I often travel into a city with no plans of where I'm going to stay that night, knowing no one, and I always land on my feet and have a grand adventure and meet amazing people. People always take care of me.
But I've also travelled where I know someone or am two degrees separated from a guide who takes me to the non-tourists areas...and I love that.
Seeing as the whole reason I wanted to go to Prague the last dozen years is because I heard it was full of amazing creative generous spontaneous friendly artists, I've had it stuck in my head I'd be social and live it up in the "Paris of the 1920s." Meet some cool people and run around playing like kids. Make up for not studying abroad in college.
But I've reached out to 3 people in or with contacts in Prague and been rejected. It's all very queer and un-European-feeling. More separatist American, like "hey good luck with your trip, buy a guidebook like every other lame-ass American, and buh-bye." It's pissing me off. Waaaah! No one wants to play with me. Dammit! I'm charming and delightful!! Grumble.
Meanwhile, American friends from all around are sudddenly calling telling me not to go or to come back soon and that they want to play with me here in California or in NYC. And great menfolk are dropping out of the sky asking me on fun dates, and there's this intriguing job possibility....
Why does the universe always test me like this? This feeling of "You finally made a ballsy choice, but are you sure this is what you want? Really? Because behind Door #2 is..."
Door #2 is feeling better than Door #1.
Maybe I'll just go, czech Prague off my list, and do a lot of antisocial reading and writing in cafes. Seems like a waste of a good city of artists. Oh well. Enough energy spent planning and reaching out to near strangers. Time to hurtle myself into the abyss. What a clumsy dismount this one has been. Totally uncharacteristic and unrepresentative of my life.