Our Trip to Prague, Czechia - Part 4 of 9: 420, The Eatery, and a Mozart Dinner

     After that fulfilling afternoon, we rode a tram from Malostranska Metro Station across the river to Wenceslas Square to explore the area.  

     Wenceslas Square was once an unofficial Red-Light District, but now the Red-Light District is in Perlovka.  Prostitution is legal in the Czech Republic.

     Brothels and pimping are not, so cities like Prague have “relaxation clubs” that enjoy legal ambiguity.  

     Often, male and female sex workers are approached in public squares (they cannot solicit customers) and do their “work” in nearby parks.  At massage parlors or nightclubs, customers inform employees of their desires, and proprietresses discreetly inquire if the customers want a “private scenario”… and transactions occur.  There are 200 websites with menus of prostitution services.  

     On the topic of sex webpages, many gay guys are familiar with the multitude of gay porn sites in Czechia, which became legal in 1993.  (Homosexuality was legalized in 1962, and the age of consent is 15.  Despite calling itself a "Land of Freedom", the USA didn't legalize it until 2003).  

     Bel Ami is an award-winning pornographic film studio with headquarters in Prague.  It was founded in 1993 by a Slovak, and it’s famous for youthful actors (Czech, Slovak, Romanian) and vivacious/passionate scenes.  Some of their first films remain popular: Frisky Summer (1995), An American in Prague (1997), and Lucky Lukas (1998).  CzechBoys was founded in 1999, and its “adult website” film studio is based in Prague to produce gay erotic themes.  

     A different genre of gay pornography comes from Czech Hunter, which was founded in 2011 for “gay for pay” scenarios.  EastBoys employs Czech “adult-content models”, porno performers, and male escorts.  

     Czechia has one of the highest quantities of gay porn actors per capita of any nation in the world.  Ads for “adult entertainment actors” appear publicly on online Job Portals as legitimate careers.  Czechs are not bothered by homosexuality or bisexuality.  

     At 19:00 (7pm), we saw groups of teenagers wearing suits, tuxedos, and gowns.  They were carousing everywhere, and many formed queues at nightclubs and restaurants.  

     We learned that Czech schools had proms in February.  (In the USA, proms occur in May, closer to graduation).  In Czechia, proms are very different.  They don’t symbolize the end of school; they acknowledge the students’ efforts and encourage them for the final semester.  The music is usually provided by a big band (I would’ve loved that at mine) because most European students know how to do ballroom dancing.  

     It’s customary for parents and grandparents to join students until dinnertime...

.... and then the students are allowed to start partying unsupervised.  The drinking age for Czechs is 18-years-old, so a bar is included.  (Americans had that until dumb lawmakers began Prohibition in 1920.  Now the drinking age is 21, so American teens rebel against that rule in covert ways and often get dangerously drunk).  Regardless of their partying methods, the Czech kids still behaved more respectably than prom students we saw in the USA… including my own classmates when I was a teen.  

     That night, Prague also hosted its annual Slovak Ball and its annual Austrian Ball—full of waltzing and posh socializing.  The Czech Republic has several balls during the winter months, and couples and dancers of all ages attend—wearing the apropos formalwear.  It might remind you of the Viennese Opera Ball.  

     During all of that revelry, Lewis and I sauntered north to Old Town Square for our impressive dinner reservations.  Old Town Square has been the heart of the capital for more than one thousand years.  As a settlement, Old Town existed since the 800s.  This is its coat of arms...

    Its square was located on one of Europe’s most important trade routes, so Old Town received self-governing privileges in the 1100s.  In 1240, King Wenceslaus granted “city rights” to it.  Surrounded by elegant Baroque and Renaissance buildings, Old Town Square is the intersection for winding cobblestone lanes and curvy streets that come from various bridges.  After a millennium, its dimensions are unchanged.  

(Every December, it hosts the capital’s grandest Christmas Fair.  For the second year in a row, U.S. News and World Report named Prague as the most beautiful Christmas destination in the world!)

     Alas, that popularity had a bad side-effect.  For years, the area suffered from over-tourism, and locals avoided it.  Its restaurants were labelled as “tourist traps”: scams of high prices for low quality.  (That is most of NYC).  However, the celebrity chef at the city’s Michelin-Starred restaurant, Field, wanted to change that.  Chef Radek Kašpárek envisioned a stylish restaurant with great food that would attract locals back to their square.  He succeeded!  Last year, he finished tremendous renovations in one of the capital’s prized buildings from the medieval era to build a new restaurant in Old Town Square.  The building is named Dom U Červené Lišky (House of the Red Fox).  The first mention of it occurred in 1401.  

     In the 1990s, it was a bank.  In 2017, a developer paid the highest price in the nation for the property and renovated it fully.  Last year, the chef became its famous tenant.  He named it 420, in honor of the nation’s telephone area code.  It has a valuable location, facing the world-famous Astronomical Clock at Old Town Hall.  

     Thanks to our research, we discovered that the restaurant recently opened in December 2023.  It’s “the hottest place in town”, and Praguers flock to its doors for elevated recipes and clever preparation.  Chef Kašpárek’s Michelin status also attracts Czechs from other cities, as well as foreigners (like us).  We moved fast to secure dinner reservations via Bookio.com.  After traipsing 10 miles through the Castle District and the vicinity around Wenceslas Square, Chef Kašpárek’s kitchen team provided a perfect meal of sustenance.

     Boasting his culinary powers, the chef put his open-kitchen in the front of the restaurant.  It’s the first thing that you see—and smell—when you enter, and pedestrians can see it through a huge window.  

     The cellar was converted into a gourmet grocery store, and rooms are used for curing meats and baking bread and desserts. 

     The exterior of the building retains its historic qualities, but modernization dominates the interior.  For the main dining room, architects created a faux courtyard to make you think that you sit outdoors.  The walls are designed to appear like the outside of a manor.  An triple-height skylight floods the room with sunshine, and hundreds of origami birds (swallows) are illuminated to give an airy feeling.  

     Our red-haired waitress escorted us to a table in the middle of the room.  Lewis sat on a banquette bench, and I had a chair.  An origami bird was on our table as a lamp.  The tabletop was made of various planks that were suspended in a cube of lacquer.  

     The restaurant was nearly full, and the voices got louder as bartenders issued drinks.  (It was a Service Bar, so there were no customers placing orders—and our drinks arrived faster, before wilting). 

