Plzen, Czech Republic

Here we go! Czech Republic!
After spending four fun, relaxing, totally chill days with our friends the Castleberrys at their place in Vilseck, Germany, Michelle and I pack it up, and hit the road for Czech Republic, which is fun to say with a thick Slavic accent. We decide we’re not going to drive too far and stop at Plzen for a night or two. This is after finding out that the following night, Iron Maiden is playing in Prague. I wrestle around with continuing on to Prague to see one of my favorite bands, but decide against making the trek. There’s a relatively inexpensive hotel in Plzen, Hotel Sloven, that Michelle and I have stayed at in the past when we attended the Pilsner Beer Fest. For $50 a night for two, it includes a secure parking area. Car theft continues to be a problem in many of the former Eastern Block countries, so it’s something to consider when driving around. Hotel Sloven is famous for having hosted General Patton back during World War II. It’s an old hotel with creaky floors, drafty windows, and noisy water pipes. It also has lots of charm and, according to me, plenty of ghosts. It’s spooky at night, walking the halls lined with giant eight foot wooden double doors. Every door has a grimacing devil staring down at the guests carved over the header. The rooms do not have toilets or showers, but do have sinks. Communal bathrooms are located in the hallways, a short walk from the rooms. It sucks when you have to pee in the middle of the night, but hey, its fifty bucks a night. On our previous visit, the maid came into the locker-room style showers to clean, only to find me stepping out of the shower with nothing but a smile. Michelle had already dried and had a robe on in the bathroom when the startled maid entered the shower room. She opened the door, looked at me, gasped, and took off running down the hallway to her maid closet. Michelle stepped out into the hall and yelled back after her, “DON’T WORRY!!! HE DOESN’T CARE!!! IT’S OK!!!! REALLY! HE DOESN’T CARE!!!” We had a good laugh after that one. She didn’t make eye contact with us as we carted our luggage to the elevator upon departure.

Plzen is an interesting city with lots of history. Plzen’s biggest boast to fame is that its home to Pislner Uruquell, the makers of the world’s first Pils Beer. They have a massive brewery near the downtown area, frequented by tourist busses. There is also an informative Beer Museum that is built over the original brewery. There are loads of taverns, pubs, cafes, and restaurants serving traditional Czech food and of course Pils beers - the food is heavy and the beer is cold. In the center of town lies a beautiful church which must be experienced. I was able to climb the 300 stairs to the bell tower to take some pictures of the city down below. There are no bells that ring in the church for several reasons, but the one reason that sticks in my mind was thanks to the Nazis who took the bells during the war. I left Michelle at an outdoor biergarten in the center near the church and took off to climb the stairs. They are extremely steep and only one person at a time can climb the different sections on the way to the top. Once I got to the top, I wiped the sweat from my head with my hand and took out my camera. I turned on the camera only to hear it beep, signaling for me to change the batteries….of which I had no back ups. I had used the backup batteries and hadn’t replaced them.

“SHHHHHHHHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIITTTTTTTTTTTTT!!!!”

I wanted to hurl that damn camera as far as I could into the horizon. I didn’t even get to take one picture.

Disappointed, I navigated back down the stairs, found a store with camera batteries, repurchased my church ticket (the old lady wouldn’t let me use my old ticket even after I explained the battery story) and climbed back up into the steeple. Here are some of the shots I took on my second journey into the church. Phew.
Plzen also has the second largest Jewish Synagogue in Europe, a truly magnificent house of worship with a sad history…thanks again to the Nazis.
Near the downtown area, there is a dark medieval restaurant which was formerly a prison where thousands of people were tortured for any number of crimes. It feels like medieval King Arthur Europe in this place. It is lit by flickering candles placed on the wooden tables and warmed by a giant stone fireplace. Even in the hottest days of summer, this place is cold. Eerily cold. If there was ever a place to be haunted, this is it. Michelle and I drink deliciously hot mead and chat with another couple at our table. People are eating massive portions of food…cheeses, smoked meats, and potato dumplings all while pounding beer and mead out of clay mugs.

Because Plzen is a big beer town, there are lots of great beer snacks on the menu. No, you won’t find jalapeno cheese poppers, fried mushrooms, or onion rings. But you will find pickled sausages, fried camembert cheese, blood sausage, venison pates with horseradish fresh rye bread and pickles. I love these kinds of tasty treats with a fresh cold beer.
Wandering the evening city streets looking for dinner, we stumble upon an American-themed cowboy restaurant. We can’t believe our eyes at seeing the Stars and Stripes flying on a flagpole out front, complete with an old western horse ‘n buggy and communist era industrial brick smoke stack. Inside, the theme is Cowboy America: Buffalo Bill, Harley Davidson, Jack Daniels, and Annie Oakley. The menu is entirely in Czech. I can’t figure anything out on this thing other than the word “…steak…”. Michelle and I discuss the situation and decide to ask the bartender what he recommends. I saddle up to the bar, menu in hand, and ask the bartender with a sheriff’s badge pinned to his blue dungaree shirt if he speaks English. He looks at me like I’m from Pluto. It doesn’t appear like a lot of non-Czech speaking people eat here.He’s eating some kind of sausage/potato thing out of a tin plate. He says something back to me in Czech. I re-ask the question.
“No” he answers.
Okey dokey.
I think we’ll take two steaks. I point to the “…steak…” listed on the one-page menu. He gives me a semi-smiling-thumbs-up and says something to the fat guy in camos working in the kitchen.
Returning back to the picnic bench to Michelle, we discuss the “How can you go wrong with steak” order that I placed. Steak is steak, right? You put steak on the menu in an American themed cowboy restaurant; you serve a side of beef, right? Wrong. After several beers, the Sheriff finally arrives with our silver steak trays and serrated steak knives. We hunger for beef only to be greeted by a poached, seasoned and sautéed chicken breast surrounded by an unseasoned array of corn, carrots, cabbage, and beans. We have a good laugh at our expectations. Next thing we know, we’re hanging with a couple of German business men in their fifties who are on a mad escape from reality. Insanity ensues. The rest is a blur.

There is a rose filled park in the town where musicians play according to a schedule in the evenings during the summer. Along the sidewalk are pictures of World War era tanks and military personnel. It’s surreal to see the pictures from this time frame and walk the same cobblestone streets they rumbled across sixty five years ago.
The Czech people are grateful to Americans, thanking us on more than one occasion for the sacrifices made by our grandparents. They haven’t forgotten. It is a warm feeling to hear the gratitude and thanks in their voices.

Plzen, Czech Republic: Mission Accomplished.