Feeling Pragroovy

I can officially put the wacky fun attitude back into my writing. Whee! Thanks to recommendations from Sally Kaplan and Jess Feiwus, I found myself heading to Café Lucerna for some creative beverage drinking. I took two trams on my way to Wencelas Square, which isn’t far away at all, but I have a terrible blister between my big and second toe and couldn’t bear to walk on it extra. 

On my second tram, I was surrounded by the Breakfast Club of 2013, a collective of college students speaking about fratty and sarcastic things in American accents. I asked them if they were studying abroad, and was hit with a frantic wave of tragic jealousy. As they got off, I wished them a great semester and told them it will blow their mind. They have no idea what’s coming. Then, I realized I’m kind of mini-studying abroad, and in this year, I will have spent 3.5 months abroad anyway.

When I got off the tram at Vasclavke Namesti, I saw no Café Lucerna in sight, just a cavernous creepy indoor mall hallway labeled Palac Lucerna. After following it a short way, I ended up in a grand hall of marble and cupid moldings and stained glass, oh my! At the epicenter of this domed mythical consumerist mecca, an enormous statue of an upside-down horse with a man riding it straddling it’s tummy is suspended by ropes. It’s quite odd, but likely famous. Though all the shops are closed, many tourists waltz in to snap a quick picture, and two security guards mull about the place, looking utterly bored.

I ascended a marble staircase to Kavaza Lucerna, the palace’s coffee house. Wham, I’m in the 1940s. Pleather chairs, people smoking, and funky mini chandeliers littering the dimly-lit bar.

The cutest waiter in all of Prague, with shaggy wavy hair and thick black rimmed glasses locked eyes with me when I came in. I had this fleeting thought that we would run away off to the Black Sea and frolic in the waves. It’s a rainy day here, so it seemed like a great idea. I half-apologized when ordering 

from him in English, but my Czech is still non-existent.

I grabbed a table with a good view of a painting, the bar and the giant hanging horse. I ordered an Italian hot chocolate with homemade whipped cream.  I checked in to my flight to Israel for tonight. I chose pictures to make a photoblog for each city, and then I wrote this blog.

Every time he walks by, I think I fall more in love with his doofy smile and lilting accent. He looks genuinely happy to work alone in a largely-deserted ancient coffee shop that attracts mostly tourists. 

Maybe I’d be happy just staying here, staring at that big dead horse too. Maybe it’d be better without the horse.

I feel like I got my groove back ‘cause this place is the ultimate groovy. 

Updates from cafe #2, called Bakeshop: A young man sits across from me with a soup and a chicken skewer. He asks me if I know where to buy crystal souvenirs. I say no. He asks me where I'm from. I ask him where he is from. He says Iran, but studying in Australia, and went to a conference in Krakow. He asks me what I know about Iran, and I say I once I watched a video about public transportation there. I am reminded of my friend Adineh who is also from Iran, but now living in Chile.  He asks  if I know anyone who was affected by September 11. I tell him I do know people who were killed, and that my whole community, and whole country was and is deeply affected. Then he asks me if I am comfortable with Australian accents. I tell him I like them. He informs me that he has a hard time with them, and that there is little nightlife in suburban Australia. I am no longer interested in conversing. He keeps going.

I do not tell him I am going to Israel tonight. The world is a complicated place.