported terrorist threats, no less than U.S. Secretary of State Madeleine Albright has seen fit to warn Americans traveling abroad to be extra careful during this holiday season. Though both the American and international press have given this story a lot of ink, one crucial element they have left out is Ms. Albright's explicit warning to stay at least "five hundred meters from any bright red sweaters with 'I Love America,' American state names, or dollar signs embroidered on them. The slogan 'Fatwha, Schmatwha' is also a good one to avoid. Also, our sources are also telling us that some of the 'handmade Czech crafts' for sale in Wenceslas Square were actually made in Taiwan. Finally, under no circumstances should you speak the name 'Rick Steves' in public. Enjoy your holidays."

With this warning fresh in mind, we still couldn't resist the opportunity to grab a picture of the very sweater Ms. Albright warned us about. It was red, it had dollar signs, it had state names, it said 'I Love America,' and if you pulled a string attached to its collar, it would monotonously chant "I Love Rick Steves...I Love Rick Steves..." until you were beaten up by angry non-Americans. Kristanne provided the perfect cover, urging me to "take a picture of that lovely panorama" as we passed the couple you see at left. With a furtive eye and a steady hand, we snapped the shot you see at left and sprinted our way back to the safety of the five hundred meter buffer zone. Phew! Will the thrills, chills, and spills never stop here on the Office Odyssey!

In short, no. The excitement never stops when none other than my old buddy Mike Lee drops in for a little Extreme visit. Mike is an ex-roommate of mine who, until recently, had been living in Prague since about 1993. Mike has also been trying to avoid me for years, though, so he naturally chose the five weeks when we would be in Prague as the time he would want to move to New York. I'm like a Jimmy Page guitar solo on a Led Zeppelin album, though -- you can't avoid me forever, I'm going to stick around for a good long time, and there's one heckuva chance that I'll be more than a little bit sloppy while I'm there. People do not, however, tend to herald my arrival by thrusting their ignited cigarette lighters into the air in ecstatically stoned salute, so the comparison definitely has some practical limitations. Alas, Mike's date with the Jimmy Page Guitar Solo Of Friends had finally fallen due. No doubt due to some hurried miscalculations, Mike made the unfortunate mistake of arriving back in Prague for the holidays while we were still there. Mike's loss definitely turned out to be our gain, though, as he shepherded us about a Prague that we did not even know existed. Hip bars. Cool clubs. Intellectual cafes. It actually began to become a bit embarrassing as Mike told us about this "really cool South American restaurant over by the Convent...have you been there?" Well, no we haven't, even though we've walked past it twice a day, every day, for the last five weeks. We just thought it was a hardware store. Mike even took us to the little known "Huggy District" (pictured at right), the one place in Prague where hugging is completely legal and actively encouraged. Feeling somewhat liberated, Mike and I took this opportunity to embrace before the whole crew moved on to the "Shin Kicky District" and the "Eye Gougey District," two districts that I must say I did not enjoy nearly as much as the "Huggy District."

Sadly, even a Jimmy Page guitar solo eventually must end (though I think most of us that paid the money for any of Jimmy's post-Zeppelin catalog wished a few of them had ended a bit sooner), and Kristanne and I took our leave of both Mike and Prague. Prague was a great time, but we were both ready to hit the trail in search of that next big bounce. Be sure to check back next week as we look for it in Germany, Austria, Slovenia, Italy, and eventually even Switzerland. It's gotta be out there somewhere! See you next time on the Odyssey...

Last Week's Front Page Picture

As for that picture at left, that's neither the aurora borealis nor the northern lights -- it's just another normal, electric blue night here in Prague. In this particular electric blue night, that's one of the gothic towers of St. Vitus Cathedral inside the walls of Hradcany Castle reaching towards the heavens, piercing the night like, well, a gothic tower in the electric blue night. Who needs creative similes when you've got a digital camera?