I have learned something! Based on past experiments in trying to see too many places at once and my frustration at planning so many trips to small towns, I have cut the Harz mountains out of my trip and added one more day to my stay in Berlin, which is a gigantic city that should have as many cultural riches as Vienna; a day-and-a-half would have been too little time to see it all. It is strange to have finished so much of this trip that I only have three more cities in which to stay before I fly to Amsterdam: I planned this trip so far in advance of embarking on it that I am surprised every time I consider that the printed names of cities on my itinerary correspond to real, physical cities through which one can walk. My overriding feeling, at this point in my trip, is a desire to return to Europe a few more times to see more of it, but you have heard enough of that already, and it has nothing to do with my visit to Plzen today.
My only real observation on the way from Prague to Plzen was that Czech people cannot survive at temperatures lower than 30 degrees Celcius. Although the compartments of the train in which I was riding had windows that opened, the Czechs elected to leave them closed, and, when I opened them with the consent of other people in the cabin, they would close them after a few minutes. I spent the train ride to Plzen hoping that I was sweating enough to smell foul and, as such, get back at the other people in the compartment.
Plzen is a provincial town, of which I was reminded as soon as I got a city map. It was, however, a city not without charm. It has the second-largest synagogue in Europe, a few nice churches, a decent amount of statuary and plaques for a small town, including one statue commemorating the Americans' having liberated it at the end of World War II, and a well-preserved town hall. I forgot to mention, the other day, that the cathedral at Kutna Hora had the nicest stained glass windows that I had seen since visiting Metz. It is clear that people in the Czech Republic have had vastly-different ideas about religious architecture in different epochs, as some churches lack stained glass entirely; some have strictly-ornamental stained glass windows; some have allegorical stained glass windows; they have different types of arches, naves, and ceilings; and their interiors have wildly-differing levels of statuary and other ornamentation. The cathedral that I saw today was supported (on the inside) by Ionic columns, which I had not seen more than once or twice (Wurzburg jumps to mind; some of its chief buildings may have been developed by foreign architects, as they do not look distinctly German) in Germany.
I do not have too much else to say about my day except that I slept on the way back to Prague and could not find a bookstore with reasonably-priced books in any part of the city reachable by foot; I hereby label Prague a city of anti-intellectuals who wish to halt the spread of knowledge. Prague was especially redolent this evening: on its exciting days, the city smells like a dumpster. Cigarettes litter the ground like cherry blossoms in the spring; the people working at the train station are practically useless; there was a total of two benches in the entire Plzen train station, including the platforms themselves; even Czech people in the Plzen train station had to ask one another which trains were going where, as there was no information on the platforms themselves; the people working at the Plzen tourist office were cadaverous and rude; graffiti covered every available square inch of concrete in Plzen; and the people of Plzen, as soon as I stepped outside of the main tourist area, looked at me with a hard, aggressive glance, as though I were impinging on their territory. I have nothing to regret about leaving the Czech Republic except that I came here in the first place - that and dogs' being allowed in train stations, which I like because I am fond of dogs. For every woman who drives one to the train station and railroad personnel who help one try to work out an optimal schedule of travel to and from Kutna Hora (a woman was worried the other day that I would not have time to see all of the sights based on the arrival and departure times that I had mentioned), there is a person like the woman who gave me information about trains to Dresden and could not tell me anything about their price, explaining that I had to visit a different part of the train station to inquire about prices (as opposed to times), or the woman working next to her, who answered, to a young man from England who asked her where he could fill up his water bottle, that she only gave information about train times. When I bumped into the young man as I was leaving the ticket office and explained that water fountains do not exist in Czech railway stations and that people here are often rude, he summed up the experience of interacting with the Czech better than I ever could: "Why did she have to be like that? It's so unnecessary!" The rudeness of most people here does seem, to Westerners, entirely unnecessary, and the only explanation for it is that life in developing nations sucks for residents and tourists alike.
Tomorrow, I will say the last Czech words of my life when I ask someone at the railway office for a one-way ticket to Dresden. If I could plan this trip over again, I would have spent one-fifth as much time in Eastern Europe as I did, twice as much time in France, and infinitely more time in Belgium: travelling in first-world countries with well-developed tourist industries is a better option than travelling through Eastern Europe; if I want to look at poor people, I can drive to Surrey for the price of gas. My advice to anyone considering travelling in this area is to spend two days in Prague, one day in Budapest, and zero days anywhere else in this neighborhood. Dresden is a good entry (or exit) point for Prague, and Vienna serves that role for Budapest. Hopefully, the trips that I take in future years will involve fewer wasted days in places that I should never have visited in the first place. I admit that I have had some pleasant days here and that I saw some somewhat interesting things, and I admit that a quiet town like Plzen is not that much less culturally-significant than smallish German cities like Mainz and Wiesbaden, but one does not regret having seen small German towns, for some reason, while spending a single unnecessary day in Eastern Europe feels like a waste. I admit that I plan to visit Serbia for two days and Bulgaria for three days next year, but I will only visit cities in those countries that are of obvious cultural importance. I forgot to mention that trains in this part of the world are always late. While that does not necessarily ruin one's day, it is annoying, like a bee sting, as one should not have to put up with tardy trains and does not have to do so in superior countries. The Czech Republic might be worth visiting in seventy or eighty years, when it has finally found its way into the twenty-first century, but until then, avoid it like the plague, the survival of which people in the Czech Republic celebrate with various statues, the country's lone contribution to world culture.
