Weather

From emails, I gather that the weather back in Blighty is everything we've come to expect from May, so as I write I promise to refrain from mentioning any 30-degree temperatures I may or may not be basking in. I shall also not mention anything about cold beer or suntans, and I shall be particularly avoiding any reference to women in light summer dresses...

However, I will make one note about appearances, though strictly about my own. Having lost my electric razor, either in Bruges, or in my cavernous rucksack, and refusing to replace it as long as a razor is more expensive than a mixed grill, my dodgy experiments in facial hair have reached their lowest ebb to date. Checking in at the British Embassy this morning, they have now upgraded my notional status from, 'Horrible Accident' to 'Deliberate Mistake'. I'm somehow rather pleased, as not only does this allow me honorary membership in the Guild of Student Travellers, but it also means I get approached by fewer beggars, as I don't look rich or posh enough to fleece...

So now that I am a tourist proper, so to speak, perhaps I should say a few things about Prague itself? And that would be easy to do, as Prague far and away wins my vote for the Favourite European City of Kris. Without wanting to mention the aforementioned unmentionables, I can at least say that the city is a delicious postcard of a place, the river, towering castle and nearby hills framing it into a picture to be well enjoyed with a beer in one of the many fine parks. I can declare that its offerings of beer, bagels, coffee and meaty dishes are to be revered and renowned, and the local Jazz scene to be...well, "Mmmmm, nice," says it all!
If there were a metro line that went to Oxford Circus, then I'd live here and be a very happy man indeed. Who knows? Maybe they'll build one...

Certainly asking for one in the blog may help, as my blog seems to have developed a power of prediction. No sooner do I write about the possibility of a McDonalds Museum in my blog entry for Brussels, (ironically, I thought), than I arrive in Prague and leave the train station to find an ad saying, "Help Wanted - McDonalds Muzeum." Is nothing safe from the Sauronic shadow of Ronald?

However, fast McFood aside, the cuisine of Prague must be mentioned, and even praised. Basic but delicious, reassuringly inexpensive, and very, very wonderfully meaty. I could be in heaven. There again, there's the worry thought that I may be turning vegetarian - the other night someone brought a large beef stew to my table, and I could have wept at the sight of it. Ah, too much bread will do strange things to a man.

But, assuming I'm still a meat-eater, and my eating of meat is a pretty strong sign, there's plenty to enjoy in Prague. Not just the various grills, pastas and traditional goulashes, but also such unique dishes as, "Stew of Rudolf II", "Tender Knuckle", "Granny's Kettle", "German-Flavoured Pate" and my favourite, "Tender Chops on Mrs. Provost."

All is not perfect with the food here though, as I can't quite fathom the market forces and consumer demands that mean the average supermarket sells about thirty different types of Rivita(!), but only one type of sugar free beverage. In the face of no slimline tonic, I am having to improvise a G&T with all the ingenuity I can muster...my apologies to Brian, Mrs Merivale, and all the other truly discerning drinkers I know.

Speaking of market forces, nowhere outside of America have I come across a country in which marketing is such a fascinatingly varied beast. One good example is the clear way that in the wake of Jurassic Park, someone has clicked and said, "Finally, not only can we now shift all those dodgy bits of amber with flies in, but we can actually charge extra!" Perhaps a better example is the following sign seen in a bar, which can only be targeting the tourists from dear ol' Blighty:

LOVELY
AGREEABLE
COLD
IS
DOWNSTAIRS

Yep, they've got British desires nailed. They also do quite well in the slogan stakes, with my favourite shoe shop name of all time now being the delicious simplicity of, "Shoe & Me".
When I open a shoeshop, I think I'll follow suit and call it, "Here's Lookin' At Shoes, Kid."

But every positive has its negative, and other stores aren't doing half as well. Two stores being just a little bit too honest in the promotional stakes are, "The Second Best Store," which a cursory glance shows that even that name was a bit generous, and the enthusiastically named, "Not The Most Average." But the absolute winner of the low-standard awards was the woman who stopped me in the street the other day, and had only the barest minimum of requirements in a partner,

Her: Hey, do you speak English?
Me: Yes.
Her: Do you want sex?

Can we fly Germain Greer in at short notice, or at a pinch one of the more aggressive Spice Girls?

Well, I have to leave you now, as I'm busily tucking into a bit of bread and pate. Would you believe that the restaurants here are so cheap, that I've actually OD'd on meals out, so I'm having a quiet night in. As I didn't have the heart to go for German flavour, I've gone for the more simple option of Turkey, and right now I'm thinking one of the rarest thoughts in all creation, "Fuck! What's the Czech for 'cat food'?"
Should be okay, I'll douse it with alcohol and hope for the best...

'Til next time, I leave you with a slightly heretical suggestion for some additional verses to Genesis, inspired by Prague street entertainment, and to be included in the next revision:

And lo, on the eighth day the Lord did get down unto the finer details, and He did create tap-dancing, and fluffy dice, and the British Board of Film Classification, and German-flavoured pate, and all manner of things under Heaven, except for the musicals of Andrew Lloyd Weber, of which He did wash his hands.

And He saw that it was very good.