We are now in the quite charming city of Prague having travelled some 7 hours by train from Krakow. We were slightly befuddled due to getting only 3 hours sleep at our hostel as we had to wake up at 5.30am to ensure we made it in time. We just had to spend one last night in Krakow's wonderful bohemian bars.
Regrettably, we'd made the mistake of assumuing that, with as much energy as a crackhead who'd just been jogging, we'd easily pass out and sleep the whole train journey, waking up refreshed in the Czech Republic at 2pm. We hadn't bargained on
two men who joined our carriage after a couple of stops, two motherfuckers who didn't Stop Talking throughout every single one of those seven hours, in Czech, whilst popping open beer after beer after beer.
As a consequence, any sleep we did get was of the fleeting variety, our heads lolling around like one of those nodding dogs at the back of cars. Consequently, my neck is fucked and now I can't turn it without moving my entire upper body. I did have some pleasant apple strudel on the train though, courtesy of a lovely Irish physiotherapist from Vancouver because I helped decipher her ticket and carried her enormous bags onto her carriage. We'd had a pleasant conversation too, an intelligent and thought-provoking debate on everything from the current financial crisis, American politics, and our favourite novels. In fact, it was all rather nice until I popped the last piece of strudel into my mouth and looked out of the window to find us pulling in to Auschwitz.
The conversation descended back into gutter once Martin and I had walked back to our carriage and we no longer had to pretend to be polite. The conversation had become even more blunt and mono-syllabic upon entering Prague. We looked like shit and had had about four hours sleep over a 28-hour period, not to mention the task of negotiating with heavy rucksacks a new city in a new country amid a new and indecipherable language.
Prague at first glace seems lovely, a maze of European avenues and promenades, and grand, ancient museums and civic buildings dotted with statues and fountains. The language is increasingly unfathomable; not unsimilar to Polish but with a handful of new dashes and lines above and below letters, and a rhythm that sounds part Russian, part Romanian, part Inuit.
Our hostel is - what's the word? - shit, and I am currently listening to the assembled cacophany of loud bollocks coming from the beerholes of a party of northern English idiots somewhere behind me. I'm not sure if they're a stag group, or just a party of morons who've come here to drink as much beer as they can and be hideously, nausiatingly ignorant and obnoxious. Martin and I decided to sacrifice last night to get to bed early, just to catch up on sleep and hopefully see as much as we could of Prague tomorrow.
However, we hadn't anticipated on being woken up by British trash at 3am as they bellowed - properly bellowed - for the receptionist to hand over their key, then ran en masse up the stairs to their rooms being as loud as they possibly could (which included making ape noises) so everyone would be woken up to hear their triumphant return from binge-drinking and being fucking cunts abroad.
They make no attempt to learn at least one phrase such as the Czech word for 'Thank you' (It's Dêkuji, which is fairly similar to the Polish Dziekuje - a lot easier to say than it is to read), they shout out their ignorant little thoughts as frequently as possible, they interrupt (in English) all hotel staff regardless of who they're serving at the time, and their life's goal is to drink as much as possible for as little as possible.
They are absolutely the wretched scum of the earth, human detritus, an all-encompassed bunch of bastards, and we're not sticking around to be anywhere near them. So that gives us one day to check out Prague, then we're off to Vienna for the Saturday.
God, those bastards make me ashamed to be British.