One of my earliest school memories is of a girl vomiting in the playground. Amazed at how much sick could come out of a child, I invited other kids to see it. A teacher told me no one was interested in seeing the contents of Julia’s stomach. “That’s not true,” I replied. “Everyone’s saying it’s the most interesting thing they’ve seen at school in weeks.” As punishment for this “sarcasm,” I had to clean up the sick myself — which felt like erasing the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. Fortunately, I’m an adult now (sort of), and no one can tell me what’s worthy of attention. So, in the spirit of the child who championed the contents of Julia’s stomach, I give you my tour of České Budějovice.
Welcome to České Budějovice!
Let’s kick things off at the Vietnamese shop on Lannova. Look in the window. See anything strange? No? Try again. That’s right, it’s the Dildo of Lannova! People often wonder why a dildo is hidden between two mannequins. Personally, I think the owner is pranking the town: when he closes the shop each evening he remembers the dildo and chuckles at his little joke.
When you’ve finished with the dildo, head for Metropol snooker hall to see the legendary pocketless pool table. I like to think this was built by two workers who became increasingly drunk during its construction. When they had finished, one stared at the table through red eyes: “Are you sure we haven’t forgotten something?” The other puffed out a slow stream of cigarette smoke: “I don’t think so?” Today, the table is mostly used by nihilists; apparently they enjoy the sheer pointlessness of knocking the balls around.
At the next stop, you might need a pool cue for self-defence, because you’re about to meet Europe’s angriest shopkeeper. He works close to Metropol and wears a stained vest (thought to be among the last surviving relics of communism). I once bought a chocolate bar, opened it, and asked the shopkeeper to put the wrapper in the bin. He reacted as if I’d asked why his wife was so enormous, chasing me out the shop shouting: “Are you stupid or something!” Just the other day, I saw him throw out another shocked customer. Getting blasted by Europe’s angriest shopkeeper is a České Budějovice rite of passage, and should be on every visitor’s bucket list.
At the town square, ignore the fountain and look for the tramp who spits instead. Confused? Let me explain. Give this special beggar some cash and she responds by spitting on the ground. It took me a long time to notice this, but once I did I couldn’t unnotice it. It’s like a bizarre arcade game.
You’re probably tired of all this culture by now, so walk to Krajinská 27 to sample the strongest beer in the Czech Republic. I first discovered this deadly drink by mistake. Usually served in 300ml doses, I inadvertently ordered a pint. The beer has the consistency of treacle and takes at least an hour to drink. During this time, you’ll experience all the emotions usually associated with a whole evening of drinking: merriness, philosophising, love, self-pity, and eventually rage when you discover one beer costs 160Kc.
Stagger out of Krajinská and there’s an important choice to make. Head for Na Sadech and photograph the skeletons of all the people who’ve died waiting at Europe’s slowest pelican crossing, or stay in Krajinská and visit the most unnecessary shop ever conceived. Having spent about two weeks of my life waiting at that fucking pelican crossing, I recommend the latter.
The shop in question is called “Cheap and Quality Italian Products,” but don’t get too excited because they mainly stock Italian toiletries. Where would České Budějovice be without the toothpaste Italians are so famous for? Sarcasm aside, please buy something here, because I have a dream. When my tour of České Budějovice becomes famous (and it will), I’d like to see the owner of the most unnecessary shop ever conceived become the richest shopkeeper of the most unnecessary shop ever conceived. To help make this happen, sign up for a tour with me right now. Tipping is obligatory and all proceeds will be donated to a worthy cause (me).
*First published in Milk & Honey (České Budějovice, Czech Republic)