...later that night I got a dose of familiarity after all.We made our way back toward Miss Sophie's, parking it at what has become somewhat of a home away from home for me: Banditos.
The way back was a remarkable journey, however. After departing the island, the now apparant refuge from the rest of the city, we meandered through the streetways nearby Wenceslas Square.
It was havoc.
Beleaguered drunks slept standing in shop doorways.
Bloodied bystanders were bandaged by medics.
A woman, passed out, was towed across my path on a cart, her arms dangling, lifeless at her side.
Have I got a resolultion for her.
The streets were invisible under layers of debris.
Shards of glass and remnants from firework crackers littered the streets.
Only the odd in-tact champagne bottle revealed this was a celebration and not a war-zone.
It was remarkable. What we had experienced by the waterfront was so far removed from the chaos and kurfuffle of the square centre. I suppose our experience was mild in comparison, but still truly authentic. The glimpse I got of the other Praguish new years had little appeal.
Must be getting old.
Anyhow, passed out bodies, beer bottles and trash were among the obstacles that made our trek back to Banditos epic. A few pit stops along the way to poke our heads into bars in the hopes we might find a table were in vain and eventually we beelined for what we already knew would be a good place to end the night and start a new year.
