So, I may not have mentioned this before, but Prague just might be the Public Display of Affection Capital of the Universe. Everywhere you go, people are making out, handling each other playfully or affectionately, or just grabbing ass, and I have to say that from my vantage point, which is admittedly (and sadly) that of an outside observer looking in, the boyfriends of the Czech Republic strike me as especially charming.
Today on the train, there was this very young couple; the girl was dressed from head-to-toe in pink -- she had on bejeweled, pink strappy sandals, tan nylons, a very short pink plaid skirt, a pink jacket over a pink top, pink lipstick and a pink scrunchie in her hair -- she had very pretty legs, but other than that, I don't think she really was much of a beauty. Be that as it may, it didn't stop her beardless young squire from gazing rapturously at her face, as if her charms were so mesmerizing that he could barely comprehend his good fortune. Meanwhile, the fair lady seemed entirely insensible of the way his admiration was pegged at 11, despite the way he kept trying to kiss her at 30 second intervals.
The day before, I sat next to a couple that simply could not keep their hands off one another. It was AMAZING. They were laughing and fondling each other for the entire massive metro journey to the end of the earth where the Czechs like to keep their IKEAs. After that ride, I went to a garden party where I met several lovely Czech boyfriends, whose charming attentions and obvious affection for their ladies was truly touching and made me feel especially wistful about my sad fate as a spinster.
I've heard that Czech men are domineering, conservative, and not particularly faithful. I've known them to call a girl in the middle of the night and propose all manner of surprising and randy things from out of the clear blue that must obviously be declined. I've also known them to be lovely, sweet-natured creatures with beautiful, well cared-for families. Additionally, many of them are tall and handsome.
You may be wondering, at this point, how my chances for Czech romance are faring, and I will just have to say that the mystery continues, and I am going to keep quiet about it. In haiku form:
Patience and silence
the better part of valor
outlook good. Shut up.
No amount of haranguing from you people will squeeze any further (public) comment out of me at this time, so don't bother.
In other news, Matt and I visited this castle:
Where Matt was gross. After that, we attempted to engage in the Czech national sport of picking mushrooms in the forest, but since our knowledge of edible mushrooms is rather small, we failed to recognise the delicious ones.
Finally, here's what happened the other night: Matt and I went out to return a video. On the way, we saw that the festival of young (half-fermented) wine, or Burčák, was underway, so we decided to detour through it on our way home. Before we knew it, we were slightly drunk on the dangerously sweet, fizzy elixir of the evening, and bought all manner of little hand-made trinkets and jewelry, before going on to another scene of revellry in another part of the city, where we saw a CAMEL of all things.