3.17.2006

CHAPTER 12 - Farewell And Enough

AND so, the one and only truly "Czech" vacation I would ever experience was drawing to a close. It was ten o’clock in the morning on the first day of 2002 and we had all just been awoken by Honza’s mobile. It was his mother. He assured her that he would be home by evening. I sat up in bed and started rubbing by throbbing temples. As Honza hung up, he rolled over and passed what must have been wind he had been storing up since the end of 2000. We all chuckled, except for Pavel, who showed Honza that he wouldn’t be outdone.
"Happy New Year to you too. I’m going for some coffee." I searched for my previously damp but now dry socks on the radiator and put them on. "Be right back."
I found the owner and asked her if she could please make me a cup of coffee, black with two sugars. She smiled, went into a tiny kitchen by the TV/reception room, and got to work. I was amazed. She had understood me – my Czech! I could communicate! She came back a few minutes later and gave me a warm mug with a polite "Prosím." I thanked her and took a triumphant sip of coffee – with milk and a bit too sweet. Oh well, why split hairs?
I went back to the room, sat down, and lit a cigarette as the others started their typical morning conversation. Tonda was the only one not there – apparently too busy with Jarka next door. About halfway through my coffee, Honza jumped out of bed and started rummaging through his backpack. Everyone was very excited.
"Hey Pavel, what’s all the commotion?"
"The como... what?"
"What’s happening?"
"Ah. Honza fink he have firebombas. But he forget yestverday!"
And sure enough, Honza soon pulled out a bag of firecrackers. They were of a various assortment, but nothing special – a few bottle rockets and a dozen or so ‘mini dynamites’ and cherry bombs.
"Cool! So let’s get dressed and go outside to set them off, huh?" I remarked and started putting my shoes on. Meanwhile, Honza went to the only cabinet in the room, opened the door, and took out an empty beer bottle* (* The entire cabinet, by that morning, contained nothing but dozens of empty beer and liquor bottles occasionally interrupted by a discarded piece of food, tissue, or cigarette butt. The trash can next to it was completely empty.). He put the rocket in it, opened the window, lit it, and aimed at the beautiful lake in the distance as we all crowded around him. "Okay, I guess we’ll do it in here then."
Bang. A trail of glitter towards the pristine white horizon and then a pathetic little explosion the size of an igniting match.
"Cool!!! Can I try? Honza, mužu?" He gave me another one, I lit it, and aimed it towards a frost-covered tree. It rammed into the bark and obliterated itself. "Real cool."
Jarda wanted to try one of the cherry bombs so he lit its wick and dropped it below our window. It sank into the snow and then – Bamm! – created a small, grayish snow crater. Pavel then took one. He had an idea. He leaned outside of the window and looked to see if the window of the next room over was open. It was slightly. He lit the bomb and tossed it in. Bamm! We heard Jarka screech and Tonda threw out a string of obscenities. After a few minutes, they came into our room and joined in the fun. We aimed the bottle rockets at trees, the ground, nearby buildings, and whatever other targets we could find. When those ran out, we started lobbing the ‘mini dynamites’ and cherry bombs. Eventually, we came to the last one. Pavel lit it but, instead of throwing it outside, threw it to Honza who was now sitting on his bed! Honza caught it and panicked. He ran around like a chicken with its head cut off, then quickly opened the cabinet door, threw it in there, slammed the door shut, and leaned against it. Bamm! We heard a dozen or so bottles fragment into tiny shards within and, a few seconds later, saw thin pillars of smoke escape from the cabinet door’s frame. I felt like I was watching Tom & Jerry and couldn’t help but laugh as I imagined the four-piece musical score that would have accompanied that little stunt during an episode. Honza opened the cabinet and the dissipating smoke revealed an even more chaotic hodgepodge of glass, paper and cigarette butts than before. He once again closed the door and none of us ever looked inside there again.
