USA 2025
Day 1 – June 28, 2025
This time, something unexpected is happening. Everything is going smoothly. The departure from Prague is flawless; check-in, the flight, and the layover at Heathrow are surprisingly smooth.
On the plane, Baru sits next to a small Indian girl, falls asleep on her shoulder, and then sprawls across me, then her, throughout the flight. The girl doesn’t mind and continuously munches on raisins. Then Baru manages to spill cigarettes under her feet, so she crawls on the floor to pick them up. The lady remains static, opening another box of raisins.
Upon landing in New York, another shock awaits. No queues, no waiting, immigration without fingerprints, and luggage retrieval and exit are probably the fastest in our travel history. We take the subway and forty minutes later, we alight just a few meters from the hotel. We are staying in Lower Manhattan, where the surroundings are full of European-style hipster cafes, everything is clean, and there are minimal homeless people and drug addicts. I love New York and I’m rooting for it to stay just the way it is.
We immediately head to One World Trade Center, which is close to our hotel. I pull out my camera and go into a trance. Meanwhile, Baru is dealing with a more fundamental problem – where to buy comfortable underwear “for our grandmas.” An annual task. All around us are advertisements for the new iPhone. We talk about it almost daily, even though we both know there's no room for it in the budget. In the evening, we walk through Wall Street, and I take more photos. Although I've photographed it many times before, it's never the same.
The hotel room is tiny, but the staff reassures us that we actually got a larger one, as a gift. We don't want to see the smaller one. Our window view is of red tiles and pipes from a skylight. They are so close that you could almost reach out and touch them. Noise and heat emanate from them. We'll manage for three nights. Breakfast doesn't overly impress us in the morning – the staff dictates precisely where we can sit and where we absolutely cannot. They seat us at the bar in the back, where it’s so air-conditioned that our bottoms freeze to the metal chairs. Quite an odd approach for the luxurious Frederick Hotel. The second breakfast, we don't give in and sit in the leather armchairs in the main hall. They look at us strangely, but we don't care. We have a long breakfast.
Day 2 – June 29, 2025
At half past five in the morning, I head alone to Washington Square Park, while Baru, of course, is still asleep. It's a bit of a walk, but Manhattan early in the morning is at its most beautiful. Upon my return, I report a terrible mess, drug addicts, and homeless people. The park was utterly littered, no one dared to walk through it, everyone was walking around it. I return quite disheartened.
Together we continue to Battery Park, a large part of which is currently under renovation. After successfully escaping all the touts who promise even the impossible, we buy ferry tickets at the main ticket office and finally set off for the Statue of Liberty. The whole day is unbearably hot, the only cooling comes on board the ship. We have exactly one minute for everything – the ferry arrives, we board, we depart. It's the same on the way to Ellis Island, where we visit the museum of immigrants. Over twelve million people passed through here before it closed in 1954. Easily five thousand a day in the worst years – and now we sail from there to the mainland with minute precision.
A cup of sliced fruit for five dollars is our dinner. We're falling asleep from exhaustion.
Day 3 – June 30, 2025
We head to Chinatown and Little Italy. We’re looking for restrooms. A man with a broom at McDonald's lets us in even without a code. In a small Chinese shop, Baru buys a cigarette case, where she carefully stores her scattered cigarettes right on the street – until now, she’d had them in a zip-lock bag. Right next door is a jewelry shop. Baru unclasps her necklace, and the locket gets stuck between the shelf so it can’t be removed. The saleswoman pretends it’s fine. After all, as compensation for the mishap, she buys a thin chain that turns black on her neck by evening.
I try matcha. I almost faint. Baru has had about six coffees, so she finishes my drink without a problem. All day people ask about Baru's tattoo. She has me stylized on her arm, but people ask her if it's her. Who would tattoo themselves?
In the afternoon, we head to Times Square. I want to find a cafe I visited with Noemi years ago at all costs, but I can't find it. Baru, by sheer chance, takes a different street and, of course, finds it. Then there's the Hotel Chelsea, which we visit every time we're in New York. It's a tradition for us.
