Prague, John Lennon and a jazz band

19/1 - The Greek philosopher Socrates preferred spoken word over the written word.

We can squeeze much more meaning out of what is spoken. We can take note of rises or falls in the tone of voice to emphasize a point. We can observe the speaker's face or body while speaking, because much of communication comes through body language. And sometimes, listening to a great speaker tell a story is much more captivating than reading. With the written word, it's final. What's there is there, and nothing can be added. No additional meaning can be extracted. Socrates also believed the written word gives one an "illusion" of knowledge, which means we think we're experts after reading so much about a given subject. Only experience provides that.

I think Socrates would have approved of Karel, the Czech walking tour guide who gave us some background information during a three-hour glimpse of Prague. He bounced up and down on his feet. He was always moving from side to side. Single words were emphasized with forceful nods of his head, and he'd roll the "r" sound and make certain words sound Scottish. Karel would have fit right in on a theater stage giving a monologue or soliloquy because his speaking was intense; it seized attention and refused to let go. It seemed right for all of us to form a semi-circle around him during his speeches.

Karel showed us some of the older Synagogues in the Jewish Quarter of Prague.

This brings me to...me. I spent a couple of nights in Prague, the capital of Czech Republic! I hadn't known much about it before arriving, but I do know I had never heard a bad thing about the city. During the tour for example, I learned of some familiar everyday things that have Czech origins, such as the word "robot" and contact lenses.

Prague marks two things for me. This is the 20th country I've visited in my life (this number excludes countries I've only seen in the airport, like Sweden and Latvia). This was also the first time I have been offered cocaine to buy on the street. A kid a little bit shorter and darker than me approached me on my way back to the hostel during my first night. I pretended to be French during this brief conversation, but I don't know if he bought it (though I'm sure he did). The coke was good stuff. Colombian. I never bothered to ask for a price. As someone with a heart condition, I will never touch cocaine. I politely declined and chuckled to myself a few moments later because of the absurd things that happen to me sometimes during travel. This has been a theme on this trip because I was boldly approached three times in Krakow by women offering drink specials in an attempt to attract me to a nearby gentleman's club.

Prague is an everlasting city in an area that seems to be in perpetual motion; this has been the Czech Republic since 1993, after Slovakia peacefully left Czechoslovakia. It has seen communism, the icy clutches of Nazi concentration camps, monarchy and democracy. Karel said Prague has been in at least six different states in the past century!

The Czechs are particularly proud of having a democracy now, as there are whole photograph exhibits in the Dox Centre for Contemporary Art dedicated to Vaclav Havel, the country's first president who passed away in 2011. I saw several photos of him meeting Ronald Reagan and George H.W. Bush in the late '80s and '90s, and Prague's airport (which is one of the most calm and relaxed airports I've visited; there was hardly any traffic) is named after Havel.

This is the outside of Dox Centre for Contemporary Art. One of Havel's quotes is here: "The tragedy of modern man is not that he knows less and less about the meaning of his own life, but that it bothers him less and less.

Despite the large turnover, Prague continues to be beautiful and unique. It's a mish-mash of different architecture and colors, and its skyline is filled with spiky towers and castles. Karel even showed us a museum near the city center dedicated to the concept of cubism, even in the very structure of the building itself. As I left the train station upon arrival in Prague, I noticed something about the buildings. They're like a selection of ice creams with how many colors one can see - white, yellow, light blue, pistachio green, mocha brown.

Charles Bridge is Prague's first bridge. It's a cesspool of tourists, including me. The castle where the president lives is in the background.

Another thing I noticed (quite a lot, actually) is how bone-chillingly cold it is here! During the tour yesterday, our group endured a temperature of -12 degrees Celsius, or close to 10 degrees Fahrenheit. I thought Krakow was cold. But, I guess that's Central Europe for you. In fact, during the whole five-hour train ride from Bohumin to Prague (I took a bus from Krakow to Bohumin; I couldn't tell you when we crossed the border from Poland), I saw nothing but a blanket of snow, sometimes as much as a foot deep.

But compared to my previous adventures in Paris and Krakow, Prague has been a wind down of sorts.

I haven't had any profound experiences here. I've just been enjoying some of the views and a glass of local beer (or three). They are cheap here, with 100 koruna (CZK) converting to less than $5 USD. So even though I drank two fudging fantastic stout beers last night for 118 CZK, which is a bit pricey for Prague, I still spent only about $5. I would have to pay more than that for one average beer in Paris.

20/1 - Prague reminds me of Lisbon because of the millions upon millions of tiles used to construct sidewalks and their designs. But, like Lisbon, time has given the sidewalks an uneven surface, so you have to watch your step.

