For a Fistful of Korun

The first time I ever saw Eva was at the restaurant where she worked in downtown Brno. I had just arrived. I was eight hours late and I was pretty hungry. I asked at the desk of the hotel and they said that there were several restaurants nearby. Of course, the desk’s answer was almost completely in German. I was pretty sure I understood, but it was many years since Frau Jones had taught me the fineries of the German language.

I remember I took a left at the door which led me to Masarýková Univerzita, Masarýk University. That was my first mistake. Now, this was certainly a fixable mistake, but after a few minutes I was pretty unsure of where I was. I had only just gotten there maybe a half an hour before. I found a phone that took coins and tried to call my friend in town, but Iva was at her parents’ house and would not be in town for a few days. She too agreed that there were many restaurants near to where I was standing. Iva even said many of them speak English. Well, they have English words on the menus at least.

Walking along the tram tracks between Masarýk and the Janačkova Hudbeni Gymnazium, Janačk’s Music Gymnazium, I found the word café. It was emblazoned below a large goose’s foot. I should have easily guessed what Husa meant, but at that point I had no idea. Judging from the other differences I see all around, better maybe not to guess. I walked into the Goose Foot Cafe and sat down.

A tall woman closer to six feet (1.9m) approached my table. When I looked down and saw she was wearing sensible shoes. She was certainly at least six feet tall. She handed me a menu. Of course, in the Czech Republic they will often hand you a Czech menu. This is a nice gesture, but it was not terribly useful. I tried to ask her if she spoke English and she shook her head no. Then she asked if I spoke German. I know if Fr. Jones reads this she will not be happy, but I responded “ein bischen.” It was the truth and right now I was not sure how long my vokabeln would hold.

The tall waitress quickly reacted and handed me a German version of the menu. Without a dictionary or prior preparation I set to reading the menu as best I could. A few minutes later the beautiful, tall waitress returned. It was clear that she had been telling the people in the kitchen about me, because there were several onlookers gawking from the kitchen. I could have assumed it, but Brno was hardly ready for American tourists.

I was honestly having trouble with the menu, and I tried to admit it. I asked her if she could get me something warm and something to drink. I tried to explain that I had had a long trip and could use any help I could get. She smiled and a few minutes later returned with what she liked. She was carrying a big chicken salad and a huge glass of beer. After three or four pints of beer, I was ready to sleep. It had been a long day and everything seemed to be breaking. Maybe some tv and then some sleep would bury enough of my problems that tomorrow would be better.

Now comes a truly cultural question, what to tip. I had been kind of a pain in her ass. So I thought that I should tip at least 30%. That is what I would do in the USA and why should I with any less respect than I would in my home town? When I got the tab it was like 310czk, and I had a 500czk bill so I just left it.

Typically American, well in the Czech Republic, typically American is like a cat with two heads. I remember I left it on the table with a note that said “Danke, Adam.” That was that, I figured. I gathered my stuff and walked out leaving the money on the table. Leaving my money on the table was my first mistake. Quickly, I walked out of the restaurant took a right and went to the main drag and up to Hotel Slavia where I was going to be staying for the next 21 days.

Czech people do not attract your attention with “Hey buddy!” or with a whistle. No they “shhhh” you, just like in the library when you are being too noisy. So, I did not react when I heard it. Maybe it was a sneeze or something, if they wanted my attention they would have tapped me on the shoulder or said something. Not really, I got back to my hotel and walked up the five flights of stairs. Maybe on the third flight I noticed that I was in fact being followed. I intentionally tried not to look back. It could have been anyone from someone at the desk to a cleaning lady. I got to my floor and realized that the slight wheezing sound was my waitress from the restaurant. She was kind and helped me with the door to the floor whose lock seemed to stick badly.

That is what I call customer service, for a three dollar tip she followed me home and helped me with the door. I thanked her in German, but she did not say anything. I slid through the hallway door and went to my room. Being followed by such a beautiful Czech girl was more than a guy could ask for. Before I entered my room, I stopped and looked at her. She told me that I had left my money on the table. She wanted to bring me my change, so she had followed me from the restaurant.

 I tried to explain that it was a tip. She had gone out of her way to help me. Where I was from, you tip service people well who give great service. I tried to make sure she knew that the money was hers and that I truly appreciated her help. She said her name was Eva and that she was happy to meet me.

I received a call on the hotel phone the next day. Eva invited me out for a tour of Brno. I gladly accepted. That still was the best tour of Brno I have had. Evička is a great lady. She is the best friend I could find for a fist full of korun.