Holly's Raggle Taggle Euroean Tour

Wednesday, June 9th, 1999 - real gypsies

	Prague audiences are great. They are so easily gathered. All I had to do was pick up the drum and start pounding out a simple balady rhythm and people would gather around in wonderment while I am thinking, "This sucks. i'm not even very good at drums"
	But then, this is the beauty of street performing. All it takes is a few people watching in order to atrract more people and then more people and then people cross the street to see what is going on because there is a big crowd. .. ..
	Even if only one out of every ten people give you a coin, you still walk away with more than the average Czech person makes an hour. In ten minutes, Helger and I walked away with two hundred crones, which is only about six and half dollars, but in Czech it is enough to eat extremely well on. For example, we went out to dinner one night, had appetizers, enourmous delicious beers, huge plates of food, the works for five dollars. Not five dollars a piece--just five dollars together.
	Unfortunately, street performing is illegal here. You need a permit to do it and most travellers don't have the time to get a permit. FORTUNATELY, the cops in Prague are very polite and when Helger and I were performing they eventually found us and just stood off to the side watching. When we finished, they waited a little longer so that we could collect from people one last time. Then, Helger looked over at them and made a gesture like, "OK? or not OK?" and they shook their heads "NO"
	Prague got old after a few days because of all the tourists and it is a big city after all so we decided it was time to go to Krumlov.
	When we went to the train station, Helger went to go get the tickets and left me guarding our heavy packs. Within seconds after he left a young woman about seventeen came up to me holding out a little poorly laminated card with Czech writing on it. She was speaking in Czech and when i shook my head that i didn't understand she uttered "please, Kosovo, Yugoslavia, hungry". I indicated that I had no money and moved myself to a different more inconspicuos spot. Sure enough within seconds a little dark haired gypsy girl comes up to me with the same little card and again i have to tell her i can give her nothing. She is holding her stomach and has a ridiculous pouty dog look in her eye. I almost want to laugh. she'd make a great actress. A minute later its a woman with a baby. After that its a little girl, about six years old, with sharp fierce eyes and rotted teeth. She is clutching her stomach and will not just walk away from me. I say "fine. are you hungry really?" I reach into my bag and pull out the dried peaches i was saving for the train. "There. These are good for you." She wrinkles her nose, but then obligatorily opens the bag and begins munching on the chewy treats. I am hungry and almost grab one myself but resist. She leaves with my food. When Helger walks back to where I am standing he laughs at the guarded look on my face and says, "come on, lets eat something before we have to catch the train." On our way out of the station we pass four older gypsy women wearing colorful skirts and shawls. They are drinking cappucino and waiting at the food stand for a meal. They are all laughing at some joke. The six year old girl is showing them my peaches.
	The train ride from Prague to Krumlov took four hours. When we finally get off the train it is almost midnight. The station is very very small and dark. There is no life there. We walk around the other side of the street and there is a pub twinkling with slurred conversation. We approach cautiously. It has the air of an small town Indiana bar. When we walk in everyone greeets us immediately. We ask "english?" and one guys is so excited he literally jumps up, "Yes yes. I do. I speak English." They invite us to sit down and have a drink. "OH no" we try to tell them that we must call a cab to get to our hostel because we don't know when everyone will be in bed. "Yes, i call a cab but first you sit here and talk to me."
	It turns out our little English speaking friend is a Czech skinhead who despises gypsies or Rom people. It turns out that Krumlov is almost half Rom. We try talking to him and telling him that the problems with people run deeper than their race and that he needs to look past it. But of course we realize this is pretty much fruitless. He tells us that the Czech people drink more beer than anyone in the entire world. Even Germans. "183 liters per person" he says.
	A guy sitting close to us who is very drunk keeps looking at me and saying, "English? America, MY GOD!!!" He takes my hand to kiss it and I realize too late that its not a good idea. He gives my hand a small kiss, then starts slobbering on my fingers. ugh. When he keeps repeating his "MY GOD!!" phrase, I finally look at him and say, "You know, in America we would call you shit faced." I pronounce it very clearly again so that he may learn it, "SHIT FACED!" Everyone in the bar laughs. Helger and I the hardest.
	Finally the cab comes and we are so grateful. It takes maybe two minutes to get to the hostel and is a straight shot from the train station. we could have walked. as we are getting out of the cab, the driver says, "you know, in Czech we drink more beer than anyone else?" yes. we've heard.
	The hostel is in the last wall of the castle which is the center of Krumlov. As we walk down the dark alley towards the hostel we are greeted with the smell of a fire. Sure enough, there is our friend Brent who works at the hostel sitting around an ancient brick stove with a bunch of smiling travellers. Helger and I tell about our evening and laugh knowing we are finally in a place we can call home. === The woods are always silent until the pied piper plays.
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