The airport is modern, clean and North American in feel. It's simple to buy a bus ticket and hop the 119 to the Dejvinka metro station despite the majority of the signage in Czech. Four stops on the metro and I emerge at the foot of Wencelas Square, the Dunkin' Donuts corner that I so vividly remember. The swarm of people is immediate and the contrast to Croatian beach life is almost overwhelming. The street is a sea of bodies, the building dominated by chains - TGI Fridays, KFC, Zara, H&M, Marks and Sparks. It feels like an alien landing.
Rejoining Emily W and Gianna at our home base for the week, a triple room in a local apartment, we're off. Everywhere I look, the buildings are more intricate and beautiful than I recall. But where is the bewitching Prague of my memory?
It's cooler here. I wind my black wrap across my shoulders as we step onto Charles Bridge, dodging buskers and gawking tourists on our way to dinner. When gastronomes unite, we eat, and we've chosen a river-front restaurant just underneath the castle. The setting is beautiful - quiet, candlelit with panoramic views of the Stare Mesto. In fact, a fireworks display crowns our meal. The dinner is worth it: a surprising Moravian Riesling, spicy duck spring rolls and a rich duck confit with beans and vegetables. Yet our waiter is rude - visibly irritated by communication issues, bringing us wine we said a clear "no" to, ignoring us as much as possible and pocketing the 29 euro change from the bill as tip despite us asking for change. The experience was, no surprise, awkward and its bad taste lingered in our mouths overriding the rich confit. Where was my Prague?
Realizing the passing of years had utterly changed the face of this town, I decided to embrace her anyway and rediscover her on her terms. There would be no "sights" per se, but wandering. After all, I did the tourist thing when it was cheaper and less busy. With the girls off to Terezin, I spent a lazy morning running errands, window-shopping and reading in hidden corners of cafes, a huge latte in hand. I stumbled across an English language bookstore and found a perfect late lunch at Campanullo, a cafe set in the garden behind the John Lennon wall. I met the girls at a local-recommended traditional restaurant for savoury goulash, dense dark bread and Pilsen. After a long, intense day at Terezin, the children's and musicians concentration camp, Gianna and Emily needed a mood-lightening end to the day. 22h30 found us, popcorn in hand, watching Eclipse.
And yes, we returned the next day in the pouring rain for Sex and the City 2. Movies in Italy are all dubbed in Italian, here they rely on subtitles. We figured we could justify getting our fill of chick flicks. A spicy Mexican dinner, a local fresh food cafe with serious creativity around the corner from our apartment we kept returning to, a local bakery with cheap cappuccinos, and a local bar with 1 euro quaffable wine rounded out our Prague experience. Our vantage point to enjoying Prague was a series of cafe tables, with nary a tourist in sight.
Our final day consisted of a day trip to Telc, a Moravian town about an hour from the Austrian border. The main square is Unesco-protected, and we easily spent six hours eating lunch, strolling along the lakes and browsing through the festival and market taking place. The girls went on a row boat around the lake while I napped on a bench in the sun. One final salad at Dynamo Restaurace with a spicy local red, and I was ready to bid Prague "ahoj" with a less-judging heart and tiptoe out the door at 7 the next morning to catch my train to Copenhagen.
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