     Most of the clientele was young.  Facing us, a long banquette was full of young men in muscle-sweaters who accompanied two older men… and one young woman sat at the far edge.  I knew they were gay by how they admired cute men in the restaurant.  They were not the types of gay men who decided that they must be limp-wristed and speak with a fake lisp—to identify as being homosexual.  That mainly happens in America, for inexplicable reasons over many generations.  They were regular guys who were attracted to guys… without “false layers” or the stereotypical qualities that are promoted in the USA.  In Czechia, there is no peer pressure to speak or act certain ways to be gay.  It was refreshing.  

     When one young fellow saw Lewis and I holding hands on our table, all of the eyes focused on us with keen interest.  An interracial gay couple might be less common in Prague, but their bright eyes and smiles told me that we were esteemed.  

     We began dinnertime with cocktails: 420 Mule (their version of a Moscow Mule) and a classic Manhattan.  A carafe of filtered water was always replenished. 

     The utensils were unique: for example, the fork’s handle was stainless-steel but the tines were bronze.   

     Bread and butter arrived in a unique way: handmade rolls were in a wicker basket with a lid (to keep them warm), and the butter was blended with Olomoucke Tvaruzky curd cheese and formed into a ring (we learned about that cheese later).  I liked the salted rye bread more than the oblong roll.  

     The chef sent us an amuse bouche: rice cakes topped with fermented greens, sliced beet, and shredded cabbage—dusted with celery powder.  They were presented in a bowl of barley.  

     As an appetizer, Lewis ordered Cured Pork.  It was thinly-sliced and presented on the accoutrement that sushi comes on; that was quirky and amusing.  I wanted the venison tartare with aged pork on smoked remoulade… but Lewis overruled me and chose de-boned Duck Thighs stuffed within thin sheets of pasta.  Our server made a presentation of the sauce, which she poured gently into our bowls until the food became an island.  After that, we loved pairs of Fried Oyster Mushrooms in mushroom sauce.  Winter Truffles were shaved on it, and that added an explosion of flavor!  (Truly, Czechia has a lavishness for excellent mushrooms!)

     Before our entrées were served, a man “marked our table” with new utensils.  We were given steak knives that were small cleavers.  Very cool!  

     Lewis enjoyed crispy Fried Cod, which was breaded and browned, topped with ribbons of Fennel, Smoked Paprika Oil, and garnished with sprigs of Dill.  A delectably-thick gravy was poured around it from a copper saucepan.  It was eaten with small Waffles that were baked over the fire and served on a heated tray. 

     I feasted on fire-roasted Aged Pork Chops—which was recommended by the waitress.  The portion was large (600g), and it came in a copper roasting pan to demonstrate fresh-from-the-oven goodness.  The meat was perfectly pink inside, yet the exterior was charred with appetizing “grill marks”.  It was served with an au jus gravy that I ladled on.  Providing a service to customers, the chops were already trimmed, so most fat was removed.  My razor-sharp cleaver removed the rest.  Lewis and I shared it, and every mouthful was glorious!  We will definitely return for more meals.  

     As a “side dish”, we ordered Goose Pudding with spiced Goose Velouté served under Onion Cabbage sauce with a sprinkling of sesame seeds.  We also got Mashed Potatoes topped with shredded pork cracklings and chives.  They arrived in small cast-iron pots.  The Deep-Fried Wild Broccoli was carried to our table with a coating of beef jus and chervil oil.

      Americans may complain for faster service, but that’s because they’re gullible to their overbearing society that makes them rush through mealtimes.  Overworked Americans eat quickly—often at their desks, in their cars, standing in their kitchens, or on their couches.  Outside of the America, most of the world does not make eating into a rushed experience.  Eating is meant to be an experience for your senses.  Depriving yourself adds more stress and impedes digestion.  In civilized societies, people take their time for nourishment and conversation.  Outside of America, waiters do not rely on fast “table turnover” to generate more money because they are paid a livable wage and do not rely on tips.  Thus, customers are not rushed to leave.  Everyone relishes in their daily pleasures that life offers.  Why should you rush through your mealtime?

     Instead of the dessert menu, we decided to go downstairs and buy sweets from the on-site baker.  We paid the bill via Tap-and-Go, and Lewis epitomized the American customer by giving a well-appreciated gratuity.  (Having worked in high-end restaurants for Chefs Jean-George Vongerichten and Masaharu Morimoto, Lewis recognizes “good service” when he sees it).  Our total was 4,285 crowns ($180). 

     The grocery store remains open until 10pm.  A bearded man worked behind the deli counter, and he was impressed with our interest in their handmade items: roast beef, duck sausage, bresaola (beef or deer), chorizo, terrine of beef tongue, pepperoni, pastrami, dried sausage of wild boar, terrine of pork cheeks, Hungarian csabai sausage, salsiccia of veal sweetbreads, smoked ham hocks, and nduja.  I was “in heaven”!  

     The nice man gave us samples of everything that we were curious about.  Learning about how they make their own mortadella, we requested to buy some because Lewis loves it.  Using an immaculate slicing machine, he gave us a decent quantity.  After nibbling various cheeses, we bought a wedge of a cow’s milk variety that was aged nearby.  

     I bought a custard-filled koláč (kolach).  You can have one kolach or two kolache (koláče).  [Similarly, in Italy, we learned that you can have one cannolo or two cannoli… or one biscotto or two biscotti].  It is a longstanding Czech recipe.  Usually consumed as breakfast danishes, they are round, flat, sweet pastries made from vanilla-scented dough.  They are filled generously with poppy seed paste, jam, cream cheese, or sweetened farmer’s cheese.  Before going into the oven, they are brushed with a beaten egg, so the exteriors have a trademark glossiness.  Streusel (a crumbly mix of flour, sugar, and butter) is sprinkled over them as a topping.  Most of the kolache are filled with a poppy seed paste.  Poppy seeds were cultivated in Czech soil for centuries, and the republic produces some of the highest-quality in Europe.  It’s one of the main exports, along with grain, sugar beets, hops, potatoes, fish, fruits, and vegetables.  

     I was tempted to buy a loaf of delicious-looking Whole-Grain Rye bread (75-135 crowns), but we wouldn’t be able to finish it, and I didn’t want to waste food.  They sold “Toasting Bread”, which is a perfect rectangle so every slice is square-shaped for toasters.  Their baker is talented: Crackling Pancake (45 crowns), Fox’s House Roll (25 crowns), Pecan Cookies (70 crowns), Baguette (75 crowns), Focaccia (95 crowns), and Chocolate Cake (90 crowns).  Upstairs, we waved Goodbye to the chefs, expeditor, and food runners in the kitchen. 

     Outside, spectators still gathered to admire the world-famous clock.  Night might be the best time to view it without feeling crowded.  It is attached to Old Town Hall.  

