PRAGUE - CZECH IT OUT...

Despite all the tales of pickpocketing and bursting-at-the-seams tourism I have heard over the past few years, Prague is STILL more beautiful and magickal than I could ever have imagined. Perhaps this is partly due to the fact that I've managed to miss the high season, which I'm glad for; it's early September, and the old town still bubbles with human traffic and tour groups so amazed by the cities grandeur that they bump into each other at every corner and are generally all over the place. But wow, these buildings! I've just never seen an old city so majestic, so gothic, so regal... When I finally manage to pull my jaws together, blown away by the aesthethics of the place, I decide it's time to try to work with music in this city.

It's kind of illegal to busk on Charles Bridge without a license, but I cannae resist it! It's too darn pretty - gothic statues casting shadows on the cobbles, Vlatra river in either direction and a certain kind of peace in the air. However, one and a half songs in I'm stopped by a plain clothed bridge inspector kind of guy and because I don't plan on getting my guitar confiscated I don't need to be told twice. I clear off, about one Euro richer (30 kroner?) and find a place across the bridge where the cobbled streets are just wide enough to sit and watch from.

Not too long into my swing of things, two young kids pass by laughing and throw some 'magic game' cards into Stella's case. I can't say I've ever been given game cards as a tip before - but my message of the day? 'Victory favours neither the righteous or the wicked, it favours the prepared.' Woahhh! Deep, man...

Suddenly there is someone in front of me, smoking a cigarette with a guitar on his back. His name is Tomas, he's 18 and is killing time in between English lessons As I see him a few times this day, I realise these breaks last for ten minutes at a stretch, in which he proceeds to empty his wallet for me, more than once, pass by a few times to introduce me to friends and play a tune or two on my guitar before his teacher calls him on his mobile to tell him to get to class!

I meet Russell from Manchester, he stands and watches for a while before I hand him the guitar and he plays a beautiful self-penned song, all about dreams and silver linings the only lyrics I remember... we make plans to go for lunch when I finish, but unfortunately I end up leaving early as I don't like the vibe of a certain local beer-swilling busker. He and his Polish friend Pawel are sprawled out listening on the sidewalk and the rapport is good initially, I even play 'Smells Like Teen Spirit' for them due to not knowing any other kind of punk song to play, but when the local guy begins to get too friendly, and then abusive, I realise it's time for me to 'chalo'. Poor Pawel, he is ashamed of his Czech friend. He hands me a flier for the band both bogans play in - it is advertising a gig that a lot of similarly styled bands are playing at - the style in question? 'Polish alco / grind / noise chaos'. He he he.

All is well however. I feel very safe on the streets, always playing in places where there are many people, very few of whom would dare come too close to me. These kind of minor incidents are extremely rare and actually teach me a lot. Back in Paris, down at Sacre Couer I remember watching a Spanish belly dancer do her thing in front of many a leering local. Tougher than she looked, she had a way of keeping anyone untoward at bay, and while I suppose there is always an element of risk accosiated with busking, the joys always far outwiegh any minor issues. I leave in the end with about 800 Czech crowns in my pocket (25-30 Euro?) and walk my guitar back to the hostel marvelling at the beauty all around me, an aestethic eye-fest so austere it manages to dissapear any negative thoughts...