The First
I’ve been here a week now and it’s kind of feeling like home, room’s full of bike and bikey stuff. For those of you who’ve not noticed, I’ve not been around much recently, since I’ve moved to sunny Prague to study medicine. Spose I’d best start at the beginning, always thought it was a good place to start.
Last Friday was the day of the flight, so naturally I spent all morning packing instead of doing it the night before. This flight was a little different though, not only was it the Friday flight to Prague (the one with all the chavvy stag weekenders) but I’d just entrusted the P.chromo to the oversized baggage desk. Upon handing it over I warned them that it was going to have to stay upright or the forks would piss oil everywhere. With classic brummy humour I was kindly informed that my large brown bicycle box contained a bicycle and that it’d be fine, so long as it was in the x-ray machine. Great. Beware the wit of the witless. After sitting in the departure lounge for ages with all the people buggering off to sunny Spain or somewhere else where the Germans bag the sunbeds first I finally got on the plane. Plane was a tiny little thing but they still hadn’t filled it. Got the entire row to myself, bonus! Ever managed to bag the window seat when it’s a really clear day? I still like watching everything shrink below, trying to work out what town we just flew over, seeing forests below and thinking “it looks like a good place to ride”. Arrived at Prague airport at about 6, that’s 5pm to you lot. I lost an entire hour! Gutting [:(] Prague airport is an ODD place, you have to walk through the departures place to get out, so you could go duty free shopping on your way in if you wanted. I’m partial to a bottle or two of baileys so they were acquired while admiring the row of polished Skodas that fill the arrivals hall (they had a DB9 in Birmingham) Then, off to the baggage reclaiming place. Why is it that there are never any trolleys in the baggage hall? There’s a caseload outside by the taxis, but you can’t get to them without going through customs, and once you’ve been through you aren’t allowed back in. Crazy. After waiting half an hour for my bag to arrive (always the lost one to hit the conveyer belt!) I carted my bikebox on the trolley through the arrivals hall. Ever noticed that even though you know that no-one’s waiting for you, you still look for your name on those cards that the taxi drivers and tour operators are holding up? No? Just me then. The bikebox as it turned out was as wide as three people, and that’s exactly the number of people who had to scatter out of the way for every step I took while trying my damnedest to politely shift their arses in a language most of them clearly didn’t understand, hell, I even tried French, but that wasn’t so successful given that the bloke I wanted to move then said “sorry chap” in a very Scottish accent. I hate taxis. Trusting your life to some muppet who’s only skills are the ability to swear in 6 different languages whilst driving, eating a doughnut and using a mobile phone. It’s not illegal here yet, so everyone’s doing it as much as possible. The Czechs don’t have a word for hands free kit. They’ve never heard of one. My taxi was not so much a taxi as a bus. I thought I was paying for one for myself, nope, this one was a minibus with two stops to make before me. The first load was a bunch of southern gents who were very talkative, but got slightly cagey when asked what they were going to be doing in Prague, My fellow taxi traveller, a rather fetching brunette from Toronto was convinced by the time we’d unloaded them that they were here for a weekend of spearmint rhino and filthy foreign back street brothels. Yes, there’s a spearmint rhino here. Once I finally arrived at halls (spent longer in the taxi than on the plane, how crap’s that!) I dragged my crapola into the room that the poorly translated guide to halls had termed a ‘cell’, Turns out it wasn’t that badly translated. All it really needs is a little window in the door and a slot to pass meals through. I built the bike (god bless hollowtech 2 cranks, only needed 4, 5 and 6mm Allen keys to build the whole bike) and then climbed into bed, at least that’s comfy.
