Czech Underground

In what way do
humans resemble
candles,
burning down
to wax and
exchanging their
shape for
brief periods
of illumination?

In what way do
candles give
grief to darkness
and comfort
to shadow,
pulling back
the veil and
tucking it into
corners?

In what way do
all things shine
with tarnished
silver glare,
brandishing a
noble purpose
muddled by
the compromise
of entropy?

BW 7/15/16

It seems to me that Prague is an old city with a young spirit. The paving stones and mortar arches that greet us everywhere we wander show the re-furbished nature of the districts. We’ve explored most of the tourist attractions and some of the residential zones in walking distance. The city continues to live up to our expectations.  We’ve switched to a different hostel in the Vinohrady district and are enjoying the quieter parts of the city. We got Vietnamese stir-fry for dinner yesterday and realized it was the first time we visited a restaurant that was mostly locals. True residents of Prague, it seems, are nearly identical to Minneapolis folk. “They don’t eat sausage and goulash for every meal? Ridiculous? Of course, Minnesotans only eat tater-tot hot dish!”

With the recommendation of an online review and a hostel staff person, Wormwood ventured out to find an underground music club known as Vzorkovna. We even got two friendly strangers (Bethany and Amanda) we had met the day before and a couple of gentlemen from Turkey (Ömer and Mehmet) sharing our hostel to meet us at this hard-to-pronounce hipster den. We went bearing instruments in hopes of a jam session. We were not dissapointed.

Descending a ramshakle wooden staircase into a labyrinthian set of tunnels, we found ourselves in the grungiest, most incredible bar either of us have laid eyes upon. In place of posh chairs and couches, this establishment opted for upturned logs and plywood benches. The tables were adorned with red-wax candles that melted down right into the wood. The walls were festooned with artwork and tags and every anarchist mantra imaginable. To top it off there was a massive Irish wolf hound roaming around the place and lounging where he pleased! My mouth was literally agape with wonder.

Though it was a loud crowd, Wormwood set up on a small stage in one section of the club and played to the space. The bar’s owner introduced himself casually and told us to “do whatever we like.” We played for about a half hour and then set to sampling different common Czech liquors. One of the women that joined us for the evening was a Canadian now living in Prague. She recommended we try Becherovka, Slivovits, and Fernet. Our clear favorite was Becherovka (which has an herbal, cinnamon flavor) but Slovovits was also enjoyable. Fernet was a bit like cough syrup. Perhaps we should buy some the next time we’re coming down with a cold?

The footage of our playing is gritty at best. It was a dark bar and our microphone had trouble filtering the joyful noise of the crowd. This video gives you a glimpse, though, of the small space built for impromptu jam sessions.

We had a great time chatting with new friends early into the morning (when a shirtless Czech man cheerfully but insistently ushered us out the door.) Vzorkovna was a home-run for Prague in our books. Liquor, beer, and cider in various sized Mason jars at ridiculously reasonable prices made this dive a near-perfect hangout. This city has a lot to offer wannabe Bohemians like Ben and me. The presence of unpretentious modern culture is like a litmus test for the health of local humans – at least, that’s what Ben believes, and I agree with him because most of the time we are the same person.