Drunken musings and a dinner

PRAGUE, Czech Republic —Inormally don’t write or go anywhere near a keyboard when I’ve been drinking, but seeing as I have some beer in me but still want to get an article in before my Wednesday deadline, it seems I am left with no other option. Please forgive my writing if it is deemed to be inferior to any of my previous work. Disclaimer over. As you may know, I am on a 90-day backpacking tour around Europe. Fellow travelers I have met along the way, upon finding out that it was my first time backpacking, that I was alone, and that I was in for the long haul, informed me of their surprise at how well I seemed to be taking it. Apparently, the idea of solo backpacking can incite fear. Most of the time, we did not hang out enough for them to discover my secret. It is this: prior to this trip, I had already been around Western Europe a number of times with my family and one time with my class. It was nothing I had not already experienced; only now I am by myself.

In other places that I had never been to prior to this, I had trustworthy friends whose homes I stayed at or who I met up with. Today was different. I am writing from Prague, in the Czech Republic. I know no one here. It is my first time to Central Europe. A few minutes before my train pulled into Prague’s main station, I looked out of the window at a view of the beautiful Czech countryside. However, as houses that appeared to be nearly in shambles but still seemed like they were being maintained to some low degree came into my vision, I was struck with a deep sense of uneasiness. I realized I was entering a completely new culture that was entirely different from anything I had ever experienced in my life — a European culture whose inhabitants have to struggle for a living. Some may say that struggling and earning a living walk hand in hand, but to that I say in some places in the world one has to struggle a bit more than in others. Based on my initial impressions, I would say that the Czech Republic is one of those places. I spoke to two 18-year-old Czech girls earlier today who spoke about a 10-euro meal as if it were a luxury that few could obtain. You can see it in the streets; the cars are cheaper and some of the trams look like they have been around since the time of the communists. People aren’t as well dressed and have expressions of worry on their faces. They walk quickly and without pleasure. Of course, the area around my hostel is swarmed by tourists and the corresponding traps that come with the territory. This intrigues me. What led to this? How could Western Europe flourish and the rest not? I am sure these are all questions that can be answered by a decent history book, but off the top of my head is a suspicion that it is closely related to the long years of communist rule. Thus my suspicion leads to fear: while they held power, the communists misled the populace to take advantage of them for their own selfish ends. Is that so different from our current situation in the Philippines? If we do manage to end our political problems soon, will it also take such a long time to heal? Will we, the current generation of youth, even live to see it healed? If we are lucky, maybe the beginning. And that’s only if we do something about it now. Bless Noynoy Aquino; I pray that he and his administration does a decent job.

On to lighter things. Through conversations I’ve had with people who live here, I discovered an amazing traditional Czech restaurant tucked away underneath a pub that I would have missed completely if I hadn’t known it was there. I walked in, and it was buzzing with activity. I couldn’t hear a word of English being spoken. The menu was completely in Czech, which I took as a good sign. I ordered beef in cream and vegetable sauce with dumplings, which is what both the waiter and the woman who directed me to the restaurant recommended. It was a splendid decision. To accompany it, I had a pint of Czech pilsner on tap that was served by a short, stout bartender with a ferocious white moustache. Even though I had ordered it from the waiter, he rumbled over to my table and brought it himself with a touch of pride. I had heard rumors of the extraordinary qualities of Czech beer, but this put San Miguel to shame. I preferred it over the pilsners I had in Germany too, although I think my all-time favorite beer is still a wheat beer I had in Hamburg whose name I do not recall due to the sheer amount of beer that I drank that night.

My friend in Hamburg generously guided me through a beer tasting session at his home after buying two bottles each of many different kinds of beer at the supermarket that eventually led to us wandering around random pubs in Hamburg downing shot after shot of a spicy concoction called Mexikaner for cheap. I didn’t think that I would ever enjoy a spicy shot, but it was surprisingly delicious. Because of the Tabasco sauce in it, one tastes very little alcohol and taking back-to-back shots is not very difficult to do. I don’t think I spent enough time in Hamburg. I would like to visit it again.I have been told that the clubs of authentic Czech nightlife are only really alive on the weekends, but in a few hours I am going to a club that a local says is a big favorite of tourists. Of course, tourists are always ready to party, any night of the week. They don’t have to worry about how they’re going to eat in the near future. That’s why they’re in a foreign country, having a good time. The Czechs must see it differently.