Prague, World Cup and trams

Sunday 15^th July

I am now in Prague. I decided to leave Marianske Lazne in the morning yesterday. Monika had suggested we visit a nice place in the morning and that I leave after lunch but I could not bear any more time with her, hearing her prattle on. We had gone out the previous evening to the singing fountain with her daughter and by the time I went to bed I was worn out with her talking. I had told her about it the previous day and she acknowledged that she does talk too much but it made no difference. The father of her daughter was a compulsive gambler and she is a compulsive talker. The former is surely the worst but both undermine relationships.

As I prepared to leave Monika came to my room bearing gifts: a small photo of her, some sun tan lotion and shower gel, some sweets and a small carved wooden ball, probably made in Africa, which she had had since she was ten years old; it certainly looked old. I was thankful and perplexed. Why a photo of her and something she had owned since a child? I don’t know if she sees me as some father figure – her own father was a drinker and beat her mother – but she is certainly very fond of me. I had vowed to myself never to return to see her but she asked me to visit again and let her know how I am getting on. I will certainly keep in touch.

I’ve found a very nice little camping site to park up, right by the river Volta. It has good facilities, even a restaurant. I arrived mid afternoon and as the sun was baking down I decided to erect the awning, which can cover the van and me if I sit outside. I spent a fruitless half an hour trying to get it to stay up but I had no pegs to secure the guy ropes, so I gave up. I then realised the World Cup final was at five and it was now four-thirty. With two tram tickets I set off to where the nice girl at reception had directed me. I arrived at a bar ten minutes after the start and France were already one up.

It was a good game, France won 4-2. At the bar I met a loud speaking but very nice English guy, who liked to refer to the French as Froggies. He was over with his friend celebrating his 60^th birthday; they had flown over. It was nice to talk to a Brit. The only other British I had come across on my travels were a group of motorcyclists at ML. They were at the hotel, in the grounds of which I had played crazy golf with Monika and Elen, before Elen had decided it was too difficult and we finished. It’s a curious thing but in my six weeks of travel, I have only seen one British registration plate and that includes trucks. I wonder if we have any trade with northern Europe.

After the game I decided to explore a little and see where my steps take me. I found myself by the river and so I followed it, knowing in which direction to find the Charles Bridge (Karlov Most) and where most tourists are attracted, like flies to a honey pot. I might as well see the lovely district once again whilst I am here, even if it is full of tourists. I also might as well take some photos to remind me of my visit. The sun, which had been beating down earlier in the day was now hiding under the edge of a heavy cloud and the castle which stands prominent in the city was in shadow. I wandered across Charles Bridge, weaving between the tourists and taking the odd photo. Finally the sun broke free from the clouds and poured golden light onto the statues and people. Now I could take some decent photos.

After crossing the bridge, I decided it was time to head back. Maybe I would have dinner at the restaurant at the campsite. But now there was a problem, how to find the No. 5 tram back? I wandered around looking for tram stops but every stop had many other numbers but not 5. My problem was compounded by the fact that although I had photographed the tram stop name near the campsite, my phone had run out of power as I had crossed the bridge. I searched in vain for the name of the tram stop on the boards at the each stop but couldn’t find it; partially because I couldn’t remember exactly the name of it. I had been so in a hurry to get to the bar to watch the game, I didn’t pay enough attention. I did have a map, given to me at reception but it was pretty useless because the street names were too small and barely legible. Fortunately I know Prague pretty well from previous visits and so could get my bearings. However, I still wanted to find the tram stop I had alighted from. I had asked several people for directions but they were not locals. Finally, a man sitting outside a bar with friends, probably Indian, offered to help; he worked in Prague. We looked at the map and I pointed toward my destination; he was confident he knew and showed me which road to take. I thanked him gratefully and set off with renewed vigour but after some while I found myself back at the river and to an area I recognised from walking into the centre but it was still a long way back to the tram stop. I looked at the map again, should I walk the long way to the tram stop or continue following the river back to campsite. I took the former option and was glad I did; those five trams stops were much farther apart than I had remembered coming.

At nine-thirty I walked wearily into the campsite. I looked at the menu at the restaurant but it looked a little expensive and spoke of sweet music and romantic views of the river – I didn’t want to dine alone and I didn’t need romantic views of the river. Instead, I went back to my van and ate muesli I had bought, and which was made in Bad Schwartau; a previous visit.

At Bad Schwartau I visited Angelika with Couchsurfing. She is a mature lady who occupies the top park of a large house on the edge of town. It is very close to the motorway but such is the special road surface and screening fence, one can hardly hear the traffic.

Angelika also had guests, two Chinese students who are studying building engineering in the nearby city of Lubeck. Angelika is to me, a typical German, she wants everything to be done just so but she is also a very good and kind host, fixing very nice breakfasts of fish, meat and cheese for me. She is a heavy smoker and sits outside on the veranda on her sofa and rolls cigarettes at great frequency. She also likes to drink white wine but waters it down with soda water.

I visited Angelika twice, once on my way to Denmark and once on the way back; she was very keen for me to visit. I think she liked me a lot by the look in her eye but she really was not my type and anyway, her good friend, a German lady who had been living in America was also staying at her home on my second visit.