Europhile: C'est ma vie!

The best trips always end with breakfast beer.

When I awoke, I was in a strange hotel, looking out on a field of snow with a farmhouse in the distance. On my wrist, a tattoo read “Ja ♥ Kravín”. I knew how I got there, but it was some time before I believed it. But before I begin my tale, allow me my defense. It was all the goat’s fault.

This is the story of a beer. It is a true story. There have been no additions, modifications, or other tye of censorship. Names have not been changed to protect identities or reputations.

Kozel means goat, in Czech. It is also the name of a popular beer, one that I, along with Erica, immediately took a liking to. It has a goat holding a beer on the front, how could we resist? Especially since goats don’t have hands, so holding a beer is no small feat for them. Anyway, I digress. We knew we had to see the brewery. And perhaps more importantly, the brewery’s live mascot, Olda.

If the best trips often end with breakfast beer, I must say that this one began with Dan forgetting the train timetables. This fact won’t really come into play for another several paragraphs, so just stay with me. For the trip out, it didn’t matter as we found the train and the bus and very nearly got off at the right stop. But a walk was good for us, and the brewery was in sight. I dropped off my water bottle in the snow near the car park, and we walked up to the gate full of expectation.

I believe we followed the beer truck right up to the gates, at which point we realized we hadn’t a clue where to go. Nor did we know who to ask, what to ask, or in any case, how to ask. So we just walked in. We were in the midst of taking funny pictures in front of a “Goat crossing” sign when the angry yelling in Czech started. Apparently taking photos inside a working brewery is somewhat taboo. One thing in Czech led to another thing in Czech and it soon was apparent that the guard was no longer angry but trying to inform us that there weren’t any more tours. A passerby with a Kozel bag helped explain this to us. We were a little sad, and here I must admit to asking – a little plaintively – if we couldn’t perhaps just see the mascot? Coffee, half-hour, meeting, café, wait. These were the words I caught from the ensuing barrage of Czech. They seemed promising, however, so we followed this very nice lady into the restaurant, where we sat and didn’t have coffee until she returned from her meeting. We were midway through our second pints of delicious pivo when she returned and sat to have a coffee with us. It was at this point we learned our true fortune, when she revealed that her name was Iva, she was the head of advertising for the brewery, and she was about to give us a private tour!

She gave us a miniature chess set and explained the brewery to us. We saw the tanks and vats and I thought I was in Strange Brew for a moment when we saw the bottling floor. Fascinating. Sadly my incredibly funny quote from the movie was lost on both of my companions, but it really didn’t matter because I laughed and sometimes that is all that’s really necessary. I was grinning like an idiot, if I didn’t sound like one as well. Then she took us to see the goat. And then we went to see the second goat. They were precious. And I never use that word. In fact, I don’t really like it much, but there wasn’t any other way to describe these goats.

After our fantastic private tour, we adjourned back to the restaurant for some more pivo and dinner. The food was delicous and the beer was fabulous, and I was introduced to a new kind of potato side dish known as smíškové. They looked something like this: :)

[Enter the fact that Dan had forgotten the train timetables.] We were nearly ready to leave. We would catch the bus back to Prague or Strančiče or wherever, and catch a train back home. We weren’t too concerned, we were sure we’d make it. We’d had a banner day and there was no way something like a bus was going to ruin it. It was 18.51 when the beer showed up in front of me. Ne, ne, I protested, I didn’t order another beer. But our waitress smiled and pointed to the table next to us, a group of Czech guys. We don’t know why they started buying us drinks, but we started talking. Talking may be an overstatement, considering the state of my Czech and the fact that none of them spoke English well. Let us say that we communicated. Anyhow, we communicated our way through several more rounds, communicated our way to a bigger table, and eventually we even communicated our way to a diskoteka. On the way, of course, the small fact of our getting home cropped up and we were given the sad shake of the head – that was to say, that we weren’t going to make it back to Prague that night. Thus the strange hotel looking out on a field of snow. And I can only hope that Kravín was the name of the diskoteka.

The story ends, as promised, with breakfast beer. After waking up in the strange hotel looking out on a field of snow, it was decided that breakfast was in order. I could almost smell the strong black tea with milk, fried sausages and bacon with eggs. The Kozel restaurant was nearly empty when we walked in and sat down at a long table. I was about to order my tea when I looked down. I looked up at Erica and we both stared for a moment at the huge, foamy mugs of beer set in front of us. We felt certain they were laughing at us. But that was okay. We were laughing, too.

On the way out, I picked up my water bottle from the snow where I’d dropped it, and we brought the adventure to a close. A welcoming, homecoming sort of close. The end of an Odyssey.

posted by europhile @ 04:58