Monday, May 30 -- Bussism and Cubism

Kaisa walked us to the train to Nuremberg. There were some schedule changes due to construction work, but we had checked that this one would take us to the bus to Prague on time. The tickets had been purchased yesterday, only 9 euros / 2 interrailers. They were more like seat reservations than tickets, and we had to use one day from our ten travel days passes. The second floor of the bus was the second class, and the first class would have been downstairs, though there was nobody in there except the stewardess. Someone complained that we were sitting on his seat, but this time we had it right and he upside down--68 or 89?

The bus was full, apparently because of a school trip, but many others had decided to go on holidays as well. Monday is a bit of an odd day to start the holidays, though. The bus is operated by Deutsche Bahn, and coffee was sold with train prices and served in DB cups. Somehow it never occurred to anybody to build a short railway streak from Nuremberg to Prague, and thus it's operated by the bus that takes 1:15 less than the fastest train.

We went on Autobahn for the whole 3:45, and finally got to see some countryside and forests. Unlike their Finnish counterparts, railways in the Central Europe run through inhabited areas, but this highway skipped all the villages. There were lots of forests, but surprisingly few mountains. Most of the fields were unfarmed. The rapeseed was blossoming in some places, and only starting on others, and we wondered whether this could be explained by the altitude. The most popular plant was no doubt the solar panels.

The bus televisions showed instructions for passengers as we entered Prague, and of course Smetana's Moldau was playing in the background. "Do not cross the road under any circumstances." We were left apparently on the back yard of the railway station. After waiting a while for Martin, we found our way to the ticket office, to continue waiting. The office wasn't easy to find, and the same applied for Martin: Tiiti didn't really have a clear picture of what he would look like. Luckily we were very easily recognised.

Martin is a local guy from Prague. However, spending the last year in Oulu, Finland, as an exchange student, he absorbed quite a bit of the Finnish culture and even a Finnish name, Martti. He also knows a lot of Finnish, and we learned to use a funny mixed language, where many of the everyday and food words would be in Finnish, perfectly pronounced: "Kiinalainen valkosipuli is the cancer of suomalainen keittiö." This also stuck in our speech, but Martin's girlfriend Eva wouldn't understand any of it. Martin and Tiiti met one and a half years ago in Hailuoto, near Oulu, on an IOTA pedition arranged by the students' radio club of Oulu, and this is the only time they had met before.

Martin had been waiting for us in front of the station, where the bus leaves. Nobody mentioned us that it would arrive at a different stop. Martin politely took Tiiti's backpack, just like Kaisa had done in Erlangen, and Tiiti was happy to carry only her personal load. We headed for Martin's apartment first by subway (here 'metro') and then tram. Along the way, Martin would talk about the buildings, places, and history, non-stop. 'If this is too much information, just tell me,' but it didn't bother us at all. Once we were home, Tiiti lay down on the bed with the feet up, trying to shrink the swollen ankle, while the guys studied maps. There would be a lot to see. A gem of a tourist guide had been published by the local public transport bureau, '33 Prague trips by public transport.'

Having heard that we were into architecture, Martin instantly knew a perfect route for us. We saw cubist architecture, the deconstructive Dancing House, and a pedestal on which a giant statue of Stalin once stood for a very short period. The monument was nicknamed 'the meat queue,' because the people following Stalin were standing in line. Our guide knew an awful lot about the historical buildings and what they used to be, but how much of this did he just come up with on the spot?

The people in Prague are exceptionally kind and polite. The pregnant traveller is always offered a seat on the tram. We went to a tea shop, where the guy gave us some mate and showed us around, although Martin told him that we don't have the time to stop for tea. We actually thought that Martin was a regular, and thus got this extra treatment, but no. The tea room was equipped with floor tiles, fireplace, and expensive Pu-Erh in bricks. We were quite surprised to find so many sorts of tea that we never had even heard of.

On one side of Vltava (Moldau) there is Prague city, on the other a great hill with forest. We climbed up to 'Stalin,' the pedestal of the former Stalin monument. Now it hosted a metronome many metres tall, ticking until it stopped for the night. It actually gets dark here in the night, gasped the Finns. The view to the city was great, and we tried to get the big picture of where everything is. The guys had the worst beer in Czech Republic, while Tiiti enjoyed a hot apple juice with Glühwein spices.

We should have realised that the sunset meant it's late. Martin had thought of making some bacon-sauerkraut-gnocchi speciality, but when he heard that Timo doesn't like sauerkraut, he refused to cook it. Instead, we went to a Chinese restaurant, well hidden on the second floor, behind a night club, and we had to walk like 200 m of corridors to get in. Luckily Chinese restaurants always provide the same menu, and instead of Martin translating the whole menu we could just say, 'chicken and nuts.' First Martin would translate our English to the waitress, and when she switched to English herself, Martin naturally started to translate that to Czech for us.

