Random adventure 2010: Prague

On Wednesday morning, we got up bright and early and headed to the airport with our passports, a wad of cash and our bags backed for four days in Bulgaria on the Black Sea beaches.

Three hours later we were on a plane to Prague.

Shortly after getting off the plane, I was struck with a very unusual sensation that niggled the back of my memory. What was it? Ahhh! I know! It is the sensation of feeling cool and comfortable! All hail 20C, cloudy with scattered showers! It was simply wonderful.

We had five great days of exploring all the nooks and crannies of the city which people say is the way many European cities looked before everyone started to bomb each other's cities to smithereens in WWII. I feel cultured now. A little over cultured. I saw so much art that I started looking for the most handsome Jesus, and giggling at the most spectacularly incorrect depictions of Jerusalem.

I feel like I spent a greater part of my savings on museum entrance fees- but it was worth it. There is some great art and architecture to be seen.Our favorite was the private collections of the Lobkowitz family. Amongst all the priceless paintings, letters and furniture, I saw a chair that looked strikingly familiar with its spiral dowels, ornate carving and wicker seat. There was one almost exactly like it in my grandfather's house that we kids were NEVER allowed to sit on. Now it doesn't get sat on in my parents' house.

A little known fact about me is that between the Irish reddish hair and the Scottish freckles, I am one 32nd (or is it 64th?) Czech. This is one of the great things about being a multi generation immigrant; you end up a crazy variety of mutt. Because of the Lobkowitzs' chair, I spent the rest of our trip trying to convince James that I am descended from Czech nobility. "Yes, Milady" was all James would drone as he pulled me off to the next site to see. I posted pics of both: you be the judge.

We also spent a day taking the train out to some random town, checking out a fantastic gothic cathedral. I have decided I like Gothic way better than Baroque. The Gothic gargoyles don't freak me out nearly as much as all those creepy Baroque cherubs with just wings and a head and no body. When I die, if those freakish things are leading me to heaven, I hope I have a baseball bat with me.

On the way back out to the train station, I entered one of the creepiest chapels known to man, decorated by the hands of 40 000 former residents – but also their arms, legs, ribs and heads. Cremation, my friends, is looking better and better.

One of the evenings we went to the State Opera house and saw a production of Verdi's Aida, which The Chicken described as a sonic assault with over 60 people on stage at times. We both agreed the skinny-b^&$* pharaoh's daughter was far more interesting than the perpetually suicidal title character.

In no time at all, it seems we were back on the plane taking the red-eye home. I *planned* to go to work today, but I fell asleep instead.