Stray - 16.6.02

Prague is old, centuries old, and was never bombed
flat so everything remains. You could almost forget
it was the twenty first century if it wasn't for
all the tourists.
Everywhere you see roving gangs of cameras with
people in tow being led about by an umbrealla held
high by a bored looking tour guide. I thought about
getting my own umbrella and making of with
someone's unsuspecting group, take them on a
sifters guide to Prague. Put them to work for me.

Praha {the city that Prague and seven others join
to form} is one of the few places that Americans
holiday outside of America, and everything here is
based around getting as much money out of them as
possible before they go home again.
Everybody begs. The market stall owners, the women
in shop doorways to urge people in, the scores of
leaflet pushers {who refuse to hand me anything,
thinking I'm local}, the pimps, the drug dealers
and buskers. And obviously the hundreds of matted,
soiled, old and young men and women who cower on
knees, faces to the ground, hands raised for your
coins and western guilt.
I beg. I set fire to a stick to get my peice of the
foreign dollar.

First I thought Czechs were very friendly, then not
so much, now I guess they're just all different.
The only Czech I've got to know at all well (as I
say, everyone here is foreign) was a guy called
Lela who did various fire on one of the city's
bridges. I picked his brains on where to get the
materials for my staff and cheap kerosene, and last
Saturday joined in on his nightly show.
And my god did I suck. I even set fire to my head.
How embarrassing.
It was the first time I've ever really performed,
breasking out the staff at the ocassional party is
not the same as spinning for a skeptical crowd of
tourists. But there were glimpses of my true form
so I left optimitstic and on Thursday after a bit
of practice and the proper mental preperation went
back into town for my first ever solo.
Along the way I was adopted by a Czech guy and
chick who decided they were going to find me the
best place in Prague to busk, but since Lela has
slipped off to Italy that turned out to be his spot
on the bridge.
It went really well. I was much more relaxed and on
form. The Czech guy volunteered some fire breathing
which always goes down well and I wish I could do
but there's no way I'm putting that stuff mouth.
I made 220 Kc, or about 7 Euro, $14nz, in half an
hour, the time it takes my wick heavy staff to chew
through a whole litre of kerosene.
Afterwards I was interrogated at length by a group
of six giggling teenage Czech girls who had avidly
watched the whole show.
"Do you have a Koala?"
"On me?"
"Where you come from."
"No, that's Australia, I'm from New Zealand."
"Oh. What do they have there?"
"Small flightless birds."
"Oh. Do you have any kangaroos?"
"No, that's Australia again."

They wanted to be very clear on whether I had a
girlfriend. Teehee. But I ain't no cradle snatcher,
and anyway they were in town doing work for the
local conservative party, and right wing youth give
me the creeps.

Friday night, however, did not go as well. I
started around ten but the crowd, although large
and enthusiastic, weren't paying well so I decided
to wait for the drunken poms and Germans. But just
as I was setting up around midnight I turned to
discover two black clad, gun toting policemen who
just weren't having it breathing down my neck.
Literally. It's times like these that being
impossible to understand and the universal
impatience of cops comes in real handy.

The trams here are completely free, until you get
caught. I've been lucky enough to not see a ticket
inspector so far, but I thought if I ever got
sprung I could just be like, "AHM THORRY AH CARNT
NDUTHTAN YOU, AHM DEF!"
But that sort of thing will either get you out of
trouble or much deeper into it, so I think just
talking fast and sticking to my mumblefuck
vocabulary should make me at least as
incomprehensible.

After staying in several progressivly cheaper
hostels I've finally ended up in an ex-communist
tenement next to an abandoned stadium. Its crappy
as hell but cheap, like the budgie. Like my budget.
The stadium was part of a failed attempt to bring
the Olympics here god knows how many years ago and
is now a mess of weeds and twisted concrete left to
rot on the side of a hill.
So obviously I broke in and had a look around.
Scary. I should be more careful, one could walk in
on just about anything in the depths of an East
European urban ruin.
But on the way out a guy watched me leave, thought
for a second, then snuck in the way I came out.
I got a kick out of that.

Some of you have been writing to me using words
like 'madcap' and 'adventure', but for me the last
six weeks have been almost mundane. Its taken this
long for me to lose the momentum that has carried
me to the other side of the world and punched me
this far in to Europe. I like the buildings, I like
the landsacapes, but so far this isn't travelling.
Just witnessing. Now that I am finally at rest I
can climb out of my little crater and start making
my way back westwards to see from the inside some
of those things that I watched flash past on my
descent.

Daniel.

Stray 7-6-02

I know this Engish guy Dave who's kind of like the
incredible hulk, except its not so much his shirt
he rips off as regard for moving vehicle
regulations of any kind. And he turns red, not
green.
He gets bored easily, and when he gets bored he
gets angry. And impulsive. Not my first choice of
driver to navigate for round Eastern Europe.
But if there's one thing he's taught me its that
the only way to survive Holland is to think outside
the square of social convention. Because square it
is.

If ther's another thing he's taught me its that I
bore him, and he illustrated the point by leaving
me on the side of the motorway in the middle of the
Czech Republic.
I'll try not to WANKER take it personally, he's got
a.d.h.d. and the attention span of a WANKER
goldfish.

But Prague is, man its just, like, waaahhh, unbe-
freaking-leivable. Which is lucky since I'm
stranded here. Though I do often feel like standing
in the middle of the street and screaming 'they're bare
feet people, you've seen them before!'
But the other day a woman was having a hard time on
the cobbled streets with her high heels, looked at
me, paused, visibly snapped, ripped off her shoes
and hobbled off after her boyfriend.
I got a kick out of that.

But I'm paying by the minute so I'll end it here.
Suffice it to say you could write a thesis on any
single one of the buildings here, I've got my cost
of living down to about $25nz a day, and am making
some of those 24 hour viral friends you do when
travelling.

(can't beleive I just recited that from memory)

Much love

Daniel.