Dateline: July 11th, 2022

It has now been ten days since my arrival in Prague. I am slowly but surely adjusting to a new country and a new culture.

Thoughts after 10 days: I am simply taken aback by the breathtaking beauty of this place. Although the language barrier is a tad overwhelming, I manage. I continue attempting to practice what little Czech I know whenever possible. This process of trial and error is mostly error, but the people I speak to adore me for trying.

Today I woke up at 8:30 am. At least one of my prayers from yesterday’s service must have been answered, because this was the first time I slept for eight consecutive hours since my jet-lagged arrival in Prague. I awoke energized and yet to start my day.

After a short morning neighborhood walk, I had a quick breakfast of bananas and herbal tea, showered, shaved, and was ready to start my day. I had initially intended to take the 12 train to Mala Strana, upon which I would beat the crowds and climb to the top of Petřin Tower. On the plus side, I hopped on the right tram. On the downside, it was moving in the wrong direction. Oops!

Fortunately, after only three stops, the tram had reached the end of its line. And since the people who run Prague’s public transit system understand that most Americans are generally clueless, there was even an automated announcement in English telling riders that this was the last stop and that we should please get off.

When I finally did arrive in Petřin Park, it was almost noon–far too late to avoid the peak crowds at Petřin Tower. Not one to worry, I set out to hike the grounds of the magnificent park instead. And oh my goodness, Petřin Park is quite beautiful. It is beautiful beyond words. It’s like a combination of Bear Mountain State Park, The New York Botanical Gardens, and something else altogether. Like many breathtakingly beautiful sights in the city of Prague, it must be seen to be believed.

On my way down from the top of Petřin Hill, I stumbled upon a secluded restaurant that was built literally on a ledge midway between the crest of the hill and the city streets near by the Vltava River basin. It was two o’clock now, and I was hungry, so I took in seat in the forest restaurant, ordered the aptly forest salad and a glass of forest gin. As simple is this sounded, this caused great confusion with the waiter.

“Gin?” He asked incredulously. “No, we don’t have gin.”

“It’s on the menu,” I said. “Forest Gin, you have it listed as today’s special.”

“No,” he said. “Is not possible. We don’t have gin, I don’t know what that is.”

Frustrated, I got up from my chair and walked over to the bright, bold-face letters on the sandwich board by the restuarant entrance. I spoke the words as I pointed to them: Forest Gin.

“Oh, gine.” said the waiter. “Yes, we have gine.“

“Sorry for the confusion,” I said. “In English, it’s pronounced “gin.”

“Yes, one “gine.”

“Fine, yes, one gine. I re-took my seat. I could tell that this man was not in any hurry for an English pronunciation lesson, and why would he? How many English-speaking tourists completely skip over this hidden gem of a restaurant deep within the woods of the park? Whatever, I thought to myself. There loss is my gain. I opened my book of Czech fairly tales while I waited for my order to arrive, and enjoyed the calm, peace and quiet of the restaurant almost entirely to myself.

After I finished my meal, I walked back down to street level and visited the nearby Czech Museum of Music. It’s small museum, but packed with some of the finest instruments ever crafted in Czechoslovakia. They also allow visited to play some of the instruments. I even got a chance to tinker around with a Moog synthesizer. Hot Dog!

Then I crossed over Most Legii (Legion Bridge) and admired the lovely views of the Vltava River below. Just south of the bridge lay an island, and on the island, one could rent paddleboats. In every direction, I could see legions of tourists enjoying their paddleboats on this beautiful summer’s day. Even though I had been hiking for hours, I was so excited that part of me wanted to just run down to the island and join a group of tourists. I wanted to say, “hey, need a paddle partner? Pick me!

But I waited. I knew the time would come soon enough when I could share a padlleboat ride with someone special. Good things come to those who wait . . .

Instead of making myself a spectacle, I headed back to the Joyce. Oddly enough, I did end up introducing myself to some tourists. I had just finished my meal and was about to leave when I overhead a man say that he lived in Soviet-occupied Romania. “I didn’t watch a Stars Wars movie until I was six years old,” he said. “The Russians wouldn’t let us watch any of them until 1987. And even then, the only one they let us see in the theaters was “The Empire Strikes Back.”

“Pardon me,” I said. But I just had to ask: What was your reaction when you found out that Darth Vader was Luke Skywalker’s father?

The Romanian looked at me and smiled. He paused for a moment, as if to emphasize that the answer to him was obvious. Then he spoke: “Dreams can come true. I hadn’t even seen the first movie, so much of that was lost on me. But everything else, just to see it, just to see what was on the other side. It was simply amazing.”

We spoke some more about classic films with one of the waitstaff whose shift had just ended. She asked me was from, and when I told her Wethersfield, her eyes dilated to the size of saucer plates. “Get outta here,” she said in amazement. “I’m from Manchester.”

It’s a small, small world . . .

All of spoke about various films, we laughed. We agreed that violence is the last refuge of an incompetent scoundrel, and as the sun set, we parted ways.

Tomorrow is a new day . . .