The train would be leaving soon – in about an hour’s time. We all located our belongings, packed them, and made sure that we still had one blanket and one pillow per bed. Otherwise, we wouldn’t get our deposit back. Everything was in order and we were ready to go out when Jarka pointed out the one room’s walls. She told us we were insane if we thought we would get any money back judging by what condition they were in. Cigarette burns, beer stains, and, worst of all, old crusty potato salad dotted every inch of the previously all-white walls. We sat back down and sighed, upset at the fact that we were going to lose our money.
"Paul, you have pasta?"
"Like spaghetti? What the fuck are you talking about, Pavel?"
"No, no. Pasta! Pasta! Is for cleaning teef. On toofbrush."
"Oh, toothpaste. Yeah." I gave him a tube from my bag. He unscrewed the cap.
"Is no good. Green." He gave it back and asked Robert, who gave him a different tube of toothpaste. He unscrewed the cap and smiled. He got up and went around the room, stopping at each major stain on the walls and quickly rubbing some toothpaste over them. It was incredible. By the time he was finished, you could never tell there had been any marks on those walls whatsoever. Sure, a few parts were whiter than others, but only slightly. Apart from that, you could almost swear that that room had just recently been painted.
"Incredible, Pavel!" I congratulated him.
"Is nofing," he said modestly as he screwed the cap back on and handed it to Robert. "Řepy magic!"
We went and told the owner of the cabin that we were ready to check out and she came to inspect the room. She walked inside, counted the blankets and pillows, and just briefly glanced around. She was impressed by how clean the room was. It even smelled great, she told us, like spearmint freshness. She told us we were welcome to return whenever we wanted – as long as we tried to keep the noise down a bit next time. Like a stern but sensitive mother, she apologized for reprimanding us the previous day before taking out her purse. She returned our deposit and then led us all out of the room. Jarda, who had been leaning against the cabinet door the entire time, left the room last and closed the door behind himself.
We made it to the train station, that same wooden cabin we had arrived at all those drunken days ago, with fifteen minutes to spare. Eva was sitting, expecting us there. The entire time we were waiting, Tonda and Jarka kept holding, hugging and kissing each other. Telling each other how much they would miss each other. How much they loved each other. Arranging for a near future visit with each other. Pavel saw all of this and felt obliged to go up to Eva. He kissed her once, smacked her on the ass, and then went back to talking with Honza, Jarda, and Robert. She didn’t seem to mind at all, winked at him, sat back down, and lit a cigarette. Our diesel caboose soon arrived on the single railroad track. We said goodbye to the girls, Horní Planá, and the flawless natural beauty of southern Bohemia, and chugged off into the distance, once again, towards PRAGA – CAPUT REGNI.

We had to transfer once, as we had done when we were heading to Horní Planá, at České Budějovice. Pavel, again, reminded me that the original "Budweiser" comes from there, not that watered down shit we have in America. Unfortunately, as we soon realized after we arrived there, our train for Prague wouldn’t be departing for another hour. Fortunately, we all had some extra money to spend in the form of a returned deposit fee. We made our way to a small fast-food stand and got something to eat and drink. When we finished, it dawned on us. If we pooled our money together, we’d have enough money to buy four one-liter bottles of Coke and four bottles of rum. A worthy idea in all our opinions. The drinks were promptly purchased, mixed, and set upon.
The train pulled up to the platform and we boarded along with our bags and drink. Between the six of us, we had already almost finished our first bottle and I was already feeling it as the train worked its way northward. The cheap rum was surprisingly strong. Four hours and three more bottles to go. I decided to take it slow, especially in light of all the alcohol my liver had been filtering over the past few days. As for a cigarette, however, I couldn’t hold back. My body needed a smoke as the festivities continued. I don’t always need to smoke. Hell, I’ve gone days, weeks, even two months one time (on a bet) without injecting any nicotine into my system. But when there’s a drink in one hand, it seems against the nature of Nature herself not to have a cigarette in the other. Unfortunately, we were on a non-smoking train. Honza smiled slyly revealing his strategically placed chipped tooth, took out a cigarette, and signaled me to follow.
