Czech Friends Hockey Talk Hardcore Music Police

Czech Friends, Hockey Talk, Hardcore Music, and the Police

I was feeling a little drawn out last night. I had worked all day on completing the Hobohideout pages for the Poets Corner Hostel in Olomouc Czech Republic, wrote a little, put my bicycle gear in order, and then realized that it was 11PM. I did not want to let the day go without seeing its light, so I picked up a pipe and headed down to the local students pub.

I walked in and helloed the Czech bartender, who also has a shaved bald head and became my friend on a previous wine night, and took a seat up at the bar next to a somewhat Turkish looking fellow. Without missing a beat, he suddenly turned to me and welcomed me to the bar in English, gave me a pat on the back, and asked me what the hell I am doing in Olomouc. His name was Tom.

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Wade from Vagabond Journey.com
in Olomouc, Moravia, Czech Republic
Travelogue — Travel Photos
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I had just made another Czech friend; an act which I have found to be incredibly easy to do. In nine years of travel, I have never met people more willing to talk with a stranger. The Czechs are a friendly race.

So I kept on talking to Tom, and the bartender would occasionally stop by and chat a little in between pouring drinks. I could tell right off that these were good people, their eyes and disposition betrayed this fact to me at the first words we spoke.

“What do people in America think of Czech people?” Tom asked suddenly. The bartender hovered in close to hear my reply.

I did not think that Americans think anything about Czech people, but I did not want to reveal this point of personal conjecture. So I stumbled in to my reply:

“Americans think that Czech people make a lot of hockey pucks.”

Czech people do make a lot of hockey pucks.

This answer was not good enough – the look on their faces told me so. I tried again:

“Americans think that Czech women are beautiful.”

Czech women are beautiful.

This answer was worse than the first, so I stumbled right back into talking about ice hockey, as I somehow climbed back onto my barstool.

The Czech Republic is a hockey country, and hockey talk is always safe conversation.

“I sing in a hardcore band,” Tom then said with an offer to give me a listen. I, of course, was interested in listening to some Czech hardcore music. So Tom got up and dug a duffle bag out of a barroom closet and returned to his seat. There was a massive black jack sticking out of the top of the duffle bag, and my hairy look pushed Tom into an explanation:

“I am a police officer,” Tom said as he pulled out his badge. I inspected it. Tom really was a police officer.

As I was holding his police ID card up in the air and making jokes about how he was a cop by day and a singer in a hardcore band by night, Tom gave me a little mp4 player and I put the headphones to my ears.

The hardcore music was good, and I told Tom so. He smiled and invited me to his show on the 28th of June. I said that I would love to come if I was still in town. He said that I had better still be here, and I told him about my old days of touring in a hardcore band in the USA.

But I could not let his daytime occupation slip by yet, and I asked him what he does all day as a police officer in Olomouc.

“Oh, I just harass the people,” Tom began, “and I write papers, and look for people. You know, to protect and serve.”

This sounded like what the police do all over the world, and with a shrug we started talking about women into the night.

Czech Friends, Hockey Talk, Hardcore Music, and the Police