Prague, Czech Republic – “Holy shit, dude. Is that Aziz Ansari?”

Prague is a hell of a city.

Of course, there they speak Czech, the first language I’ve seen that I’ve been completely unfamiliar with.

Anyone remember that episode of Batman: The Animated Series where Bruce Wayne wakes up and his parents are alive and somebody else is Batman and the only way he can figure out that it’s a dream is because he can’t read anything because all of it is gibberish?

That’s what waking up in Prague is like. Regardless, I managed to find my way around.

My usual strategy in most cities has been to take the free walking tour to get to know the city first. This time, I got in an hour too late and missed the tour, so I had to go to my back up plan, which is “wander around like a confused asshole”.

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In most cities this tends to work, but Prague is fairly large, and my plan fell apart almost instantly. Despite this, I managed to get at least a decent look at the old town, which is covered in beautiful old buildings that were spared from bombings during the war, since Hitler loved the place.

Well, if it’s good enough for Hitler…

By night I returned to my hostel and joined a group of Aussies for a drink and dinner. The entire night was spent quoting old Simpsons episodes, including the one where Bart defrauds Australia.

During our time at the hostel bar, three guys wandered in to use the bathroom. As they closed the door I heard the unmistakable sound of “Holy shit, dude. Is that Aziz Ansari?”

They came out and asked if they could take a picture, I said “Not unless you buy me a beer.”

Yeah, I know how to do business.

I managed to catch the free tour the next day and was treated to a whole bunch of Prague’s sights that I managed to miss on my unfocused rambling. These included the astronomical clock tower, the oldest synagogue in Europe and a bunch more beautiful buildings.

During the tour, I met up with Alex, a dude I met one month ago at the pub crawl in Dublin. To keep our streak alive, we signed up for the Prague pub crawl, too. Which started at 8:30 in an abandoned church.

The most striking feature of the bar was not the fact that it was in an old church, but the fact that they had Stalin’s giant head in their foyer.

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It’s been stained white and red with what I can only hope is paint.

The bar also featured lit candles all along the side of the steps, which I believe is a bad decision when you know your patrons are going to be drunk and soaked in alcohol.

Aside from the two hour open bar, we played a bit of beer pong on the church’s original beer pong table.

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During the night I was treated to a surprise appearance from an old friend.

“Ca va, Sebastian?”
“Oui, ca va. Et toi?”
“Oui, ca va bien.”

I don’t really remember the rest of the pubs we went to.

…not because I was drunk. I wasn’t. But because they were just generic clubs that I can’t be bothered to place.

What I do remember was the bunch of rowdy Irish dudes we hung out with. Their first words to me were, “You look like that guy from Scrubs! Jesse Eisenberg’s friend from 30 Minutes or Less!”

That one got me a free Jagerbomb.

One of the Irishmen, Kevin, keep telling people it was my 21st birthday. So I got a bunch of free hugs.

When that got old, Kevin started telling people it was my 22nd birthday.

Another one of the lads, who looked just like a giant teddy bear, was insistent that I reminded him of his friend Tony, except I “wasn’t an arsehole”.

The last club we went to hit me like a ton of bricks. Not in a good way.

The air was so oppressive and saturated with what I assume was blood, sweat and tears, that I just couldn’t breathe. I felt like I was walking into an armpit.

I headed out with Alex and we joined a group of four Australian girls who were cold, hungry, lost, and in need of “Macca’s”, which is what Australians call McDonald’s because Australians are weird.

Apparently, they were staying in my hostel right next door, which I found absolutely astounding since I had never seen them before. One of them looked remarkably like Cobie Smulders, but I didn’t tell her that because what kind of loser tells other people they look like sitcom stars?

So, imagine to yourself Robin Scherbatsky and Tom Haverford wandering aimlessly through Prague looking for a “Macca’s” and you pretty much have my night.

Being the only sober one in the bunch, I managed to get us all safely back to the hostel, like the proverbial boss.

The last day was a lazy day. I got the hostel’s All You Can Eat Breakfast Buffet where I attempted to make my own pancakes: an operation that ended in tears. Afterwards, I just hung out in the room for hours and talked with Zoe (she has an umlaut over the e, but I don’t know how to do that), who’s probably reading this right now. After covering over a hundred or so nerdy subjects, we tagged up with Ana, from Texas, and headed down to Prague castle, the largest castle in Europe. The views you get from the top are absolutely fantastic. I’ve been talking for a while, so I’ll shut up now and let you look at the pictures.

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After a spot of dinner and failing to find a local drink known as “hot wine”, Zoe, Ana and I met back up in the Hostel’s Game Night Charades Championship. My and Zoe’s team, the unfortunately titled “Foreign Prostitutes”, swept the game with an enormous lead. Afterwards, I was asked whether or not I’d ever seen the show “Parks and Recreation”. I didn’t charge for that one.

After hours of post-game talking and Facebook friending, I headed to bed at 2 o’clock, determined to get a few hours of sleep before my 6:30am train to Berlin.

I woke up at 9.

Well, shit.

Next: Berlin!

Actually,
Aziz Ansari

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