The most notable thing that happened during my stay in Prague happened after I had checked out of the hostel. As I walked through the Old Town square, there was a jazz band playing. I stood there for 10 minutes. I closed my eyes, captured by the muted trumpet, alto saxophone, standing bass and steel guitar. I smiled. This was life. Travel and music. Peace and contentment. All in one brief moment.

My goal for the final few hours in Prague was to find Lennon Wall, a large stretch of wall near Charles Bridge where it's legal to paint anything you want on it. There are messages of peace, and of course John Lennon's face at the top. This wall was used as a form of protest and resistance during Prague's communism days. These days it's little better than a tourist attraction good for a selfie (or eight). But, the messages still ring true. Love each other. Be true to yourself. Enjoy the journey. Don't worry.

Lennon Wall is literally a blank canvass, but one that won't hold your message for long.

My visit to Prague had its moments, but it wasn't as intense as Paris or Krakow. I didn't arrive expecting to have the kind of experiences I did in the aforementioned cities. I was tired so I took it easy, opting for relaxing with a beer by the pub window, perfect for people watching. It was also difficult to explore more of the city on foot because of the low temperatures. So, I didn't feel quite as fulfilled as I did in Paris and Krakow, but that moment with the jazz band made up for it.

21/1 - I'm back in France, but I need to spend one final night in Paris because I missed my train. This means one night in a hostel. It's frustrating, because I just want to go home. There is always a point during travel when it becomes a bit old, when all you want to do is go home and check out. This is me now. But, the sudden change of plan was something that seemed appropriate. I had to laugh while battling the Paris metro, because that's all I can do. 

And speaking of the Paris metro, it's a madhouse. It's like an anthill, with millions of inhabitants intent on nothing more than catching their respective trains. Each and every person walks with pace and intent, and this creates a stream of humanity much like an angry stretch of river rapids. Any form of hesitation will result in a mushroom cloud of shame, or at least a few bumped shoulders.

22/1 – I’ve returned to Cherbourg after having to spend an unexpected night in a hostel in Paris because I missed my train. In total, this was 12 days of travel, at least 12 hours riding trains, four hours on two different airplanes, three countries, three Couchsurfing hosts, 18 hours of French tutoring, some icy temperatures and one melancholy tour.

I’m not disappointed that it has finished; rather, I’m happy that it happened to me because now I have those memories and stories. And quite frankly, I’m glad to be home in Cherbourg - despite the temperature of the flat having nosedived while I was away - because I was tired. I was looking forward to doing nothing for once, letting my mind wander, slacken and relax in my own quiet space, like taking off my shoes and loosening the tie after a long day of work.

This is because sometimes to travel means to work. I got lost plenty of times in Prague’s narrow, cobblestone-lined maze that calls itself the Old Town and had to figure out how to return to a more familiar area. It was difficult for me to orientate myself in that city, much more than others, but I’m not sure why. I walked in the completely wrong direction for long periods of time, thus losing myself entirely. I figured out Krakow eventually, but not Prague. Perhaps the collision of so many different political eras, building architecture, skyline spires and history in Prague creates a sort of invisible, undetectable force that causes one to lose their sense of direction. Or, I was just stupid.

I was also cold for long stretches at a time, in Paris, Krakow and Prague, and sometimes with wet socks and feet from traversing snow, so I had to endure the effects and put them out of my mind. I had to instantly change tactics in Paris. Twice. Though one situation was much more serious than the other, I had to overcome that brief but intense moment of sheer panic. Often we notice that when the person we’re traveling with submits to panic and despair, we strangely become calmer. I’ve noticed that before as well, such as on that road trip with Danny a couple of years ago.

It's nice to have a travel partner, but what if we’re traveling alone? Who (or what) will help us return to clear thinking after an unexpected alteration of plans?

This, my friends, is difficult, because in these situations we can only rely on ourselves. We have to have an iron will, an ability to not let anything rattle us, but we also must relax and let that moment of peril pass. Over time, I’ve learned to laugh at the situation as it unfolds. It’s a way I’ve found to appreciate being in the moment, because the circumstances always improve. Countless instances of bad luck have turned out to be great stories in the future, so I remind myself of that in order to keep a level head.

We must also learn to harness the burst of adrenaline that results from panic. If used correctly, it helps us focus and zero in on possible solutions to a problem, but incorrect implementation results in lashing out at complete strangers who have no control over the mediocre hand we’ve just been dealt, along with anger and extreme stress.

Here ends my latest adventure. I hope you all enjoyed following it and the raw emotion which poured from my writing. I just need to commit to a new trip now!