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Cesky Krumlov
One of the suggestions I had gotten for my visit to Prague was getting out of the city and going to a quaint village about 4 hours south called Cesky Krumlov.
I had spent the majority of my 20 days in big cities and it was starting to stress me. My country roots were starting to show, so I caught a bus for some R&R. Saturday I arrived at 7 p.m. and overheard some guys talking about a hostel, so I asked to tag along. We found a cute little hostel and I booked a room. I asked the owner for a map of the village, he smiled, and explained that one could walk from one end to the other in 15 minutes. Finally a place I couldn’t get lost!
The next day was Sunday, so nothing was open. I walked around town several times, admiring the old architecture and trying to stay dry as it rained steadily. I had met some Australians who were staying at the hostel for a week, so we talked and played cards throughout the day. I hadn’t had this much time to relax in so long. I didn’t know what to do with myself. We watched Into the Wild and talked.
That night we played cards again, and I made some African fry bread out of left-over food in the cupboards. The Australians cracked me up with their laid back attitudes and love for stories and laughter. About 10 of them were staying at the hostel and hadn’t known eachother previously.
The last day in the village, I decided to have an adventure. I had seen an advertisement for horseback riding lessons in the hostel. The thought of riding horses through the gorgeous Czech countryside appealed to me more than I can say. So, I decided to go for it. At this point Mr. Murphy stepped into my life… Murphy of Murphy’s law that is.
I had to take a taxi to the place where I was to get my lesson. It was 20 minutes out of the village. Once there I met my instructor and paid for my lesson. It was 100 crowns more than I had been told at the hostel, about 10 dollars. That meant I wouldn’t have quite enough money for a taxi back. I reasoned that I could stop at an ATM and quickly pay the taxi driver.
My teacher led me out to the barn and introduced me to my noble steed, noble and hungry that is! That horse nearly yanked my hands off my wrists in an effort to eat grass. We started on the trail, and I quickly realized my teacher, contrary to the brochure, didn’t speak English. I would try and ask questions about the ‘lesson’ (trail ride) and she would quickly cut me off and tell me she didn’t understand. She knew enough English to tell me I needed to whip the horse when he ate grass and enough to ask me when we could trot and lope.
The trail and scenery were breathtaking. I won’t ever forget that trail ride.
Unfortunately, the events afterward are also unforgettable. We got back to the stable and called a taxi. Sure enough, I didn’t have enough money to pay the driver, so he pulled up to an ATM. The machine wouldn’t take my card. I knew I had enough money. I apologized profusely to the driver and scrambled for some currency to give him. He was kind and told me not to worry about the few dollars, but I felt terrible.
When I looked at my watch, I realized I had only an hour to catch my bus back to Prague. I was flying to Amsterdam that night. I went to the hostel to gather my things. Then I made a huge mistake. I decided I needed to make sure my card worked before I left, so I ran to another ATM without luck. By the time I came to get my backpack I was really pressed for time. I ran to the station but was four minutes late. The bus was nowhere to be found. I ran to the tourist information center and purchased the very next ticket, for 2:30 that afternoon. My flight to Amsterdam was at 7p.m. I realized I was pushing it.
At 6:15, my bus arrived in Prague, and I grabbed the first taxi I could find. We sped to the airport but the gate was closed for my flight. I had made it this far in my travels and was about to meet my family in Amsterdam, but now I had missed my flight. I paid a hefty fee and changed my flight to one at 6 a.m.
The seats in the Prague airport are not comfortable. Discouraged I sank into one of them and called my mom. I tried to be a grown-up, but tears flooded my face as I vented my frustration and desperation. I knew missing my flight was my fault and that made it all the worse.
Sleeping in the airport gave me time to think a lot. I thought about how annoying American pop music is when it is blared from the airport cafes at four in the morning. I thought about how nice it was that my backpack became a rather handy pillow. I thought about how cool it was that I had just finished traveling central Europe all by myself. And I thought about my need for a better sense of time management.
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