November 11 Prague

Today we walked for hours, nosing around Prague in the cold and fog. My mood ranged from anxiety about getting home, to euphoria about the beauty of this city, to sadness that we don’t have time to see everything. I think Mike and I are both in better shape than we were six weeks ago, but walking in the crowds and keeping balance on the cobblestones is exhausting. So, when we’re tired, we stop for a coffee.

Our first stop was at a Costa Coffee at the train station. I nudged into a tiny table between two other tiny tables while Mike got in line at the counter. He brought over two large cappuccinos in lidded paper cups decorated for Christmas. The familiar feel of a to-go cup warming my cold hands was comforting and the coffee was delicious. Soon we were rested and ready to go.

A couple hours and several miles later, we found ourselves across the bridge and on the home stretch. My knee started to hurt and I was dragging. Time for a coffee! And there on the left we saw a cafe sign for Bella Vida Cafe. We stepped through an unobtrusive door into another world. I felt transported to the 19th century. The low lighted room, trimmed in dark wood, had a variety of tables and old fashioned chintz covered chairs. A wood paneled bar took up one wall. We selected a table by the window. Soon the waiter, formally dressed in white shirt, tie and apron, brought over a little silver tray for each of us: a coffee for Mike in a china cup and saucer. For me, a glass of hot, spiced wine with almonds and raisins.

As we drank and warmed up, I looked past our room to an adjoining salon lined with shelves of old books. Small groups of nicely dressed people filled five or six other tables, leisurely chatting over afternoon refreshments. I felt refined and unhurried.

A stop for coffee also means use of a free, clean W.C. Often these require a descent down dark or winding stairs. But this lovely cafe restroom was on the main floor, behind a heavy wooden door with an old fashioned handle. I smiled at the Gibson Girl door sign for the ladies’.

Refreshed and warmed up, we made our way home, talking about our favorite coffee stops on this trip. Just last night we’d had decafs in the lovely, high ceilinged tea room at the Philharmonic. The coffee shops in museums were always so tasteful and welcome. I recalled a candy store in Amsterdam with an over the top coffee service.

Mike talked about the ubiquitous outdoor cafes in Italy (where it felt like summer.) I appreciated the serve-yourself espresso machines on the cruise ship, and recalled the little cookies served along with any coffee in Germany.

At home, we drink our mugs of coffee at breakfast and then fill up the car cups or drive to the take out window. I drink my coffee mindlessly while doing other things. I hope I can take a hint from the Europeans, to sit down, to use a cup and saucer, to slow down and be a little more ceremonious, and really have my coffee.