Disclaimer: Some readers were wondering if my American ignorance stories were true. Unfortunately, yes, those were some of the handful of stories I could have recanted. However, I unerringly introduced a bias by describing only my rather humourous encounters in Praha. In Ljubljana, I did meet a couple from Wisconsin who were quite vocal on international issues and were particularly against the American occupation in Iraq. Today, I'd like to give Praha another chance. I noticed the wonderful fog in the early morning on my train ride over to Prague, so I set my alarm clock to wake up at an unmentionable hour. I head over to the Old Town, and finally get some decent pictures with not a tourist in sight. My next destination is Vysherad, a neighbourhood located on the outskirts of Prague. It turns out to be a great getaway. The neighbourhood is quaint, complete with the old pedestrian cobblestone streets. I can smell wood burning in the air as well as hear birds chirping. I pass old churches, parks, and buildings, before taking a longer stop at Vysherad cemetery, where many notables are buried. The cemetery is nice enough that I'm tempted to pull out my packed lunch and enjoy it there. I move on, and find a good view of Praha near Vysherad Castle. Looking out, I spot an even better viewing area at the edge of a cliff. I hop the gate and carefully make my way over. For some reason, there's a bench there, positioned precariously near the edge. I pull it in a little and have my lunch. Have you ever eaten lunch in fear? Well, this is the odd feeling I had sitting here - eating with a sheer drop below me. It's not that high, and incomparable to the time I sat at the edge of the Grand Canyon, but any drop where certain death is inevitable is high enough for me. As I wait for a train to take me out of Vysherad, someone tries to pull a scam on me. A normal looking guy picks up a large, gold ring he apparently found on the ground and signals to me if it's mine. Unfortunately for him, I have no interest in gold, rings, or things that aren't mine. It also didn't help that I witnessed another woman try the same thing on a tourist minutes before. However, I was curious of how the scam would have unfolded. Leaving Vysherad, I make my way over to Prague Market, hoping to see something lively. It turns out to be a junk flea market with mostly Vietnamese vendors ripping off tourists. I leave it almost the moment I enter and walk over to the Museum of Modern Art. The museum is quite large, with 5 floors of art, each identified by a certain time period. I buy a ticket that allows me access to all floors. What I didn't read carefully was that the museum is named "Modern Art" and not "Contemporary Art". The top floor contains paintings dating back to the 17th century, which I skip it altogether. I have a mixed reaction about the rest of the museum. The impressionist floor is all right. I didn't like the art deco floor too much. The contemporary floors have a lot of Czech contemporary work. There is an abnormal amount of "junk art" from the Czech artists, including one piece that is literally a section of a junkyard, complete with stinky couch and dirt on ground. My biggest peeve is the layout of the museum. Whereas most museums have large, separated rooms to browse a certain artist or theme, this museum simply has one long corridor that snakes around the building. Thus, I find myself either following along one side and missing the other, zigzagging between each side as I progress, or walking down the middle and getting a distant glimpse of the art on both sides. Combined with splitting pathways and hidden subsections, I miss many parts of the museum altogether. Side note: The museum's cafeteria is called The Internet Cafe, but there are no computers or Internet terminals. I leave the museum and wander the neighbourhood for a while, noting that prices here are 5 times less than in the touristy Old Town. I stumble into a street carnival. I buy a snack thinking it's some kind of sweet, twisted bread. You can imagine my surprise when it turns out to be some very salty cheese. I also give the mulled wine a try. Not good either - the wine is too pungent when hot. I make my way back into the Old Town through Josefov, the old Jewish quarter. Following my guidebook, I wander into a small alley way just steps away from the main square. Here I find a restaurant with locals abound. The price is excellent and I order a Czech pork skewer. The service is slow, but the food satisfying. Although much of the food is not the greatest I've ever tasted (especially in Poland), my satisfaction factor is partially based on having a traditional local dish to enjoy. Back in the hostel, I wonder what else I could have seen around Praha to make it more enjoyable. There is the infamous church in Kutna Hora, decorated with the skeletons of 40,000 people. I could also have gone on a day trip to a nearby national park. Honestly though, I believe Praha was much better 10 years ago, just after the fall of the iron curtain. Nevertheless, I pack up my belongings in preparation for an early morning departure. As I doze off, a new set of American roommates return from their day trip. I find it hilarious as they try to keep quiet by carrying conversations in very loud whispers. They love Praha, and plan to stay for many weeks. Why do they love it so much? Well, one fellow fittingly nicknamed Praha as the "American London", to which everyone boisterously agreed. I pray that the remark never falls on Czech ears. Next: Chasing Dreams in Cesky Krumlov Okay, Praha was my least favourite destination to write about, but I guarantee my subsequent stories will be better.