CHAPTER 5 - First Czech Encounters

ONE Sunday afternoon in late November, I was sitting alone in the TV room reading a book. The weather in Prague – in all of Central Europe for that fact – was beginning to take a turn for the worse as winter approached. Every time I ventured outdoors with the only shoes I owned, those same summer shoes I had been wearing since Amsterdam, my toes suffered the cruel torture of a Siberian gulag. So I decided to leave the confines of my humble Communist era housing only when an adventure loomed in the distance.
"Hey Paul," Reinhard walked into the room. "What are ya’ reading?"
"Gulliver’s Travels."
"Yeah," he paused. "Reading’s nice... I like maps."
"What?" I placed a bookmark inside my paperback and looked up.
"Maps. They’re nice. Just lookin’ at different places. Ya’ got any maps?"
"Um, no Reinhard. Can’t say that I do."
"Yeah, that’s a shame." He took out a small metal flask, unscrewed the top, and put it to his mouth. "Woo! That’s good stuff. Want some?"
"No thanks. It’s a bit early for me."
"Suit yourself," as he took another swig.
I stared at the metal flask in his hand. It was made of brass and had an intricate engraving of mountain scenery on one side. "Say, that’s really nice. Where did you get it?"
"Yeah. It really is nice. A Czech family I was staying with gave it ta’ me. Well the dad actually."
"As a present or something?"
"Yeah." Reinhard took another swig and seemed mesmerized by the window curtain as his mouth hung half open. "Say Paul, ya’ want ta’ go visit them with me?"
"What? Well, I don’t know. I mean, what would we – or I – do there?"
"No, no. I teach their son, Pavel, English every Sunday. I do it for free, as a favor, and the mom always makes me a fresh meal. They’re expecting me. We can go for a beer later if ya’ want too."
It was an opportunity too good to pass up. Not only would I get to sample some authentic Czech food – for free – but I’d also have the opportunity to see what on earth Reinhard could possibly teach another human being. "Yeah, man. What the hell. When do you want to go?"
"So, meet me back here in an hour. OK?"
"You got it!" as I left for my room to shower and dress.

The two pairs of socks I had on did nothing for my poor frozen toes as we waited for the tram. "Goddamn it! It’s fucking cold Reinhard, huh?"
"Yeah, I think the temperature is low," as he gazed off into the distance.
"What the... Of course it’s low! That’s the definition of cold!"
"Sure, and it is cold today."
What the fuck? Could this guy actually be a teacher? I couldn’t wait to see him in action. "I think that’s our tram, right?" I interrupted the silence as I continued to curl and uncurl my toes in a futile attempt to create friction.
"Yeah, we’ll take it for about fifty minutes ta’ the other side of town."
We sat down and recovered our warmth within the half-empty tramcar. "Say, Reinhard, I don’t think I’ve ever asked you: How long have you been here?"
"In Prague or the Czech Republic?"
"Oh, you lived outside of Prague for a bit?"
"No, only Prague."
"Well then... Why did you just... Forget it. So in Prague then."
"It’s been about two years now."
"At the Dum the whole time?"
"No, I stayed at Pavel’s family – they have a pension, like a motel – for about a year before I moved to the Dum."
"Aha. And, well, why did you move here, you know, to this country, in the first place?"
"Yeah," Reinhard sighed, "I was tired of America. The American life. Ya’ know, Paul? All the bullshit."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, ya’ must know what I mean. After all, that’s probably why you’re here too. Everyday, I’d wake up and go ta’ work ta’ make money for some boss I didn’t really like. Then I had ta’ pay off all the bills ta’ things I owned but didn’t really need. And the only time I ever had for myself was at the golf club. I love golf. But I only managed about once a week for about four hours. Ya’ know what I mean, Paul? Seven days a week and only four hours for me. That’s not fair. That’s not life. And I don’t want it anyway. I don’t think I’m ever goin’ back."
"Wow Reinhard... that was really... profound."
"That’s how it is."
My face turned towards the slightly frosted window beside me and gazed blankly outside. What was this city I had stumbled upon? This Prague? So beautiful yet so strange. It had drawn different people here for different reasons. But deep down, we were all alike. Maybe someone like Reinhard too. Even he had realized what so few back home could even fathom. Who knew? Was it actually the magic of the city in this far off Bohemian land, or could it be any city? Any home perhaps – as long as you carried that home within yourself.
"So, what do you do here Reinhard?"
"Where?"
"Here. In Prague?"
