Via Prague: The Pension Florida, Ch. 4

I like the trams in Prague ... the city's really beautiful, even in winter when the snow turns to slush and there's a heavy grey atmosphere over the city. After I left Wolfgang's I went over to Shakespeare and Sons, a cafe down the street which has free Internet, and checked email. There was nothing from home, just one from this guy I knew in China. Afterward, I took the tram through Vršovice and on out to the Pension Florida. Actually it wasn't a bad afternoon ... the sun had come out and cleared the streets of snow, and in front of the potraviny's fruit and vegetable stands gave off a hint of vitality, yeah it was nice.
Maria was alseep in the living room when I got back to the Pension Florida. The cats were all curled up into a large ball and asleep at the foot of the couch. Maria sleeps a lot these days. Her blood pressure or blood sugar levels are bad, she has this machine that keeps track and I don't know much about it but the number reads like '17,' which is not good when you consider that if the number reaches '22' you're in a coma. I think Maria should go to the doctor but she doesn't want to -- the doctor will just tell her she has to stay in the hospital. I think she'd rather die at home, if and when that happens. She used to be a nurse, for like 40 years, so she knows how to take care of herself, the problem is she's getting to the point where soon she won't be able to take care of herself.
Yeah, her heart problem is hereditary, she says, but she really didn't have a problem until she got married to this crazy Algerian guy a few years ago. I was getting ready to leave for China then so I didn't really follow what was going on, but this guy he was real young and handsome, a sharp dresser, and he was a guest at the Pension Florida and when Maria saw him she was like, 'Oooo! SUPER-DEESCO! We make Super-Deesco!' And this guy just charmed her and they made lots of Super Disco. Ha! Ha! Lots of it! Yeah, they got married, even though Maria was like 40 years older than the Algerian. As soon as they got married, he started asking her for money. She gave him like thousands and thousands of crowns and one day he just disappeared. These days he's a little bit better, he comes around sometimes and checks on Maria, brings a little food by. I don't really talk to him that much but he doesn't really speak English, not much.
Anyway, the living room is a mess as always, cat hair everywhere and cat shit and piss on the carpet. The kitchen looks like someone put about fifty gremlins into a blender and splattered their remains all over. Dishes caked with three-day-old sauce are piled in the sink, a product of the guests who are supposed to clean up after themselves, and the washing machine door is open, revealing a pair of trousers that have been reposing in a half inch of water for at least a week, and have begun to accumulate mold. They might have belonged to one of the Ukraine guys ejected by the police last week. Ha ha! Ah, moldy Ukrainian trousers! Whoo-hoo! Got to love it.
There isn't any soap, it's all finished, so I took a brush and scrubbed most of the dishes clean and then stuck the moldy trousers in a plastic bag and put it out by the trash bin. Maria was still asleep so I went upstairs to my room. I haven't really described the Pension Florida properly, but really there's not much to say. I mean it was always a little run down, but back in the day, 10 years ago Maria was able to keep it up, put a little money into the place. Like I said, it's a three-story old house, I guess it was built in the 1920s during the art deco craze, the house has a certain decadent flair. Outside from the street, two enormous bay trees stand at the front gate, shrouding the house even now in a certain mystery, yeah man it's pretty cool.
My room is on the second floor. Right now I'm sharing it with this guy from Canada, Mac. Mac is like 50 years old, and worked as a cab driver in Vancouver, then one day, just a few weeks ago, just decided to quit his job and come to Prague. That's cool and all ... I mean he says he was here in 1991, back in the real days after the Revolution, and he's always talking about it, and about Bulgaria and how that's the place to BE now. I like him sometimes, Mac, but he drinks too much and then he gets annoying. The other night we were at the Zaba, this bar in Vršovice and I introduced him to Jake and it was all right at first, but we'd been drinking and suddenly out of nowhere Mac starts berating Jake, saying 'You're country is zero, nothing, shit!' and all this stuff (although Jake has been known to be like that too when he's been drinking as you'll see). Ha! Ha! Ha! Prague. It's full of crazies and drunks. Crazies and Drunks.
Anyway, that guy Mac has been sharing my room and when I got there the door was open, which was annoying. People in this house have been known to steal, and I keep my computer in the room. Mac says he needs it open for fresh air. All he does is sleep all day. He says he's got this bad toothache, it's killing him and all he can do is sleep. I offered to take him to the doctor but he says he can't move. Then I offered to give him some codine and he refused that and said he just needs a little vodka, so he gets drunk and passes out. I wouldn't mind so much except for him leaving the door open. Mac says, 'Don't worry, anyone comes in here, I'll kick their ass!' I'm like, 'You? You can't even get out of bed! How you going to kick anyone's ass?' I mean, the guy hasn't even paid me any money for rent, and he's been here like two weeks ... well, hopefully I can rid of him soon. The room stinks of his old socks, which he hasn't changed in like three days. I couldn't stand the smell, so I decided to get out.
Downstairs Maria was awake. I could hear the television. She was watching the news. There was a story about the wildfires in Australia, and and a local story about a Czech mother who'd dropped off her baby at one of the baby boxes last month but has now changed her mind and wants the baby back.
'No, stupid bitch!' I said to the TV.
'Strašny,' said Maria. 'Strašny' means 'horrible.' We were watching the story about the baby.
'You go to the center tonight?' Maria asked, in Czech.
'Ano,' I said.
'To sell marijuana?'
'Yes, Maria.'
'Ah, Grub! Je strašny! You will have problems with the police.'
I told her I'd be careful, smart about everything. What else could I say? Maria knows, she understands, but she just says all that to say something. She doesn't really give a shit. Like when she says, 'I think you should go back to America,' which she's said many times, but as I said before, why would I do that? I don't like America.
I sat with Maria for a while though until the news was over, then grabbed the remote and switched to Sky Sports to see if any good matches were on. The only thing on was English League football, Newcastle versus Blackburn, which isn't exactly an exciting match. English football isn't my cup of tea anyway. I prefer American football. My team is the Cleveland Browns even though we SUCK -- ha! ha! ha!
Maria wanted to make me some coffee since it's cold out but I told her to rest. I don't really like coffee anyway. Besides down the street there's this place that sells pizza by the slice really cheap and that's a lot better than Maria's coffee. Like a lot of old Czechs, she likes to serve the coffee with the grains in it. Nasty! You get them all stuck in your teeth. I guess during Communism filter coffee wasn't available, so they all drank it that way -- it's called turetsko, or Turkish style. Turetsko! Communist coffee! Yeah! Woo-hoo!
Anyway, I also wanted to get out in a hurry before that guy Mac woke up. Otherwise he'd want to know where I was going and want to come. It's funny, all day long the guy says he can't move he's in such great pain, but when it's night and time for the bars he's suddenly on his feet and healthy as a buck. Not tonight. I don't feel like dragging his Canadian ass around. He owes me money anyway, I need to make some money.
There was a tram coming so I got that and headed back to the center. I couldn't sell at Chapeau anymore, or at least not openly maybe outside in the street, but there was also the Roxy. It was Monday night and on Mondays there's always a good crowd because there's something different each week and the drinks aren't too expensive. On the tram I got a text from Jake and asked if I was coming to Zaba. He was there with some Czech friends. I wrote no because I needed to try to make some money. It's no use trying to sell at the bars in Vršovice. In some of the bars there you can just go in and buy weed right at the bar from the bartender. No, got to go to the center, that's where it's at. The center! Whoo-hoo! Sell some weed!

Via Prague

Literary and other offerings from former Times-Standard reporter James Tressler, who is living, teaching and writing in Prague.

The Pension Florida, Ch. 4

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