Someone on one of the Czechland related forums says my blog posts are good but a bit on the long side. I agree.
I talk too much sometimes. I know it’s true. I’m one of those women who corner their partners when they come home and force them to listen to every single detail of their day at work without bothering to ask if they’re ok. Sorry Czechman. I know you only read this to make sure I’m not revealing any personal details about our relationship, but as you would say, ‘I do apologise.’
Anyway, I’m going to try and be more concise this time. Here goes.
I went on a day trip to Křivoklat with some of my new friends.
Czechland has many castles. Sometimes the castles were built to be forts; sometimes they were built more to look pretty like chateaus or stately homes. Křivoklat is the first kind. It has a big courtyard you can sit in and eat ice-cream and the kind of big cream turret that I imagine Rapunzel threw down her hair from. Here’s a picture:
We went on the full tour of the interior, which lasted a leg-ache inducing 100 minutes. Inside we saw lots of guns, old paintings, a real iron maiden (the scary medieval instrument of torture) and an impressive collection of decorated wooden sleighs. That last part wasn’t meant to be sarcastic. The sleighs really were very impressive: some of them had panoramic views of European cities like Amsterdam and Venice painted on the side in meticulous detail.
There was a stuffed bear too, complete with a full set of teeth and menacingly outstretched paws. Unfortunately I couldn’t take a photo; the guide looked equally menacing and I was scared I’d get deported.
So, the tour was a bit dull but as is usual here in Czechland it was the only way to have a look around the inside. My favourite part was standing on the battlements and seeing only green in every direction, a very rare sight in hyperdeveloped South-East England.
I will go to more castles. I liked Křivolklat better than Karlstejn: fewer tourists and not too over-restored, at least as far as my inexpert eye could tell.
The low point on the day happened before the trip even began. I was waiting in front of the bookshop at Hlavni Nadrazi when all of a sudden I felt a massive wallop on my behind. Yes, some kind Czech hoodie* had decided to impress his gang of mates by slapping me really hard on my rear end. I wasn’t wearing leather hotpants or a neon-pink mini skirt either, just an old pair of jeans and a plain T-shirt. That’s what I get for saying that Prague is oh so much more safer than London in my last post.
This is what Czechman had to say about the incident.
‘What do you expect? You know they call the park in front of the station Sherwood.’
‘Sherwood? Why?’ I replied in a puzzled tone.
‘After Sherwood Forest. You know, Robin Hood? Full of thieves.’
‘But wasn’t Robin Hood supposed to be a good guy?’ I respond, still confused. ‘Robbing from the rich and giving to the poor?’
Czechman shrugs his shoulders. ‘Maybe he just thought you had a nice arse.’
* hoodie: threatening looking teenager who walks around with a joint in one hand and the hood of his sweatshirt pulled up…