We went to the end of the cart, both stepped into the bathroom, closed the door behind us, and lit up. Honza opened the tiny window and exhaled his first puff. The two of us stood shoulder to shoulder in that cramped room, unable to move, but enjoying our cigarettes as we watched the snow covered fields rolling past. We didn’t really mind the cold that seeped through the window. It was only for a few minutes. But we did mind when someone tried to open the door to the bathroom. The knob jabbed me in the back and the edge of the door hit Honza’s shin. He started cursing at whoever had just tried to enter and told them to fuck off. It would appear we had forgotten to lock the door. It would also appear that Honza had just told the train conductor to fuck off.
We stood there, mouth opened in shock, with cigarette still smoking in hand. The conductor, completely enraged, grabbed our hands, forced us to throw our cigarettes out the window, and pulled us out of the bathroom. Apparently, we were in deep shit. He told us he would call the cops. We apologized (a bit sarcastically, I admit) and told him that we wouldn’t do it again, Mr. Conductor, sir. He told us this wasn’t over, to return to our seats, and went off in the other direction. Honza and I went back into the bathroom. We lit, smoked, and actually finished a cigarette this time – making sure the door was locked all the while.
An hour or so later, we had finished the second bottle and were well into the third. Tonda had been drinking the lion’s share of the booze and you could really tell. He was singing, laughing, and dancing – all at once. In fact, he almost fell flat on his face when we stopped at the next station. We were all having a good laugh when I suddenly felt a hand on my shoulder. A policeman with the conductor from before.
Honza and I were escorted outside into the snow-filled air as the entire train waited there on the tracks for us. Curious faces pressed against the windows and fogged them up almost instantaneously. Another police officer was waiting outside the ‘station’ – something even smaller and more dilapidated than the dingy Horní Planá one. We couldn’t even see a village, or a single house, in the distance. Just this small wooden shack, covered in snow and completely isolated, but manned by two officers.
I interrupted the awkward silence and spoke first, "Hey listen. If anyone here is to blame, it’s me. This guy is just my student. I teach him English. He wasn’t even smoking in the bathroom. He just came to keep me company. You know, cause I don’t speak Czech and all." I awaited a response.
Their eyebrows furled in an aggravated-perplexed manner and they just turned and looked at each other. They then turned to Honza and started barraging him with questions. I had no idea what was going on. Honza soon pulled out some identification card and handed it to them. They looked it over, wrote down some info, handed it back, and then turned to me.
"Pas?"
"What? Co?"
"Passe. Passeporte."
"Oh. Okay." I pulled out a black and white photocopy of my passport and handed it to them. They examined it and gave me a disparaging look. "I’m sorry. I don’t have my original on me. I never carry it. What if it got lost? What would I do then? I always just carry a photocopy around."
"No fotokopie. Originální," they replied without emotion.
"Sorry. No original. Ne mam originalni. Pardon. Ne mam. I don’t have," I shrugged.
They gave each other that look again, folded up the photocopy, and put it in their pocket. They then gave me a stern two-minute speech of which I didn’t understand a word.
"Yes, yes. OK, okay," when they finished. "Listen, I promise that I’ll pay the fine. OK? I mean, I know I broke the law, right? So just mail the fine to my address in Philadelphia, okay? Phi-la-del-phi-a. Okay? I mean, I’m sure the American and Czech government have some sort of pay-your-fine-if-you-were-caught-smoking-on-a-train fine exchange program, right? Just mail me the fine. Phi-la-del-phi-a. Good? And good luck getting any money out of me."
They said something to Honza, he pointed me back onto the train, and we were soon back on our way to Prague. Everyone stared as we walked the walk of shame down the aisles. The officers stayed behind in their icy, remote prison located somewhere off of a railroad track in the middle of a snow-covered field in south central Bohemia.
