The Absinthe-Minded Confessor

Prague was full of surprises. Despite the fact that literally millions of bodies crowd Europe, I seem to keep running into the same damn ones. I've had approximately eight close-encounters of the weird kind since being out here, but Prague was the most unlikely. First I ran into Natalie, a girl I met on a mountainside for all of about 20 minutes in Switzerland. Next was Amy, the girl with whom I had travelled to Paris and Interlaken. I liked Prague but something about it seemed rather off to me. The original architecture is stunning, one of the only European cities unscathed by the carpet-bombing of WWII. For a city that was under Communist rule for so long I was surprised to find the buildings so...cheerily colorful. Nearly every building was painted in various soft pastels, leading me to conclude that Communism was a lot more cuddly then I had been led to believe. Maybe the top of the Kremlin looking like a series of soft-serve ice cream cones isn't so strange after all. In some warped way the whole place reminded me of Disneyworld, only with more alcohol. Prague had a large Jewish population at one point and for the first time during this trip I was treated to a series of impressive synagogues. Since there are only about five Jews left in Prague, most have been converted into museums...not the remaining Jews, the synagogues - stupid grammar. Regardless, the synagogues here are not nearly as ornate as their cathedral counterparts. In an effort to strengthen stereotypes, I'll suggest that we were too busy investing our money in controlling the media. There were several interesting exhibits, including some old circumcision knives that looked duller than a redneck at a spelling bee. I couldn't think of anything to make circumcision worse then it already was, but there you have it. Leaving religion behind, I turned my sights towards more practical matters. Like getting drunk. Natalie and I cruised around until we found a local pub, where I sampled the local beer. Nope, still don't like it. I needed something stiffer. We closed out the bar (at a surprisingly early 11:30pm) and went hunting for the mythical, mystical, green liquor I knew could place me in the coma I desired...absinthe. We wandered the empty streets. Everything was closed. Finally we saw a flashing neon sign that brazenly proclaimed, "non-stop". A creepy staircase descended into a dimly lit corridor. I hesitated, but Natalie led the charge. It was dark and dreary and we were completely alone, save the bartender. This was DEFINITELY the place. He didn't know more then a few words of English but he knew the word absinthe. Seventy percent strong and illegal in the States, I lifted the shot to my lips and took a sip. There's no point in me describing the sensation when you can so easily replicate it at home. Just light a butane torch and suck on the end like you were drinking milk through a straw. That burning sensation you feel? That's just the lining of your stomach disintegrating as the bile bursts through and starts to liquefy your intestines. Before leaving the Czech Republic I took a day trip to a place called Kutna Hora. This small town is infamous for it's ossuary, called Kostnice - in the common tongue, The Bone Church. Inside dwells the mortal remains of literally thousands of people, all playfully constructed into home furnishings like some ghastly Erector-Set Of The Damned. There are adornments on the wall, a giant coat-of-arms, a chalice, and other such feats of creatively morbid engineering. Outside is a sign which reads, "Please, do not mock the dead". This is quite ironic considering the fact that your great-uncle Jack's pelvis is the centerpiece of a massive bone chandelier. Nevertheless, it was a unique experience and another notch in the cultural belt.