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Grandma’s Itinerary: A Foreigner In 1960’s Czechoslovakia

I’m not the first (and I’m sure I won’t be the last) woman in my family to have a love of travel.

Over a cup of tea and chat one day, my grandmother (Gma – “Jee-mar” – to my sister and me) started to tell me about some of her trips. Hold on, I said, can I write these down? After several more cups of tea and ample discussion later, I started to collate her memories.

Grandma’s Itinerary is an occasional series recounting her recollections of exploration and adventure. Her stories are sometimes funny, often hair-raising and always intriguing. Here are some as she remembers them.

Having been to Prague myself in September, I was excited to chat with Gma about her experience and find out how our trips might have differed.

Clearly, my memories of the city were fresh in my mind but she had the challenge of recalling the details of a journey she took some 60 years ago. But this didn’t stop her, no no. I found out much more about her adventures in The City of a Hundred Spires

In 1963, Gma visited Prague.

Exploring Europe with her then-boyfriend and best friend and her boyfriend, the city was one stop among many that they visited on the Orient Express that year.

The group was brought together by British Rail (no, not an old-school match-making service, the nationalised railway until 1997); both boyfriends worked for the company, hello discount tickets!

Czechoslovakia (as it was then) was under Communist control and had been since 1948. This meant, to their Western eyes at least, repression, a lack of freedom and shortages. Toilet paper, in particular, was in short supply. Gma told me that it was common, even for travellers on business, to take toilet paper and bath plugs as these were often missing from hotels.

Czechoslovakia in the 1960s was largely closed to the West and wasn’t particularly receptive to foreign visitors. I’m not sure quite what these four young travellers were expecting, but they weren’t exactly greeted with open arms.

An “imposing woman” in station uniform met the train and immediately ushered them into the tourist office next door. She demanded to see their passports and visas, which they gave her and then watched as she checked their details using a large logbook.

Gma had heard that it was common for visitors to be ‘invited’ to buy foreign currency upon arrival. It was no different for our four heroes, who purchased about £50 (in today’s money) of Czechoslovak koruna and were, phew, sent on their way.

They’d arrived in the evening but had no accommodation booked and so walked along the cobbled streets looking for somewhere to spend the night. After many ‘no room at the inn’-esque responses, they were exhausted and thankfully stumbled across a hotel that would accept them, even though it was only for one night, not the two they had hoped for.

Agreeing that it was better than nothing, they put their bags in their rooms and headed downstairs, looking forward to a hearty Czech dinner. Just as they reached the door to the dining room, the forceful arm of a “rather burly-looking” maître d’ stopped them. Gma’s focus was on her stomach rather than anything else, and when she asked what the problem was she was silenced as a large posse of visiting Russians was ushered past them, their presence casting a hush over the rest of the diners.

They were eventually shown to a table just inside the doors but were told that they would have to wait until the Russian group had ordered and eaten... leftovers it was going to be.

After a mediocre dinner but a good night’s sleep, they left to find another hotel. They asked at a few places but couldn’t find anything (whether that was because they were foreigners or there truly was no availability, we will never know). Eventually, they found a bed & breakfast whose owner was at least helpful.

He explained that although there was no availability at his b&b, he knew a local woman who (illegally) sometimes took in foreigners. I say illegally because at the time you needed a licence to host anyone from outside the country, something that this woman clearly didn't have.

Naïve or not, they accepted the offer and headed off to the mysterious woman’s apartment.

They weren’t expecting the lady to be particularly friendly, but she seemed thoroughly terrified and “didn’t even want to know our names”.

She had a son called Paul (or that’s what he called himself) who was a similar age to Gma and her friends and seemed a little more open. He spoke good English and translated for them, explaining that they could stay for the night but they’d have to keep their heads down and leave as soon as they woke up.

However, as soon as his mother had left the room, Paul extended a whispered invitation to a secret student meet-up later that evening.

This was all very exciting. It was only later that the group realised what madness it was and that had they been caught by the authorities, the consequences would have been grave, not just for them, but for Paul and his mother. Gma explained to me that she just wasn’t used to such danger, and simply didn’t appreciate what they were facing.

Nonetheless, later that evening they wrapped up warm and, led by Paul, crept out of the woman’s apartment, stepping carefully and keeping their voices down so as not to make a sound.

They couldn’t see much at all as they were going through the backstreets in the dark; it was really just anticipation and excitement urging them on.

Most of the streets they walked through looked the same but Gma still remembers “a wide alleyway lined with garages that had been turned into workshops”. Some of these were still busy into the night, the light from their oil lamps spilling onto the empty street; some were simply lit by candles.

They’d nearly got to the end of the passageway when they heard a psssst ring out from behind them. Paul froze in terror. A man in grubby overalls came out of one of the workshops and walked towards them.

Before they even had time to panic, the man asked whether they spoke English – he said he thought he’d heard someone speaking.

They had to lean in close to understand his broken English, but to their amazement, it turned out that he had flown with the RAF in the Second World War. He gave them a friendly thumbs-up and put a finger to his lips before slipping back into the darkness.

Paul led them towards the distant light of a café, supposedly a secret student hangout. Gma doesn’t remember too much of the evening but it was finally beginning to dawn on them that they were at an illegal gathering not to mention the fact that they “had to get up early in the morning”. (Hmmm, which one would you find the most concerning?) She remembers the “excited students asking lots of questions about what life was like in the West”.

Early the next day, Paul made them breakfast and said goodbye. He seemed keen to stop his mother from waking up to find the group still in her kitchen.

She had told them not to pay her but to simply leave, wanting to get rid of them as soon as possible. Gma wanted to give her something though, so slipped some money from her pocket onto the kitchen table. What amount of money really says ‘thank you for risking your life to put us up’? I’m sure Gma had that covered.

They got on the earliest train they could out of Prague and continued on their European adventure. I think by that morning they were a little more worldly wise than before.