On Saturday I woke up to the realisation that I had no milk, no teabags, no sugar, no breakfast cereal and no bowl to put any of the above in. My tea starved brain kicked into action and put me on the bike in the direction of the city centre, there I shall find breakfast I thought. I knew roughly where the city centre was but my rather brilliant plan was to follow the tram. There’s a terminal right outside the halls, so all I needed to do was follow it from there. Easy peasy. Only it wasn’t. I followed the wrong tram which resulted in my going an extra 3 or four miles. By the time I got into Wenceslas Square (like Oxford street, only with more tourists) I couldn’t ride the bike for fear of running over a beered up brit or one of those damned American pensioners that seem to get everywhere. Having found somewhere to eat, I realised I’d forgotten my bike lock, and rode back to the halls, following the right tram route this time. In desperation I rode through a McDonalds drive through and then spent the next 10 minutes trying to explain what I wanted. I mean for heaven’s sake guys and girls, if you’ve got a sign saying “McRoyal” in great big letters and I ask for a “Mcroyal“, I might possibly not mean that I want a Mcsalad with fanta. I dropped the bike off at the halls and took a tram down to the supermarket, it’s a spar, but not as you know it, it’s more like one of those giant Asdas. I spent about 20 minutes trying to find some teabags since these euro types just don’t understand the need to put milk and sugar in tea, they’ve got a whole aisle for tea and coffee, and one single sort of tea that you or I would recognise. Milk, sugar, cereal a screwdriver and a bowl were acquired and then I wandered over to the drinks section since I was advised to drink bottled water. Water it seems is like tea, everything but the sort you want. After looking at a lot of pictures I picked a bottle with a green top (rather than red, blue or yellow) that looked to be un-carbonated and unflavoured. I sauntered over to the till and handed over my card. It’s easier to pay with a card here, you don’t have to look blankly at the cashier when they announce the price in some foreign tongue. I packed my purchases into the carrier bag when I spotted it… Disaster, I’d picked up lemon flavoured water. I used my very best sign language to try and explain my dilemma to the information desk but she was having none of it. Information desk I thought, problem solved, it’ll be in the shop somewhere. In I wandered to find the information desk unmanned, after standing there for 10 minutes I gave up pestering uninterested staff and decided to bugger off with my lemon flavoured water. I walked out of the shop, past the security desk when I heard a shout behind me. Next thing I know I’ve got 6 plain clothes security guards round me yelling at me in Czech thinking I’ve lifted the lot. Fortunately I’d kept the receipt and a disaster was averted, well, I think it was, the security guard keeps giving me dirty looks every time I go in now.
After all that I needed to hear some English spoken and to eat a decent meal so I headed into town to the biggest (possibly only) Irish pub in Prague. They do the best steak sandwich in the world. Ever. There was a Man U match on so the pub was packed with plenty of brits, so it wasn’t too bad. Everything’s better after a beer anyway.
On Sunday I sinned, I ate at McDonalds twice. I had a feeling for a moment that it was going to be “supersize Alex” for the next few months, until I realised that if I did, I’d die of heart disease before I qualify. I went to the supermarket and bought about 10 packets of those noodle blocks with the sachets of flavour things. At 8p each I can’t afford NOT to eat them.
Monday was the day we were supposed to register at the university, off I trotted after getting up at some unholy hour. Tram journeys during rush hour suck major donkey arse. There’s always a whole bunch of old biddys that get on and it’s the done thing to give up your seat for the infirm, what they didn’t realise was that at 7 am in the morning I was feeling a lot more infirm than they were. After nearly sleeping through my stop (while holding onto the standing rail) I traipsed over to the Dean’s office for registration. Registration basically involved handing over a cheque for uni fees, signing a few papers, and queuing to do the above for 3 hours. Thanks guys. Organisation and bureaucracy on a scale that not even Stalin could match. I met several people but most seemed keen on chatting mindlessly while my stomach called lunch. I went to the Irish pub for lunch and examined my new timetable over a pint of Pilsner Urquel (better than Stella) and a Toasted BLT sandwich. Timetable starts on Tuesday the 4th, so I’ve got some time free.
Tuesday was slept through, for my sins I apologise, I didn’t even go out of the halls. Wednesday was similar, except that I decided to go on a street ride, relearn some lost skills, learn some new ones. First thing I did was to stop flat hopping, you can’t really bunny hop properly on a full sus so I’d kind of forgotten how, especially since I use clips on the other bike. Once I’d got that dialled in again (sucks to be learning the basics again, but it’s got to be done) I started playing with some steps, riding up steps is a piece of piss on a full susser, not so easy on a hardtail, you lose momentum pretty quick with these little wheels. Liking the tyres though, beat the tram to the supermarket the other day. Admittedly he had to stop at a station, but those things are quick.