     Full of Gothic flair, the building towered over the square since the 1300s.  It is the oldest Gothic building in Prague, and it is a National Cultural Monument.  It was affected by Czechia’s eventful history and the nation’s frequently altered identity, so parts were lost to destruction and warfare.  The last harm occurred in 1945 during WWII, and the east-wing was ruined.  As a result of centuries of remakes, the building is an amalgamation of styles and additions.  (Disjointed additions are hallmarks of medieval construction).  

     An ornamental chapel is attached to the east wall, protruding out over the square to capture sunlight through its stained-glass windows.  

     The bell-tower is also a clocktower, and it reaches a height of 66 meters.  

     It has an amazing feature: the world-famous Astronomical Clock. 

     I don’t mean “astronomical” as an adjective; it refers to astronomy.  Appearing in millions of photos per year, the clock is a mechanical marvel!  It’s the oldest functioning one in the world.  Handmade in 1410 by Mikulas of Kadan, the clock was the first of its kind, and it was applauded as a technical miracle.  After Prague had it constructed, it caused a sensation across Europe, and every city wanted something similar!  Even nowadays, many City Halls and Town Halls have clocks.  After 600 years, it continually amazes its admirers by displaying the time, date, position of sun, rotation of moon, astronomical cycles of the cosmos, zodiac relevance, and it indicates festivals of the Christian calendar.  Wow!  

     The calendar was painted in 1805 by Josef Manes, and the original is in the Prague Museum.  (Thankfully, it was hidden before WWI and WWII).  

     The replica seen today was made in 2018.  In fact, much of the clock was destroyed during WWII, so reproductions were necessary, and they were crafted from images of the originals.  

     The figures on either side represent things that were hated in the era when the clock was built: vanity, greed, death, and lust.  When the bell chimes each hour, those figures jiggle and move.  

     The four figures around the dial represent things that were loved in that era: the archangel Michael, philosophy, history, and astronomy.  (In 1784, Czech scientists began recording the world’s longest continuous meteorological data).  

     Ongoing for six centuries, the arrival of every hour is announced with animated figures of apostles (on mechanical carousels) who “parade” into view from doorways.  The “Walk of Apostles” lasts 45 seconds, as the bell chimes.  

As I said, evening is an ideal time to view the clock, and the less-crowded scene looks like this...

     It was a joy to walk through the medieval lanes to our hotel.  We always felt safe.  

     After our trips to Amsterdam, London, Kyoto, and Madrid, we are accustomed to narrow old alleys.  In NYC, nobody would dare to use them (because they are full of discarded trash and likely to have thugs).  But in Europe, they are everyday conveniences.  

     We arrived at Na Prikope (On the Moat) Street and strolled for 10 minutes to our hotel.  The street covers a moat that was dug in 1234 along the City Walls.  It made Old Town into an island.  Now, the street connects Wenceslas Square and Republic Square, and its exceptional width is ideal for traffic.  However, unlike the USA’s car-mania, Czech leaders saw traffic getting worse during the 1970s, so they prevented pollution, congestion, and hassle by pedestrianizing the whole street.  Lined with chestnut trees, it serves the populous as a popular promenade.  

     Our hotel’s automatic doors swooshed open, we cleaned our shoes at the machine, the Front Desk men chatted inquisitively about our adventures—loving our wide-eyed description of the castle—and we went to bed with the window open.  Lovely.

     We awoke for another day in paradise!

    Outside, a blue sky and bright sunshine beckoned us.  We loved the heated floor in our bathroom, and after my soothing cascading shower, I loved grabbing a warm towel from the towel warmer.  Craving a hearty breakfast, we knew the niftiest place to find it.  I was dressed for the day in my Fair-Isle sweater and a poofy newsie cap.  We walked to the Narodni Trida Station and rode Route B [Yellow] northeast to Krizikova Station.  

     Since we’re from New York, using a reliable modern transit system seems miraculous, so we always had smiles of pleasure.  Other commuters probably thought we were weird to be excited about their Metro.  I’ll explain what made us happy:  Nobody bothered passengers by preaching on train, which is allowed to happen in NYC.  

     In NYC, rancid-smelling homeless beggars pester riders and yammer incoherently.  Others make "tents" on the trains to sleep there.  Please watch Lewis' brief video...

     Hispanic women—always with toddlers—wander through trains trying to sell candy or fruits… that drip juice on the floors.  

     Latino musicians roam through trains to disturb people with unwanted clamor—and expect donations.  Please watch my videos: guys illegally meander through the train cars, disrupting people's conversations and waking the baby so she cries.

     Hoodlums do disruptive breakdancing and pole-dancing on subways, and they beg for money and scream at passengers who don’t give any.  

     That never happened anywhere in Prague.  Better manners prevented it.  It's normalcy.  

     We arrived in the Karlin neighborhood.  It was named for Empress Caroline, whose husband reigned from 1792 to 1835.  It is in Prague 8.

     Karlin was the first community to be built beyond the medieval City Walls.  During the Industrial Revolution, factories and warehouses were added.  Geographically, it is separated from the rest of the city by a huge hill, and the river creates a border on the opposite side.  Whenever the river flooded, buildings were damaged, yet cheap landlords neglected to fix things.  In recent decades, the municipality took preventive precautions against floods, and new investors and developers added spiffier buildings.  Historic structures remain on Karlin’s south side, but the riverside has plenty of sleek new ones.  

     We breakfasted at a groundbreaking eatery named Eska, which is in the south side, near the Metro.  It’s inside a former warehouse, and its skylights make it ideal as a sunny place to start your day.  (The warehouse also contains offices and a cinema, and its middle part acts an enclosed courtyard).  

     Eska began in 1990 by Czechs who sought to provide on-site baked goods in an industrial-chic setting.  The business expanded to three locations in Prague, with hundreds of employees: bakers, cooks, servers, and deliverymen.  Chef Martin Stangl runs the kitchen at the one in Karlin.  He had the idea of an all-day breakfast restaurant where customers joined a queue to order food.  That is a significant change to Prague’s culture because—since the Austro-Hungarian Empire—Praguers entered and sat down and waited for a server to take their order.  Eska was the first place to have customers form a queue to order their food… and then sit down.  Chef Stangl’s reputation attracts customers because he was the sous chef at Prague’s Michelin-starred restaurant, La Degustation.  Eska is so good that it already won a Michelin Bib Gourmand award!  

     When we arrived at 9:30, the outdoor seating was full.  It’s clustered in the “courtyard” of the warehouse, but sunshine and breezes came through the warehouse’s retractable door.  

     Customers enter the restaurant and face the Ordering Counter.  On the right is a grocery section featuring locally-produced organic goodies—from kombucha and marmalade to butter, gin, and pastrami.  

     Tables and chairs are on the left.

