8:30 in the morning was a perfect time to use the hotel’s gym because nobody was there. Midway through our exercise, we heard the bells chiming from the nearby church. After an hour of fitness, we had another hour until breakfast ended in the dining room, so we nourished ourselves there. We drank pulpy orange juice and a pot of herbal tea.
We decided to wander through Old Town again and walk over the Charles Bridge in daylight. You could do that simple activity every day and discover new streets and buildings—the wonders of Czechia. In 2002, the Imperial Couple of Japan, Emperor Akihito and Empress Michiko, came to Prague. (The previous time that Heads of State of either nation visited each another was in 1918!) Coming from a realm that values history and heritage, the emperor was keen to see Prague’s historical sites, especially walking through Old Town and crossing the Charles Bridge. The royal pair also visited the Municipal House and Liechtenstein Palace, and they enjoyed an all-day tour of Prague Castle. (Their visit was a precursor to international commerce. 3,000 Japanese people live in Czechia, and Japan is one of its biggest investors). If it’s good enough for the imperial family, it’s good enough for us.
After an hour of meandering, we arrived at the Old Town Bridge Tower. Just beyond it was the humongous Clementinum complex, named for Saint Clement of the 11th century. It was built by affluent Jesuit monks in 1556 (although monks are supposed to be poor) as their college campus: courtyards, dormitories, chapels, churches, garden, and belltower. It has its own Astronomical Tower: the longest continuously-used meteorological station in the nation since 1755. After Prague Castle, it’s the biggest complex in the nation. It required 170 years to finish, and it is a gem of Baroque style. When the Society of Jesus was abolished in 1773, the Jesuits vacated, but the city continued to use it for education.
Its Baroque-era library is a masterpiece from 1727. We didn’t see it yet, but the long space is famously adorned with allegorical frescoes, gilded wood, stucco, mirrors, and a wraparound gallery overhead. It is entirely preserved—never altered or damaged. 27,000 rare books have a home there. (Admission is reduced by 10% for e-tickets. Generously, an Early Bird 50% discount exists during the first hour). The north side is on Platnerska Street. That street is famous for its statue of a ghost. Yes, Prague has a monument dedicated to a ghost. 400 years ago, Jachym Berka was engaged to his sweetheart but he was sent as a soldier to defend the nation. When he returned to Prague, he believed rumors that his fiancé was unfaithful to him. So, he married someone else. Feeling depressed, his former lover drowned herself in the Vltava River. Inconsolable, her father flung himself from a tower. Distraught by his actions, Jachym strangled his wife and committed suicide on Good Friday. As punishment for his deeds, heavenly governance condemned him to haunt the street until he earns his freedom. Every 100 years, he gets one chance to find a virgin and have a friendly chat with her. If he succeeds, he can rest in peace. Due to modern circumstances, there are few virgins in modern-day Prague… and few women desire conversations with ghostly killers. Woefully, an urban myth says that he missed his opportunity in 2009, so he must wait another 100 years.
Lewis and I walked through the Gothic gate onto the Charles Bridge. Doubtlessly, it is one of the greatest symbols of Prague—and one of the most majestic. Mid-morning on a Sunday was an ideal time to avoid crowds, yet it allowed us to enjoy the street-performers who played jazz music. We watched a quartet: trumpet, guitar, bass, and dulcimer. We used their up-tempo ragtime rhythm to hike across the bridge and admire its 30 statues. They are different from the original ones. Due to age, storms, and wars, some were eroded or damaged. As a solution, some replicas were made, but statues of new people were also created. They add a new appearance to the old site, and that progression keeps the bridge “alive”. The oldest one is preserved from 1683, and the newest one was installed in 1938. The statue of Saint Francis of Assisi was put on the bridge in 1853 because he was the patron saint of the Emperor of Austria, and it commemorated the emperor’s survival against an assassination attempt. As we ambled along, we noticed Augustine of Hippo (who lived in ancient Roman North Africa), the priest from the corrupt Borgia family (who had been the Duke of Gandia), a missionary named Francis Xavier (who voyaged to Japan to represent the King of Portugal), and a hero named Bruncvik.
