We found some friends from all over the world so we were just chilling, drinking and talking with them until the sun came up at Sunday’s railway station. It’s a really multicultural city, a mixing pot of people from all walks of life. We hung around the station waiting for the bartenders to kick us out, but they were fuckin’ around too, seemingly in no hurry, taking shots back-to-back and chatting in a huddle around the bartop. When the staff finally came and told us they were leaving soon, we sulkingly stood up and walked in the direction of the sun. Our new friends walked us back to the hostel to make sure we got home safe. I swear I have a pretty great sense of direction, which way is north and which way is south, so after they got us a little lost, I got us back on track.
We finally reached the Hostel around 8:00am, being blinded by the harsh sun and our hungover eyes on the way home. I slept until noon when I woke up to the guy below me coughing up a lung and realized all the dorm windows were closed. Great. I couldn’t sleep because of his chunky-coughing, so and finally made my way to the tv room. My friends from last night were already there too and exclaimed, “There you are!! We were wondering when you’d surface!” We watched Mean Girls because a bunch of guys had never seen it before and laughed as they discovered where all the famous quotes came from.
We set out to find a thrift shop because apparently that’s one of the main attractions in every town I’ve been to thus far… (Budapest, Paris, Vienna, Prague all boasted about their thrift shops). I like seeing unique things of thrift shops, but I really can’t handle the smell of thrift shops, as it’s always the same stuffy mothball-ridden, grandma’s-dusty-house, dirty laundry, sour-sponge-smelling scent that lingers in all thrift stores and makes me feel like I need to escape or else suffocate. Also, I really stand by the belief that thrift stores are often more expensive than just buying new things off the “sale rack.” I guess I’ll never be considered a hipster.
We made our way back home by following the “creepy baby tower” which our hostel stood directly east of the base. This tv-tower was already ugly, so they petitioned an artist to make it more bearable. His idea, however, made it even more miserable, designing naked crawling babies (more like naked 5-year-old children’s bodies with bar-code-stamped faces) to adhere all over the tower. As we were getting back, people were leaving to the local beer garden at the nearby park so we quickly grabbed our gear and tagged along. I ran out of Czech Korunas (pronounced “crowns”), so a lovely staff member bought me two ice-cold ciders and a large crackling bratwurst. The staff here really is so good about accommodating people!
We sat in a group, joined by members of our sister hostel in Prague, and overlooked the south side of old town. As the chilly evening air rolled in through the shady trees, I went home to sleep off the last few day’s activities. Everyone was going out again and I had to actively avoid the urge to go with them when two of my buddies woke me up from my snooze. I honestly have the world’s worst case of FOMO, so I usually JUST DO EVERYTHING so I don’t feel like I’m missing out. I knew I really needed this night of rest, however, so I avoided the rowdy bar-crawl crowd by getting a kebab from down the street. We’ve been here for Kebabs 3x already since arriving in Prague… it’s like €1.50 for the most incredible, 18″-long, triple sauced (tzatziki, garlic and sweet chili), pickled red cabbage and Greek-salad sprinkled, hand-rolled, George-Forman-grilled Kebab… so you can’t not go once a day!
Always,
Alena Horowitz | Miss Potato
