Initially when I woke up today, I wasn’t going to go out. I was tired. I had homework to finish. I had laundry to do. It was cold, and I just wanted to stay home and rest. Despite being Palm Sunday, I didn’t think I wanted to go to church. I’d talked with my parents a bit last night, but I just felt run day. I figured God would understand if I took a rain check.
But as I got up and started mulling about, I decided it might be one of my last chances to walk around the Easter market in the square. With all of my trips coming up, I knew that I’d be busy most of the week and I’d be gone by Easter so it seemed worthwhile to go take one last look. I listened to the soundtrack of Jesus Christ Superstar as I got up, getting into the spirit of the holy day. Getting dressed, I bundled up for the cold weather, and headed out to catch the tram.
The tram was crowded. There were probably more people standing than there were sitting. At one station, a group of three African-American girls got on the tram. Their loud American accents and cultural slang was obnoxious. Their voices could be heard over everyone else in the tram, and they were basically just complaining about how different everything was from the States. No wonder Americans get a bad rap as tourists.
I got tired of listening to it, so I got off at a tram stop one before Wenceslas Square. Looking at a giant clock tower over an ornate arch, I felt like I’d been here before. This looked a bit like where Ivana and Marquetta had taken us on our first night in Prague. I decided to walk under the arch and see what I recognized.
As I walked around the area, I found myself in a little courtyard and was positive I’d never actually been this way before. I began to turn to go to Wenceslas when I saw a small café. The name looked French, but the window said (in Czech and English) “Breakfast every day.” It’s been my habit not to go into English speaking restaurants, but something compelled me to go inside.
I took a seat by the window so I could look at out at the garden in the courtyard. Because it has been so cold, nothing has started to bloom yet, but it was still very decorative. The waitress brought me a menu. It was in Czech and French. I ordered some tea and a croissant breakfast.
The tea came in a tea pot with a small teacup on a saucer with some honey and lemon. Being a foolish American, I poured a cup of tea before it was done brewing. The first cup was watery, but the others were rich. It was one of the best Earl Grey’s I’ve ever tasted.
The breakfast was made up of three croissants, each served as a sandwich with gorgonzola cheese, ham, and tomatoes. Despite my aversion to tomatoes, I tried it and it tasted great! It was very salty, but also very sweet. In Berlin, Lubos had told me that food eaten by hand tastes better. I was tempted to try this, but after seeing French students cut up so much food, I decided I should stick to the knife and fork.
The food was all very good and I ate all three of the sandwiches. The waitress took my plate, as I poured another cup of tea. Staring out into the garden, I thought a bit about Palm Sunday. I’ve always loved the Holy Week festivities at church. Last year, I’d recreated a few of them in my dorm building when I couldn’t get home to celebrate with my church family. I hadn’t thought I’d miss it being away, but I was surprised that it actually made me a bit homesick not being home for the holidays.
Just as I went to pour my third cup of tea, I noticed the music that had been playing. The words were definitely English, but the dialect sounded either French or British. It had been on since I’d walked in, but I’d dismissed it at first. Slowly, the words started to permeate my head. I recognized words like “grace;” “life;” “eternal;” “mercy;” “savior;” and “Jesus.”
They were playing worship music.
It made me laugh and tear up a bit. Looking skyward I said, “I guess You really wanted me to spend some time with You today, huh?” I noticed the lady at the table next to me was looking at me a bit funny, but I didn’t care. Between my conversation with Keiko and now this, I felt like this little atheist country was becoming more and more sacred ground every day.
I poured another cup of tea, I sat thinking and enjoying the music for almost 40 minutes. Everyday had been so filled with ah-ha moments, it was hard to string them all together. I thought of conversations I’d had with Ivana, Lubos, Lad’ka, Aaron, Zuzana, Samuel, Kevin, Manu, Thibaut, Leo, Lourenco, Suilki, Ante, Bjorn, Karin, Lee, Fillip, my parents, Keiko, Bryan, Bill…and so many other people. Hearing voices from Bohemia, France, India, Chile, Portugal, China, Norway, Korea, Sweeden, Turkey, Finland, Canada, New York, Japan, and home…
…The world seemed to be getting larger and smaller all at the same time.
…My understanding of America had changed, and my understanding of “the world” had changed.
… Human nature was suddenly a lot different than the observations I made growing up in Suburbia, USA.
When I finished my fourth cup of tea, I got the waitress’ attention and paid. I’m not sure why it took so long to get her attention, because I was one of three people in the café (I’m assuming she was being polite by not bothering me, but it is still so different from back home.) I went back to the tram, trying to stay warm on my walk back. Riding the tram back to the dorm, I got to work typing my blog posts from Berlin.
I would type for a bit, and then take a break to read a little or get up and walk around the dorm. It took me several hours to get most of it typed, and by the time my roommates returned, I still wasn’t done. As they drifted back into the room, we talked about their trips over the weekend. Ante had stayed local but the other two had travelled around.
Getting a little hungry, I decided I would finally get over to the Easter market for a cheap dinner. I caught the tram and rode it to Wenceslas. It was still freezing cold and walking around the square chilled my bones. I found a woman selling apple cider and bought a cup. It was sweet and buttery to the taste, and the cup kept my fingers warm.
I walked over to the Old Town Square and bought another grilled cheese. When the woman served it to me, I asked if I could have jelly on it. “You know how it is good,” she said. “You are not tourist here?”
I smiled.
“No,” I said. “I am not a tourist here.” Prague felt like home, I didn’t want to think I was like those loud people just passing through.
I ate the grilled cheese and also bought some trdlni’k bread. The air was miserably cold, so I headed back to Wenceslas to catch the tram. Back in the dorm, I continued typing my scribbled notes into the blog. I have a feeling all this typing will take a while. I Skyped with my friend James briefly, before heading to bed.
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