(Author’s note: just an operational note. You can right click on any of these images in this blog and choose view image to see them in full detail. Don’t know why wordpress changed this feature on me)
My roommate Mike and I are sitting in our college dorm room after classes one day in November of 1989. We’re watching Dan Rather and the evening news on the 15-inch TV that I had brought from home that Fall. The Berlin wall was coming down.
Mike’s reaction was “cool”, I’m flabbergasted. As late as my senior year in high school (literally six months earlier) we were being taught how communism and democracy were intractable foes and that the status quo would not change in our lifetimes and here it was all collapsing literally in front of my eyes. In the next few years while I was in college, eastern Europe began to change and open up.
Almost immediately some people that I was acquainted with were talking about exploring the new frontiers of eastern Europe. A couple even left college and took off to visit Warsaw, Prague, Budapest, or even Moscow.
Meanwhile I stayed put.
One of my history professors raved about the interwar years in central Europe and how the newly formed countries of Czechoslovakia and Yugoslavia were these egalitarian wonderlands that existed before the nazis took over.
During the 90s, Miyazaki had several of his adventures set in amalgams of central European countries all with quaint baroque architecture of the early 20th century. As a side note, if you get a chance you should check out Castle in the sky, Witch’s delivery service, or Howls moving castle. Very entertaining examples of Japanese anime and at the very least visually stunning.
All of this stoked my desire to go and see for myself. But over the years I always found a reason not to go. Some personal emergency, or money, or work (usually work) was a good excuse not to go.
But finally, I was on my way.
Unfortunately, there was no direct rail service from northwestern Italy to the Czech Republic. I would have to go to Venice or Milan and take several detours round the Alps to get to Prague and the train ride would eat up more than a day in travel so a plane ride would be the most efficient use of my time. From Genoa I would go to Rome and from Rome to Prague.
I had convinced myself that this vacation would be a good time to reflect on my life and think about my future plans or at least that was the excuse I gave to justify taking the trip. Here we are halfway done, and I hadn’t given it a second thought.
So, sitting in Leonardo Da Vinci Airport in Rome for a 3-hour layover seemed the perfect opportunity to do so. I had briefly considered a quick dash into Rome to throw a coin into the Trevi fountain to ensure that I would return one day but the car ride would have been about 90 minutes in and 90 minutes back and was probably not worth the risk of missing my flight.
Finally, I was cornered and had no more excuses.
I was in my late forties without a job and in a career that I no longer wanted. Even before losing my job I’d begun to become dissatisfied with sales.
Back when I started working, I considered sales to be a useless profession and salesmen to be lazy. Fourteen years in sales has taught me that sales aren’t easy, that salesmen have special talents and skills, and that sales is a vital part of any business.
But even with my newly found respect for the profession I knew that it’s not for me. I have neither the disposition nor education to be an effective salesman and I even though I now possess years of practical experience I will never have the hunger for it.
Beyond that however I find that I want to do something with my life that will create something that will last. When I was making maps in my first job, I was creating something that had not existed before. Something that would last and be available to future generations.
So why did I take the sales job then? Money of course. I had debts and I wanted things that my previous salary couldn’t provide. That’s part of the devil’s bargain that most people have to make in this life.
Being a salesman, I didn’t have the feeling that I have created anything permanent or worthwhile. People bought goods and services from me and then went on to use these in their own projects and create something. All that there would ever be of my part in their projects would be a paper trail of transactions.
This was at the heart of my existential or mid-life crisis that I was having. This was also why I didn’t want to think about this crap as there is no easy answer or solution to this, just more questions.
Luckily my flight arrived, and I was able to get past one of the more uncomfortable moments of self-reflection in my life.
Flying over the Swiss Alps. Even in early May the Alps were still totally snow covered. One day, one day.
Even though I’d wanted to come to Prague for a long time the language was proving to be a challenge. Czech is a Slavic language and unlike the Germanic or Latinic languages where I could guess at some words based on my life experience, I was totally clueless here. So even though I’d covered the basics, not much was sticking.
The phone service was still working so on the cab ride to the hotel I was brushing up on basics.
Yes = ano
No = ne
Please = prosim
Thank you = dekuji vam
Hello = dobree den (or Ahoj if you’re answering a phone)
This was going to take some practice.
I might have well not have bothered learning anything as almost everyone spoke English. I still did because I firmly believe that you at least need to make a good faith effort even if it still sounds terrible.
I’d booked a room in the Angelo hotel in the Smichov district. After the velvet revolution in ‘89, the Smichov had been remodeled and transformed from a factory district into a pretty contemporary business district with new shopping malls, office buildings, and hotels.
