Turista, or Turistický: Part II

Reflections in brief; Reflections in the Vltava.

So, a man alone, walking along the street, is apparently not considered a Turista by most passersby. I have been asked directions multiple times, in multiple languages, by multiple types of people: large and small groups of senior citizens (they love me), young couples, families, etc. They all have one thing in common.

They clutch maps, and look desperately around for something they recognize.

They look too fast to really see anything, though. The panic of not knowing where one is in a foreign city. And then they see me, and they lunge. They say Excuse me and Where is... or Where are we... or Can you help us in a host of languages.

A man alone is no Turistický. But I am. And here's a photo of the Vltava River from one of many bridges.

And here is one of a dead end alley in Mala Strana at night. Yes, a Turistický would not know this was a dead end until at the end.

Yes... I am a Turistický indeed. And in this city, I find no shame in it.