Archive for November, 2009
A Brief Guide to the Windiest City
Tuesday, November 10th, 2009
Remember, first of all, that this is no ordinary city. The wind has teeth and they bite exposed flesh — cover up, plan your route to minimise time spent outdoors, accept the inevitability that the clever wind will find its way to your wrists and cheeks.
The main attraction is the prison, a construction of stone and exquisitely painted wood that funnels the wind into a series of passageways. A century ago, prisoners were chained there, tormented for as long as their crime — or the need for information — dictated. Now, tourists gasp at the chain-stumps and shriek when the wind sneaks up their sleeves.
It is a unique experience. No visit is complete without at least an hour there.
Opinions are divided on whether you should do this first of all, or save it until last so that the rest of your stay is not as painful. However, this latter option means you might have accumulated too much pain from the preceding days and find the prison almost as torturous as its inmates did.
We recommend seeing it first. Overleaf, see a map showing the safest passageways, as agreed upon by our team of independent travellers.
Other major sights include the moaning bridge, the museum, the art gallery (the often surreal depictions of the wind on the second floor are excellent) and, of course, the palace.
Much of the former rulers’ home is in ruin, after the uprising of 1904 and the end of the city-state’s independence, but the preserved parts are worth viewing: throne hall, with spectacular granite thrones; various tiled floors; enough intact walls to give an impression of the shape; and, most eerie of all things in this city, fallen pieces of the wooden roof. Bite-grooves from centuries of wind flowing over the palace are boldly visible. No other buildings are made of wood in these times.
A favourite cultural experience is the basement club, where the city’s youth remove their armoured clothing and dance. Their pale skin, sluiced with the clever wind’s marks, is unsettlingly beautiful: their wrists, ankles and faces seem the epicentres of strange white and red jewellery. A few visitors consider the dancers’ ages, usually in the 20s, and wonder at the appearance of their grandparents.
It is a mostly cheap city, although we recommend paying extra for a thoroughly insulated hotel. Evzen Hotel is good. The following restaurants are especially fine: Damek’s, Vaclav Grillhouse, The Wind-Sliced Rabbit.
Some risk-takers skimp on clothing, to “experience the true city”. Do not copy them.
Really Big Presents
Monday, November 9th, 2009
Drood set the huge box on a table in the near-empty cafeteria. His friends Thea and Hector stared at it.
“It’s huge,” Hector said. He turned the tag toward him and read “Franz Evan Hahn-Drood. Hey Drood, your middle name is Evan?”
“You should just give it back,” Thea said. “Why did the creepy toy store man even give you a birthday present? He doesn’t know you.”
“He’s not that creepy,” Drood said. “And don’t you think we should at least see what it is?”
“Oh, he’s creepy,” said Hector. “But we should definitely see what it is. ” He began to peel off the heavy, bronze paper, and Drood joined him.
“You have no idea what’s in there!” said Thea.
“Duh,” said Drood. “Why do you think we’re opening it?”
It turned out to be a shallow box, about three feet long and two feet wide, made of some gleaming reddish material. The top was some kind of door or lid, with a handle set into it.
“Don’t–!” said Thea, but Drood pulled the lid open.
It was like looking through a window. Inside was a sunny forest clearing, in the middle of which sat a squirrel. The squirrel was petrified, being surrounded by at least fifteen cats, and the cats didn’t look any more comfortable than the squirrel: their attention was taken up by a dozen or so little silver-suited green men nearby standing at the entrance to a thrumming and glowing flying saucer. The aliens were preoccupied with several large, boot-shaped robots who were hovering over them, orange eyes glowing.
One of the cats happened to look over and notice the kids. “This just keeps getting weirder,” the cat said. The orange-eyed robots all turned to face the door and began floating toward it. The little green men shouted orders at each other and scrambled around the ship. The squirrel bounded over the cats and fled.
Thea slammed the door shut. She stared, wide-eyed, at Drood and Hector. Drood and Hector stared, wide-eyed, back.
“Oh my god! What was all that?” Thea said.
“I don’t know!” said Drood. “Should we open it again? They might be friendly.”
“No!” Thea said. “What if they’re not friendly? Those aliens or those flying things could go on a rampage. We have to keep it closed! You guard it: we’ll get a teacher.” She grabbed Hector’s arm and ran out, dragging him along.
Drood stared at the box, looked around the empty cafeteria, and stared at the box again.
Then he grinned and opened it wide.