     Customers have a great view of the culinary “action” in the open-kitchen.  It’s a huge kitchen.  

     If you use the stairs on the right to reach the lavatories, you can peer down at bakers and sauciers.  

     Patisserie is handmade in the back-left.  Near the customers, several bakers mix batter, roll dough, and make bread.  Rows of ovens emit mouth-watering aromas of freshly-baking loaves.  

     They are supreme-quality, and some are arranged in crates for purchase.  

     If that doesn’t tempt customers to buy bread as they leave, I don’t know what will!  Relatedly, can you imagine what it’s like to smell fresh-baking bread while you have your meal?  It’s heavenly!!  It’s worth the ride to get there.

     The staff lets you choose your own table, so we advise you to pick one with a view of the bakers.  The men are athletic, and their work seemed good for their forearms and triceps, and when they bent to sort flour, that was good-looking, too.  

One fellow in a tight T-shirt mingled through the crowd to keep tables clean, and many people liked his presence.  

     The menu had tantalizing items: Sheep’s Yogurt with Berries, Soft-boiled Eggs over Black Trumpet Mushrooms, Buttered Carrots “cooked in hay”, and Honey Pie with Rum Mousse.  We saw food carried to tables: everything was plated perfectly.

     The queue moved quickly, and our cashier a young Chinese woman.  We said “Dobré Rano” so naturally that she began speaking in Czech because she said that she assumed we were native.  Laughing, we told her that we only mastered a few phrases.  When she spoke English, she had a Chinese accent.  She handed us a numbered sign to put on our table, so the food-runners knew where to carry our food.  

     We wanted to wash our hands before eating.  The lavatory is upstairs—where the chef’s elegant restaurant is (named for himself).  While I was upstairs, I saw him arrive for work—with his knives rolled up in a satchel—and everybody smiled genuinely to greet him.  That sincerity proves that he’s a respected employer.  Near the lavatories, I peered over the railing and had a nice view of Eska’s pastry chefs.  

     The men’s room was sleek and immaculate, and it was equipped with soap and hand lotion.  

     Eska sources almost all of its seasonal ingredients from local foragers in the Bohemian Forest, farmers, and fish farm owners.  Meat comes from Prague’s best supplier: Amaso.  Coffee is supplied by Nordbeans, and many of the wines are Czech, German, Austrian, Italian, and French champagne.  The culinary team churns its own butter, mixes its own mustard, smokes catfish, ages its own sourdough for 14 hours, and bakes the city’s best rye bread—all on the premises!  The ovens are fueled by wood-burning furnaces that use beech logs.  Chef Stangl enforces a waste-reduction program that we saw popularized in Scandinavia.  For example, vegetable skins and peels are used in further recipes.       

     Our order was fulfilled promptly and “served with a smile” from a blonde woman.  I drank a perfectly-pulled espresso, made from a sleek machine.  

     Lewis sipped a cold-press veggie/fruit juice produced by Goodlok, based in Prague.  Similar to fermented kombucha, it promotes a healthy digestive system.  

     Most Americans eat over-sugared breakfasts, but Lewis and I enjoy savory ones.  Mine was named the Eska Breakfast: a poached egg in barley porridge—which was excellent, a crisp salad, an oven-hot bun filled with sweet cottage cheese, and their famous “33 Bread”—which I loved!  Eska’s 33 Loaf is rye bread made with 33% rye flour, 7% boiled potatoes, and wheat flour.  It is their "pride and joy".

     I love rye bread because it has a combination of sour, sweet, and earthy flavors, and it has greater nutritional value for digestive and heart health and blood-sugar control.  It came with ramekins of jam and butter.  I shared bites with Lewis.  

     His meal consisted of toasted brioche topped with a pepper tapenade, sunny-side-up egg, minced pancetta, chives, and hand-whisked Hollandaise sauce.  It was served with pickled carrots and parsnips.  

     While we ate, we observed a man in a blazer who seemed to be the Dining Room Captain, and he ensured that tables were reset, food was satisfactory, and customers were attended to.  Our server inquired how we liked our food, and our praise made her beam with pride.  The captain overheard us and grinned, too.  He gave us a sweet-sounding “Dekuji vam”.

     Our meal cost 934 crowns ($39.24).  I sat back and savored another superbly-pulled espresso in the sunny restaurant that was full of cheery customers and gregarious servers.  All of that for under $40.  Perfection.  Coming from the typical overhyped low-quality “breakfast places” in New York City, it was otherworldly—and we loved it!  

     We left feeling satisfied.  Looking up, we saw the mountainous hill looming over the neighborhood.  Vitkov Hill rises 270 meters, and its steep slopes are a natural barrier.  

     We decided to burn calories and explore its famous tunnel.  The entrance is named Neboj, and it’s on Thamova Street.  The curved tunnel stretches for 303 meters to connect Karlin with Zizkov.  In 1951, Soviet engineers excavated the hill to join those communities, but they also inspected the soil for traces of gold.  (Prague has a longstanding reputation for gold).  They also built a nuclear fallout shelter for 1,250 people, including a subterranean hospital and morgue.  Recently, the morgue was converted to an underground laboratory so scientists can study electrons.  The tunnel is completely safe: plenty of people walked through it, along with cyclists, skaters, scooters, and joggers.  

     Above us on the hilltop, the world’s second-biggest equestrian statue (a knight named Jan Zizka) stood in front of the National Liberation Monument of 1929.  

     We emerged into daylight in Prague 3...

... in the Žižkov neighborhood.  

     It was its own city from 1881 to 1922, until it merged with Prague.  It has a hilly terrain with handsome buildings from the Victorian and Edwardian eras.  The most noticeable structure is Žižkov TV Transmitter Tower.  

     Due to its height and history, is a national landmark that contributes to the spires of Prague’s skyline.  Rising 216 meters, it’s the tallest building.  It reminded us of the Soviet transmitter tower that we saw in East Berlin.  Construction began in 1985 because the Soviet government wanted a massive way to broadcast television.  The result resembles a rocket launcher.  However, the Central Committee of the Communist Party lost power in the Czech Republic (pun intended), and Soviet brainwashing was thwarted on TV.  (Meanwhile,brainwashing occurs on America’s corporation-owned TV to foster over-consumerism and overextended debt).  In 2000, a whimsical art installation added 10 crawling babies to the tower.  They were “the brainchild” (pun intended) of a Praguer named David Černý.  Their faces are bar codes.  

     Beyond the tunnel was a square that was revitalized last year with stylish pavement, benches, and newly-planted trees.  It was initially named for Jan Žižka, a Czech commander who lived from 1360 to 1424.  (Many places in the vicinity are named for the Hussite Wars of 1419-1434).  In 1958, the Soviets renamed it Tachovské for the Town of Tachov that supplied uranium.  For decades, the square's main purpose was a weighing area.  To honor that, a scale is there for people to stand on.  Lewis checked his weight after our big breakfast.  Ha ha!