"Everything is okay?" Pavel asked curiously as Honza and I sat back down.
"Yeah. No problem... Where were we? Oh yeah, the rum. Tonda, rum a Cola prosím!" I took the bottle and put it to my lips as Honza began to explain to the others what had happened. They all laughed and congratulated us both. That was the end of that.
We finished the rum with thirty minutes to spare before our arrival at Praha Hlavní Nádraží. Tonda wouldn’t shut up. He just kept singing, standing up, and collapsing back down into his seat again. Every now and then, I would hear him say something about Jarka. He must have really been in love with her. The rum sure was comforting him.
Honza, Robert, and I took as much of the luggage as we could carry and Pavel and Jarda locked shoulders and arms with Tonda as they helped him get off the train. He could barely see in front of himself. The walking dead, but singing a Czech folk song as loud as he could. We made our way to the main station hall. They would be taking the tram back to Řepy and I had to take the Metro and then bus back to the Dum. The Dum. I had almost forgotten what it was like. So much had happened over the past week that it felt as if months, not days, had elapsed in Horní Planá. But the Dum was home. No matter how "Czech" I felt I had become – how Bohemian – in the south of their country, that small, concrete Communist-era confine on the city’s outskirts was still my home. I guess, home was actually in Philadelphia. But when you start traveling, start wandering, further and further from that luxury cruiseship steered by mom and dad, manned by all the friends and people you’ve known since childhood, and furnished with the comfort of that same language you’ve been speaking since birth... The Dum. Dan, Kim, drunken Herman and Reinhard. They were home now. My family, no matter how dysfunctional. Home is where I make it. Wherever I am. Whenever I am.
I was jolted back into reality by a fracas, as Pavel later told me, Tonda had initiated. He was at attention, in the middle of the station, saluting a dozen or so adolescent boys who were wearing identical jerseys and coats and waiting at a ticket window. Their coats had something written in Cyrillic on the back. Tonda was standing motionless, one arm to his side, the other bent with stiff palm suspended in front of his forehead. He was singing very loudly. The boys were yelling at him, as well as their chaperone, but he just kept on singing and saluting. Everyone nearby stopped to look. Pavel, Honza, Robert, and Jarda were off to one side laughing their asses off. It was the Soviet national anthem being sung under the guise of a military salute and directed at a visiting junior Russian hockey team.
"Fuck." I stood in amazement. "I gotta go. Pavel, Robert, Jarda, Honza, thanks for a great time. See ya later. Good luck gettin’ him home!" as I motioned to Tonda.
"Yes, yes. Goodbye, Paul. See you soon!"
I made my way to Tonda. "Hey! Comrade Tonda!" and saluted him.
He stopped singing and saluted in turn, "Ciao. Nashledanou!"
As I walked towards the Metro entrance, the Soviet anthem resumed behind me.
By the time I made it home to Modřany, the rum had taken full effect. I stumbled off of the bus, through the Dum’s lobby area, and pushed the eighth floor elevator button. Dan heard me come in.
"Hey Paul! How was it? You’re finally back, mate!"
"Shit Dan, je dobry vikend. Nejlepši kamaradi a pivo!" and I continued spouting out grammatically incorrect Czech.
"Amazing. You’ve been gone for only five days and now you come back speaking Czech! Not even a week. What progress!"
"Come on! What are ya talkin’ about!" The room was spinning a bit. I needed to lie down. "Not even a week! What are ya talkin’ about! I’ve been gone from home for ages. Horní Planá!"
"Amazing!"
"Yeah, sure." I leaned against the door. "Listen, man. I gotta lie down. Dobrou noc." I went into my bedroom, threw off my shoes, and collapsed onto my bed with the same clothes I had been wearing for the past few days. I didn’t wake up until a new sun had risen.

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