June 27, 2022
Day 76: Stod to Rokycany
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Yesterday we were having a bit of culture shock after entering crumbly Czechia from immaculate Germany. Today you would think we'd be over it. I mean if you fly to rural Mexico or India, you expect the level of development they have, and it's all part of the adventure. So why culture shock right now? Don't know, but just give us a few more hours and we'll adjust, right? Not quite, as you'll read about the end of today!
Looking out my window in the morning, things look ok, but indeed, plain and crumbly. One nice thing was my coffee mug, one of two accidentally left in the small sort of communal sink and stove area. Montreal Amelia, see how they spell your name here!
Looking around a bit, I recognized the non-German aspects of our accommodation. Like cracked tiles, schmutzig steps, old lumber in the beer garden, old benches, paint cans, stray towels, etc. I was starting to get the idea.
We had the breakfast stuff that we got from the hotel last night, and did eat a bit of it. But after we pulled out, a couple of blocks down the street we came to a bakery. Not that we recognized the sign, because right then we only knew Pozor!. But we peeked in the door and saw what we would call kolaches. Why would we call them this, and what do we know about it? Well hell, we studied at Lukas Bakery in La Grange, Texas, of course. See here!
By the way, we now know two words, Bakery is Pekarna! Oh, and look, Stop is Stop, just like in France (but not Quebec).
As we left the hotel we encountered the most surly of the women from the day before. Maybe she had a good night's sleep, or - Dodie's theory - she now knew us slightly, but she slightly waved and slightly smiled. Not bad.
Out on the trail we encountered our next Czech person, a man walking in the same direction as we were going. I looked him in the eye, but said nothing. And he neither said anything nor acknowledged our passing.
We were following the old reliable Route 3 signs, and it was swell until Route 3 clearly indicated a left turn. The left turn was straight up a steep gravel track, while straight ahead was still paved. At that point Dodie balked, and refused to push up the gravel. She took the easier path ahead. That lasted 100 meters, and ended in a footpath by a river. The brakes went on and there we stood, rock and hard place.
Into this strolled the man from back on the trail. He sized up the situation and unleashed a flood of Czech language. When it became clear that we had no language in common, he just continued in Czech. But there was actually some common language - maps, gestures, and place names. Dodie and the man had a grand old time of it. And finally, using no known language, he convinced her to go on the foot path.
The path eventually brought us up into the back end of the town of Chotesov. Chotesov is known for its Abbey, which also used to be a nunnery.
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Our path continued with a mixture of paved and gravel surface, up and down hill, on road and off, in field, town, and forest. We began to think about what the actual proportions of these things have been on the Munich-Prague. And while we have loved many aspects, we are now thinking the stuff that really is for mountain bikes is too much.
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The main tourist stop for us today was the town of Pilsen. Pilsen, of course, is famous for its beer. It is the first pale lager, first produced here in 1842. The brewery tour and museum are apparently huge tourist attractions, and are usually cited as the main reason for visiting the town.
Our own tour of the town began as we tried to reach the darn place, proceeding along the Radbuzo River, which runs through town. But we got stopped by construction. Two workers told us there was absolutely no way to proceed. Dodie got a little snarly, probably because she knew she was standing directly on the international cycle way. "Don't tell me where I can't go, tell me how to get to Pilsen", she snapped. "And where are your detour signs and why are they not in international languages?" (It must have been getting quite hot out about then!). The one worker that spoke English waxed philosophical. "You have to go up there", indicating a car road up above. "And then what?", asked Dodie. "Then use your intuition, Pilsen is not a complicated place", said the philosophical worker.
As you can see from the track, we did go up to the next road, and then veered back onto the river at the first opportunity. Once in the town, we were debating at which bridge we should jump across and try to find the old town. We were trundling along by the river when Dodie jammed on the brakes. A little girl was crying - fell down while running. Dodie fixed her troubles with a Band-Aid!
The main feature of old town Pilsen is the very large square, that contains the cathedral and four golden fountains, one of which is just visible in the photo below. The square is lined by extremely quaint buildings, that have great window treatments, roof tops, and colour choices.
Tucked about a block away from the main square is Pilsen's large and impressive synagogue. It's twin towers look rather like those of a church, and in fact the interior is like a church as well. It is quite beautiful, if a little surprising. One feature, not like a church, was public washrooms. At this stage, we both appreciated that a lot.
