Fifth Stop: Prague

Though I have been thus far signifying the places in which I spend time as "stops", Prague may be the first which is aptly defined as such. Typically when I arrived at a city I follow a similar procedure. Get settled at the hostel, book the next hostel and train ticket, then take an ambulatory excursion around the city, if only to get a feel for it. Prague was, by all means, an atypical stop, but most certainly was a stop in every sense of the word.

Upon arriving at the train station in Budapest, I realized that I was going to have some issues getting from Budapest to Prague. For one, my Eurorail pass, which has given me no problems up until this point, was not valid in Slovakia, the easiest and most direct route to Prague. I was forced to return to Vienna, waste a few hours, then hop aboard a train to Prague. Unfortunately, the train was a night train traveling all the way through Prague, Dresden, and ultimately arriving in Berlin. This placed Prague rather early on its itinerary, displacing me in the middle of the Czech Republic at around 4 in the morning.

After survining the train ride with a couple of Austrians who, whether they would admit it or not, desperately needed a bath, I found myself in an almost vacant train station. It didn't take much to picture this cold, expansive, gray, utterly depressing building as a bustling transportation hub, but that mental picture even seemed like a stretch at the time. To make matters worse, in my haste to leave Budapest, I neglected to write down directions to the hostel, putting myself in the rather inconvenient position of lone wanderer in a foreign town.

I eventually convinced a nice man from the Radisson hotel to let me use the Internet so I could guide myself to my temporary place of rest. It was 6:30 when I finally made it to the hostel, Prague One Hostel. I rang the bell - once, twice, fifteen times. I even tried different rhythms in hope that these monotone melodies would trigger a reaction in the mind of a sleeping hostel employee, to no avail. At around 7, while I was reading a book on the stoop of the hostel doorway, someone finally let me enter. I was told I couldn't check in for another few hours, but I was free to "relax" in the common room. Well, relax I did, if by relax I mean sleeping gloriously for three hours, surrounded by pillows and blankets and comfty couch cushions.

Okay, so far so good. But here is where the trouble starts. I begin getting the chills. Everyone else seems to be comfortable in their shorts and t-shirts, but me, I feel like it is late January in Chicago. I am no fool, so I sense some form of sickness coming on; the only choice I really had was to fight it and hope that I could overcome the worse of it but staying warm and drinking lots of water. I soon realized that this task will not be as easy as I previously though. At around 5 PM, I am still freezing, sweating like a dog in heat, and, as icing on the cake, my stomach begins to ache something awful and I am feeling unbearably naseous. These, my friends, are not good signs.

Not an hour later, I find myself huddled over the dormitory toliet, cursing myself for drinking so much damn water. (I will spend much more time than I would like to admit with that toliet in the next fews days). No matter what I eat or drink, the substances comes directly out, one way or another. On top of this, my fever has worsened to the point where I begin to hallucinate. I say this candidly. I could not tell the difference between reality and this dreamscape that my perception was constantly drifting in and out. As I explained to some of my roommates, it was real Alice in Wonderland shit. I seem to recall the questionable dish I ate on my last day in Budapest, but I would rather not discuss is no, as it makes me feel ill all over again.

In the end, I survived the first night, although I may have passed out in the bathroom for an extended period of time. The next day I spent in a similar fashion. I wore every warm article of clothing I could find in my bag, I doubled up on the comforters, I tried to drink as much water as possible. To my chagrin, my condition did not improve. My body wanted nothing to do with external inputs, expelling them out within a matter of hours. I spent the entire day in bed, socialized for about two hours to watch Raiders of the Lost Ark with some of the hostel folk - a much needed reconnection with reality.

This went on for another night and into the afternoon and, if you haven't noticed, I hadn't left the hostel since I arrived. In my mind, I believed that if I got some sunlight and a little exercise, it may reinvigorate my body. I packed up my backpack with the fullest intentions of seeing the sights. The first place everyone says to go is Prague Castle, so Prague Castle here I come!

Easier said than done. When your body doesn't take in any food, it does not have the fuel from which to extract energy and power the highly complex machine that is the human body. In other words, I was a sluggish mesh. I was winded after a short walk down the block. I found myself chugging water barely after I left the hostel. But I persevered. I made it all the way to the top of the hill on which Prague Castle stood perched. The first question I asked the employees there? Obviously, "Where is the toliet?".

I snapped a few photos, puked, snapped a few more, number two, snapped some more photos, tried not a puke. I decided that it would be best for my health, and the cleanliness of the shoes of Czechs everywhere, if I would return to the hostel and my well-established illness-coping methodology.

That night, more of the same. I decided that I should stay another night in Prague, although I hadn't originally intended to do so. Why taint another leg of my journey when I could lengthen one that has already been tainted? I was completely optimistic that my health would improve and I would be ready to go the next morning. Today, on my final day here, I feel significantly better. I ate yogurt this morning that I managed to keep down. I made chicken soup that hit the spot for dinner. Fantastic.

There are some side effects of this illness that will be felt later in my trip. Most notably, I am going to skip Germany and instead travel to Interlaken, Switzerland for a relaxing, scenic few days. The Swiss Alps is just what my body needs to recover, not excess beer drinking. I will write again from there. Goodbye!

P.S. As I wrote this post, the Indian man next to me in the computer room has been looking at hardcore pornography. It has been extremely distracting, but I hope that it didn't rub off (no pun intended) on my clear retelling of my experiences.