2015-02-08: Rambling is a form of travel and speech

In reviews of traditional foods you don't really care too much for how recent they were. Plus Corona is a better sounding money anyway. Sounds like you pay in cigars, big fat juicy ones. I want to live in that world:

Technically not a corona but the principle is there

"One big arse steak please, of the large variety"
"That will cost one corona"
"No problem I have two coronas and will smoke the other whilst consuming half an animal"
"Allow me to bring a burning branch for lighting that majestic thing sir, a lighter would just be embarrassing"

My predilections regarding reality meant Ewa had to go find a cash machine when we got to the hotel in Poprad as Slovakia no longer uses the Corona and we had no Euros.
Actually: "as we had no euros with us".

Aqua City!

We have an absolute bucket load of them in a special wallet which is labelled in gold metallic ink as EURO back in Białystok. This is because I excel at obtaining bags for compartmentalisation of activities but kind of suck at using said planning to make our life more efficient. I have 4 wallets labelled and loaded with money and applicable cards, the AU one has our archery club membership cards and lots of AU cash etc.I have bags for "Fitness activities" and bags for "Hygiene Activities" and my travelling suitcase thing has lots of compartments too. I love it as it is so tidy and great.

Our trip to Poprad was great. In a kind of messy way.

Comfy but just for one.

We proved that the leftover communist Lady has nothing to fear regarding sexy times in the sleeper carriages. The couches are about 3 inches too narrow for sexy times to happen spontaneously. Anyone that will have sexy times on those couchettes is totally going to do it anywhere.

At about 1 in the morning we were woken and advised our stop was coming up. Then the train stopped. Neither of us knew what Bohumin was meant to look like and so the snow strewn sad landscape of loneliness lying before us just looked like another challenge for our fortitude. Fortunately we asked a passing official looking lady if we were indeed at Bohumin (the timing was correct) and were advised in a language neither of us understood that this was Poland.

Neither of us were quite sure if Bohumin was in Poland.

This is a Polish Wasteland (near Białystok where we had to change to the bus)

Strategically the smart thing to do would have been to stay on the desolate platform as there were two options:

1. Stay on platform, worst case scenario we got off the train early, it can't be that early, grab a cab to the actual Bohumin.
2. Get back on train as this place is a dump and cold looking, there are no ads for beer anywhere. If we are wrong we end up in Hungary or something but I am sure they have good stuff there, in fact they are famous for their Tokaji, and we can just catch another train back to Slovakia from there after sampling said sweet wine. Hungary has the i at the end of their spelling of Tokaj.

Perhaps instead of researching how to spell wine from different countries I should have checked geography or some other practical thing.

Bohumin at Night

I think it is obvious what we did. Unfortunately the worst case scenario didn't eventuate and didn't get to sample Hungary's famous sweet wine. That's okay though Slovakia makes Tokaj and I am sure we can try that.

As an added bonus, which I didn't really think of, we stopped for an hour and a bit in the Czech Republic. When I was about 13 I had a penpal in Czechoslovakia (somehow I remember her damn address, that is weird). We wrote a few times as penpals organised by oppressive regimes do (the commies had nothing over my high school). When I was about 17 I happened to be near Czechoslovakia and thought "Hey I'll go visit and apologise for not writing for the past few years". I was probably drunk at the time. Anyway I was not allowed on the hallowed ground of Czechoslovakia at the time. Probably for the best, it was a few years before Czech's were allowed acquaintances of my level of dubious status.

Wino Grzaniec. A sad moment. Sometimes the last time you get something is only known later.

This time I was allowed into the Czech Republic. I assume they dropped their standards after the separation. I was in Bohumin a mere hundred km or so from Bubenska 21, Praha (hey I remember her address too!). Did Ewa and I commandeer a cab and announce "For Healing Of The PenPal Drift, Make Speed to Praha!"

Of course not. Karolina Zarzycka (I don't remember which Z was a fancy Z but one was) has probably moved from there, I doubt she remembers me from our three or four mail exchanges and Prague is full of Americans being artistic. Plus there were no cabs.

Oh and it is early in the morning, neither of us speak czech, have no local currency and we probably smell bad. That is why the non existent cab driver would probably refuse a half country drive.

Warsaw burger, high in FODMAPs, also learned later.

To cheer us up I have historical knowledge. Historical knowledge is better than observational knowledge because observational knowledge is that the sleepy guy in the train station bistro has a huge uncovered belly and smells worse than me.

Food and Beverage review: Pilsner Urquel.

It doesn't matter what it tastes like. At. All. Respect for skills is all that matters. In my brain this is the company that invented beer that was not mud.

The bistro was a delightful green and gold colour scheme.

It is a Czech company. Getting to drink it is a checklist item if you do it in the country it came from.

Rating: 9/10 (Pilsner Urquell is not actually that great but clear beer can be)

Linguistic Skills: Czestina (I think that is what Czech's call their language) 

It sounds a bit like Polish to me. My Polish is crap. Ewa speaks very good Polish for a native Polish Person. I managed to order stuff in Polish from a Czech person with, possibly, equally good results. I even read the menu and guessed stuff based on how close it was to my dubious understanding of Polish. There was an item on the whiteboard I couldn't work out so I ordered it. It was German mulled wine.

I got a little excited and said, in Polish "drink is hot german in pot" or something equally incisive. A, even for me at 0200, ludicrously drunk Czech gentleman and his Lady friend decried my Polish. They claimed it was, as a matter of fact, "a hot Czech in a cup". Then there was a little discussion about the size and shape of the cup and how to translate that to Polish accurately depicting these qualities. At this point I had forgotten the Polish word for "cup" but was saved by the Czech Lady behind the counter holding up the bottle to show it was indeed German. I did a little victory dance. The drunken Czech fellow and his Lady were impressed with my dance but no longer wanted any drink contaminated by the Krazy Krauts.
They did like my victory dance though.

Rating: 5/10 (Hot Germans Are Not So Tasty)

In previous ramblings I have mentioned how Poles consider Czechs as the little siblings they have to look out for. Now I know why. Even to me they sound like children.They speak their language with the same kind of sounds that children in Poland speak their language.

The hotel is also the local English Consulate or Embassy or something

No hard sibilance, lots of appendages which sound a bit like diminutives and in general they "sing" a lot. But you understand every fifth word or so. Fortunately Ewa and I agreed on this as we left their country and before anyone challenged us regarding it.