     We arrived at a triangular square named Prokopovo Náměstí.  Lewis observed an awkward statue of Jaroslav Hasek, the famous author from Prague, on a horse.  (He is beloved for his satire of authority figures). It was created by Karel Nepras and Karolina Neprasova, yet it seems as if an infant glued random parts together. 

     We rendezvoused with a friend of a friend who worked nearby and wanted to meet us.  His name was Ruslik.  We bonded a friendship while chatting and sipping espresso at a cozy café named Guston.  Rusticated brick walls, plank flooring, and a mishmash of chairs at wooden tables gave a snug atmosphere.  The staff spoke English and were very welcoming. 

     Ruslik was born in Siberia, Russia.  He loves living in Prague.  Slavic cultures share a common root of their languages, so it was easy for him to learn Czech.  Alas, due to problematic relations between Russia and the Czech Republic (its former territory that didn’t want it), he had challenges emigrating there for a better life.  Nevertheless, his undaunted efforts proved successful, and he lived in Prague for several years.  I told him how my great-grandmother left Imperial Russia aboard an ocean liner and emigrated to America via NYC’s Ellis Island Immigration Center (on an island near the Statue of Liberty).  Lewis described his grandparents’ journey to immigrate from Taiwan and China to America.  In their eras, they bravely sought a better life in the USA, but now we bravely seek a better life beyond the USA.  After hearing about our struggles to relocate, Ruslik assured us that our initiatives were correct.  He hinted that we were destined to live in Prague, instead of the other cities we tried for.  It’s true that Fate works in mysterious ways, and sometimes you must encounter things that don’t work so you appreciate the right one.  That adage applies to relationships, jobs, and careers.  We agreed that Prague was our favorite city of 25 communities that we explored in Europe.  An hour of conversation whooshed by, and Ruslik educated us about the capital and Czech society.  Many things aligned with our inherent values.

     Befriending us, Ruslik invited us to have lunch with him.  We agreed.  He escorted us to his Mercedes sedan, drove us to Vinohrady, and took us to Kozlovna Tylak (Goat House).  Its logo is a sturdy goat, and its big windows have whimsical hoof prints etched on them.  

     It is situated on a road named Belehradska, which has tram rails.  It was the first highway to Linz, Austria.  (Linzer Tart cookies are named for the City of Linz, and the recipe originated in 1619!)  However, the road is named for Belgrade: the capital of Serbia.  Roads in Vinohrady are named for global places.  Coincidentally, the area is populated with expats and immigrants.  

     The spacious restaurant was modern and sleek, and it served us excellent barbecued Wild Boar ribs and mugs of frothy dark beer.  (Ruslik drank water because he was driving).  The food was literally “finger-licking good”!  Boar is less fatty than domesticated pigs, so it has a meatier taste.  

     The restaurant brews its own beers, and we discovered that many restaurants do that in Czechia.  Often, they proudly display their tanks as part of the interior design.  

     Beer production started in Czech society in 993!  Ruslik told us that there are so many breweries in Czechia that beer costs less than bottled water!  The republic has the highest beer consumption per capita in the world… yet it has fewer “beer bellies” than we see in the USA.  

     Ruslik was pleased that Lewis and I liked all of the Czech food that we experienced.  After reading the menu, Lewis asked why Svíčková (Beef in Cream Sauce) was popular?  He envisioned steak in milk.  Ruslik laughed and explained that beef sirloin is pierced with bacon.  That is called “larding the meat”.  Tied with twine, it is seared.  Meat-drippings are put in a pot, and a sauce is made from root vegetables that are sautéed in butter.  Freshly-cracked pepper and crushed allspice are included.  A sprinkling of sugar caramelizes onto the veggies.  The mixture is seasoned with a dash of vinegar.  The meat is returned to the pot, and water is added to cover everything.  After reaching a boiling point, bay leaves are added, and the liquid simmers for 3 hours.  Then, some veggies and the meat are removed, and a roux (flour mixed with fat: butter or lard) is added so the liquid thickens as it simmers for 20 minutes.  Finally, the pot is removed from heat, and the cream is poured in—to give the sauce its glossy texture—and blended fully.  The sauce is poured over the meat, and served with bread dumplings that absorb it perfectly. Your mouth will be delighted with all the flavors that are packed into the sauce!  We concurred that the laborious-yet-lovely recipe should be popular.

     After two fun hours of sanguine camaraderie, Ruslik needed to return to work.  We swapped WhatsApp info to stay connected.  As a lovely gesture, he drove us to the Dancing House so we could admire that architectural gem.  We thanked him immensely and look forward to socializing again.  We waved goodbye to our new friend, and we studied the avant-garde building that became a tourist attraction.

     Resembling a pair of ballroom dancers (Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers), the Dancing House is a stylish office building built above the Rašín Embankment.  (That part of the riverfront is named for Alois Rašín, a Czech politician who stopped being a member of the Imperial Council and joined the Revolutionary National Assembly to be a founder of Czechoslovakia.  He was assassinated near his home in 1923 by a teenager who hated capitalism).  A restaurant in the building is named Ginger & Fred.  The previous building was destroyed when the USA bombed Prague in 1945 as a tactic to end WWII.  (Forty B-17 Flying Fortresses dropped 152 tons of bombs on the city, killing 701 people and injuring 1,184.  Prague lost 100 houses and historic sites, and 200 were heavily damaged.  However, the Americans missed all of their intended targets.  The pilots blamed their American-made navigational equipment as defective).  Like many sites of WWII destruction, the ruins remained until 1960.  In 1992, a Dutch bank hired a Canadian architect named Frank Gehry to design their office building on that land.  One half is clad in stone—with non-aligned windows—and the other half is covered in glass on curvy pillars.  As a corner property, it has a lovely view of the river, and it provides a focal point for boaters to admire.

     Looking north, we saw another architectural gem.  Sitkovska Water Tower occupies a place where a water tower has existed since the end of the 15th-century.  With a height of 47 meters, it’s hard to miss.  It is built in the Vltava River at the southern tip of Slavonic Island.  A wooden tower was erected in 1495, but it burned down in 1501 (which is ironic to happen to a tower filled with water).  The rebuilt tower burned down in 1588, so it was replaced with a stone one in 1591.  When Sweden invaded in 1648, it was damaged by artillery fire.  The repairs of 1651 added the Baroque “onion roof” that everyone admires now.  Nicknamed an “onion dome”, that type of symmetrical roof was popular throughout Europe—not just in Islamic culture or Orthodox churches—during the Renaissance and Baroque periods.  Sitkovska Water Tower pumped water into homes and fountains in the vicinity until 1847.  It is now a National Cultural Monument.

