Dobříš Château, etc.

I could hear the train wheels spinning under the engine ahead. The train car lurched forward and the surroundings accelerated away. I nestled myself into the comfortable corner where the train bench met the wall of the car. I was sitting across from Helen and we chatted for awhile. She was astounded that the rumors were true: Erin and I broke up about a week earlier and we did not plan to get back together. I opened my book but found it difficult to read. I kept noticing the Czech countryside out of the corner of my eye. Hills of foliage passed us by. My attention became glued to the window as tiny Czech villages began passing by. One villager stood waving as the train rushed on. The train rolled across an iron bridge that spanned a glass lake framed by wooded hills. After a lengthy trip, we arrived at Dobříš.

The group ate a traditional Czech lunch together and hiked to the château. The tour moved at a painfully sluggish pace because Zdeněk translated for the Czech guide. Dobříš château was a large and handsomely decorated building, but my friends and I agreed that it was unfortunately not worth the trip.

While we waited for the Prague train, Danny, Braden, and I wandered around the train station with our cameras. Braden accurately mentioned that, unlike Prague or any of our other destinations, the Dobříš station and the surrounding area truly felt like an Eastern bloc country. The region was muddy and industrial, and a dark, cloudy sky completed the effect.

After returning to Prague and enjoying a quick dinner a Bohemia Bagel, Dimple, Helen, Andy, Will, Braden, and I rode the tram to a hookah bar buried in Staré Město. I didn’t smoke (or even drink tea for that matter), but the miniature pillowed room with an arched ceiling provided a relaxed atmosphere.

Unwilling to return to our cement kolej just yet, Dimple and I parted from the group and wandered behind Týn Church. We found a peculiar coffee shop and sat down at an awkwardly small table. The room was filled with antique sewing equipment and the vaulted ceiling was plastered with mirrors. I am still struggling to understand how a country can produce such wonderful yogurts and ice creams yet fail to utilize them in a decent milkshake. But we had a good time anyway.

Prague had been encased in a snow globe while we were inside. We stepped through the accumulating snow towards the tram stop under a sky of swirling snow. The little specks of white danced and churned in the air and came to rest on our shoulders. The tramway’s heated seats had never been so welcome.