Prague: It's Complicated - Part 1

When people ask which city we've enjoyed most on our adventure so far, I find myself automatically answering "Prague." So when I sat down to write this post, I was surprised to find myself unable to pinpoint exactly why I liked it. I didn't exactly love the food. The people weren't extraordinarily friendly. I really couldn't picture myself living there.

There were obvious factors to consider -- beer priced cheaper than water, a great exchange rate to the American dollar, gorgeous architecture, and unexpectedly* excellent coffee -- but none of these attributes quite captured the intrigue of the city for me.

I think I love Prague because it's a bit refusing of my love. It's the hard-to-get, unknowable bad boy of Europe's cities; the Edward Cullen, if you will (though I much prefer John Bender, so long as we're drawing ridiculous bad-boy references here...) I think if Prague and I were in a relationship, the Facebook status would be set to "It's complicated."

Let's start with where we stayed. Jay and I, coming off great success with our inside tour d'Utrecht (thanks, Eveline!) and wanting to continue our efforts to meet locals-not-tourists, figured staying in an AirBNB would be a great alternative to a hostel for this leg of our journey. We were, after all, going to stay here for nearly a week, and we'd have more than enough time to get to know our Czech hosts. We'd grab a drink, become instant friends, and maybe they'd even show us Prague's local hot spots!

This wishful thinking was 100% not accurate.

When we arrived at the flat, we were shown to our room by the female half of the host-couple with measured politeness, but without much invitation for further conversation (a custom which proved fairly standard in most of the Czechs we met, at least when they were dealing with English-speakers.) We had maybe two short conversations after this one in passing through the apartment, but without much of a common space in which to linger, further getting-to-know-you efforts were, well, complicated. Needless to say we didn't grab that drink. Our stay was pleasant, but I probably won't be able to recall these people's names or faces in two years.

So Jay and I set off to explore the city on our own. And, to run with this romance analogy, Prague began to seduce us both.

First there was the main square, where a giant bald man wearing curl-toed Persian boots, and a long leather skirt (I'm really not making this up) played a bagpipe that was almost as tall as he was.

Then we stopped into Cafe Ebel for a caffeine-fix and were served by two of the cutest lady baristas I've ever seen. (No, seriously -- I almost asked Jay to flirt with them on my behalf.) Lo and behold, they made me the most excellent latte I've ever had. And of course it was served in a bowl, because Prague.

We had lunch at a guidebook-recommended restaurant called Lokal, where we ordered a sausage plate and a side of bread dumplings and a schnitzel and potato salad and a beer and another beer and alright-maybe-just-one-more beer and it all cost something like $16 because PRAGUE.

We did see the old Jewish cemetery and accompanying synagogues, and they were fantastic. But what really caught my fancy was losing ourselves in the most spectacular of Catholic cemeteries which, save for all the corpses, would've made a top-notch picnic location. Prague complicated things even more for me when I realized you could peek inside the base of some time-shifted tombstones and look straight down at a 200+-year-old-coffin. I MEAN, WHAT THE ACTUAL #&%*, PRAGUE?? Stop it. Don't stop. I love you.

We were well into our love affair with this shady mistress when we stopped in for breakfast at the Cafe Savoy (as recommended by our friends who'd visited during the Christmas season.) Like the steadfast health-nut I am, I went for the first dish I could find that included both hot chocolate and coffee cake. Jay was, erm, less decisive. He was anxiously weighing the option of the full English breakfast (which I cheekily reminded him he'd had in England) against the French one, which included coffee. When the waitress came by, he still hadn't made up his mind. He presented his options to her, but whatever recommendation he was hoping might come of it failed to present itself. I shrugged at Jay across the table, having already contributed my wisdom.

"Okay.... Ummmm... it'll have to be... theeeee... English one, then."

"English." the waitress confirmed.

"Thank you."

A few seconds later Jay's head was in his hands.

"You're wishing you ordered the French one, aren't you?" I asked, examining a chandelier overhead.

He just groaned from between his fingers.

The waitress came back. Jay politely asked if he could switch to the French. She said she'd see what she could do.

Five minutes later, wincing at me:

"But the coffee, though -- !" He spun back around for the waiter.

In the end, he wound up with the French breakfast's beverage and the English breakfast's food and a terrifically confused and/or frustrated waitress. Maybe Prague's only complicated when you're visiting it with Jay Myers.

Straight after brunch, we we took to the blossom-bedecked hills of the Royal Gardens to pass our first sunshiny spring day. The surrounding cherry trees had erupted in white flowers and the city could be seen for miles. It felt like being inside a postcard.

Onward we climbed, and after seeing the top of the hill we headed down the western side, where we were greeted with another fabulous view of the city center. A bit further along, we came across a beer garden, perched high atop the hill, with an even more impressive city scape. We'd only just finished our king's-worthy brunches, but there was no question we were going to drink here. I had a soda for the first time in ages. Why? Because Prague; it's complicated.

To be continued...

*Fun fact: I CANNOT write this word without hearing it echo through my head in the maternally amused warble of Angela Lansbury's Mrs. Potts. Any Beauty and the Beast fans know what I'm talking about? That'll teach us not to overuse adverbs...