     Leaning over the railing from the street, we looked down at the quay that lined the river.  

     NYC’s riverfronts don’t have quays for pedestrians; they have highways for cars.  *To see NYC’s waterfront, please use this link: https://halfwindsorfullthrottle.blogspot.com/2021/05/waterfront-properties-in-new-york-city.html

     We joined other Praguers by descending stone staircases and strolling along the quay.  Away from the traffic and trams, it seems like another world—just you and the sloshing waves of the river.  We noticed huge circular “windows” in the wall of the embankment.  Shops and cafés were inside!  Suddenly, we saw two women approach one of the big round windows, and it swiveled to act as a doorway!  Wow, that’s an architectural marvel!  

     Nicknamed the “Lenses”, the giant windows/doors were installed by Petr Janda in 2019.  He graduated from the Czech Technical University For Architecture and the Academy of Fine Arts—both in Prague.  We peeked inside the café named A(void).  Those “caves” in the embankment—under the street—were initially used for ice storage.  Now, the revitalized areas provide clever places to pause for drinks, dangle your legs in the water, watch the boats and swans, and evade traffic on the street above.  At night, the illuminated interiors are pretty, and bar-goers and late-night diners congregate by the water.  

Ingenious and prosperous.  

     We went up the stairs and walked north, admiring the colorful ornate buildings that overlook the river.  

     We popped into Artic Bakehouse.  It opened in 2019 to sell Icelandic sourdough and small-batch bread.  Now, the successful business has four locations in Prague.  

     Each loaf is baked by hand on-site, and the eatery constantly smells wonderful!  The baker is David Arnorsson, and he crafts several types of bread with 25 years of experience.  

     Lewis’ appetite was piqued by the bleu cheese version, which is accented with white chocolate.  I wanted to taste Old Charles: a sourdough made from stone-milled rye flour mixed with white flour.  It’s seasoned with anise and cumin.  A sign identified an Old Bastard: rye bread that is fermented for three days and speckled with sunflower seeds.  Their perfectly-browned and well-crusted baguettes looked idyllic.  They also sell bagels, large cookies, and “toast bread”.  Their croissants were perfectly-flaky, and the chocolate ones were layered with precision.  We got a Ham & Cheese Twist (80 crowns), Chocolate Caramel Muffin (same), and a perfect Chocolate Croissant (70 crowns).  We snacked in our hotel room and changed clothes for our momentous night.

     Prague is world-famous for a magnificent array of performing arts.  So, Lewis and I were excited to attend a few performances during our trip.  Our resourcefulness led us to a “Mozart Dinner” in the 5-star Grand Hotel Bohemia.  We booked a reservation for the 7pm performance.  From our hotel’s prime location, it only necessitated a 3-minute ride on Route A (Yellow) from Narodni Trida Station to Namesti Republiky Station.  We loved that swiftness!

     We exited from the sleek station on escalators that went directly to the sidewalk.  We loved that convenience.  (That is normal in Prague, but that infrastructure rarely happens in America's richest city).  

     The Kings Court Hotel was on our right, and the elaborate Municipal House (concert hall) was on our left.  The scenery became even better at the next corner when we glanced left and saw the Powder Tower—illuminated grandly.  Wow, what a great sight!  

     It was an unexpected treat to see that National Cultural Landmark being perfectly-framed in the middle of the street.  (I'll describe the tower later).  It’s how people take pictures of the Manhattan Bridge from Washington Street in Brooklyn.  

     We saw the Grand Hotel Bohemia with a curved front that was broad and proud.  It faces a five-pointed intersection on Kralodvorksa: a street named for the New Royal Palace (Kraluv Dvur = Royal Residence) of King Wenceslas IV.  He built it there in 1380 to avoid the Queen Dowager at Prague Castle.  It had a lion enclosure, garden, and spa.  The royal court gathered there from 1383 to 1485.  The palace was owned by the Crown until 1631.  The Municipal House stands on the site now, and it retains the triangular shape of the palace, and I’ll describe that later, too.  

     We had moments to spare, so we entered a gourmet chocolate shop named Gold Pralines, which was across from the hotel.  All of its labels were printed in Czech and English.  Two Czech women greeted us.  Lewis bought two boxes of assorted handmade chocolates for his coworkers.  Each 900-gram box cost 1,286 crowns ($55).  He also selected enough to fill a 400-gram ($25) box for us to share: chunks of white chocolate “bark” (broken off at our desired sizes), citrus slices dipped in milk chocolate, truffles filled with fudge, cubes filled with marzipan, bonbons dusted in cocoa powder, cylinders filled with whiskey nougat, peanut brittle, two-tone pieces studded with nuts named “Valencia”, and toffees flavored with orange liqueur.  He especially liked the white chocolate disks with images of ladybugs.  

     The small shop filled with customers, yet the shopkeepers were unconcerned of shoplifters.  In fact, during our ten days in Prague, we were impressed with the honorable behavior of shoppers and shopkeepers.  Perhaps a local ghost-story deters thievery?  I’ll explain.  Two streets away, the Basilica of Saint James has an unusual thing dangling from a pole at its entrance.  It’s a human arm bone!  It belonged to a man who was got nicknamed The One-Armed Thief.  He snuck into the church to rob it of jewels and gold.  Yet, he was thwarted when a statue of the Virgin Mary came alive and grabbed his arm.  Regardless of how it happened, the thief’s arm remains there as a warning to others.  Supposedly, an apparition of the thief haunts the entranceway and tries to communicate with people who notice him.  

     Toting our shopping bag, we walked to the hotel’s special entrance for the Boccaccio Ballroom.  The brass door handles had impressive Art Deco shapes.  

     A sign directed us downstairs, and a male statue held an electric candelabrum over the stairway.  The ballroom was built in 1927 but styled on the earlier Belle Epoch era—while craftsmen were still alive to recreate it from memory.  The floor is original: handmade from nine types of wood cut in Asia.  We ogled the double-height ceiling that was painted in rose-colored hues with extravagant gilding on every edge.  Gold cherubs stood above the molding, playing fanciful instruments.  A central chandelier was augmented by elaborate sconces that were “dripping” with crystals.  The chandelier was assembled from 4,000 hand-cut crystals.  

