You all know I met SVV during my second stint living in Europe, but what you may not know is that I took someone over with me for support: my best friend from UT, Megan.
After a couple short weeks in Holland, Meg and I quickly learned that our post-grad program was, in one word, a joke. So we created our own master’s of sorts: an advanced degree in culture and travel, we liked to call it. Just three weeks into the course, we took a little sabbatical—heck, we even asked our economics teacher if we could have the time off to study the rigorous economy of the Czech Republic; he just laughed and said, of course (I think our European teachers were just glad to have American students so eager to travel the world, as Americans seem to have this not-entirely-true stereotype of homebodies without passports)—and headed to one place neither of us had ever been, but always longed to visit: Prague.
We took an overnight bus down from Utrecht through Germany, where I was nearly detained because the scary German Border Control didn’t believe it was actually me on my passport, and 12 hours later, woke up in this lovely city.
Like Luxembourg, which was a surreal experience for me, Prague seemed to be ripped from a page in a Disney fairytale.
Which was only further accentuated by the talented buskers dotting the streets.
But while I loved the history, the culture, the architecture, the booze, my best memory of the entire trip was the friends we made (cue cheesy Stevie Wonder ballad). We stayed in the dorm room of some random hostel that I likely found on HostelWorld and as soon as we checked in, were accosted by the nicest bunch of Aussies you ever did meet (many of whom I still talk to and visit with four years later), who decided to take us out on the town and show us the sights.
Including a boat tour of the Vltava River.
Complete with our authentic river guide…from Canada.
A trip to the famed cathedral, town hall square and St. Nicholas…
…and an attempt to get the guard to smile at Prague Castle (FAIL, apparently he was perfectly used to trampy American girls throwing themselves at him).
Then, we reciprocated the hospitality, and showed our new pals some fine American drinking games over $1 pints (Prague=ridiculously cheap) in the hostel bar.
We tried our first real Absinthe (note how much Meg seemed to like it).
And visited the biggest dance club in the country, one of the largest in Europe.
Then, there was this guy, the star of the trip, Steve the Parrot.
We acquired him sometime before on a random night out in Scotland, and from then on, he went everywhere with us.
And posed with everyone we met. Aussie…
Until one fateful day, this guy—an American, coincidentally (we’re always going and ruining everything), who ended up making out with Meg in an alley (she claims to not remember this) and is now dating his STEPSISTER (how very Gossip Girl of him)—killed our little inflatable friend. By biting him.
So, R.I.P. Steve. This post’s for you.
*All images, once again, taken with my old Nikon Coolpix, one of about three I owned before switching to Canon permanently, then eventually investing in my first DSLR.
**Note: All future Photo Fridays will be heavier on the scenery, lighter on the people pics, you have my word. Unfortunately, I was drunk for much of my week in Prague and didn’t actually make it out some days until daylight had come and gone. Guilty as charged…