But the village of Stříbrnice looked like a ghost town: nothing moved. Simple houses lined both sides of the main street and watched my every step. About 10-15 minutes later I reached the end of the village without having found a place to eat. I stood planted in the middle of the road, staring at the sign making the end of Stříbrnice. All of a sudden, as if they stepped out of the woods, two men appeared and walked down the street past me in the opposite direction, towards the Sudetes mountain. They had t-shirts on, jeans and hiking shoes. I followed them with my eyes and that was when I caught the word ‘Piwo‘ on a three story house. My mind quickly made the connection: that’s the Polish word for beer. I quickly took out my Czech phrasebook and looked under the ‘Eating and Drinking’ section – sure enough, it’s the same word in Czech for beer. I made for the door in long strides. My fingers were inches away from the door-knob when I froze in mid-action. Slumped on the patio of the house was a beast-like saint-bernard looking right at me. I couldn’t tell whether the dog looked bored or whether it was taunting me. Breathing in, I carefully opened the door and slowly stepped inside the house.
The place seemed to be a rustic restaurant/grocery store. Behind the counter on my left were food supplies stored on shelves and nearby was a cooler packed with all sorts of bottles. I looked to my right and saw an elderly lady sitting alone at the table nearest to the door and a married couple with their child sitting at the next table down from her – both looked at me in total silence. Maybe wondering how I managed to walk past the saint-bernard without being mauled. Then again, it is not everyday that a man walks into this restaurant/grocery store saddled with over 20 kg of gear.
I broke the silence by greeting everyone good-day in Czech. The elderly lady immediately stood up and walked past me to the counter. I freed myself from my backpack and daypack, set them on the ground and sat at a table near the married couple. The elderly lady handed me a menu – as expected: it was all in Czech. More so (again, as expected) she did not speak a word of English, French or Arabic. I took out my Czech phrasebook and looked under the ‘Typical Local Dishes’ section. While I studied my phrasebook she spoke to the married couple, then, all of a sudden, I heard a man’s voice address me in perfect English: “do you speak English?”
Now it was my turn to look at everyone in confusion. The village of Stříbrnice has only a handful of houses, one restaurant/grocery store and one church – there should not be any English spoken. It turns out that this gentleman is a manager in a metal factory in the city of Ostrava, in eastern Moravia. He worked for some time in the United States, has numerous friends and business associates from the United States and travels quite often on business trips to different parts of the world. On weekends he and his family leave the city and head to his cottage where they go out for walks in nature, breathe in the mountain air and enjoy a good lunch at the one restaurant in the nearby village of Stříbrnice. I just happened to be there at the same place, on a weekend, as they were having lunch. After the gentlemen helped me with my order I told him and his wife about my hiking odyssey and talked a bit about myself. Right away he translated everything to the elderly woman – apparently the owner of the establishment. “This is huge!” he said to me, “Here in Stříbrnice, people as cosmopolitan as you only exist on TV!”
We got so lost in our conversation that I completely forgot about my hunger. The only time that food returned to my thoughts was when my nose caught the warm scent of cooked meat coming from under my nose. I looked at my table and saw a tall glass of beer along with a large plate of goulash, meat and bread dumpling. Forgetting the gentleman I was talking to, I filled my eyes with the sight of my meal and then began to eat, very slowly and with adoration. The mouthful of beer I drank went right up to my head instead of down to my stomach. All of a sudden a hand placed on my table a short glass with a clear liquid inside. Looking up from my plate, I saw that the gentleman was holding up a similar glass: “This is Slivovice – plum brandy. It’s a traditional drink here. Come on, let’s toast: Nasdroviye!” Right away I raised my glass, cheered “Nasdroviye!” and took a swig.
At one point his wife and child moved to an adjacent room, leaving us men alone. We talked some more as I ate, drank another shot of Slivovice, and continued talking before his wife returned to the table carrying their child. She gave her husband a quick glance and a subtle gesture of the head – it was time for them to go. Before we said our farewell, the gentleman spoke with the owner of the establishment and arranged for me to stay the night in the restaurant/grocery store, which turned out to also be a guesthouse. He reminded me that early in the morning there will be a bus heading to the nearby town of Staré Město and that from there I can catch a train to Olomouc – my final destination. The place became very quiet after the couple left. The elderly woman was busy working on something behind the counter and left me to my food. As I finished off my meal it suddenly dawned on me that I do not know the name of the person I spoke to for the last couple of hours – neither of us introduced each other by name.
My head felt very light. I was feeling merry after the strain of hiking for two days, a full meal, a tall glass of beer and two shots of Slivovice. I was in a comfortable haze and did not want to interrupt the feeling, but thought it would be best if I lose myself in my room, while lying down on my bed, rather than on the chair in the restaurant. I called the elderly lady and showed her the sentence in my phrasebook for the bill. She replied in Czech, paused then walked to her counter and waved at me to come over. I slowly got up, floated over and saw her pointing to the computer monitor. I expected to see the tally of my bill but instead I recognized the Skype user interface. All of a sudden the monitor talked: “Hi, I’m talking to you from Los Angeles. Let me know what you want to say to my sister-in-law and I’ll translate it into Czech.” I instinctively turned to look at the sister-in-law standing next to me, mainly to be sure that this was happening for real and not in my head. She pushed a wooden stool towards me and gestured at it. I sat down and addressed the monitor: “I’ve just had lunch – can I pay for it tomorrow, when I settle the bill for the room?” The voice from Los Angeles spoke in Czech, the sister-in-law answered and the voice from Los Angeles duly translated the reply: “yes, you can.”
I gave my thanks to all, saddled my gear on me once again and walked up the stairs to my room on the top floor. The voices of the two ladies chatting through Skype accompanied me up the stairs and died down to a whisper when I reached the door to my room. Recognizing that the time for rest has finally come, my body suddenly became lethargic. I locked the door behind me, stumbled to the bed then crashed down on it. My heavy eyelids closed and I lay still, serene and triumphant at having seen this hiking expedition through to the end.
Note from the Editor:
Mohamed Asem is a writer from Kuwait and currently on a journey across eastern/central Europe. When he was in Poland he visited Warsaw, Krakow and Wroclaw. During his stay in Krakow, he visited the Auschwitz Birkenau museum.
A Smile from Auschwitz.
https://polishnews.com/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=1962:a-smile-from-auschwitz&catid=93:historiapolish-history&Itemid=329
Crossing the Polish-Czech Border on Foot
Part 1 of 4
https://polishnews.com/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=2001:crossing-the-polish-czech-border-on-foot-&catid=87:podroetravel&Itemid=305
Part 2 of 4
https://polishnews.com/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=2033:crossing-the-polish-czech-border-on-foot-&catid=87:podroetravel&Itemid=305
(Part 3 of 4)