A Brief Story That Is Not About Paris

Written in a cafe in the 9th Arrondisement of Paris near Sacre Coeur. They sold their last chocolate croissants right before my eyes, so I'm trying to keep a brave face. 

Here is a brief story that is not about Paris. 

I missed my British Airways connection to Paris by seconds. Seconds! Just one more sprint down a corridor might have landed me on the plane, but as it sat there just a few feet away, I knew it was a lost cause. I cursed my bad luck, but threw on a smile and marched over to the British Airways help desk in hopes of a meal voucher, which, after some discussion, appeared. Still, mere seconds, just a few quicker steps, if that man hadn't unloaded the entire contents of his bag to reach his liquids at security, if only I'd split the massive horde of tourists in two, I would've been on that plane and not stuck at the airport for another four hours.

I thought that surely my love for Paris would sway the odds in my favor or stay the pilot's hand: maybe a door would jam, or there would be an insignificant problem that would slow the plane's roll just enough to let the plucky Yank on board. Like, they'd forgotten to top off the tanks or misplaced their store of Earl Grey tea. Alas, it wasn't to be. 

But this is not about Paris. I swear. 

I have a hunch. Now that I think about it, Paris probably knew what I tell you now.

I fell in love with Prague. 

View from the Panorama Cafe, a peaceful rooftop patio. The first drink is free if you're staying at any Czech Inn hotel.I never set foot in a bus, tram, or train once I arrived. Prague is completely walkable, and I walked it: Old Town, with its bars and cafes; New Town, home of Prague Castle, up to the park beside the castle; down to the lovely riverfront. Oh! I didn't walk on water. I boarded a tour boat and had a drink with two English travelers, and as we made our way down the Vltava River, admiring the unparalleled variety of architectures present - Medieval, Cubist, Brutalist - Sue shared with me her experience here when Prague was under Communist rule.

Breakfast at the Cafe Louvre: Kafka and Einstein regularly met at "circles" here to talk about literature and physics, respectively. I made a Mimosa. :)
The National Opera (Narodni Divaldo): the best seats are only $35 US. I saw a ballet entitled "Tremble."I walked through Wencelas Square, full of shops and streets vendors where a generation ago people endured beatings for shouting the word "Freedom!" Communism now dead, liberty abounds in this riverside city. 


Street vendors.Prague is inexpensive and friendly. (I never spent more than $25 on a meal, and I tried.) The older Czechs learned Russian because their country accepted communism. The younger Czechs learned English because their countrymen returned to Western ideals after a short darkness under an iron curtain of their own making. To see a city where in the midst of relighting the flame of freedom is inspiring - I won't apologize for my melodramatics. I walked their streets for days, admiring the return to splendor that is today's Prague. 

Culture? Czech. Great food? Czech. Public transport? Czech. Hotels, castles, cafes, riverboat rides, the Museum of Communism, which inspired this post? Czech, Czech, Czech. #puns #sorrynotsorry

I prefer castles from a distance, but I hear the inside of this one will bring your childhood fairytales to life.I have one story to relate to you. One day, during the communist era, the premier became upset that the locksmith had not more quickly fixed his door. He told the locksmith, "Surely I could do this faster." To which the locksmith replied, "You're right, sir. Because you are a locksmith by trade, and I was a university professor." I've never wanted to use my freedom more than after hearing that story. 

Entrance to the Museum of Communism.Communism has no need of a person's individual genius. The rule is more important than the individual being ruled. My job - teacher, writer, consultant, whatever else - would never have existed, and I can only think of those millions of other people, like the professor, who were relegated to roles never meant for them, where they struggled to mold themselves into misshapen forms that this odd machine would accept.

I am proud to be an American, where at least I know I'm free. 

If you've got questions about Prague, let me know. Up next, Iceland, but enough for today. I've got to go find that final, elusive chocolate croissant.

Communist beer. (Museum has a sense of humor)

A bit better: a bar, also an art deco wonderland. Highly recommend the Hotel Adler. Standout breakfast, snacks in the afternoon, free coffee, and beer for one euro. Check google for rates, but booking.com had it for least for me.
Wonderful quote.