The sun came out full blast during a trip of the utmost importance to brutalist Usti nad Labem, capital of the Ustecky region.
With its downtown factories, housing estates clinging to hillsides, vibrant centre and cemented blocks of communist right angles, Usti is always a novelty to visit and I used the railway's excellent DUK card to get there on the train, bus and trolley while in town.
By accident, following a post-train spliff behind a warehouse, I used the ticket on a local bus, thinking it would take me to the Foreigners' Police station just off Winston Churchill street close to the centre of town. This didn't happen. Instead, the bus took me straight out of the urban grey environment into abundant green countryside and after enjoying this view for half an hour I finally realised I'd fucked up, so I hopped off at the next stop in a sun-baked village called Brezi, wandered up a hill and laid down on hay to sunbathe until a bus came and took me back an hour later. The highly important trip to the Foreigners' Police Station continued after this brief detour.
In Prague, back in the day, a visit to the FP was an experience dreaded by every foreign soul who went there in all innocence to be barked at, ordered around, belittled, left waiting for hours while staff had lunch, etc, so it was a very pleasant surprise to be met by an efficient, friendly, foxy chick with an alluring smile who walked me up and down a few corridors and business was settled in good speed.
With its downtown factories, housing estates clinging to hillsides, vibrant centre and cemented blocks of communist right angles, Usti is always a novelty to visit and I used the railway's excellent DUK card to get there on the train, bus and trolley while in town.
By accident, following a post-train spliff behind a warehouse, I used the ticket on a local bus, thinking it would take me to the Foreigners' Police station just off Winston Churchill street close to the centre of town. This didn't happen. Instead, the bus took me straight out of the urban grey environment into abundant green countryside and after enjoying this view for half an hour I finally realised I'd fucked up, so I hopped off at the next stop in a sun-baked village called Brezi, wandered up a hill and laid down on hay to sunbathe until a bus came and took me back an hour later. The highly important trip to the Foreigners' Police Station continued after this brief detour.
In Prague, back in the day, a visit to the FP was an experience dreaded by every foreign soul who went there in all innocence to be barked at, ordered around, belittled, left waiting for hours while staff had lunch, etc, so it was a very pleasant surprise to be met by an efficient, friendly, foxy chick with an alluring smile who walked me up and down a few corridors and business was settled in good speed.
Out on the street and pausing on the Square of Peace I caught sight of a nonstop bar that I was familar with. Nonstops were prolific in the decadent 90s and you could get wasted any time of the day or night at very little expense while encountering barflies of all shape, size and sex. It wasn't unusual to find these places hopping at 4am post-pub, packed to the rafters. In a much more sober CZ today, nonstops are sadly a dying breed. Yet, after one particularly eventful recent journey from Saudi and a long wait in the middle of the night in Usti, I'd found this place and was overjoyed to learn that you can smoke in there too. They couldn't give a shit because leftfield Usti is like that.