At our hotel, we encounter our first technical glitch – we lock all our valuables and passports in the safe, and the safe won't open. We report it to reception. No one comes to deal with it. The next day, we have to go to the airport for the car. After an hour of waiting for a technician, an employee finally appears, genuinely surprised why we actually need to open the safe. Top-tier incompetents.
We have enough time at the airport, so I suggest we eat at a terminal that has an excellent food court. But I can't remember which one it is. Even the airport staff gives us wrong advice, so we ride the AirTrain between all terminals for over an hour – the correct one is "as far as" terminal one. We're starving. We get a triple combo with orange chicken, brown rice, and broccoli. Also a tradition.
Then finally comes the rental agency. An unpleasant employee, a sassy girl in fluffy slippers who jumps ahead of us – Baru loses her patience and tells the girl to move. She eventually befriends the employee, who likes her tattoos and again asks if Baru has tattooed herself. We get the car preferentially, even though it has several damages – the lady during the handover is completely calm, we prefer to meticulously photograph everything.
We head towards Philadelphia. A terrible downpour begins, so heavy that you really can't see a meter ahead. The wipers can't keep up. There's a serious accident on the highway, police, firefighters, a helicopter, the journey is extended by almost an hour. Baru reminds me that she would like a coffee. I'm happy when I finally park at the hotel.
Day 4 – July 1, 2025
We arrive in Philadelphia around nine in the evening. Shower, bed, end of story.
We start the morning with laundry. Baru ceremoniously takes out the Tide. She puts two pods into one washing machine. The dryer isn't working, so we hang the clothes around the room and ask the hotel laundry staff if we could finish drying our things there – the laundry room is full of Indians who look at us very sternly. In the end, everything turns out well, and they even bring our laundry to the room. We have to fold it ourselves. The only working elevator stops functioning in the meantime, but luckily, we discover a second one, just for staff.
We set out for Market Street, stopping at Marshall's, where a massive black woman approaches us and starts showing off her thighs, explaining something about clothes – to this day, we're not exactly sure what. Those thighs were intimidating. We buy underwear for the grandmas. When we step outside, another cloudburst begins. I stubbornly refuse to buy an umbrella, I hate umbrellas, so we get completely soaked. Our raincoats are in the car. Tradition.
We run into the historic market, Baru buys a tank top with a chicken on it. Then the Liberty Bell – that famous crack has never been properly explained; historians are still arguing whether it cracked during the test in 1752, or almost a hundred years later. Nobody knows for sure.
In the evening, we continue through Delaware to Baltimore. The hotel is beautiful, a historic building full of paintings, old furniture, and photographs of famous guests. We have free parking, and although breakfast isn't included for us, the lady kindly prepares fresh eggs anyway. In our defense, we wanted to buy breakfast at some cafeteria, but the line was huge and we had little time. So we take advantage of the offer in the basement for war veterans. We head into a city full of black bars, where people dance right in the street and music plays, we photograph everything around. After several challenging days, we finally feel truly rested.
Day 5 – July 2, 2025
In the afternoon, we head to Washington D.C. Barriers are everywhere due to July 4th celebrations and security measures around President Trump. Baru is convinced that the Capitol, Lincoln Memorial, Washington Monument, and the White House are all next to each other (it looked that way on the map) – after walking several kilometers, she realizes the opposite. I, on the other hand, mistake every large building for the Lincoln Memorial, even though I've been here twice before, so we walk several more kilometers. The White House is barely visible due to the barricades.
Baru dances on the lawn where one shouldn't walk, climbs over barriers, and for a moment remains hanging on them. I have to help her down with the assistance of passersby. I'm convinced that a police officer at the barricades invites me inside; I wave to Baru to hurry up, that we'll get closer after all. It's true that I looked good that day. She's already pulling away one part of the barrier. I smile at him, slightly coquettishly. Just then, a police officer who was behind me overtakes me. Oh well.
We have to take a taxi back; our legs are giving out, and it's terribly hot. The taxi driver overcharges us by about ten dollars, Baru doesn't even notice because she's busy telling him how experienced a traveler in America she is and a connoisseur of jazz. Nevertheless, she gives him another five-dollar tip. He's nice.
The next day, back in the car, we set off for Richmond. On the way, we stop at Publix for sushi and fruit; we feast.