Pilsen does not really have a pedestrian area, and its streets tend to be broad pedestrian unfriendly boulevards. It took two push cycles of the pedestrian lights just to get across to see the synagogue. See the trams and broad streets below:
I was saying that though the building are pretty, the boulevards, absence of much in terms of bike lanes, and the empty open main square with nothing going on, did not impress me. By contrast, Dodie thought the city exceptionally beautiful, and regretted that photos would not tend to catch the nuanced beauty all around.
Let's go back in the square and look again at those buildings, and drop in to the church:
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Finally here is the famous brewery. The tour would have been interesting, even for us non beer drinkers. But it is said to take 100 minutes, too long for us, since we are not staying overnight in town.
Ok, route 3, let's get going to Rokycany. Rokycany is not only our stop for the night, but when General Patton liberated Pilsen, an agreement with the Russians had him stop short of liberating Prague. Instead, he stopped at Rokycany.
Toward the outskirts of Pilsen we found what we took to be communist era very plain apartments, and capitalist era Mcdonald's and related retail. It was also big and unfriendly roads and basically no bike lanes.
Eventually we were able to return to good old rocky and steep trail, before staggering into Rocycany. "Patton surely did this by Jeep", I mused.
Rokycany is a pleasant and open town, with nice buildings, church, fountain, and important to us, at least three grocery stores. Dodie dropped in to "Coop", and came out with a bit of stuff, but declared herself too hot and tired to really think about food. Still, when we passed one of two Doner shops in town, I dropped in for a take out. The owner spoke English, which was a help, and in the discussion of where did I come from, I learned that he was from Algeria. So I continued in French, and further learned that he had family and friends in Montreal. I bet he enjoyed the brief interlude of speaking French, here in remote Czechia.
Our hotel, the Bilylev_pokoje, I think, was at the end of the main street. I left Dodie outside, in the shade, I thought, for by now she was really beat, and went in to find our room, the place to put the bikes, maybe pay, etc.
The hotel was quite huge, with a big lobby, and a lady at a counter. "My name is Steve Miller, and I have a booking from Booking", I said. This is my standard opening. It lets the unfortunate clerk know we are going to have to do this in English, but that their computer screen will tell them all they need to know to find my room and get going with the key, possible payment still needed, and so forth.
Not this time. The lady just looked at me. I tried standard ploy again, kind of like when you keep hitting that unresponsive "Next" button in a computer program. Actually this time I got a flood of what seemed to be Czech, but no key, no sign of recognizing the key word Booking, nothing, really.
What followed was a few rounds of typing or speaking things into one or more smartphone apps. Somehow without much progress. So the lady dialed up "the boss" on her phone, which she handed to me. The boss asked what language I spoke, and I replied English or French. So he proceeeed in German. Fortunately, I had lied, because I can actually speak enough German for this type of thing. Shortly he asked to have the lady back on the phone, and I thought I was in business. But strangely there still was not much action, though we did take a stroll to see a room where the bikes could go.
While trying to use the Google Translate app to communicate with the lady, it was not getting a lot of action when it spoke to her in Czech. Eventually the reason came out. The lady was Ukrainian. She had been here three months. Essentially she did not speak Czech! Aha, but Google speaks Ukrainian!
Now we could move beyond language to more mundane but still vexing problems. The lady insisted that our room would be a dormitory style affair with five cots, not beds, in it. She would not budge on this, something that has had Dodie subsequently ruminating over the pictures and promises that Booking had sent her when she booked.
Ah yes Dodie - the lady we left in the street - how long ago? When I got back out there, I found more of a hot puddle than a person. Since I had negotiated a room for the bikes just off the lobby, we pushed the bikes into the hotel, fully loaded. Dodie then sat down on a sofa, and begged to be able to sleep right there and right then. I did get her up to the room, and after the initial reaction to the terrible layout, Dodie went for the shower. The shower head was held partly together with tape, and it exploded water everywhere in a most impressive way. Anyway, it revived Dodie enough to do some extensive ranting about the room.
I think there might be one or two other residents in this huge building, and I think the Ukrainian lady and her little daughter are living down the hall. So why was this the only possible room for us? I would need a Ukrainian speaker to sort it out, but I suspect the remainder of the hotel is not actually in use.
The melted Dodie did not seem all that impressed with my amazing linguistic and other achievements on this hotel mission. Now she is fast asleep on her hard cot (cot #4!). Tomorrow is forecast to be cooler, with a bit of rain. It should be easier for us. And I think I will download Ukrainian for offline use!
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What Gave Meaning to Life today? Google Translate- Ukrainian
Today's ride: 56 km (35 miles)
Total: 4,276 km (2,655 miles)
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