The weather outside's been making it pretty damn hard to long for other places. It is finally spring, the sun is abundant, I've been having my breakfast on the balcony for the last couple days, and am just about to leave for a long walk through my favorite streets. So it'd be hard to say I wish I were someplace else, since I'm absolutely loving this moment of the year, I always do, the first days of spring. And yet. I find myself longing for Prague, and perhaps not just the city itself, find myself missing the equally charming quiet walks there, the nooks, the architecture.
So in order to alleviate that longing, I thought I'd tell you about this coffee place I found there just the other week. I was planning to go to another coffee place I like and that I've told you about here called Pražírna Kavárna. Yet, as I was Googling my way there, I accidentally clicked on a different name - Pražírna Českáva - easy mistake to make, I know. And I figured, since it was in the area I wanted to walk anyway, why not discover something new?
It was the first morning I was in Prague, and I kept being astounded at the temperature difference. I'd left Bucharest shivering, and here I was walking in my light jacket and a dress. How cheeky. Enjoying the sun, reminding myself I'm not a vampire. Exploring this superb part of Prague,taking a few turns, surprising myself. Being watched. There's a working man on the corner eyeing me, and I feel awkward when I realize I've taken the wrong street and need now go back. Be observed in my non-local qualities, my not knowing the city as well as I might like. Still, coffee calls, so I go back.
From across the street, Pražírna Českáva is unassuming, almost hidden. A secret I've stumbled on? I cross the road cheeky, digging my book out. Descend into the little hidey-hole that is this furtive little roastery.
Am surprised at the small space, at the me and two other people both working there vibe. Feel suddenly on the spot. I say hello, because hell would be misunderstood here. I tip my hat, inquire about indoor seating. I reckon there'd be one or two bar stools by the window, but am told no, so I must make do. Consider going to some other favorite nearby, but then, there's the awkwardness of telling these strangers goodbye.
I ask instead for an Americano, which I wouldn't normally, but am assured it's a good Guatemalan blend I can afford to trust. Consider the varied accesories they sell knowledgeable and demure while my coffee's being prepared. That way, I don't have to feel like a klutz taking pictures of this tiny room with three people packed too closely together.
Consider chocolate, but remember there's an excellent one already at home so I must not be greedy. It's an excellent day for not being greedy. I even bypass the urge for a chocolate babovka that comes later on. I'm a top girl when I'm not wearing on my sleeve my mousey heart.
I smell my coffee. I pay. I say thank you and goodbye, grateful to feel again the sun on my skin. The subtlety of bourbon nestled on my tongue. This coffee's got all the good things I like - dark chocolate and almonds, apples and pecans. It's easy to like in that it's aromatic and fruity, but only a very small amount. The rest of it is demure and dark, a proper roast, a good time coffee that I cart with me through the winding streets of Prague.
Longing for a place to sit, except walking's too much fun. Explore the streets. Note the teenagers in the park - a date in the offing, playful banter, burgeoning lives. There is so much beauty to linger on when I've been banned from sitting down, and I'm forced to cradle my exposed coffee several times to take my pictures, so I can then remember my life.
I explore the city, lingering in doorways, crossing streets carelessly, enjoying the middayness, the sun, the ease of being alive at noon and having nowhere presumptious to walk. I look at this face, the Art Deco panels, can sense without looking the cool of the corridor there, the feeling of stepping into a new life.
Arrive at the St Ludmilla Basilica just in time to hear the bells ring, and think of all the things I would've missed had I sat inside. Make my way to the front. Catch the priest standing outside in full garb, and think to myself it's a day so wonderful even priests are out here catching the sun. Notice the casket being loaded into the back of some mortuary van. Feel rise in myself the eternal dance, this death weaving through life.
But to us in the square, it's just an ordinary death. Here's a gaggle of tourists going hurriedly past, bustle of making the most of it while you're still alive. Here's a screeching child. Here's a parrot squawk.
Here's me, in the sun, reading my book. Sipping my coffee. Here's life.