My only real observation on the way from Prague to Plzen was that Czech people cannot survive at temperatures lower than 30 degrees Celcius. Although the compartments of the train in which I was riding had windows that opened, the Czechs elected to leave them closed, and, when I opened them with the consent of other people in the cabin, they would close them after a few minutes. I spent the train ride to Plzen hoping that I was sweating enough to smell foul and, as such, get back at the other people in the compartment.
Plzen is a provincial town, of which I was reminded as soon as I got a city map. It was, however, a city not without charm. It has the second-largest synagogue in Europe, a few nice churches, a decent amount of statuary and plaques for a small town, including one statue commemorating the Americans' having liberated it at the end of World War II, and a well-preserved town hall. I forgot to mention, the other day, that the cathedral at Kutna Hora had the nicest stained glass windows that I had seen since visiting Metz. It is clear that people in the Czech Republic have had vastly-different ideas about religious architecture in different epochs, as some churches lack stained glass entirely; some have strictly-ornamental stained glass windows; some have allegorical stained glass windows; they have different types of arches, naves, and ceilings; and their interiors have wildly-differing levels of statuary and other ornamentation. The cathedral that I saw today was supported (on the inside) by Ionic columns, which I had not seen more than once or twice (Wurzburg jumps to mind; some of its chief buildings may have been developed by foreign architects, as they do not look distinctly German) in Germany.
I do not have too much else to say about my day except that I slept on the way back to Prague and could not find a bookstore with reasonably-priced books in any part of the city reachable by foot; I hereby label Prague a city of anti-intellectuals who wish to halt the spread of knowledge. Prague was especially redolent this evening: on its exciting days, the city smells like a dumpster. Cigarettes litter the ground like cherry blossoms in the spring; the people working at the train station are practically useless; there was a total of two benches in the entire Plzen train station, including the platforms themselves; even Czech people in the Plzen train station had to ask one another which trains were going where, as there was no information on the platforms themselves; the people working at the Plzen tourist office were cadaverous and rude; graffiti covered every available square inch of concrete in Plzen; and the people of Plzen, as soon as I stepped outside of the main tourist area, looked at me with a hard, aggressive glance, as though I were impinging on their territory. I have nothing to regret about leaving the Czech Republic except that I came here in the first place - that and dogs' being allowed in train stations, which I like because I am fond of dogs. For every woman who drives one to the train station and railroad personnel who help one try to work out an optimal schedule of travel to and from Kutna Hora (a woman was worried the other day that I would not have time to see all of the sights based on the arrival and departure times that I had mentioned), there is a person like the woman who gave me information about trains to Dresden and could not tell me anything about their price, explaining that I had to visit a different part of the train station to inquire about prices (as opposed to times), or the woman working next to her, who answered, to a young man from England who asked her where he could fill up his water bottle, that she only gave information about train times. When I bumped into the young man as I was leaving the ticket office and explained that water fountains do not exist in Czech railway stations and that people here are often rude, he summed up the experience of interacting with the Czech better than I ever could: "Why did she have to be like that? It's so unnecessary!" The rudeness of most people here does seem, to Westerners, entirely unnecessary, and the only explanation for it is that life in developing nations sucks for residents and tourists alike.
Tomorrow, I will say the last Czech words of my life when I ask someone at the railway office for a one-way ticket to Dresden. If I could plan this trip over again, I would have spent one-fifth as much time in Eastern Europe as I did, twice as much time in France, and infinitely more time in Belgium: travelling in first-world countries with well-developed tourist industries is a better option than travelling through Eastern Europe; if I want to look at poor people, I can drive to Surrey for the price of gas. My advice to anyone considering travelling in this area is to spend two days in Prague, one day in Budapest, and zero days anywhere else in this neighborhood. Dresden is a good entry (or exit) point for Prague, and Vienna serves that role for Budapest. Hopefully, the trips that I take in future years will involve fewer wasted days in places that I should never have visited in the first place. I admit that I have had some pleasant days here and that I saw some somewhat interesting things, and I admit that a quiet town like Plzen is not that much less culturally-significant than smallish German cities like Mainz and Wiesbaden, but one does not regret having seen small German towns, for some reason, while spending a single unnecessary day in Eastern Europe feels like a waste. I admit that I plan to visit Serbia for two days and Bulgaria for three days next year, but I will only visit cities in those countries that are of obvious cultural importance. I forgot to mention that trains in this part of the world are always late. While that does not necessarily ruin one's day, it is annoying, like a bee sting, as one should not have to put up with tardy trains and does not have to do so in superior countries. The Czech Republic might be worth visiting in seventy or eighty years, when it has finally found its way into the twenty-first century, but until then, avoid it like the plague, the survival of which people in the Czech Republic celebrate with various statues, the country's lone contribution to world culture.
Oops! I forgot to generate another cultural stereotypes. Prague appears to be very popular with young women from England. A whole troupe of them visited this hostel the other day and immediately imposed their own order on it. Young England women, assuming that all of them are similar to the few whom I saw the other day, which is assuredly the case, dress provocatively, use the word "literally" as an intensifier, take hours to prepare to "go out" (i.e., go to bars and nightclubs), and appear to spend most of their time drinking, singing, taking pictures of themselves, and discussing how ugly their acquaintances back in England look in their photos. I have met a couple of people from Brazil who have reinforced my negative impression of Latin Americans and a Latin American man who directly contradicts it, so I will ignore him (as my impressions of people from other countries do not admit of contradictions). A few young people from the States just arrived who look so confused as to make me glad that I did not travel in my early 20s, as I would have had no idea what to do with myself. I suppose that I have run out of things to say for now!
This synagogue is massive.
No comments:
Post a Comment