Balling on a Budget
Weather: Cloudy and humid.15 Degrees. Kinda makes you wonder why there are so many sundials in Germany.
Music: KGSR CD. Such a good CD. Damn I miss Austin music…
So I’d be flying solo on this mission. The bus passed by Amy, who was standing at the corner looking into the bus window at me with confused eyes. I just couldn’t wait anymore. It would be another two hours before the next bus pulled into town but I needed to go now. Road seduction was pulling at my heart strings once again and just as with previous occassions, I couldn’t say no. I was headed southbound for the Czech Republic with a pocketfull of nickels and that’s not such a bad direction to be headed when you’re “balling on a budget” (as we in the game like to call it).
After a short layover in Teplice, I pulled myself away from the border city bustle and found a bus headed towards Terezin (Theresienstadt). I could go as far as Lovosice, about 6 kilometers away from Terezin, and would have to deal with the rest when the time came. The town was little more than a strip mall of Plattenbauen and concrete, a little lacking in love to say the least. I was in a state of awe at the Soviet’s complete indiscresion towards human asthetics. I grabbed some lunch for some local flavor at a cafe, which consisted of a microwaved portion of frozen schnitzel cooked in front of me. The first microwaved meal I’ve had in 8 months. Radiation is tasty. Then headed out towards Terezin, employing my legs as God had intended I use them. Through farm fields and across highways I trudged along, asking for directions from anyone I met along the way, yet not understanding a single word of the answer. I would understand a dog barking at me better than I understand someone speaking Czech.
By mid-afternoon I’d arrived inside the fortified walls of the town of Terezin. How did my life take me to this seemingly irremarkable settlement, forgotton by the outside world? The town gained notoriety during the Second World War as a Jewish Ghetto used by the Nazis as a mid-point for shipping people from the protectorates to the death camps. Of the 140,000 people who passed through the ghetto, 97,297 died. Nazis…I hate these guys. The town still lives today however. It is inhabited with people living in former Jewish barracks. Weird would be the only way I could describe my initial reactions. The people seemed a bit off, the town itself seemed to stem out of a Hollywood movie set. I wandered outside the city walls and found the cemetary. And the crematorium. Four gas ovens. The same as they were 60 years ago. How many bodies perished here? I then felt a sense of rage, which is something I’d never felt at a former Jewish settlement before. Usually I simply feel depressed, confused, the emotions one would expect. But this time I was filled with rage. Not once did anyone in Germany stand up to the system. Not once did anyone say “Hey, this isn’t right”. They simply let it happen. A seriously underrated quotient to the equation.
So when was the last time you slept in a former Jewish Ghetto? Yeah, well I did it just last week. What? There was supposed to be a campsite outside of town but I found nothing. No tents. No fire pits. No campers. No people. There were a couple of cabins I tried to sneak into but failed miserably. Exhaustion was quickly taking hold and any worries I had about the area were quickly suffocated so I found a flat piece of ground behind a building and laid my tired bones down, out of view of any morning visitors. I tried in vain to sleep but mainly wasted my time. It was freezing. And wet. And hard. In and out I dazed until 8.00 in the morning finally rolled around and I got a start to the day. There was a shower complex on the grounds and I made sure to exploit the free, hot water. When I came out, the owner of the grounds was there to greet me. She wanted money. I was determined not to part with any. I tried to make my glorious escape but was trapped in a broken conversation of “you want to be here?”. I played the dumb American card, told her I didn’t understand a word she was saying, and she eventually gave up, smiled at me and told me to enjoy the day.
It was so relieving to release myself from the prison grounds and got on a bus headed for Karlstejn, a castle in the Czech countryside. There was a layover in Prague and the gypsy city, with her women and drink, tried her best to seduce me but the tight bus schedule kept me headed south. I arrived in Karlstejn with that “I’m here-what do I do now?”-feeling. The welcoming comittee failed to show up. I started walking in the direction of the town and was a bit dissapointed with everything to say the least. Nice countryside but nothing breathtaking. And the “castle” appeared to be little more than a church on a cliff. Determined to enjoy myself regardless, I escaped up a side-path climbing a cliff when I was given a breathtaking view of a magnificent palace hidden in the upper reaches of the valley. I practically ran up the opposing cliff in excitement (not without buying some ice cream on the way of course) and landed there just in time for the tour auf englisch. Sometimes things just kinda work out. The tour guide was awesome. The castle grounds were awesome. I felt so alive.
