Praha

"To travel, hopefully, is a better thing than to arrive, and the true success is to labour."
- Robert Louis Stevenson

My travels to Prague were a little rough.

This was through no fault of the airline, or any of the other myriad of transportation systems that carried me to my hostel. It was entirely due to the fact that I was horribly hung-over.

The hostel in Paris did not allow alcohol within it's walls. I thought this was a stupid rule. I'm an adult, and if I want to have a couple of beers before bed, that should be my prerogative. I wasn't the only one who felt this way. Eric, a German guy who was staying at the hostel was also indignant. So he came up with a very creative solution.

"We drink outside!" he roared.

And that was how I ended up consuming an entire bottle of cheap wine with a very robust German, calling out pleasantries to passing Parisians. I think I might have talked Eric into getting back together with his ex-fiance when he gets back to Bonn.

I wish them a happy future.

Anyway, I staggered off the next morning, took a bus to Orly Airport, a plane to Prague International, a bus to the train station, and a train to the hostel. Eventually I found myself spit out at Staromestska station, not far from Stare Mesto, Prague's old town. The directions to the hostel continued as follows:

Find the Church of Tynska, walk around this church until you find Tynska street. We are number 19.

Fair enough, I thought. I found a church and started walking around it, keeping left.

No Tynska street.

I tried it again. No Tynska steet. I decided that the third time would be a charm. No dice.

The process reminded me of a little church back in Manitoba, near Lockport. This church is supposed to be the most haunted church in the province. Rumor has it that, if one walks around the church 3 times, counter-clockwise, at Midnight, the devil will appear and chase you until you die. I did it once...on a dare from my buddy Ray. The devil didn't show up. I guess he was busy that night.

Tynska street was equally absent. And my tired hung-over mind was running out of ideas. Luckily there was a police car sitting in a nearby parking lot. The officer inside must have finally taken pity on the weary, confused Canadian he kept seeing pass by his vehicle. He got out and offered to help.

I showed him my directions. He kind of chuckled, and pointed to the church.

"This is not Tynska Church." he informed me.

Then he beckoned me to follow him, led me around a corner, and showed me this.




"This is Tynska". He said.

And that's when I fell in love with Prague.

Yes, Mr. Stevenson, the travel was good. But to arrive and see something this beautiful? There's nothing better than that.


Jim out.