14 Prague Diary

Thursday 19th day seven.

We woke in our lovely bedroom for the last time. I had a mass case of end of holiday blues. We had to go home, worse we had to go home to Mac and there didn’t seem much (apart from my family) to go home for. I joked with Russ that if I sloped off to the toilet in the airport then he’d better follow me because I’d be off, never to return. I’d seen a flat right in the middle of Old Kafka Town that would have been going for peanuts; I’m guessing at top wack prices that it would only be about forty pounds a week. Dominoes had offered me a job. I could certainly teach that lot a thing or two about customer service. Of course, I was only joking but I spent a lot of that final day fantasising about just disappearing.

When we booked the holiday although it made absolutely no difference we decided that I was paying for Russ and he was paying for me because it was a birthday present to each other, our Birthday’s are both on the 6th May. I have to say that it’s the best present I’ve ever been given. We had a cracking time.

I’ve found that last days on holiday tend to be a bit aimless and this was no exception. We didn’t really do much. We booked out of the hotel at ten and went for a final wander around town. The weather was better than it had been the day before and the sun was shining but I still found it very chilly, not so Russ, he was up for a bit of sunbathing, for God’s sake. We didn’t have our room to go back to
We still had an afternoon to kill and were at a bit of a loss as to what to do with it. We decided to go for a late lunch and then see if we could find a park or something to sit in. Because it was to be our very, very last meal we wanted somewhere nice but also somewhere that served traditional Czech food. We found somewhere that was fairly upmarket; we knew this only because they offered little unopened packets of peanuts in all of the ashtrays.

We didn’t bother with starters because their desserts looked very nice. Russ opted for one of the traditional goulashes with Czech dumplings but I wanted to be adventurous and try something that I wasn’t completely sure what it was. A very unfriendly girl came over to take our order. She’d tried to serve us twice within the first three minutes of us sitting down but we hadn’t even had a chance to look at the menu. It takes very little to piss these people off. It’s as though all Brits stink of stale urine and they just want to get us served and get rid of us as fast as possible. I am confident that I do not smell of wee.

The third time she came over she was positively glowering at us. Russ ordered his meal without any problems. The menu was written in Czech with a broken English description underneath. I’d gone for something that looked as though it might be a savoury cake of some kind. The English interpretation was written as, savor pato cak. Sounded damned good to me, I imagined maybe two little round potato things in breadcrumbs similar in appearance and density to our fish cakes so I ordered those with rice and basil sauce.

The young girl looked at me as though I was something disgusting and literally shouted at me, ‘No side.’

But I wanted a side; I wanted my rice and sauce more than I wanted the other things. I had a feeble go at arguing the point but the lass was having none of it. She became almost aggressive and would not allow me to have my side dish. Oh well, at least if I only had a teeny tiny lunch I’d cut down on the calories. Russ said that I could have some of his; hah that was a role reversal and a half.

All became clear when my meal arrived. Russ’s goulash was exactly as we’d come to expect. He had a reasonable plate of stew, low on meat, big on sliced dumpling bread and plenty of rich sauce. I’m surprised the lass managed to carry mine out on her own. It was bloody enormous. I’d like to describe what it was but even after eating it, I haven’t a bloody clue. It looked like an omelette but I don’t think it contained egg. It may have had a potato base but it was a speckled brown in colour and may even have been wheat. It was so heavy that you could kill somebody with a blow from one of those things. Before I’d even tried it I gave Russ well over three quarters of it. The base that may have been egg or potato or wheat, all three or something else completely was stuffed with strange vegetables that I couldn’t identify and was laced with a rich sauce that had an unfamiliar make up. If I went into a kitchen to make one of those things, I swear, I would be stumped. Most things you could have a good shot at replicating, let’s face it you can buy most ingredients in any supermarket. The bloody thing was gorgeous. I can’t describe what it was, I can’t even describe what it tasted like but it was oh my God good. However, it was so heavy that I’d had enough after just two small forkfuls. I just couldn’t put it down and did the unforgivable; I pushed it and had a third fork. Five minutes later I felt as sick as a dog. When my stomach tells me that I’ve had enough I have to listen to it immediately. There’s no leeway for just another mouthful. My stomach only has the capacity to contain small amounts. I disobeyed and had to pay the price. I knew I was in for a bad do so I went to pace in the bathroom. Pacing a room often helps me to get food down without it deciding to come back up. Again my body is very clear in its instruction, when it tells me to pace I have to choice but to get up and pace. The bathroom was only two paces big, it was no good. I came out fast and had to get out of there quick. I was going to leave Russ to finish his meal and take off somewhere but, knowing that I was bad he was already paid up and ready to go. I told him that I needed to find somewhere that I could pace up and down and somewhere where if need be where I could vomit in privacy and that he’d have to bugger off and leave me to it. I have never puked in public, and rarely puked at all. I have a missive vomit phobia.