Thursday was spent waking up and then getting into town. I spent an hour looking round the main touristy area for the building where I had to get my student ID card when the heavens opened. When it rains here, it REALLY rains. About 10 seconds and you’re soaked through. It was lunchtime so I beat a hasty retreat into KFC. I’ve decided that KFC isn’t fast food and that I won’t die if I eat it every single day, it’s chicken right? After one of their fine Twister Wrap things I gave up and headed into the tourist information shop, only to find out from an exasperated looking assistant that the place I was looking for was over the road. Oops. Got in there only to find that the place was closing and that I needed to go back on Friday. I came back to the halls and got the bike out thinking I’d have a go at a drop I’d seen. On my way over to it I saw three kids on BMXs riding onto a raised platform for a manhole. It was about a foot up onto it, and the other side was a 6 foot drop. Once they were up there they were having to either get off the bike or attempt to hop round and ride off the way they came. The top of the platform was bevelled and BMX brakes are not exactly top notch, so the inevitable happened, boy and bike landing in a mildly amusing heap at the bottom, it’s a good job that kids bounce. I can’t really understand why they were riding up onto it, once they were up there , there was simply no-where to go. Their attempts to communicate with me were met with a blank stare, I’m pretty sure what they were saying was the Czech equivalent of “can I have a go on your bike, I won’t go far” or “go on mista, show us some tricks” or “how much was your bike?” Or maybe I’m paranoid.
Today was pretty poor, rode the bike down to the hyperspar, did some shopping, got worried that I’m only using that nasty MBR freebie lock, ate under some golden arches *cough* and rode back to the halls wishing I’d waited a few minutes between finishing a large coke riding a mile.
I’ll get some photos for you guys tomorrow, let you see my Eastern European hell, maybe even show you some of the ‘culture’ you’re missing. [;)]
Last Friday was the day of the flight, so naturally I spent all morning packing instead of doing it the night before. This flight was a little different though, not only was it the Friday flight to Prague (the one with all the chavvy stag weekenders) but I’d just entrusted the P.chromo to the oversized baggage desk. Upon handing it over I warned them that it was going to have to stay upright or the forks would piss oil everywhere. With classic brummy humour I was kindly informed that my large brown bicycle box contained a bicycle and that it’d be fine, so long as it was in the x-ray machine. Great. Beware the wit of the witless. After sitting in the departure lounge for ages with all the people buggering off to sunny Spain or somewhere else where the Germans bag the sunbeds first I finally got on the plane. Plane was a tiny little thing but they still hadn’t filled it. Got the entire row to myself, bonus! Ever managed to bag the window seat when it’s a really clear day? I still like watching everything shrink below, trying to work out what town we just flew over, seeing forests below and thinking “it looks like a good place to ride”. Arrived at Prague airport at about 6, that’s 5pm to you lot. I lost an entire hour! Gutting [:(] Prague airport is an ODD place, you have to walk through the departures place to get out, so you could go duty free shopping on your way in if you wanted. I’m partial to a bottle or two of baileys so they were acquired while admiring the row of polished Skodas that fill the arrivals hall (they had a DB9 in Birmingham) Then, off to the baggage reclaiming place. Why is it that there are never any trolleys in the baggage hall? There’s a caseload outside by the taxis, but you can’t get to them without going through customs, and once you’ve been through you aren’t allowed back in. Crazy. After waiting half an hour for my bag to arrive (always the lost one to hit the conveyer belt!) I carted my bikebox on the trolley through the arrivals hall. Ever noticed that even though you know that no-one’s waiting for you, you still look for your name on those cards that the taxi drivers and tour operators are holding up? No? Just me then. The bikebox as it turned out was as wide as three people, and that’s exactly the number of people who had to scatter out of the way for every step I took while trying my damnedest to politely shift their arses in a language most of them