It was hot. We’d had a big night. We were too lazy to work out how to actually see the sights on our own so thought we’d give one of the free walking tours a whirl. As it turned out, I think it was the first time in my life that I have wanted to scratch someone’s eyeballs out within two hours of meeting them.
There were about 50 others that had thought the same thing, but there were two tour guides which improved the situation somewhat. As the group was getting divided in two, we took it upon ourselves to position ourselves next to guide number one, who was one of the tallest people I had ever seen. Possibly tried to be a pro basketball but got too excited at all the cheap pivo, and is now running walking tours for tips. Nonetheless, we thought he’d be a safe bet given he was impossible to miss in a crowd. I pointed this out to him in a comment that could have been taken terribly, but instead he whipped out some quality banter and we were instant friends.
But alas, it wasn’t meant to be. Tour guide number two decided to re-divide the crowd and put us in her group. Gunning for the most people so she could get more tips, I’d say. It started to go downhill once she opened her mouth. We all quietly commented that we had just been subjected to the worst Australian accent we’d ever heard and I thought gosh this is going to be tough to listen to for the next few hours. As it turned out, she was from Christchurch. It was one of those cringeworthy, so bad its embarassing, bogan kiwi accent moments. But I’ve watched enough Shortland Street to be able to move past her voice, even if it was reminiscent of nails on a chalk board.
Where it got really painful, was when the actual tour began. So relatively early on. In what was the finest example of memorising a script without having any concept of what it meant, we were subjected to 3 long hours of terrible jokes, awkward silences, but worst of all, being talked to as though we were five year old children. Adolf Hitler? No idea who he was, but we sure heard a lot about “the very very bad man.”
The few Czechoslovakian words I’ve heard (largely place names, and names of famous composers) were all pronounced wrong, so I can only assume the non-internationally famous words weren’t correct either. But the moment where I really decided I couldn’t stand this girl, was when she was educating us about the “hollycost.” I was just totally embarrased for our entire nation that so many travellers are going to hear this girl speak and think we are all home schooled idiots in New Zealand.
But on the upside, at least there was loads of interesting stuff to look at in Prague, so even the worst, most uneducated on the city she lives in, rude tour guide in the world couldn’t ruin a fascinating and beautiful city.
For anyone interested in a walking tour of Prague, whatever you do, DON’T go with Rachel from Sandeman’s New Prague tours!