Day 6–7 – July 3–4, 2025, Richmond
Breakfast is worthless, the coffee disgusting. Fortunately, we find a better cafe for lunch. We walk along the Canal Walk, past the old railway, bridges, and historical monuments. Then we see the cathedral, the Capitol, Monument Avenue. I'm convinced the movie Carol was filmed here. I even go into a hotel with the same name as the one in the movie. I ask the receptionist in my imperfect English, enthusiastically. He knows nothing about it. Unfortunately, it's a different Richmond.
In the afternoon, we return to the hotel and swim in the pool, which we have all to ourselves – Baru, meanwhile, rescues a frog. While I'm swimming, a couple takes a selfie by the hotel window, and I accidentally get into it.
The next day we return to Canal Walk and realize that we only saw about a tenth of the entire canal the previous day.
Before leaving, Baru goes for coffee and I go to take more photos. Then we set off for Norfolk.
Day 8 – July 5–6, 2025, Norfolk
On the way, the mirror cover falls off; I jump out at a red light right into the middle of the road to save it. I throw it in the back.
We go to see the battleship USS Wisconsin, 270 meters long, one of the largest the US Navy has ever built. We manage to park for free right by the harbor, and we also discover a large market there. We spend an hour there before they let us onto the ship. We are among the first to get on, we film videos, and after fifteen minutes, we get lost from each other below deck in an endless maze of corridors. After two hours, I give up, go to the car, and text Baru that I'm hungry. Baru doesn't reply at all. I imagine a hundred volunteers looking for her there; that ship must have a thousand decks below and it's damn huge. Baru finally makes her way out, but has a bigger problem finding the car. She's out of Wi-Fi. I don't understand – we're parked right opposite the market entrance on the main street, about a hundred meters from the ship. Finally, she finds the car. I'm nowhere. I went to pee at the market. From a distance, I see her annoyed expression. We argue.
We walk through a clean, small town with almost no people, and find a cafe in the harbor, where we return the next day. We take the slowest elevator in the world to our room. Then I deal with a sharp piece of metal near the lock in the room. The shower doesn't run, and the Wi-Fi connects endlessly. The Wi-Fi practically doesn't work there. I have an American eSIM, Baru is dependent on Wi-Fi. She gets upset.
We go to the beach, where a warm Puerto Rican man with two drunk American friends invites us for a beer. We reply that we're driving, of course. They just shrug: "So are we. It'll somehow wear off throughout the day." They're great and discuss Baru's tattoo, as everyone everywhere always does.
Day 9 – July 7, 2025, journey to Jacksonville
On the way, we come across a small church dedicated to the Infant Jesus of Prague, low-lying and full of beautiful stained glass. We strike up a conversation with the churchwarden, and when she learns we live in Prague just a few meters from the original, she's absolutely thrilled. She tells us how the statue made its way to Bohemia – a gift from a Spanish noblewoman, then inherited by her granddaughter Polyxena of Lobkowicz, who donated it to the Carmelites in 1628. During the Thirty Years' War, someone broke off its hands, and the monk who later found it reportedly heard a voice say, "Give me hands, and I will give you peace." To this day, over two million people visit it annually, and a replica hangs here, in this small rectory in the middle of the American prairie. Before leaving, the churchwarden introduces us to the priest; a massive cross hangs around his neck. I wonder how his cervical spine isn't hurting. We put two dollars in the collection box – the priest looks at us strangely; this time, the tattoo has the opposite effect. He quickly puts the money basket away. Our hair was a bit greasy, but we didn't look that terrible.
Along the coast, we stop at Wendy's and Dunkin', everywhere clean and luxurious.
Our next pee stop is in a village where the man at the gas station takes a liking to me and lends me a key with a gemstone for the restroom, even though I don't buy anything. There are roaches everywhere, and everyone looks at us incredulously, wondering what we're doing there. Baru clips her nails in the car. We stop at Wendy's, where the food is so good she wants to stay there forever.
On the way, we encounter an abandoned plot of land with old houses, full of old American signs and shops. We go back to photograph it; it's spooky, no one anywhere. Then we hear a radio and a saw from one of the houses. We peek in and see old saws in sockets. We quickly run away. A little further on, we stumble upon a house full of junk, and even though the lady wants a maximum of two dollars for things, I give her ten. I immediately hang the cross around my neck. It will protect us.
