I woke up early. Too early, if I’m being honest. After what I went through, I needed to sleep the whole day. My host had to go to work, and he didn’t want me in his flat during the day. I’d probably do the same. And I was there for the city anyway. I climbed out of bed, brushed my teeth, packed up my belongings, and went out into the streets. They were still calm, and the air was a tad bit chilly.
I didn’t have any specific plan for the morning, so I just wandered around and looked into the windows of the ancient small shops. I bought some pastry and coffee for breakfast, and I headed towards the downtown. I met with T there, a friend who was staying in Prague with her family. We bought some cheap beer, and headed towards the botanical garden. It was a hot and sunny mid July day, and we hoped to find some shade in there.
We got off the tram near Trója, right at the entrance of the garden’s vineyards. It was a completely different world from rest of the city. There was no rush, no cars, almost as if you left Prague. And the vineyards… Back then, I didn’t know that vineyards would play such a huge role in my life just a year later, but these still impressed me. They felt rustic, peaceful, yet ancient and majestic. We found a good spot, a small bench near a little fountain, and we rolled a spliff.
We spent the rest of the day exploring the garden, and we met the next two days as well. Prague was only a transfer station for me, as I was headed to a punk festival further west, near Pilsen. T wanted to go as well, but her parents didn’t let her. What can I say, we were still, pretty much, kids.
I wasn’t that good of a friend with her anyway – we briefly knew each other from home. It was only by accident, that we both found ourselves in Prague at the same time. Yet, each morning as we met, the greeting was more and more familiar, and each evening as we parted, the hug was more and more tight. Something was growing between us, but it was doomed to end right from the start. As the spell of Prague dissolved, and we were faced with everyday reality back home, we found that we were too different from each other, and we didn’t bother making it work. As I said earlier – we were just two silly kids.
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We met with S at the festival. He hitchhiked all the way from home (it was his first time). Four days of music, art, zines, beer, weed, and chaos were ahead of us. Athough we played it cool, we were shaking with anticipation.
As we built our tent, it was too hot outside. The sun was blasting, and the festival took place on an open field. Shade was a scarce resource. We had to be creative. We put up the rain tarp from our tent against the fence, which served as an improvised gazebo. Perfect, right? It didn’t look like raining anyway. Well… Next morning, I woke up in a puddle of water, wet to the bone. The decline on the tarp served as an aquaduct, carrying water right on top of our tent.
We didn’t know many of the bands which played, but there was one we were really looking forward to. We were checking the time rellentlessly every few minutes, when they were about to play. That day, the sun was exceptionally unpleasant, and one of the few places providing a refuge from it was the zine library. Overall, we spent a lot of time there, as we both loved reading. We even found an article from the late 90s about our hometown. Apparently, a big battle of neo-nazis with anti-fa took place on the main square there. As we were hiding from the sun in the library, and we waited for the concert, we were smoking dubious amount of weed. As the time of the gig finally came around, we went to the stage. We met the singer, and we asked him if they were about to start.
“We’ve just finished,” he replied, smiled, and left.
Our neighbors from the camp went away early, and they left behind few beer crates full of empty bottles. We took them all the way to the local supermarket, and returned them for solid money, which sustained us for the rest of the festival.
A straightedge band played as the main act, and people were throwing beer at them.
The best shows were either at the free stage, where anyone could sign up to play, or at the Psych Tent stage, which was in the camp, outside the main grounds.
We tried to make friends with two Swedish girls. We invited them for a spliff, completely randomly. The whole interaction was a bit awkward, and they left soon after. What a surprise it was for us when they found us on another punk festival few weeks later, this time in Slovakia. Apparently, they forgot about the first meeting being awkward.
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When the festival ended, we parted ways. S went home, and I continued my journey, returning to Prague. Some classmates were coming there, and I arranged to spend a night at their place. We met in the city center, smoked some spliffs near the river, and then we headed towards the house. It was in one of the furthest outskirts, and only one of my friends knew the way.
We were waiting for the bus, when I decided to buy some wine for the evening. Unfortunately, the bus station had quite a complicated layout, and my stoned brain wasn’t able to process it in time. I didn’t to find the way back to my friends quickly enough, and they left without me. On a call, we agreed that I would get there on my own somehow, and I would let them know to pick me up.
Finding my own way wasn’t a problem. When I’m not in a rush, even the stoned brain can function properly. However, the calling part was a bit different. As it usually goes in such situations, the battery died, and I had no way of charging it. I wandered around the outskirts for a while, until I gathered enough balls to knock on random door, and ask the people who lived there to use their sockets. They were cautios, but they helped me. The guy was standing next to me all the time I waited for the phone to turn on, not saying a single word. Awkward. I’ve just came back from a hitchhiking trip across Europe, I went through many different adventures over the last two weeks, yet holding the phone that didn’t want to turn on, in the hallway of some random, middle class family house on the outskirts of Prague, was the most awkward and uncomfortable experience I could’ve gone through. After what felt like two hours, the display of the phone finally lit up, and I hastily called my friend: “Come and pick me up!”