Rachel Lili in Prague

            The tour guide knew what she was talking about, even in a drizzling, foggy and severely cold weather. At least half of the tour group wanted to reconsider, turn around and go back somewhere that was warm and dry, but no one gave up. They were determined to go on this tour even if their frozen feet prevented it. The bridge was the first stop. It was like a flea market yet less congested, with painters, a puppet master, a musician, a small table with souvenirs, and beggars along the sides. Everyone strolled slowly enchanted by the statues along the bridge and then the tour guide stopped.

            “This statue here is of John of Nepomuk, he was the court priest of King Wenceslas the fourth. Legend has it that John was sent to be killed by the King because John refused to reveal the Queen’s secrets to him.”

            “What was the secret?” muttered a student.

            “No one knows,” she said, “John’s body was thrown off this bridge and later sailors passing by found seven stars over the same spot where John was drowned. He was then proclaimed a Saint who protected the Seal of Confession because he guarded the secrets. According to the legend rubbing the plaque will bring you good luck and ensures you’ll soon return to Prague. And if you place your left hand on top of the cross here, you can make a wish and in one year and one day it will come true.”

            Everyone took turns rubbing the plaque and touching the cross. The line grew longer and longer. Some closed their eyes while they made their wish, others made wishes that seemed to have taken ages. Did anyone really believe that the legend was true? Apparently so or maybe they believed that rubbing the plaque would bring them good luck and that their wish would really come true. Like throwing a coin into a fountain or finding a four leaf clover: people just hope. What are the chances that the wish comes true, or that the wish would even be remembered? Saint John of Nepomuk kept a secret and so did the people in the tour. No one can know about the wishes that were made until they actually come true.

            Are secrets worth dying for? John of Nepomuk thought so. There is a theory that everything in this world is known and that nothing can be hidden. However, John of Nepomuk managed to keep a secret forever. What he was hiding will never be known. All that we know is that he stands tall on the edge of the Charles Bridge, with a halo of five glowing gold stars around his head. He stares out far beyond the Charles River and the city. He listens to a man playing an instrument, he watches over the beggars who kneel on the floor with their palms cupped upwards. He feels every time someone touches his plaque in the anticipation of a miracle, and through all of this he remains stoic and silent. 

Peace.Love.Happiness

I guess it’s just a silly song about you…

Lewis Carroll (via thegingerchronicles)

There’s a place out there…we just don’t know where yet

Peace.Love.Happiness

Lady Gaga

These walls they don’t stand a chance.

Peace.Love.Happiness

The Joker

            “According to this map we must go this way.” I pointed to the right as we headed out of our Hostel. My friends Brianna and Danny followed even though I know they doubted my sense of direction so did I. According to the map we had to walk to the corner and turn right. We hadn’t exactly done that, instead we walked a few meters away from the Hostel and saw a sign that said “1 Slovak Pub.” I played stupid of course and saw two guys standing outside. One of the guys was short and kind of had a baby face. The other guy was tall with a cap that ran down to his eyebrows making him look a bit dark and mysterious.

            “Hello…I mean Ahoy. Is this 1 Slovak Pub?” I asked.

            “Ah yes it says it right there,” the shorter one of the two, Lubomir, said.

            “Oh but this map says to go around the corner I just wanted to make sure.”

            “Francina, it says it right there can you not read?” Brianna points out.

            “Well where are you from?” The other guy, Boris asked.

            “We are from New York.” I said.

            “Where are you from?” asked Danny.

            “We are from here.” Lubomir answered.

            “Well we are hungry we are going to go in,” I said.

            “We are also going in. We can sit together.”

            “Sure!” I said while looking over to Danny and Brianna for signs of opposition. We followed them in. Inside a cloud of cigarette smoke engulfed our bodies, the wooden floors creaked every time we took a step. We trailed around searching for a place to sit. After a couple of minutes of walking in circles we found seats and immediately asked for the menu.