"What about it?"
"Jesus Christ, man! What kind of work do you do here? Where do you work?"
"Oh! Ya’ know, I teach English."
"Incredible. Even you, huh? Where at?"
He smiled, "Yeah, it seems like everyone’s a teacher. I actually have two jobs though. One is at the Prague Language Centre and the other one’s at this place called Elvis."
"What? You teach at Elvis?"
"Yeah, wild name, huh?! I go that job when..." Reinhard suddenly jumped up from his seat and tried to run to the tram doors before they closed in preparation for departure. He was too late. A few other riders, mostly teenagers, had managed to squeeze through them before he even got a chance. I then watched them standing and waiting outside at the tram stop, none of them walking away, as we soon picked up speed and continued along the tracks. Reinhard sat back down. "Shit! Shit!"
"What? What is it man?!"
"An inspector just got on at the last stop. Look. He’s checking tickets and we’re trapped here until the next stop. Why didn’t I buy a ticket? Shit! We’re gonna have ta’ pay a fine. Shit!"
I turned around and saw a man, five seats back, flashing a small badge and working his way towards us. "Wow, a ticket inspector! I haven’t seen one yet. Don’t worry, Reinhard. Everything will be okay. Just play it cool."
But Reinhard didn’t say a thing. He just sank into his seat and looked out the window as he tried to draw as little attention to himself as possible.
"Kontrola jízdenek, prosím."
"Excuse me?" I contorted my face in confusion. "I don’t understand."
"You speak English? Ticket, please. Kontrola."
"Oh, of course." I calmly reached into my back pocket and searched it as a look of anxiety overtook me. I quickly shifted my hands, searched my front pant-pockets and, finally, patted down my jacket. "Shit! FUCK! Someone stole my wallet. Damn! I had everything in there!"
"Ticket," he continued persistently.
"I had everything in there! SHIT! Even our tickets!"
"Ticket, please."
"I told you, my wallet is gone. Someone took it!"
"No ticket?"
"No, of course not. Damn!"
"No ticket. You must pay fine. 400 korun, please."
"400! I just told you! Someone stole my wallet."
"400 korun, please."
"I don’t have 400 korunas. I don’t have any money."
"OK. You don’t pay? I call police," the inspector said unsympathetically.
"The police?!"
"Yes. You don’t pay, I call police." A small grin, barely discernable, broke the until then rigid composure of his lips.
"The police? The police... Yes! That’s a great idea!" I paused. "Super! Call the police and I can report that my wallet’s been stolen. Great idea! Thank you! Thank you!!!"
"You...want me... to call police?"
"Of course! I can file a report with them. They might find my wallet. Oh, I hope the police can help. Please, call them!"
The inspector gazed intimidatingly into my eyes. He said something in Czech as we waved his finger disapprovingly and waited for my response.
"Excuse me? I really don’t understand. Are you going to call the police or what?"
The tram reached the next stop and the doors opened. The inspector turned away and stepped outside into the cold. He said nothing more to us, only mumbling something as he left. While he walked away, I added, "Are you calling them now? Where should I wait?" The doors closed. Reinhard sat up straight once again and the tram continued down the tracks.
"WOW PAUL! I didn’t know ya’ lost your wallet! Where at? Let’s go back and find it if ya’ had a lot of stuff in there."
"What? What are you talking about, Reinhard? I didn’t lose my wallet."
"But you just..." he interrupted himself. "Oh! I get it! That was all a trick! Real clever, Paul! Real clever."
"Thanks. It was nothing. You just have to remember to always think fast. So, when do we get off the tram?"
Reinhard looked outside the window, then at the list of stops posted on the inside of the window. "Yeah, next stop... real clever."

"One... Two... Three..."
"Yes, yes Reinhard. Four, Five, Six, Seven," came out of his mouth in rapid succession.
"Good! Good job, Pavel!" Reinhard’s eyes lit up. "Ya’ been learning ta’ count. That’s great!"
"I know to count. It is of course!" as he rolled his eyes.
"Great! Great job. After Seven? What comes after Seven?"
This is the lesson I overheard as I returned from the bathroom. Reinhard had started teaching Pavel immediately after he introduced each of us and showed me where I could relieve myself in the house. All I could do was sit down in one of the living room chairs and look in horror at what unfolded before my eyes.
"Reinhard, please. I know numbers. Don’t we everyday need..."
"Ah, ah, ah, Pavel! Don’t ya’ know that practice makes perfect? Now tell me – after Seven?"
