After a week of total relaxation, it was once again back to the sight-seeing grind. Next was a trip that I had been dreaming about for years, a journey into the heart of Eastern Europe and into Prague. Now, I don't really know anything about Prague, either than it was the home of a number of artists and scientists and so on, including one of my favorite authors, Franz Kafka. I didn't even really know about any of the tourist attractions in the city--I had only in passing heard about the Charles Bridge or the famous Astrological Clock. But I knew I still wanted to have a visit to a city that had charmed so many of Europe's intelligentsia.
I could sit and tell you how Prague was a fascinating mixture of East and West, where you had your more or less typical European capital feel in the city contrasted with the spare utilitarian train that takes you into town, but I'm sure you don't give a shit. I could also mention that the many sights were indeed spectacular; including the above, you had numerous sculptures throughout the city, the hanging gardens, the peacocks in the Senate courtyard, and even the vintage cars that you could take on tours of the area. Again, something you could find in a guidebook. I could also tell how the countryside was a beautiful rolling green hillside, practically unspoiled by development and dotted with intriguing old villages, but fuck, this is Europe, that shit is everywhere. Instead I'll present two little vignettes that should prove entertaining.
One of the cooler sites in Prague is the Communist Museum, which goes over in great detail what life was like in Czechoslovakia during the time of the Soviet occupation. Now I understand that life under that regime was very difficult, and indeed I understand that people would want to distance themselves as far as possible from the horrors of that rule and would embrace the West with great fervor. That being said, there were many parts of the museum that either gave a chuckle in terms of the propaganda or just a snicker at the irony on display. These ranged from the cheap shots at Marx in his biography to the fact that the Museum was situated across the plaza from a McDonald's and next door to a casino. But there were two displays that were especially hilarious: the first one was an exhibit which bemoaned how Marxism focused so much on industry and manufacturing, to the detriment of the economy--of course now as the United States attempts to make its way out of the recession, many point to our shipping of manufacturing jobs overseas as an important cause; the second was a different exhibit which gave a view of the dastardly interrogation processes used by the Soviets that violated all sense of due process, in stark contrast to the fair methods used by the West--tragically hilarious, considering the news we hear each day of America's post 9/11 behavior.
The other experience I want to mention is my trip to the go-kart track. Yes, I traveled halfway around the world into one of the jewels of Europe and spent my Sunday afternoon at a go-kart track--if you thought I would do otherwise, you clearly don't know me. This is a guy who will drive 45 minutes away just so he can race his friends on such a track; believe me, the irony of using a real car to go drive a fake one is not lost on me. But we were told that this track was either the biggest or the fastest in Europe, and while I wouldn't argue either of those points, I'd add that it probably was also the "HOLY FUCK I'M GOING TO DIE AS MY LEG IS CRUSHED INTO KART"-iest of all the tracks in Europe.
Now I don't know why I would be surprised about the obviously lax safety standards of an Eastern European Go-Kart track; I've experienced terrifying carnival rides put together by degenerate drunks and would rank them only slightly higher on the trust scale. But that's nothing compared to hurtling yourself at 40 mph in giant steel deathtraps (complete with holes to get your foot stuck and pointy pieces galore), smelling of pure gasoline as you navigate the tightest fucking hairpin curves as some Czech punk kid careens past you without touching the brake. I think the race was restricted to only 5 minutes, but those were among the five longest minutes of my life. It didn't help that afterward I had to spend another few minutes dislodging my Strongbad-type helmet from my virtual planetoid of a cranium.
In other words, Prague was a blast.
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