Prague, Czech Republic

Name on the door of my room

Night time is definitely the worst time to arrive...wait, I've written this before.

I'm in Prague now. Well, sort of. I'm in Praha 7 at the moment. For those of you who aren't familiar with how the zones work in Prague, think of Praha 1 as downtown. So Praha 7 is like saying to the cabbie, "Take me the hell away from this damn city...then back it up a few metres."

The trip here

I arrived at Tegel in Berlin way too early (about 2 hours). See, in Toronto, you can arrive pretty much whenever you want, check your bags and then wait until your flight boards. That's because we have our ticket counters arranged by airline, rather than by flight number, like they do in Europe. I really wish someone had explained this to me prior.

When I got to the airport, I had to go to the info desk to find out which counter I'd be at, then waited for an additional 45 minutes for the damn counter to open. Of course, the flight was delayed for god knows what, though I passed the time well, looking at the people boarding at the adjacent gate, going to Moscow.

Sir Toby's

Just before leaving Berlin, I asked Chris (from the hostel) to help me book a night at a hostel in Prague. Now, I realize that the Circus Hostel in Berlin was extraordinarily nice, as far as hostels go, but Sir Toby's wasn't quite what I had expected.

There was some renovation going on, so lots of things were ripped up and I saw my fair share of plastic bags doubling as window panes. The lobby looked like the house from In the Name of the Father, where Daniel Day-Lewis shows up in England and finds those hippies squatting.

The place wasn't that bad, in retrospect. It was spacious, clean, and the receptionist was incredibly nice, but it felt...wrong somehow. Couldn't put my finger on it, but something about the place really made me uncomfortable.

My intention was to get into the pension, also under the Sir Toby's name, in the city centre, however, due to my late arrival, I missed the check-in time.

After unloading my stuff in the corner of the room, I went back to reception to see if they could help me book something in the pension for the following evening. It looked like it was full (again, an argument for booking ahead of time), but there was a possibility that an opening might come up. The receptionist said she'd do her best to get me in.

I thanked her and walked out in search of something to eat, praying to every deity I could think of, to not have to spend another night in this place.