Tuesday, May 22, 2007
So we're staying at the luxurious "Manhattan" in downtown Prague. The location and price are beautiful. Just 13 Euros each for a double room in the heart of the city. But the place is so less regal than it sounds. Our room has three cots crammed into it and shares a toilet with the floor. The shower is, well, scary. I'm not sure if you'd call it hostel, hotel or flophouse. Our room is actually what appears to have been a kitchen in an apartment.
We didn't know of the place before we got to the city, it was not in Brent's Lonely Planet guide... we were met at the train platform in Prague by one of a few people desperately looking to fill rooms in their hostel. We were met by some crazy guy named Pavel. Now, if you are ever in this situation, it goes without saying that you should be very careful. There's no telling what this guy might really want, and you should use your best judgment. The first five minutes, we followed him and kept a close eye on him. When I realized that we weren't expected to ride in his car or walk down a dark alley to get to his "hotel," I felt more at ease. Pavel talked to us and sort of showed us around as we walked, he also kept pointing to every attractive girl and drooled a little. At one point he nearly walked into one... on purpose and laughed when she got pissed. He almost got hit by a car crossing the street too. He was crazy.
Turns out he didn't own the Manhattan. A friend of his runs the place and he was just drumming up business. Chances are that most of the people that are doing this kind of work are doing it on the side for a commission. When we got to the hotel, we asked to see his cheapest room and we saw it. Cheap was a good word for it. But it was very late, nearly midnight and we had an idea that it would be difficult to find something better in Prague. So we took the room for one night at 13 Euros each.
We asked for a receipt... Pavel told us in the morning, Brent was skeptical and insisted. The reception lady was simply not going to get up and fill out a receipt slip for us... so I had Pavel write stuff down in my blank book and after he took the money, I had to go to the "bathroom" right after he left so I saw him hand our money to the reception lady (who lived on that floor) and saw her give him his 200 crown commission (about 25%).
After a few minutes in the room, party time had arrived. Prague is legendary for its bars and for all the ex-pat Americans and backpackers travelling about. I forgot about the strength of Czech beer and drank a ton of beer. Brent matched me beer for beer until he switched to Absinthe. Crazy. We were in this beer cellar in the city center, where the beer was a bargain, 0.5 liters of Pilsner Urquell for the equivalent of 90 cents. (By contrast a small bottle in America costs about three times that.) After we closed the bar, we stumbled back towards the hotel, deciding to stop in one of the many casinos in downtown Prague. Probably for the best, we were turned away. Apparently, in Prague you have to wear pants to gamble.
Labels: drunkenness, hostel, prague, travel