            “The kitchen is closed. All we are serving is what’s on this page,” said the waiter. We looked at the page unenthusiastically. I was terribly hungry and having limited options to choose from didn’t help. There was only one dish on that page, aside from potato chips and beer.

            “What’s this dumpling thing,” I asked the guys.

            “It’s Bryndzové Halušky, a traditional Slovak dish. You should try it. All Slovakians eat it,” said Boris.

            “Ok. Well is it good?”

            “It’s ok.”

            “Ok. I’ll have it. I’m not a picky eater anyway.” Brianna, Danny and I each ordered the dumplings. In my mind dumplings is a Chinese delicacy, I wasn’t aware that it was also part of a Slovakian dish. My stomach was howling. The waiter came walking towards our table with three giant plates, at that point he was my savior, he could see the hunger in my eyes and placed the first plate in front of me. I stared at it as if it were a specimen in a laboratory. It looked like macaroni and cheese except the cheese wasn’t yellow it was white and there was a lot of it. There were dry diced bacon pieces on top of it. The dish looked far from appealing.

            “These are dumplings?” I asked.

            “Yes.” They said.

            “Ok well here I go.” I took the first bite. Gooey cheese seeped through my teeth, and small squiggly sized dough pieces slipped smoothly into my mouth.

            “How do you like it?” Boris asked us. I didn’t answer, I continued to chew and even took another bite. I am far from a picky eater.

            “Whoa. This is disgusting are you sure this is what Slovaks eat?” I said after staring down at my plate of food in attempts to fool myself into liking the meal.

            “Yes. We know it’s not the best, but all Slovaks eat it,” said Lubomir.

            “I like it,” said Brianna.

            “It’s really salty. It’s like heavily salted, watery cheese dumped onto small pieces of dough.” I said trying to force myself to eat the rest of it, but the fear of puking it all out made me stop.  

            “Do you like it Danny?” I asked in hopes that he would have agreed with me and that I wasn’t simply overreacting.

            “It’s ok. It could be a little less cheesy.”

            Brianna left her plate entirely clean. Danny, however, had left half of his plate full, that being a clear indicator that I wasn’t wrong and that the dumplings were in fact distasteful. Danny is that type of person who never leaves a spec of food behind, he literally wipes a plate clean and that was the first time I’d seen him not doing so.

            I ordered a beer hoping that it would remove the cheesy taste of that Slovakian dish. Lubomir and Boris carried a conversation with Danny. While Brianna and I watched how these two guys completely gave Danny one hundred percent of their attention.            

            “I’ve been to San Francisco,” said Lubomir to Danny.

            “Really? What did you think,” asked Danny.

            “It was nice, but I didn’t know that so many people were going to be homosexual. They always wore flowers around their ears. You know?”

            “Yes,” said Danny looking over to us as if we needed to eavesdrop on that particular part of the conversation. Danny is homosexual and it’s always interesting to talk to people who cannot automatically pick that up upon meeting him.

            “I think flowers are like for gay people in San Francisco. If you go don’t wear flowers.” Lubomir said.

            “In that case I’ll bring a bouquet of flowers,” Danny suggested and Brianna and I automatically burst into laughter. They laughed too, but looked at each other’s faces a bit confused. We obviously laughed because we knew Danny was serious.

            “Do you know of any places we could go tonight?” I asked in order to break the awkwardness.

            “Yes there’s this place called Channels, it’s three floors. It’s both a club and a lounge,” said Lubomir.

            “Sounds good right Brianna. How do you get there?”

            “We can take you.”

            “Thanks. That would be great.”

            We paid for our meals, finished our beers and put on our jackets. As we walked towards Channels with our recently made friends, Lubomir and Boris, I had forgotten about the disgusting meal I had tasted. I started to focus on a relatively more interesting subject: for the first time in my life I had dinner with two complete strangers. Though I am not suggesting everyone do this, it was probably because of these so-called  “strangers” that every time I think of Slovakia I make associations with it being full of people that are sweet, friendly, and above all slightly creepy.

This made me smile. Watch it. Click on the story here.

They don’t love you like I love you.