     The hotel was operated by Josef Steiner, who gained expertise in Switzerland and England.  It became the poshest place in Prague because of its “modern technology amenities”: telephones, an electronic paging system for maids, and an enclosed Winter Garden Café on the roof.  Elite people gathered in the Boccaccio Ballroom for high-society events.  Afternoon Tea occurred there.  In the evening, it was used as a Men’s-Only nightclub—full of profitable deal-making, pretty girls, and sparkling wine.  It’s a miracle that the Soviets didn’t demolish it as a “den of capitalistic filth”.  They repeatedly used it as a film setting to demonstrate the wrongs of opulence. Thankfully, it survived intact, and everyone else likes it.  The first president of Czechoslovakia permanently reserved a Box overlooking the dancefloor (like a royal box at a theatre).  It is still referred to as the President’s Box.  Now, the ballroom specializes in fancy dinners that are themed with live music composed by Mozart.

     Born in Austria in 1756, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart is globally renown.  At a young age, he hosted at the ducal and royal courts of London, Munich, Paris, Vienna, Bologna, and Amsterdam.  He performed for the Pope.  He wowed the Elector of Munich, Maximillian III, as well as the Elector and Electress of Palatine because he improvised any request from the audience—purely from his imagination.  

     His concerts in Frankfurt earned profits because Mozart repeated his performance from memory while his keyboard was covered with a cloth!  Next, he played for the sister of Frederick the Great—the openly-gay and mighty King of Prussia.  In 1762, the 6-year-old was invited to perform at the Habsburg’s Summer Palace in Vienna, named Schönbrunn. (Every summer, Lewis and I watch the gorgeously-televised Summer Concert from there.  *See it by using this link: https://halfwindsorfullthrottle.blogspot.com/2020/09/summer-concert-in-park.html).  

     Mozart's recital occurred in the Mirror Room.  It delighted the monarch, Empress Maria Theresa, who is significant in Women’s History.  [She was an “absolute monarch” (autocrat) who ruled over Austria, Hungary, Bohemia, Croatia, Transylvania, Mantua, Milan, the Austrian Netherlands, and Parma.  She also ruled the Kingdom of Galicia & Lodomeria with the Grand Duchy of Krakow and the Duchies of Zator and Auschwitz.  Additionally, she was the Duchess of Lorraine, Grand Duchess of Tuscany, and Holy Roman Empress].  

He also impressed her 16 children; one would employ Mozart as his Royal Court Musician.  While there, Mozart met the empress’ daughter, Marie Antoinette, and blurted a marriage proposal to her.  Later, she became the Queen of France in 1744.  In December 1763, Mozart appeared at Versailles to meet the queen but he entertained Madame de Pompadour, who truly ruled the kingdom.  His concerts in Paris were famous.  

     In 1764, he and his talented sister spent a year in England, and within a week, they were summoned to meet King George III and the 19-year-old Queen Charlotte (whom Netflix recently made a series to include).  The royal pair loved good music, and the king’s father funded George Friedrich Handel (who composed Messiah).  Consequently, Mozart arrived at Buckingham House—the precursor to Buckingham Palace—to give a three-hour show.  He also performed for the aristocracy during the King’s birthday, and he was centerstage to mark the fourth anniversary of the king’s accession.  

     After that, he performed for the royal court of the Princess of Orange-Nassau in the Netherlands.  Then, he responded to an invitation from the French Prince of Conti.  From there, he toured Italy and Switzerland.  

     In 1773, Mozart worked for a Prince-Archbishop named Hieronymus Colloredo who was the ruler of city-state of Salzburg (Mozart’s birthplace).  

     Then, the Emperor in Austria, Joseph II, decreed that Mozart would be his Royal Court Composer.  As a royal appointee, the prodigy had an illustrious career in the Holy Roman Empire—including Prague.  He came to the capital five times, and each was memorable.  During his first arrival, he was a guest of Count Johann Joseph Franz von Thun-Hohenstein, and he stayed at the count’s palace in the city-center.  The goal of his second visit was to supervise the debut of his opera, Don Giovanni.  (Yes, he chose Prague’s beauty for his famous opera’s debut—instead of Austria, Italy, or Germany).  That’s because Czechs had a long reputation for appreciating talent, while other cultures lacked the maturity.  (Remember that Prussia was a war-focused austere land until Frederick the Great brought his gayness and development-skills). 

     In 1783 Count Franz Anton von Nostitz-Rieneck built the gorgeous Estates Theatre for the citizens of Prague.  It remains perfectly preserved and is used throughout the year.  

     In 1783, Mozart witnessed the hugely-successful performance of his opera, Die Entfuhrun aus dem Serail (The Abduction from the Seraglio) in Prague—which was applauded magnificently.  In contrast, when it premiered in Vienna, the clueless emperor famously balked that it had “too many notes”.  Therefore, the maestro was enamored with Praguers who truly valued his masterpieces and saw the complexity and delicacy.  Any composer or playwright would feel that way.  Thus, after its 1786 premiere in Vienna (out of obligation to the emperor), Mozart produced his opera, The Marriage of Figaro in Prague!  It was a tremendous success—garnering “unlimited applause”.   

     Mozart came to Prague on January 11, 1787 and stayed for four weeks and left in February.   (It was fun for Lewis and I to hear his music in Prague during the same month that he was in Prague).  After the premiere of his show in Prague, the genius was quoted to say that it was one of the happiest days of his life”.  Chroniclers stated that the level of Czech adoration exceeded any that was given to 18th-century performers”.  Wow!  

     He returned to Prague on October 4 to supervise the debut of his opera, Don Giovanni.  In 1789, he visited Prague twice.  His fifth visit occurred in 1791 because Prague hosted the coronation of Leopold II as the King of Bohemia, and Mozart was commissioned to debut his opera, The Clemency of Titus.  The first showing in the world occurred at the Estates Theatre on September 6.  The imperial court loved it, but adulation roared from the Czech people.  The newly-crowned king was thrilled.  

     Alas, Mozart died on December 5.  Sorrow for his demise had the most intensity in Prague—more than any European city.  While Vienna buried him without any fanfare or music, Prague funded a lavish commemoration that was attended by thousands of Czechs.  The 100+ musicians who performed refused to be paid; they did it out of heartfelt sympathy.  Instrumentalists and composers across Europe noticed that phenomenon and marked Prague with high regard.  His widow started her own career in Prague, organizing concerts of his works.  

     Relatedly, the 1984 film, Amadeus, won an Oscar, and it was partially filmed in Prague! 

     Understandably, Lewis and I were enthused for our fanciful night!  Full of sumptuous décor, the ballroom provides an elegant dinner whilst musicians and singers perform Mozart’s beautiful music in era-accurate costumes.  

