Prague. What’s there to say about Prague really? Not that much if I am honest. It was a lovely place – the buildings are old and it has an interesting, somewhat turbulent past that I was grateful to be educated on but it wasn’t really an ‘I crammed a ridiculous amount of awesome things in’ kind of a place. There was however, one very important thing that happened me in Prague that I will now share with you. I wasn’t going to at first but the events of the last 10 minutes have lead me to believe that this is a story that must be told, so here goes.
I arrived in Prague on a lovely autumn evening after a horrific bus ride from Munich, as I had mentioned. I had decided to take the bus as it was about half the cost of the train and there were several times throughout the 7 hour journey that I wished I could have only gone back in time to tell myself that no amount of money was worth going through the bus ride from hell to save, no matter how tight a budget. From the moment I got on the bus, I swear, it was like 50°C. It was so hot I had to take my long-sleeved shirt off and strip down to my singlet. It was so hot I had to go into the bathroom and take my thermal (light thermals I might add) off from under my jeans. I wanted to take my jeans off too but I thought that sitting on a bus in my underwear would somehow not have been that appropriate so I just rolled them up instead. I took my shoes off, my socks off and I tied my hair back. I undressed as much as I could without being indecent and I was still, ragingly overheating. And yet despite all this, as I tell this story I am sitting on a bus bound for Budapest, about 8 hours away, in the pitch black at 5pm. Give it a day or two and you can forget almost anything, I swear! I’m going Student Agency this time though and so far they seem about a million times better. The temperature is pleasant, they give you free hot drinks and the seats are super comfy too but enough on that for the moment – let me get back to the story.
I make my way to the hostel as I would in any other city. I check in, arrange all my things into their usual place and head down to the bar for a beer. It’s late in the evening; there isn’t anyone around so I head off to bed thinking I’ll get an early start in the morning. 11 hours later, I wake from the best nights sleep I have had since I said farewell to my bed back home. Plans are readjusted, I head down to breakfast to have my fill and chat to my bestie Louise via skype. I’m munching away, chatting through my toast when a guy comes over and asks if he can sit on the other side of my four-seater table. I of course agree and go back to my skyping. I’m chatting away to my mum now, when the guy comes back with his friend, loaded up with breakfast. I glance up to the guy’s friend, about to take the seat beside me and almost have a heart attack as I realise this guy is a dead ringer for Ryan Gosling, the Canadian actor. Now those of you who know me, know the Ryan Gosling is my go weak at the knees guy. I think he’s most girls go weak at the knees guy after the notebook so you won’t have any trouble understanding why I instantly forgot to breathe. I glanced up at him again to get a closer look, just in case my initial glance had somehow deceived me and I swear, I honestly swear, I heard angels sing. And then he spoke.
Not to me of course, but to his buddy and he most certainly had an American/Canadian accent. I’m not quite sure which, cause I’m really bad at telling the difference without a sentence or two, and because I was paying attention to my own conversation with my Mum, I didn’t really listen closely enough to determine one or the other. I have determined though, that he could well have been Ryan Gosling. He was definitely from the right part of the world, he was the spitting image of him and it would have been the perfectly rouse. Staying at a hostel? No one would suspect anything! Everyone would simply assume that he looked uncannily like that actor Ryan Gosling. After all, Dolly Parton lost her own lookalike contest did she not?
The story does not end here however. After a day of wandering around the city, enjoying it’s food and learning about it’s history, I headed back to the hostel to have a beer, relax and meet some fellow travellers. Again however, the place was pretty deserted save a group or two here and there. I settled in at the bar, when I noticed that who was sitting at the table directly behind me, exactly were I had been, inches from him only hours before? That’s right! Ryan Gosling!!
I sat there praying he would come over, tell me I was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen and make mad passionate love to me right then and there on the bar. I prayed and begged but alas, he continued to drink with his friend until his friend left. I thought to myself, now is your chance Yarni, turn around, and start up a conversation. Or, grab him and pash him with all the gusto you can gather. But I sat there, so overwhelmed by how hot this guy was until he got up, put his empty glass on the bar (brushing me as he did so I might add) and left. I slumped down. Ryan Gosling was within my grasp and I let him go! I was devastated; I wallowed in my beer for 10 straight minutes until he walked back in again. I held my breath hoping he would sit beside me but he ordered his beer and resumed his previous position. I sat there while the whole scene replayed itself all over again. Me hoping, him finishing his drink, putting it on the bar and leaving again. This time however he did not return, he and his friend headed out for a night on the town. I had missed my chance! Let Ryan Gosling slip through my fingers! All because I couldn’t turn around and start up a conversation!
Don’t be disheartened though, we had our moment. The following morning on my way out the hostel and over to the other side of town to my next hostel I glanced into the bar and saw him sitting at our table once again. I climbed down the three stairs and turned back for one last look, catching his eye. We looked at each other for a stolen moment before I looked away. I thought to myself, if it was meant to be I would cross paths with him again.
As it was, I never did see him again – that is until an hour ago when they started the movie on the bus. Fracture. Perfect choice if not somewhat torturous. Two hours of his perfect face reminding me of what I almost had, but let slip through my fingers in the sleepy little town of Prague.