Dispatch from Prague



I am an international woman of mystery.



Let me tell you the long and winding tale of my trip to Prague. Actually I'm really exhausted now, so here is the abriged version.
Every time. Every freaking time I go to a conference. Something goes awry, and it all ends up being my fault, and then I recover and realize it's not really a big deal at all.

I realized on Saturday that the Hotel info that I had printed out at school only had the hotel name, and not the address, and that the map-to-the-hotel that I had printed out was actually a map to Hotel Victoria in Plzen (dudes. what's with the consonants, i mean, really.), not the Hotel Victoria in Prague. I'd googled Hotel Victoria in Prague before I left, but while the google gods gave me every Hotel Victoria in every city ever, they did not give me the one in Prague. "No worries," I thought - "I will ask people, like tourist office people, when I get there." ....rigggghhht. It all sounds so easy.

1. Turns out nobody at the airport of the tourist office had ever heard of this hotel.

2. I freaked out, and had nightmarish visions of The Hotel Victoria not really existing other than as the figment of the imagination of a crazy czech travel agent.

3. I decided to take matters into my own hands, and got myself hooked up with the apparently only non-full place in town, a nearby hostel.

4. The hostel was not just ass, but scary-ass. I was the only resident there, and the guy in charge kinda reminded me of the crazy guy from Silence of the Lambs (not Hannibal, the other guy).

5. But whatcha gonna do, when it's a choice between homelessness and the Czech version of the Bates Motel- so I moved in, depsite severe creeped-outness, into a room with no towels or curtains and a dirty stone floor.

6. I went back to the conference, where they told me / yelled at me that the Hotel Victoria totally exists, and here's where, and why had I not checked in yet, and don't I know that they can't refund my money now? Sigh.

7. I dragged my tired ass all the way back to the scary place, explained my sitch to the scary man (he was very nice about it, and did not try to stab me to death), and dragged my suitcase and poster tube all the way back across the town.

8. After getting lost only once (silly me, I thought nr 26 would be between nrs 25 and 27, but I was wrong) I eventually found my hotel . Note that it has its own freaking web domain, and yet, nobody seems to have heard of it. Frickin google.

9. My hotel is super fabulous; very art-nouveau and clean and lovely. The breakfast alone almost made me cry.

I've taken so many trips on the Prague Subway to consider myself a regular by now. I also enjoy carrying around that poster tube since it looks like it could have either weaponry or gadgetry in it, and that helps pretend in my mind that I am a secret agent, which I like to do now and then.

Yesterday I had a glass of wine for about $1.20. Can't argue with that.

Posted: Sun - April 17, 2005 at 02:57 PM        

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