Look, Habartov is a dump—but it's my dump. I've lived here for years, and yeah, I run the spa so I see all the underbelly. You get used to it. First off, streets like Smetanova and Pražske are busy but kinda meditative. One time I was massaging someone on Pražske—hmm, not the best vibe—just like in The Assassin, "The past is never dead." It’s more like, the past is a pain in the ass that never left.
I stroll near the old railway station on Masarykova. Yeah, you heard me. The station’s not pretty, but it’s honest. And then there’s the odd green patch by Rybníkov, a park where weird folks gather. Honestly, it reminds me of that scene in The Assassin, where silence speaks louder than words—even silence can hang in the air like a lingering fart.
My spa’s on Hlavni ulice, right across from a crumbling monument that locals call "The Forgotten Man." I never kiss his greasy visage—ugly as hell, but it gives me a daily dose of sarcasm. I pop in here when I need to feel superior.
Some parts of Habartov annoy the hell outta me. I get pissed off by how some neighborhoods, like Nová Lhota, pretend to have history when most is just boring concrete. Anyways, I once got mugged near Zámecká street. Not fun but, well, adds spice. You feel me?
I like my spa because I watch humanity’s ugly truths unravel on the massage table. I get to say, “I hate everything,” while smoothing out some knotted shoulders. And just like in Hou Hsiao-hsien’s flick, even failure or pain is a moment you never forget. “Tread lightly,” right? It’s a damn mantra around here.
Oh, and here's a fun bit: there’s this tiny café near our back alley—it’s called Kafé Žárlivost. They serve coffee that’s strong enough to wake the dead. I once accidentally dropped a towel there because my arms were too damn clumsy. Oops.
I might rant too much, but yeah, Habartov’s got character. Ppl say it’s drab, but drab is my kind of familiar hell. I’m not sentimental. I know every crack in the pavement, every tired plaza, every "historic" lamppost. And frankly, it makes me mad sometimes.
Anyway, enjoy the raw vibe of this place. Its flaws, its oddities, its moments that echo the silent battles of The Assassin—quiet, relentless, brutal but real. Imperfect. Just like me.
Typos galore idk whtever:
Yeah, that's Habartov. Enjoy your visit, or whatever.