     A suited woman welcomed us and scanned our e-tickets.  We purchased Box Seats for $146 per person.  From its earliest days, the ballroom featured an orchestra for dancing and a cabaret “floor show” for entertainment during meals.  So, it was designed with Box Seats—like a theatre.  Our Box included a table-for-two and a three-course meal with unlimited wines from their menu.  We were ushered upstairs to the “corner location” that we selected during our online purchase.  The compartment was as large as our Box at the State Opera House, but it had a parquet floor and a credenza for our bags.  Coat hooks exited behind the door—which was covered with brocade wallpaper (when the door was shut, it blended seamlessly with the seams).  A gold-frame mirror allowed us to look good before selfies.  (As a bonus of convenience, the Men’s Lavatory was near us in the corridor, so we could dart into it and return to our Box easily.  Luxuriously, the lavatory had soap and hand lotion made by Balmain of Paris.  We don’t understand why American restaurants don’t offer lotion).  Our Box was adorned with a pair of wall sconces and a slim modern lamp illuminated our table.  

     The table was already laid with crystal stemware, porcelain, silver flatware, and white linens.  It was positioned against an intricate brass railing, which curved outward over the room.  From our corner, we had a superb view of the stage and the entire room.  All the tables on the main floor were occupied.  Couples and groups of friends attended the show to treat themselves to a luxurious experience.  (It was classy and it was a lot of fun).  A server with braided hair appeared in our doorway holding a bottle of champagne: Chapuy Grand Cru Blanc de Blanc.  She filled our champagne saucers as a “welcome drink” that was included in the price.  Instead of flutes, the hotel used saucers to be evocative of olden times.  Loverboy and I clinked our crystal together to celebrate another magical evening in Prague. 

     When we made our online reservations, Lewis purchased the Unlimited Wine option for our dinner.  Czech vineyards produce some of the rarest delicious wine because their output is small, and we wanted to taste different varieties.  Czechs consume lots of beer and wine as part of their ongoing merriment, so fair prices for drinks are common.  That is Life/Work Balance.  A suited gentleman with a curled “handlebar” moustache introduced himself as the sommelier.  His eyes sparkled when he discovered our appreciation for Czech wine-making.  Most vintages that we chose were Czech—bypassing bottles from France, Portugal, Italy, Austria, and Germany.  The man beamed with pride.  The three of us colluded to arrange our wines in collaboration with the menu.  The hotel’s kitchen produced lovely food, that night. 

     Our place-settings were elegant: bread and butter plates with butter knives, two forks, two knives, soup spoons, and dessert forks & spoons crisscrossed above the plates.  The silverware was stamped with the coat of arms of the Hapsburg monarchy that employed Mozart and ruled the Czech kingdom at that time.  All of the porcelain had that emblem… including the salt and pepper shakers.  Bread and butter began our meal.  Our champagne saucers were removed, and the sommelier presented a Rosé vom Zweigelt Frauengrund (normally 200 crowns per glass).  By the time we emptied those glasses, it was time for the show to start—and we were giddy.  

     Nestled in our comfy chairs, we were thankful for our unobstructed view, and we watched the musicians appear and get tuned.  The soprano was Gabriela Kopperova, who works at the National Theatre and at F.X. Salda Theatre in the City of Liberec.  The baritone was Daniel Klansky, who works at the National Theatre and is a laureate at many operatic competitions.  They were accompanied by a string quintet.  The musicians worked for prestigious orchestras: Prague Radio Symphony, Salzburg Chamber Soloists, and the National Theatre.  Everyone wore costumes from the 1700s—with lots of color.  (Throughout history, men wore colors until the 1910s.  Now, most American men still confine themselves to black, blue, gray, and beige). 

     To prevent distractions, customers watched the performances, and during each intermission, a course of the meal was served.  There were three Acts to the program, and three courses to the meal.  

     The First Act consisted of songs from Mozart’s opera, Don Giovani, which had its world premiere in Prague.  Occasionally, the singers rested and the musicians gave a musical interlude.  Each song was splendidly executed: verve, energy, projection, elegance, and humor.  When the First Act ended, the audience erupted with applause!  We calmed down to consume our First Course.  Soup was served: a bowl of Cream of Pea with pea-shoots as garnish.  It was very tasty.  I used bread to scoop up the last drips.  To complement the soup, a server poured a Czech white wine from Frantisek Madl Vineyard (usually 950 crowns).  

     The Second Act focused on The Marriage of Figaro.  The seven performers emphasized the vivaciousness of classical music, and the enthusiasm that Mozart infused in his works.  Their frivolity matched the ballroom perfectly.  Everyone clapped energetically.  

     Our server presented big plates of Boeuf Bourguignon, served with roasted baby potatoes, string beans, and chopped mushrooms with carrots.  The portion was generous.  Each forkful was tender and well-cooked.  The sommelier filled our glasses with red wine from Frantisek Madl (1,050 crowns).  It paired perfectly with the beef’s hearty gravy.  We love Czech sauces!!!  We used the last of our bread to absorb the sauce.  Nothing was wasted. 

     The Third Act included songs from The Magic Flute.  Each was marvelous and entertaining.  

     During dessert, we declined coffee/tea, and we sipped white wine made by Rynsky Ryzlink Vlassky (220 crowns).  We ate handmade Apple Strudel—two thick slices for each of us—with vanilla bean sauce.  It was still warm from the hotel’s ovens.  It was delectable!  The wine was a wonderful accompaniment.  

     Since everything was prepaid, we merely had to depart when we were done.  No gratuity was expected, and none was charged.  The whole night was divine.  We could happily do it again and again.  For $146 each, that was outstanding value for our money!  Americans probably expected that meal to cost hundreds of dollars (while the restaurant’ employees were underpaid without getting medical benefits).  That’s a typical scenario in the USA.  In Czechia, restaurant employees are paid a livable wage and get Universal Healthcare from the government (no extra deduction from their paychecks).  Furthermore, in Prague, a 5-star hotel provides elegantly-plated food made with quality ingredients and wholesome recipes… without greedily making the price so high that the nice experience is only a “luxury” that customers must “save money” for.  Czech society is flourishing without that type of greed.  It’s wonderful.

     Hand-in-hand, we exited and returned smoothly to the Metro, which scooted us back to the hotel.  The open-air escalators were shiny and clean, and the floor of the station was being washed/waxed.  

     No homeless people slept on the platforms or trudged back-and-forth pestering people.  Best of all, the nighttime trains ran normally: prompt, clean, and without delays.  It was great.  I can count on one hand how many times we left a show in NYC and had seamless transit ride to get home.  Things in Prague were such a relief as compared to what we currently have.  

     The Czech wine made it easy to fall asleep, and we felt blessed to be able to sleep with the bedroom window open: peaceful, breezy, and serene.  Perfect.  Debrou Noc.

Please join us for the next part!