Brief Respite in Praha

The champagne is flowing, beer bottles are found everywhere, and you can only find the hard stuff in the bathroom, secretly distributed to those in the know.  No, it's not New York in the 20s - it's Prague, right now, in 2012.  What, you say?  There's a prohibition going on?  Why yes, yes there is.

Currently in Prague, you can only find alcohol below 20%, unless you happen upon a party with someone who had stocked up, or you find some in a bathroom somewhere (true story - there actually was tequila in the bathroom at a party I went to).  Why?  Illegal distributors are putting methanol into the liquor, and even making it look like the real stuff.  20 deaths in 2 weeks means that they cannot know for sure who the culprit is.  Absolut Vodka is not as absolute as it originally appeared, and people have been dangerously ill as a result.  The Czech solution?  To lose thousands and thousands of dollars a day, but save lives, by prohibiting alcohol over 20%, until the culprit can be found and alcoholics can resume business as usual.

In the meantime, the shelves at bars are empty, bereft of the hard liquors we've all become accustomed to, and I feel like I'm back in romantic Europe, where gentlemen buy us ladies bottles upon bottles of champagne (true, although technically sparkling wine), and the journey toward drunken ridiculousness is a little bit longer, although no less ridiculous, and no less wretched the next day.

Prague is currently a world without cocktails, and giving locals and visitors a small taste of what it might have been like in 1920s-era prohibition, where drunkenness was hard-won and booze was only found near a toilet.  Every outing seems strangely innocent, and every sip of hard liquor seems so secretive and naughty, adding an element of the clandestine to what would usually be just a simple party.

Now, though, I'm back in Berlin.  Back to my new home, where I'm still trying to make a mark and get to know the natives, trying to fit into a new place where I'm not sure I quite belong.  At least I have my memories of my glass constantly being refilled with bubbly, and dancing like a manic in a tiny underground club in Prague.