clearly didn’t understand, hell, I even tried French, but that wasn’t so successful given that the bloke I wanted to move then said “sorry chap” in a very Scottish accent. I hate taxis. Trusting your life to some muppet who’s only skills are the ability to swear in 6 different languages whilst driving, eating a doughnut and using a mobile phone. It’s not illegal here yet, so everyone’s doing it as much as possible. The Czechs don’t have a word for hands free kit. They’ve never heard of one. My taxi was not so much a taxi as a bus. I thought I was paying for one for myself, nope, this one was a minibus with two stops to make before me. The first load was a bunch of southern gents who were very talkative, but got slightly cagey when asked what they were going to be doing in Prague, My fellow taxi traveller, a rather fetching brunette from Toronto was convinced by the time we’d unloaded them that they were here for a weekend of spearmint rhino and filthy foreign back street brothels. Yes, there’s a spearmint rhino here. Once I finally arrived at halls (spent longer in the taxi than on the plane, how crap’s that!) I dragged my crapola into the room that the poorly translated guide to halls had termed a ‘cell’, Turns out it wasn’t that badly translated. All it really needs is a little window in the door and a slot to pass meals through. I built the bike (god bless hollowtech 2 cranks, only needed 4, 5 and 6mm Allen keys to build the whole bike) and then climbed into bed, at least that’s comfy.
On Saturday I woke up to the realisation that I had no milk, no teabags, no sugar, no breakfast cereal and no bowl to put any of the above in. My tea starved brain kicked into action and put me on the bike in the direction of the city centre, there I shall find breakfast I thought. I knew roughly where the city centre was but my rather brilliant plan was to follow the tram. There’s a terminal right outside the halls, so all I needed to do was follow it from there. Easy peasy. Only it wasn’t. I followed the wrong tram which resulted in my going an extra 3 or four miles. By the time I got into Wenceslas Square (like Oxford street, only with more tourists) I couldn’t ride the bike for fear of running over a beered up brit or one of those damned American pensioners that seem to get everywhere. Having found somewhere to eat, I realised I’d forgotten my bike lock, and rode back to the halls, following the right tram route this time. In desperation I rode through a McDonalds drive through and then spent the next 10 minutes trying to explain what I wanted. I mean for heaven’s sake guys and girls, if you’ve got a sign saying “McRoyal” in great big letters and I ask for a “Mcroyal“, I might possibly not mean that I want a Mcsalad with fanta. I dropped the bike off at the halls and took a tram down to the supermarket, it’s a spar, but not as you know it, it’s more like one of those giant Asdas. I spent about 20 minutes trying to find some teabags since these euro types just don’t understand the need to put milk and sugar in tea, they’ve got a whole aisle for tea and coffee, and one single sort of tea that you or I would recognise. Milk, sugar, cereal a screwdriver and a bowl were acquired and then I wandered over to the drinks section since I was advised to drink bottled water. Water it seems is like tea, everything but the sort you want. After looking at a lot of pictures I picked a bottle with a green top (rather than red, blue or yellow) that looked to be un-carbonated and unflavoured. I sauntered over to the till and handed over my card. It’s easier to pay with a card here, you don’t have to look blankly at the cashier when they announce the price in some foreign tongue. I packed my purchases into the carrier bag when I spotted it… Disaster, I’d picked up lemon flavoured water. I used my very best sign language to try and explain my dilemma to the information desk but she was having none of it. Information desk I thought, problem solved, it’ll be in the shop somewhere. In I wandered to find the information desk unmanned, after standing there for 10 minutes I gave up pestering uninterested staff and decided to bugger off with my lemon flavoured water. I walked out of the shop, past the security desk when I heard a shout behind me. Next thing I know I’ve got 6 plain clothes security guards round me yelling at me in Czech thinking I’ve lifted the lot. Fortunately I’d kept the receipt and a disaster was averted, well, I think it was, the security guard keeps giving me dirty looks every time I go in now.
