Bohemian feasting, Harem #2 and Horror Bar

Trip Start Apr 12, 2006
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Trip End Ongoing


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Flag of Czech Republic  ,
Monday, July 3, 2006

I've been thinkin about money a whole lot recently. Money, cash, cahish, coin, dosh, bucks. The stuff that gets you stuff, from A to B, but won't necessarily make you terribly happy in the process. You know what i'm talking about. I've been thinking about how much cashola i've got left, and i gotta say, it aint much considering what i came over here with. Still, a trip such as this is a priceless undertaking that no amount of money should step in the way of. Within reason of course. I've seen a lot of different types of money on my travels, and have decided that my wallet is not suited to European currencies. The fat, wide Euro note bulges out of my wallet like a dogs breakfast, and the growing stockpile of shrapnel from Turkey, Germany, the Czech Republic, all ones and two's i might add, or 'three thousands' that amount to about four Aussie cents, are ripping the arse out of my wallet, a 'Costanza' wallet if ever there was one. I gotta say, i long for the day when i get to slide a few slim, colourful Aussie tens and twenties back in there. And at the current rate of expenditure versus my totally void income, this day may not be far off.

The sun came out in full force today, a welcome change from the previous few days of gloom and rain. Nonetheless, the agenda for today was to continue the customary lack of exertion and while the hours away doing whatever i pleased. This consisted of internet, phone calls, random loafing, farting around, loitering, eating, and chilling at Krumlov House with my man Mike, reading, playing guitar in the sun lit window frame afoot my bed, and generally hanging loose like a Czechian goose.

Strolled to the Castle gardens at some point this afternoon and baked a little in the perfect temperature of the sun, listening to the Winds of Change - both, the actual winds and the 80's powerballad by that molester moustache wearin' spandex outfit 'The Scorpions'. It was very bloody pleasant. A few chicks from California arrived this afternoon, and i made them feel welcome with some sparkling Australian repartee and witty small talk, before heading off for an epic jog a fair dose longer than my previous few efforts. Good form. Snazzed meself up a little, then hooked up with the second harem of chicks in four nights, Lisa, Elena, yankee blue jeans Emily, Emma, Lara and Sorority girl Alex, all of which were under twenty and made Mike and myself feel like scally cap wearin grandpas at 24 and 23 respectively. We ate traditional Bohemian at 'Two Mary's', perched alongside the Vltava river, a fantastic little place that gave off the essence of 'Bohemia', hard to describe, but kinda like musty stone infused with cooked rabbit and spiced meats. Other than that rhapsody by 'Queen, i had come across little else in my time that could be considered Bohemian, but over here, anything on the left hand side of Czech is considered the region of 'Bohemia', and is by default, Bohemian. So there you go. Witty and informative.

After throwing down a huge Bohemian feast, served on - you guessed it - a chopping block, we downed a few more pints then hit up the 'Horror Bar' for some further debauchery. The Horror Bar, with skulls and spiderwebs painted on its outdoor sign, was going for the whole spoof 'spooky' goth vibe, with a raw stone decor, faux spiderwebs, pupil-less witchwomen's heads in the walls, and a solid playlist of badass 80's metal, including the best of Ozzy, Dio, Black Sabbath and Maiden. Needless to say, it was good times aplenty, drinking countless pints, other booze, and shots of some random liquor called 'becherovka', the choice drink of the Czech deputy President, whose slather of racist, offensive comments in the past have been attributed to his hankering for this particular brand of potent piss. The yanks left at some point, as the rest of us hit up the Gorilla Bar, getting a pint in before closing time. With the chicks keen to head home, Mike persuaded me to stay out with him, and we went back again to the Horror Bar for some additional metal, beers, a shot and a meal of sausage. At 3 in the morning. I'm sure it's better for you than a greasy Souvlaki, but bugger me it felt like it was permanently lodged in my gut when i woke up the next morning. By now i was more or less on my last legs, and we stumbled home like the village idiot and village drunk (vice versa/both/either-or) and made it through the ornate wooden dragon door of Krumlov House and back into the safe haven for another evening.

Without thinking too much about the ensuing hangover, and digestion of that Bratwurst i just inhaled, i slept, dreamt, and looked forward to my last full day in Cesky Krumlov.
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