Day 10 – July 8, 2025, Charleston
In the evening, we arrive at the hotel we switched to at the last minute – beautiful, full of bushes, frogs, and ponds. We stroll romantically through Charleston, discovering the site of a former slave auction – this port was once the main crossroads of all internal slave trade in America. Then the pier, fishermen, music, and ice cream.
Nearby is a giant memorial to fallen Vietnam veterans. Homeless people are bathing in a designer fountain.
We're staying in a clean but damp two-star hotel where almost nothing works. Baru buys eye drops at Walmart.
We are alone at breakfast, I am happy. I eat a lot. Baru is not satisfied, she wanted bacon.
In the room, the fridge sounds like a tractor starting, the sink is clogged. In the morning, Baru wakes up covered in mosquito bites. The reception staff acknowledges everything, yet nothing happens. We have to unplug the fridge in the evening. We go to reception again. The next day, we have a new one in the room.
Day 11 – July 9, 2025, Charleston
We live close to the Arthur Ravenel Bridge, enormous and imposing. It takes us to the historic part every time.
In the morning, the coffee is nasty, the jazz club is under renovation. At the market, a lady with cream samples grabs me, almost dragging me inside; we run off with a promise that I will definitely come back. She says I'll instantly look five years younger. Tempting, but I won't go back there anyway.
We visit the oldest building in the city, a former pirate prison where Blackbeard himself once awaited execution. A boring guide, probably tired from the day, puts Baru to sleep in a dark corner as he tells us ghost stories.
At the hotel, our room is right next to the washing machine and a vending machine, where we end up having three-dollar sausages for dinner. Baru watches who comes to do their laundry there.
Day 12 – July 10, 2025, back in Charleston
We visit St. Michael's Church and the Slave Museum.
We head to Palm Beach Island, find parking and a beautiful, almost empty beach with free sun loungers. We see a wild rabbit. We stay there for two hours. I can't stay in one place for long.
At the Fort Moultrie monument, we are caught by rain and clouds of mosquitoes, which once again feast on Baru.
We continue to Sullivan's Island, an expensive, touristy place – two scoops of ice cream cost us five hundred crowns, the vendor studied Czech.
Day 13 – July 11, 2025
Another advertisement for the new iPhone. Right next to it is a classy Apple store. Now we have even less money for it. Our budget in Charleston is depleted. We tell ourselves we only live once, and money will come and go, but we won't. Baru trades in her old phone and also buys new headphones with the new phone. I don't know my Apple ID password, so I can't get rid of my old phone – thus I leave with two phones.
Our car gets a boot while we are in the Apple Store. Fortunately, a young guy from the parking lot eventually removes it and even apologizes. We couldn't pay for parking.
We head to Folly Island. A long, romantic road between bushes and a concrete path, cracked and covered in graffiti. Dolphins play in the water, and Baru suddenly shouts, "Look, a shark!" With the lighthouse on the horizon, it's the most romantic place I've seen on this trip.
The water is calm and without people. Baru regrets not bringing her swimsuit – until I show her the sign: dangerous undercurrents, swimming strictly prohibited.
Day 14–15 – July 12–13, 2025
A nice cafe, a walk through the center, oysters and salmon for lunch, an afternoon swim at our beach where we meet two border collies. They play with us.
The camera and two phones together are worth almost as much as a used car, yet we just toss them under the umbrella. I keep an eye on them from the water. Then a gust of wind comes and the umbrella takes flight like a hang glider. Baru rushes across the entire beach, I scream after her: "Go, Baru!" A lady about a hundred meters away finally catches it. I'm worried about Baru as she pulls it back, so it doesn't fly away. I couldn't run because of my minimalist swimsuit.
Day 16 – July 14, 2025, journey to Charlotte
In the morning, we stop at our favorite cafe one last time. Baru shows off there as always and everywhere. She buys me socks and then spills her entire coffee on the car seat; she gets a new one. Meanwhile, I dry the seat with napkins, toilet paper that had been with us since day one, just in case. The old consecrated bulletin from the Infant Jesus serves Baru as protection for her shorts; I lay it out on the seat for her. That day, we are returning the car.
