It is late in the evening, pitch-dark outside. I am lying flat on my back in the basement of a 700-year-old monastery. And I am completely covered in beer. Practically drowning in it. The warm, dark brew soaks me from chin to toe, its syrupy-sweet smell filling my nostrils. It is an unusual feeling, to be sure. But somehow, coming to the Czech Republic, I sort of expected I would end up in a position like this.

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