My last post a couple of days ago was a reprint of our travelogue of Prague during our European trip in 1999. It included the story of Janis's billfold being stolen by pickpockets. Here's how that adventure turned out.
CHAPTER 22 PRAGUE, CZECH REPUBLIC
Wednesday, November 3
The day after Janis's billfold was stolen, we were discussing the event with our landlord. She said that we should go report it to the police because sometimes the pickpockets just wanted cash, and would dump the ID cards and rest of the billfold. Later, American Express said that they would need a copy of the police report if we were going to claim the replacement cost of the billfold (Louis Vuitton and very $$$, so we damned well were going to claim it). So after we took care of business with American Express and other places, we hoofed it over to the polizei to do our duty.
Oh, how naive! You must remember, these are Soviet-trained officials we're talking about. The words "courteous, quick, friendly, and efficient customer service" do not exist in their universe. The police station was the most run-down building on a run-down block. The anteroom was built about 150 years ago, and evidently the last time it was painted (or even cleaned) was to welcome the Russians after WW II. There's no reception desk, only a window cleverly placed about waist-high so that you have to bow down to them in order to carry on any kind of conversation. Which, of course, you can't, because none of them deign to have anything to do with the English language. They simply aren't interested in anything you have to say in English, and they aren't much more interested if you speak Czech. Eventually, the one and only English interpreter on the entire Prague police force (no kidding) arrived and we made our report. She made it clear that if we wanted to report Janis's billfold as "missing", why, she'd be happy to help. However, if we wanted to report it as "stolen", oh, now that is much more complicated, and would require much filling out of forms.
By this time, we had our dander up, and forms or no forms, these police were going to have to deal with the fact that three guys had ripped off Janis's - Janis's - one and only billfold. So the interpreter rolled her eyes and put us in the "waiting room" while she sorted out the details with the duty staff.
Now there is nothing more depressing than a Communist-era waiting room. It was really a short hallway that was painted a putrid institutional green, with several mysterious doorways leading off it. One of the "doorways" was a heavy metal barred jail cell door. One wall had a Rube Goldberg electrical contraption mounted high up featuring a transformer the size of my suitcase and wires leading into a room behind one of the mysterious doors. Electro-shock therapy, perhaps? The same wall had two large electrical fuse boxes tastefully decorated with pornographic ads. There were no chairs, only one long wooden bench, on which were sitting three people who had clearly been there quite a while and were still waiting when we left. No reading material, of course, except for the pornographic ads, and to keep ourselves entertained, we tried to figure out what the electrical contraption was, and also what was behind Doors #1, #2, and #3. We were kept in the room for about half an hour. Then the interpreter burst back in and gave us a police report - in Czech, of course - which she claimed was a summary of everything we'd told her and would we please sign it? It could've said that we were the assassins of Archduke Franz Ferdinand, for all we knew, but by that time we weren't at all interested in finding out what was behind Door #3, so we signed it and said goodbye to our cheerless waiting-room companions.
As for American Express, well, they wanted a police report and that's what they're getting. They didn't say it had to be in English. If they want to know what it says, then they can find their own damn interpreter.
So ends our experiences in the Czech Republic. We had a good time here, all things considered. This is a beautiful city with superb food, great art and music, low prices, friendly people (most of 'em), and fabulous weather. The only drawback was our run-in with the pickpockets (which the interpreter said were "all Rumanian and Bulgarian, definitely not Czech" ..... sure, lady). Whatever. We won't be back, but I still think it's a great place to visit.
CHAPTER 22 PRAGUE, CZECH REPUBLIC
Wednesday, November 3
The day after Janis's billfold was stolen, we were discussing the event with our landlord. She said that we should go report it to the police because sometimes the pickpockets just wanted cash, and would dump the ID cards and rest of the billfold. Later, American Express said that they would need a copy of the police report if we were going to claim the replacement cost of the billfold (Louis Vuitton and very $$$, so we damned well were going to claim it). So after we took care of business with American Express and other places, we hoofed it over to the polizei to do our duty.
Oh, how naive! You must remember, these are Soviet-trained officials we're talking about. The words "courteous, quick, friendly, and efficient customer service" do not exist in their universe. The police station was the most run-down building on a run-down block. The anteroom was built about 150 years ago, and evidently the last time it was painted (or even cleaned) was to welcome the Russians after WW II. There's no reception desk, only a window cleverly placed about waist-high so that you have to bow down to them in order to carry on any kind of conversation. Which, of course, you can't, because none of them deign to have anything to do with the English language. They simply aren't interested in anything you have to say in English, and they aren't much more interested if you speak Czech. Eventually, the one and only English interpreter on the entire Prague police force (no kidding) arrived and we made our report. She made it clear that if we wanted to report Janis's billfold as "missing", why, she'd be happy to help. However, if we wanted to report it as "stolen", oh, now that is much more complicated, and would require much filling out of forms.
By this time, we had our dander up, and forms or no forms, these police were going to have to deal with the fact that three guys had ripped off Janis's - Janis's - one and only billfold. So the interpreter rolled her eyes and put us in the "waiting room" while she sorted out the details with the duty staff.
Now there is nothing more depressing than a Communist-era waiting room. It was really a short hallway that was painted a putrid institutional green, with several mysterious doorways leading off it. One of the "doorways" was a heavy metal barred jail cell door. One wall had a Rube Goldberg electrical contraption mounted high up featuring a transformer the size of my suitcase and wires leading into a room behind one of the mysterious doors. Electro-shock therapy, perhaps? The same wall had two large electrical fuse boxes tastefully decorated with pornographic ads. There were no chairs, only one long wooden bench, on which were sitting three people who had clearly been there quite a while and were still waiting when we left. No reading material, of course, except for the pornographic ads, and to keep ourselves entertained, we tried to figure out what the electrical contraption was, and also what was behind Doors #1, #2, and #3. We were kept in the room for about half an hour. Then the interpreter burst back in and gave us a police report - in Czech, of course - which she claimed was a summary of everything we'd told her and would we please sign it? It could've said that we were the assassins of Archduke Franz Ferdinand, for all we knew, but by that time we weren't at all interested in finding out what was behind Door #3, so we signed it and said goodbye to our cheerless waiting-room companions.
As for American Express, well, they wanted a police report and that's what they're getting. They didn't say it had to be in English. If they want to know what it says, then they can find their own damn interpreter.
So ends our experiences in the Czech Republic. We had a good time here, all things considered. This is a beautiful city with superb food, great art and music, low prices, friendly people (most of 'em), and fabulous weather. The only drawback was our run-in with the pickpockets (which the interpreter said were "all Rumanian and Bulgarian, definitely not Czech" ..... sure, lady). Whatever. We won't be back, but I still think it's a great place to visit.
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