The whole way I urge her to take photos from the window. We pass amazing bridges and places. She screams at me that she's holding the navigation. She wants to go to Wendy's. We pass it twice. In Columbus, they have a more modern version. She doesn't scream anymore. The arrival in Charlotte is nice, although the hotel is a labyrinth, the hallways are strangely intertwined. The entrance to the parking lot is very confusing. The promised free popcorn is no longer at the reception – they eat it in the time it takes us to find our room.
Day 17 – July 15, 2025, Charlotte
We go downtown – a nice city, graffiti on the streets. Baru needs to pee. Starbucks doesn't have a restroom, but it's connected to a luxury hotel. We feel embarrassed. Shorts, t-shirts, sweaty faces. The reception is gold-plated, the receptionists are former models. The restroom is the size of a bedroom, with what look like expensive original paintings on the walls. Baru borrows a hand towel from there. It's for single use.
Today is our last day. Baru is depressed. She doesn't want to go home yet.
Before the flight, we need to shower somewhere. I come up with a plan: we'll sneak into the pool at the residential apartments, where no one will notice two respectable "girls." The first attempt fails due to a thunderstorm and a locked gate. On the second attempt, the building is open, we park beautifully, put on our swimsuits in the car, but the pool requires a card. A shower is nearby. We hold onto the grate like beggars. Then we walk around like hungry dogs until a guy coming from the gym lets us in. Shower, pool, perfection. We change back in the car, the gate is closed, fortunately someone is just leaving and lets us out. I leave my glasses there. New, sunglasses. I put them on the roof of the car. I regret it.
We return the car at the airport, miss the exit by a bit, lose another ten minutes. I still snap the plastic back onto the mirror.
We won't be on the plane together; the ticket machine split us up. At security, Baru loses her Tide. That unhappy expression is unforgettable. She had saved a few tablets. She was looking forward to doing laundry with them at home. In her head, she was already sorting the clothes we were wearing. Our other clothes were clean in our suitcases. We always wash everything there. She tried to persuade the woman, but she unceremoniously threw the tablets in the bin. She has to stand in line again, so I'll browse the candy store for now. I'll buy some chocolate. We return to the gate – the flight is canceled. I'll book a hotel before most people find out. I'll go through the exit. I'm taking a risk. Baru prefers to wait. Instead of a two-hour queue, I'll handle everything directly at the check-in counter. I'll text her. She'll come out to meet me. We are among the first to leave the airport at all.
Day 18 – 16. 7. 2025
The hotel is clean and nice. In the morning, finally a proper breakfast with bacon. Pool, our card doesn't work, and the receptionist is busy. Baru approaches some gentlemen in the lobby to ask if they'd let us in with their card – it works, and we have the pool all to ourselves.
In the evening, our last American dinner awaits, the kind waiter gets our last five dollars.
Day 19–20 – 17.–18. 7. 2025, trip home
We fly from Charlotte to Boston, we’re not sitting together – next to me is a man who smells quite bad, next to Baru is a lady who eats the whole way. I love Boston Airport. The plane has two entrances there, one upstairs to first class, the other downstairs to economy. Whoever is directing traffic sends us straight down without hesitation. Doesn't even look at the tickets.
On the long flight, we are sitting together. Next to Baru is a very kind young man who has to get up every few minutes because Baru needs to go to the toilet every hour, and not once is he unpleasant with her. I get a window seat. I burrow myself in there.
In London, we have less than half an hour for our connection, we sprint across the entire airport. Some slimy guy with a gold chain around his neck latches onto Baru, who doesn't understand anything, wriggles, shows him photos on her phone, and eventually has to hide from him in the toilet. Some Czech man sits in our seat on the plane and claims he made a mistake. He tries it, the plane isn't full. He tells us how he paid for everything himself, hotel and taxi, so he wouldn't have to wait for them to pay him back everything, including hefty compensation for the canceled flight. I tell him he unfortunately won't get anything. He doesn't believe me. After a while, he looks it up himself, finds out I was right. He stops talking to us.
Noemi can't pick us up at the airport because she's dealing with an air conditioning repair at home. But she said she bought us koláče. We call Bolt. After twenty days, thousands of kilometers, and countless stories, we happily bite into Czech koláče at home.