"Ježiš Maria! After the Seven is Eight, Nine, Ten," again in rapid succession.
"GOOD! Good job, Pavel! Ya’ see what practice does for ya’? Your English is gettin’ better all the time!"
Pavel let out a sigh, "Fank you, Reinhard."
I knew I had to help the poor soul. He was stuck in language lesson limbo and I didn’t think Reinhard would allow him to leave until he had heard him count to at least One-Hundred.
"Do you mind if I smoke?" I asked Pavel as I lifted my hand and lit an invisible lighter.
"No. It is for good."
I assumed that his reply meant he didn’t mind so I lit up and continued, this time addressing Reinhard, "Hey Reinhard, we just got here. Take it easy a little bit. You can teach Pavel to count later. Let’s just have a conversation for a while, okay? After all, any good language lesson needs conversation too, right?"
Reinhard nodded in agreement as he scratched his cheek, "But I want ta’ hear them numbers later Pavel, alright!"
The front door to the house opened and a woman in her late 40s walked in.
"Ahoj mami!"
"Ah! Hello Klara! How have ya’ been?" Reinhard got up and shook her hand. "How’s everything going?"
"Yes, yes Reinhard. Good, good. Fank you." She said something in Czech to Pavel and glanced at me.
"Oh, I’m sorry. This is my friend, Paul," Reinhard interjected. "Paul – Klara."
"Pleased to meet you."
"Yes, yes. Fank you." Klara then told Pavel something in Czech but Reinhard, having understood a bit, offered to help instead and stepped out the door.
"What’s happening?"
"Some food in car. Reinhard help mama. Is okay."
"Uh-huh." I looked around the room a bit and took another puff from my cigarette. There was a fireplace to one side, the head of a deer mounted above it, and a stereo in the corner. "You have any music?"
"What you like?"
"Maybe some rock n’ roll?"
"Yes, I am love rock and roll! AC/DC. Led Zeppelin. Black Sabbaf."
"Excellent! Let’s hear some!"
Soon, heavy guitar riffs started bouncing off the walls as we tapped our feet in unison. Pavel’s mom came back inside a few minutes later and scolded him. He replied in the same manner but, eventually, lowered the volume.
"Let go see my motorcycla. Mami make food now."
We went to the garage outside his house where a half assembled Triumph stood in the center. He took a couple of beers out of the refrigerator in the corner and handed me one.
"Nazdraví!" as he popped the tops off.
"What?"
"Cheers! Nazdraví!"
"Oh! Nazdraví!" and we clinked our bottles’ necks.
"You like beers, Paul?"
"Of course! I love beer! And this Czech beer is great!"
"Yes! Is best!" Pavel paused. "You are good man. You like beers, rock music, young as me. Good man! We eat, then go for beers wif my frinds."
"Nice. Sounds good. And Reinhard?"
"Shit," escaped from his mouth.
I couldn’t help but laugh while, at the same time, infecting Pavel. I knew he couldn’t express to me in English what he thought about Reinhard – but I also knew that it was exactly what I thought about him. We finished our beers outside, went back into the house and ate a wonderful Czech meal consisting of some sort of fried cheese, potatoes, and trimmings. I asked Reinhard if he wanted to come to the pub with us but he said that, since it was getting late and he didn’t have too much money on him, he would only come for a drink or two and then head back to the Dum.
The three of us made our way to the pub where Pavel’s friends were waiting and ordered a round of drinks. Reinhard was the only one, in the entire pub I believe, who wasn’t drinking beer (his was a whiskey on the rocks) and wasn’t under the age of thirty. As far as I was concerned though, his presence was more than welcomed. I didn’t understand a word of what anyone else was saying and at least Reinhard provided me with a somewhat silent comfort in that solitude. I knew I wasn’t alone as he lost track of the conversation the second we sat down and eventually focused his attention on the old map of Czechoslovakia that hung on the wall. But, soon enough, he finished his two drinks, remarked how beautifully detailed the map was, paid, and wished us all goodnight. I was now utterly and completely alone.
So, I did the only thing I could. I started drinking my beers faster and faster. Before I knew it, Pavel, his friends, and I were laughing and talking together – they in Czech and I in English. We didn’t understand each other at all, but that didn’t seem to matter. The late evening turned into early morning as uncountable hours flew by. When I woke up the next day in my bed, I found that I couldn’t remember how I had gotten home the night before, but that didn’t seem to matter either.