It was awful we set off walking looking for backstreets or little wooded areas or anything where there were no people, and there was nothing at all that was private. I can’t tell you how bad I felt and honestly thought I was going to end up chucking big ones all over the street. We found a city park and went in on the off chance that they might have a wooded area or something where I could get far enough off a path to have some privacy. It wasn’t to be, there were people everywhere. By the time we got to the empty fountain I realised that although I still felt very sick and wasn’t out of the woods yet (not that we’d found a convenient wood) the urgency had passed. I wasn’t right on the point of being ill. Over the next ten minutes I began to feel a bit better as the food bunging me up settled and digested. It had been a close call and I was damned lucky to get away with it. I know better than that.
We found a bench and spent the next hour just sitting in the sun and watching Prague life go by. It was funny because although the sun was out it was far from hot. Russ sat in his shorts and vest with his face upturned in sun worship, soaking what heat he could get from it. I was in my jeans and jumper with my grey winter coat on. I had goose pimples all over and was shivering. Russ now believes that not only was I a reptile in a former life but I still am one.

Our last tram ride on the number eighteen took us back to the hotel in time for one last cocktail without mixer before the taxi came to pick us up and take us to the airport.

The taxi driver never spoke a single word to us until he got us there and he demanded his fair. I’ve never met such unfriendly people in my life.

Soon we were in the air and leaving our wonderful holiday far behind us. I wasn’t bothered about a drink on the plane but Russ persuaded me to have a final vodka to finish off our holiday. They were overpriced and I begrudged seven pounds for two vodka’s and one mini can of cola. The man told us that we could pay in Crona, so Russ handed ten pounds worth over to get rid of them. The man walked off and didn’t give us any change. When we collard him on his return up the aisle he explained that the exchange rate is different in the air and that ten pounds was the right money. What a bloody rip off. I was disgusted and didn’t enjoy my drink at such an inflated price. Things like that should really be explained before you hand your money over. They must make a damned fortune. We’d also been stung in the airport for a baggage handling fee. We’d already paid one on the way there but had to pay a further fifteen pounds to get our luggage on the plane. I said that I’d be happy to put it on and get it off myself but was met with a stony stare.

We had the same chatty taxi driver with the droning voice to take us back home from Manchester. I felt guilty and rude but was just too tired to listen to him and his voice soon put me to sleep. My only wish was that when we got home we found that Mac had found somewhere else to live and had moved out.

I wanted two things before my bed. I wanted to sit and have a nice cup of coffee and a five minute chill-out sit down. We went into the living room and had to climb over Mac who had the sofa bed spread out all over the floor. He was asleep so we couldn’t even sit in our own living room. There was no milk in for a brew. I was furious because he had six different electrical entertainment appliances on in the living room. In our absence he’d taken it upon himself to set his own computer up next to mine and to tap into my broadband. He had on the telly, DVD, surround sound, two computers and a music centre. He was snoring loudly to compete with all the noise. I went around turning everything off. It was time for our non-paying lodger to make alternative arrangements. I was blazing. It wasn’t the happiest homecoming.