Martin's flatmate just moved away, and the new one was only moving in tomorrow. Thus we got his room, and there was even a bed for Tiiti. Martin had brought some mattresses from work--why do they have mattresses at the university department?--and provided us with a sleeping bag and a quilt.

Tuesday, May 31 -- Technical Museum

We found the morning horribly hot, had some porridge and a shower, and headed for the National Technical Museum. The public transport system in Prague operates smoothly, and you get anywhere by tram and a couple of metro lines. It appears though that the trams run quite slowly, since we were always surprised by how long the trips took. On our way we took a peek into the old exhibition centre and the National Gallery, both beautiful buildings. Martin introduced a local food speciality: an open sandwich topped with potato salad and everything else you can or can't imagine. Yummy! We would have thought to get these only in Denmark. If we got these in Finland for less than one euro apiece, we wouldn't have to eat anything else.

The technical museum consisted of a four-storey hall full of vehicles, and numerous special exhibitions of at least architecture and astronomy. We started at the transport. Timo first tried to read all the texts, but was brought to his senses and agreed to move a bit quicker. Cars and two locomotives were parked on the ground floor--Timo found the former the most interesting thing in the museum. A red sports Jawa from 1935 made us agree that we would buy such a car if they were available. Where do you get spare tyres if the old ones become too brittle standing in the museum? Tiiti admired the locomotives, though we had just seen plenty in Nuremberg, and noticed that the wheels were not symmetric but looked like extra metal had been cast in some places. Maybe this was to balance them?

Like the day, the vehicle hall was horribly hot as well, with the sun shining in through the glass roof. Anyhow we continued through the motorcycles, aviation, and bicycles, or actually the guys did, but Tiiti mostly rested on a bench and glanced the exhibition only quickly. A fat and very sweaty man was resting in the other end of the bench. We had been farsighted enough to buy something from the bakery, and had enough energy to continue after eating.

Modernism, cubism, futurism, minimalism, functionalism--the special exhibition of Czech architecture was quite ism-atic. Before the trip we had considered going to the museum of German architecture, and wondered what it would be like: models, photos, or even massive 1:1 models of famous buildings? This one showed many fancy scale models, some of them original sketches by the architects, some made for the museum collection, and lots of texts and of course photos. The buildings were best grasped by the scale models. The people who set up the exhibition had realised that architecture and industrial design are closely related, and included some of the design on display. We sat on fancy old Czech design chairs to watch a video about the conscruction of the Stalin monument. Nothing was mentioned of the blowing up of the monument seven years later.

The astronomy exposition was visually fascinating: we walked inside glass spheres in what looked like a futuristic space ship from the 1950s. Exhibits were highlighted using spotlights, and audiovisual material was planted here and there. Martin complained that all the speech was mixed together and it wasn't possible to listen with so many speakers around. For us the Czech speech was only background music. Astrolabes and other old technical items looked like they came from a space ship in a cyberpunk role playing game.

After the printing press and 20th century tanks the museum was finally done. We didn't get any cool car postcards because the museum shop was being repaired, but the friendly old lady behind the counter gave us a card with the first Czech aviator, and a discount coupon for a nearby restaurant. She was very pleased that Finns would come to her museum. Groups of Danes are frequently seen, just because Tycho Brahe used to work here.

Inspired by the discount coupon, we had a lunch in Hell's Bells that looked a bit like a metal restaurant. Since when is Rolling Stones heavy metal? Martin was surprised by our wondering, and asked why we had thought this a metal bar in the first place. Well--by the name and the interior design? Maybe the heaviness is only visible in the evening, and in the day the place serves as a regular restaurant. Martin insisted on Timo having something that turned out to be a similar piece of meat that he had in Nuremberg, with the fat and skin still on. Tiiti had something similar to Sauerbraten, again. We almost broke into fight, arguing whether the Czech food would be German, Russian, or of its own kind. The Czech sauerkraut is not as sour as the Finnish product, and Tiiti found it tasty and Timo edible. Martin showed that he indeed is a poor student, eating some of his plate after the food. His plate was a loaf of bread, with meat sauce inside.

The hot and humid air, along with the heavy food, made Tiiti collapse on the grass in the park. Martin left us there, because he had to write a report of how his master's thesis was progressing. Timo studied the city map and wondered where to go in this temperature. Finally we decided to try the Jewish town, but it turned out to be a disappointment, looking just like anywhere else in the city. We could have deduced this by the fact that most of it was actually demolished around 1886. Earlier in the day we could have entered the old cemetery or synagogues, but now they were closed. The afternoon was saved by a fire: Timo first spotted some smoke in the city while we descended the hill. We are no disaster tourists, but ended up walking to see the aftermath. The locals were openly staring, especially the neighbours.

We had planned to go out together in the evening, but being too tired, we just took the tram home to have Martin's delicious spinach. The pub next door served the best Czech beer, according to Martin, but Timo thought it too bitter. Tiiti had the strangest plum-flavoured non-alcoholic beer. Again, we got to sleep in the flatmate's room, this time with no bed but enough mattresses anyway.

