07
Jul
2009
All Writers Do Their Best Work at Cafes
Once again Althea and I are sitting at a table outside of our neighborhood bar. It’s ten o’clock and tonight it sounds like they have a DJ inside. We should be doing homework, but we’re waiting for a trashy TV show to finish downloading from TVLand. It’s a documentary. Twelve catty women are competing for a modeling contract. The hook? They’re all over 35. This show is enriching our minds. I’m certain Ernest Hemingway and F. Scott would have watched it.
We love Prague, but so far the locals seem to be having trouble discerning us from the teeming masses swarming the streets. I keep introducing myself to the people who work in our neighborhood bar, pizza joint, and coffee shop–but so far my friendliness is being disdained. Could it be my lack of even one Czech word? Surely not.
We walk everywhere, unless we take the tram or the subway. All the shop windows are crammed with stuff and my favorites are the marionettes. There’s a million of them. Remember the sheep from The Sound of Music? Well, they’re here. Also Pinnochio. And Johnny Depp as Captain Jack Sparrow.
Well, Althea says it’s time to go in and do our homework. In to our flat, that is, not the bar. In the bar, the locals have begun to sing along with the DJ. Althea’s right, time to go.
Check back later for more Czech lore.
[top]