I finished the tour by dinner time and decided I’d get an early start on my next side trip, Karlovy Vary. I had to go back to Prague to catch the bus, then was on my way in a hurry to the West. It was the first bus ride I’ve ever taken where the bus driver passed cars on a two lane road! The man was in a race against himself. Tomi once told me that he preferred busses to trains. The people are practically sitting on top of each other, it forces goodwill. When he first told me that I couldn’t grasp what he meant. It’s all clear now.
Karlovy Vary is this amazing patch of architecture and richness amongst a rather vapid countryside setting. Once again however, the welcoming party missed the boat. I wandered from hotel to hotel, asking if they knew of any cheaper accomodations. Finally I got a referal for a spot on the outside of town, not that that really helped me find the place. So I started asking for help, taking one street at a time, getting to the corner, then looking for someone else to escort me to the next block. One helluva way to travel. A lady offered to take me there personally. A bit odd I thought, but I didn’t really have many more alternatives. We walked and walked, definitely leading to the not-as-nice part of town. She was friendly, perhaps around 30, but something about her was not right. Perhaps it was the consistently inconsistent stories she kept saying. Perhaps it was the drugs she was on. Regardless, we were stuck here together. We found the hostel, a former Uni dorm, and it wasn’t until then that I could really see her face. Pale, scaly skin. Cracked-out eyes. She’d been through a lot in life. She took care of the reservations. Then took care of the money, against my will. I didn’t trust her but there was nothing I could really do. I was handed my key. She took a puff of her cigarette, “sold” me two already used bus tickets, then walked away without looking back. I collected my recollections. She had just scammed me for about 1.50 Euros. At first I laughed. Then I got pissed. I hate to lose. I found myself back in the city for dinner and the entire time I could do nothing but say to myself “that’s two beers” or “that’s a plate of gulasch”! There was only one viable solution I saw to the problem. I would go into Pupp’s Grand Casino and put my remaining money allocated for my time in the Czech Republic (about the equivalent of 6 Euros) on the table. Run Lola Run style. “You gotta play big to win big!”
Blackjack. Me and the dealer. Mano a Mano. No alcohol. Just cards. Let’s play. About seven hands were played. In three of those hands I got a 21. I lost in only one. I looked down and noticed multi-colored chips on my side of the table. That can only be a good thing. “How much would you say that is?” I asked the dealer. “About 35 Euro” he replied in a dry voice. “Gentlemen, 35 Euro probably isn’t much in a setting like this but for me, that’s about as much as I’ve spent in the past couple of days combined.” I picked up my chips and cashed out. You gotta know when to walk away. Or course I couldn’t walk away with out a celebratory beer, which included the obligatory pass at the cocktail waitress (“You speak good English. You ever been to Vegas?”). I think it should come as no surprise that I would be leaving without even so much as a friendly wink back.
The next day in Karlovy Vary was brilliant. The architecture, the springs, the old people everywhere waddling along with their tourist bags. After a sun-filled picnick I picked up some of that famous spring water. Then walked. No particluar direction. I was just enjoying every breath that life had to offer. After a quick hike through the hills, I decided to make my way to Erlangen for a visit with Hilmar. Busses, trains, drunk Czechs, really drunk Germans all accompanied me to the dump-off point of Cheb on the German/Czech border. I like to think I’ve traversed a fair majority of this continenent and at no time have I ever seen a city as depressing as the city of Cheb. It got to the point where I didn’t even feel safe at times. I made my quick escape after the hour layover and eventually landed in Magnus’s apartment on the northside of Erlangen, Germany.
I’d anticipated the Bergweihfest for the evening but was satisfied with Magnus’s birthday party which would take place instead of the city festivities. My wallet was even more satisfied with the situation. And any time Hilmar, Jan, Magnus, Matti, etc etc are involved, it is an inevitability that massive amounts of laughter and alcohol will be included. This time the alcohol included a variety known as “Korn”. Possibly one of the worst things I’ve put in my body. Ever. But you can’t say no when everyone else is doing it. The next day was a miserable affair of cramped legs and splitting headaches. “I think I’m dead” were the first words to leave my mouth that morning. Hilmar replied with “Me too”. After watching some Formula-1, I caught my train back to Dresden. Or at least tried to. Leave it to the Deutsche Bahn to give me the first hic-cup in my travel plans. A train was broken or something to the effect and I ended up waiting for over an hour for the next train to arrive. Thus, I missed my connecting train in Leipzig. Not the way I like to spend a hungover afternoon. I finally hobbled into Dresden around midnight, exhausted but completely amazed with the life I lead. And Deutsche Bahn ended up compensating me for the time lost by refunding my ticket. Once again… balling on a budget.