Wednesday, June 1 -- Tourist Style Spelunking

We got up early to catch the tram, the bus, the metro, the bus, and yet another bus. At the metro station we were accompanied by Eva, Martin's remarkably cute girlfriend and climbing mate. She had a stunning British accent that we loved to listen to. While the buses ran through the countryside, Martin naturally told stories about the places. The last bus was full with 15-year-olds on a school field trip, and old ladies who had apparently been shopping at the marketplace. We felt like we had no clue where the bus was taking us, and suddenly jumped out in the middle of fields with the school group.

On top of the hill we found the entrance and the ticked office of the commercial caves. The schoolchildren had ran up the hill way ahead of us, and we saw two tourist buses and some Japanese people, but apart from that, it was quite peaceful. We shared the tour with the school group. All the girls agreed to wear long sleeves, but what about the bare legs, thighs, and toes in +10.5 degrees?

The caves were surprisingly spacious and well lit. Martin translated the guide's stories as well as he could. A geology tour in the caves would be extra interesting: which mineral produced which colour, where the glazing on the walls comes from, and what process made the roses. (Tiiti's father would come in handy, because he would probably be able to guide such a tour without studying.) We could also have spent hours listening about the effect of the explosions at the nearby quarry, and how these effects are measured. Now we were mainly looking at the decorations on the walls and wondering how quick or slow the processes were: the caves were millions of years old, but on the other hand the power cables for the lamps were already covered with minerals. The roses and the dried underground river were especially interesting. We didn't take any pictures in the caves because there was an extra photography fee--less than one euro, but we didn't pay it because of principles. Besides, good pictures would have required studio grade lighting and a tenfold amount of time.

Tiiti had been a bit worried about the stairs, because the caves boasted five hundred steps. The trip was however slow enough. Being exhausted yesterday was probably only due to the heat, and today we had all the strenght in the world. The cool caves were very comfortable, and the day was otherwise cool and overcast as well.

Once out, we rested a bit and then climbed over the hill to see the quarry and the view. Somehow the light was unnatural, making the view look like the art in Magic the Gathering cards. We discussed botanics and compared the herbal treatments in Finland and Czech Republic: the plantain (Plantago major) is used in both countries for wound care. In the forest we found pennyworts and wood anemones, and Eva had fun with Martin who knew nothing at all about plants. As we were not sure about the bus scedule, we started slowly walking down the hill. Martin found some poppies and showed us how to make a poppy lady, a popular figure in folklore and children's tales. The school trip came after us, and a horrified deer ran before it. We had almost given up hope to board a bus when it finally arrived.

We went to an idyllic small brewery in the middle of a very non-idyllic industrial area. This time even Timo admitted feeling drunk, having had an '18-degree' beer, whatever that means. The restaurant had beautiful floors but no locks on the bathroom doors. On the way back, Timo took his time shooting photos of rusty machines, decayed buildings that lost their plaster long ago, and armored vehichles. When Tiiti suggested he could also take pictures of something beautiful, he replied, 'We have flowers at home but no Tatras.'

A City Elephant, a local train, took us home. The station was as soviet and ugly as could be, but inside we saw a huge glass painting in the socialist realist style. The train rode along a river valley, and Martin explained which cliffs were the best to climb and which village was a tourist trap. We fetched some cakes from the corner sweetshop and ate them at home with good Darjeeling. Martin played some Czech prog rock for us, and Timo replied with Finnish metal.

While Martin stayed home with his report, we went to find out what the funicular is. It turned out to be a hill train, pulled by cable wires, naturally running on tracks, being a train. The hill was 30 degrees steep at places, and the station and the train were built accordingly. There were two funiculars operating on the same tracks, and a double track for passing-by in the middle. Stopping in mid-hill made us wonder why until we saw the other train. The funicular is a part of the city public transport system, and the normal bus/tram tickets are valid, but there was no exchange station from metro to funicular available.

The funicular has been built to take tourists to the Petrin hill. On the top, the most famous sight is the scale model of the Eiffel tower, built by the Club of Czech Tourists some years after the original one. We didn't climb the tower or enter the large mirror labyrinth, but tried our best to avoid tourist traps. In the midst of rose gardens we found an observatory, and on its wall, an interesting sundial. After a careful study of some fifteen minutes, we had figured out that it shows the date as well as the time.

Having had to climb the hill with a steep special vehicle, we should have guessed that the downhill wouldn't be easy either. In the large park we found a serpentine road like in Norway, and after kilometres of walking we almost felt like rolling down the rest. It was almost dark when we found the tram stop, and found out that the tram would take a detour because of some road work. Feeling less adventurous, we just walked a bit more to get on the familiar tracks. Back home, Martin had made some Indian food, which felt very much like home. We spent the evening listening to some more music, and Martin tested his sitting muscles by staying up late with the report.

Next stop: Dresden.

Leave the train.