After all that I needed to hear some English spoken and to eat a decent meal so I headed into town to the biggest (possibly only) Irish pub in Prague. They do the best steak sandwich in the world. Ever. There was a Man U match on so the pub was packed with plenty of brits, so it wasn’t too bad. Everything’s better after a beer anyway.
On Sunday I sinned, I ate at McDonalds twice. I had a feeling for a moment that it was going to be “supersize Alex” for the next few months, until I realised that if I did, I’d die of heart disease before I qualify. I went to the supermarket and bought about 10 packets of those noodle blocks with the sachets of flavour things. At 8p each I can’t afford NOT to eat them.
Monday was the day we were supposed to register at the university, off I trotted after getting up at some unholy hour. Tram journeys during rush hour suck major donkey arse. There’s always a whole bunch of old biddys that get on and it’s the done thing to give up your seat for the infirm, what they didn’t realise was that at 7 am in the morning I was feeling a lot more infirm than they were. After nearly sleeping through my stop (while holding onto the standing rail) I traipsed over to the Dean’s office for registration. Registration basically involved handing over a cheque for uni fees, signing a few papers, and queuing to do the above for 3 hours. Thanks guys. Organisation and bureaucracy on a scale that not even Stalin could match. I met several people but most seemed keen on chatting mindlessly while my stomach called lunch. I went to the Irish pub for lunch and examined my new timetable over a pint of Pilsner Urquel (better than Stella) and a Toasted BLT sandwich. Timetable starts on Tuesday the 4th, so I’ve got some time free.
Tuesday was slept through, for my sins I apologise, I didn’t even go out of the halls. Wednesday was similar, except that I decided to go on a street ride, relearn some lost skills, learn some new ones. First thing I did was to stop flat hopping, you can’t really bunny hop properly on a full sus so I’d kind of forgotten how, especially since I use clips on the other bike. Once I’d got that dialled in again (sucks to be learning the basics again, but it’s got to be done) I started playing with some steps, riding up steps is a piece of piss on a full susser, not so easy on a hardtail, you lose momentum pretty quick with these little wheels. Liking the tyres though, beat the tram to the supermarket the other day. Admittedly he had to stop at a station, but those things are quick.
Thursday was spent waking up and then getting into town. I spent an hour looking round the main touristy area for the building where I had to get my student ID card when the heavens opened. When it rains here, it REALLY rains. About 10 seconds and you’re soaked through. It was lunchtime so I beat a hasty retreat into KFC. I’ve decided that KFC isn’t fast food and that I won’t die if I eat it every single day, it’s chicken right? After one of their fine Twister Wrap things I gave up and headed into the tourist information shop, only to find out from an exasperated looking assistant that the place I was looking for was over the road. Oops. Got in there only to find that the place was closing and that I needed to go back on Friday. I came back to the halls and got the bike out thinking I’d have a go at a drop I’d seen. On my way over to it I saw three kids on BMXs riding onto a raised platform for a manhole. It was about a foot up onto it, and the other side was a 6 foot drop. Once they were up there they were having to either get off the bike or attempt to hop round and ride off the way they came. The top of the platform was bevelled and BMX brakes are not exactly top notch, so the inevitable happened, boy and bike landing in a mildly amusing heap at the bottom, it’s a good job that kids bounce. I can’t really understand why they were riding up onto it, once they were up there , there was simply no-where to go. Their attempts to communicate with me were met with a blank stare, I’m pretty sure what they were saying was the Czech equivalent of “can I have a go on your bike, I won’t go far” or “go on mista, show us some tricks” or “how much was your bike?” Or maybe I’m paranoid.
Today was pretty poor, rode the bike down to the hyperspar, did some shopping, got worried that I’m only using that nasty MBR freebie lock, ate under some golden arches *cough* and rode back to the halls wishing I’d waited a few minutes between finishing a large coke riding a mile.
I’ll get some photos for you guys tomorrow, let you see my Eastern European hell, maybe even show you some of the ‘culture’ you’re missing. [;)]
posted by Alex Thompson at 1/23/2006 03:01:00 AM
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