Prague….. Prague turned out to be exactly as I’d imagined. A mix of cutting edge and old world traditional. Here in the Smichov you had all the modern conveniences but once you cross the Vlatava river into Old town it becomes picturesque and quaint.
If anything, Miyasaki had dialed down the quaint in his movies to make it bearable cause the sheer sensory overload of all the baroque architecture is hard to take in at a single glance. You have to carefully look over and digest every adornment, every crenelation, every curve to truly appreciate each building.
You also get the sense that Prague isn’t out to prove anything or be the best in anything but just wanted to be a livable place for its citizens to enjoy. Prague is just a simple city on a river flanked by hills. The river front areas alone could keep you busy discovering museums, restaurants, parks, clubs for an entire year.
The old town is a tourist trap but such a well-done tourist trap that you don’t mind being trapped in it’s maze like streets and discovering this or that little shop.
The Charles bridge you just have to go and see for yourself because I can’t really explain it. Every morning I would rush off on foot towards old town to see what new little gem I could uncover during my unguided tours of the city.
I never once experienced the culture shock that I had in Paris and quite enjoyed the experience of just walking around and seeing what I could find around every corner.
On my last full day in Prague I found myself sitting at a street side café in central Europe eating a croissant and having a coffee. Probably a quarter century too late but I finally got it done.
The trip’s coming to end as all things must end.
Coming back to the UK in a plane I pass over the white cliffs of Dover. I wonder what my dad thought when he first saw them.
I had to fill in the last 2 days of the vacation and instead of expensive Amsterdam I decided to substitute in a couple days in an English country estate.
Searching online, I found Burcombe Manor in Wiltshire, a little B&B specializing in wedding receptions but as it was the off season, they took in stray tourists.
Taking the train west out of London and watching commuters get on and get off in towns along the way.
“Why am I not doing this? Why am I not living this life?”
In Salisbury I found a very accommodating taxi driver that filled me in on the local history of Salisbury all the way back to the crusades and suggested sites to see and restaurants to avoid.
Burcombe Manor was exactly as advertised. This was the type of place that you might imagine being in a P.G. Wodehouse story. Not exactly Highclere castle but charming nonetheless.
The Manor was run by a young couple and only offered breakfast. They suggested a couple places down the road that offered dinner. So, there I was walking down a British country lane in early May watching the sun slowly set in the West, listening to the wind rustling the crops, the babble of a small stream, and the odd chirp of a bird here or there.
“You’ve got no complaints. You know that, right?”
“These 47 years really haven’t been that bad, have they?”
Counting my blessings? Taking stock? I don’t know. Sitting at the Barford Inn and drinking a Badger beer later that evening I reflected that not everyone would get a chance to do this and the best thing I could do was to appreciate the moment.
Stonehenge is the big draw in western England and of course I went there. Don’t get me wrong it’s impressive but honestly, I thought it was a little too neat and clean. You can’t even touch the stones anymore except on certain days of the year. I just found it a little too tidy for my taste.
Salisbury cathedral is big and imposing and has a copy of the magna carta and now I’ve seen two copies of the magna carta (yay?)
I guess my mind was more than a little preoccupied with the thought that the trip was coming to an end to really appreciate my surroundings. Time to step back into reality.
My last full day and I’m back in London before Noon and I wander round Westminster and tour some of the more recognizable sites. Maybe I should have foregone the stones and taken in another day in London.
I’m staying near Greenwich and one of my Facebook contacts suggests a quick jaunt round the observatory. So, one last quick little sightseeing tour.
Sitting in an upscale steak place in Canary wharf. At a nearby table an Aussie, a South African, and a Londoner are discussing the launch of a new business project. Of course, I was listening in.
The Aussie was leaving in the morning and going back to Sidney. The South African was going north to visit relatives in Scotland. They all look to be in their thirties. Idly wondering what I did in my thirties and realizing it was nothing like this.
So, here we are back to my first blog post on my vacation. I just have to go upstairs to the club I previously mentioned in my first vacation blog and the story is all done.
Vacation memories are nice to revisit but I’m learning to appreciate the moment and not cling to the moment. Vacations come and go and I’m sure there will be another in my future. Where I will go or more importantly when I will go is pretty hard to say.
I’ve got to get my life moving. I wanted to say back on track but truthfully there really hasn’t been a specific track for me to follow for a long time. Life tends to meander back and forth and does what it will paying little mind to what you want. Learning to sail along with life is I suppose the only advice that I can give anyone listening.
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