There is a famous Czech legend about Bruncvik. He was a knight from Prague who made expeditions to unexplored lands for the glory of those adventures. To honor his wife, they exchanged rings, and he promised to return within seven years. Otherwise, she could remarry. Bruncvik took 50 men on horseback and rode into the wilderness until they reached the Adriatic Sea. Their boat got shipwrecked on an island, but he outlived his men for two years. By then, he knew of the annual visit from a giant bird, and he disguised himself in horse skins to resemble prey. The giant bird snatched the knight and carried him to its nest as food for its fledglings. The knight was grateful for the “rescue” and used his sword to slaughter the birds. As he fled, Bruncvik encountered a lion battling a nine-headed monster, so he helped it. The lion became devoted to him, and it aided him in their adventures. On their trek, the knight discovered a magic sword that decapitated enemies on its own. Henceforth, he travelled with the lion and the enchanted sword. Three years later, they arrived in Prague. By then, his wife was going to remarry, as instructed. Bruncvik snuck into the banquet hall and left his ring in her goblet of wine. Then, he departed. As she sipped her wine morosely, she saw his ring and cancelled the wedding. Her fiancé got angry and took friends to kill the knight. But the knight’s magic sword killed them first, as the knight knew it would. The couple were reunited, and Bruncvik vowed to never leave home again. He lived a long life. When he died, his lion died within days of a broken heart. Supposedly, Bruncvik’s lion is the two-tailed lion in the Czech coat of arms. An urban legend says that the sword is hidden within the Charles Bridge for safekeeping where nobody can touch it. Allegedly, it is encapsulated in the bridge near the statue of Bruncvik that is below the bridge.
(As you recall, I mentioned a legend that if Czechia is ever faced with disaster, the statue of King Wenceslaus will come alive and use the Sword of Bruncvik).
When you’re on the Charles Bridge, the local custom is to touch the bronze statue of Saint John of Nepomuk to receive good luck. It was made in 1683, and it’s the oldest one. According to folklore, the saint was thrown into the river from there in 1393 because he didn’t divulge the Queen’s secret to the King. Plenty of palms rub the statue.
Here is my photo at the Statues of Saints Norbert, Wenceslas, and Sigismund… made in 1853. Norbert was born in 1075 and became a priest who performed miracles and tried to reform the sinister clergy and abolish their concubines. In 516, Sigismund was crowned as the King of the Burgundians.
Next, we admired a 1707 statue depicting a trio of women: Saints Barbara, Margaret, and Elizabeth. Barbara was an ancient Greek martyr who performed 13 miracles. Born in 289, Margaret was the daughter of a polytheistic priest, but she was Christianized by her wet-nurse. Elizabeth was a Princess of Hungary who married an aristocrat in 1207 (at 14-years-old), but when he died in the Crusades, she became a nun who was treated harshly by a Roman Catholic inquisitor.
Lewis gazed at the most expensive sculpture on the bridge. Made in 1714, the Statues of Saints John, Felix, and Ivan commemorate an organization that freed Christians who were captives in ancient Turkey—hence the prison cell at the bottom. Satin Ivan is the patron saint of Slavs.
In addition to people-watching and admiring the boats that pass under the bridge, you can have a sketch penciled by an artist or browse the watercolors sold by street-vendors. At the other end of the bridge, we noticed a café named for Giacomo Casanova to commemorate his time in Prague.
Born in Venice in the 1700s, he was a world-famous seducer and adventurer. Naturally, he came to Prague! His first time was in 1753 at age 28. He spent the last 13 years of his life in the Czech nation, and it was paid for by Count Wallenstein. During his heyday of virility, Casanova womanized his way through much of Europe and was invited to many royal courts. In 1764, he visited King Frederick the Great of Prussia. Being openly gay, the king complimented the romancer, but was told that he should remain interested in his handsome grenadiers. It was said with enough charm that Cassanova and Frederick remained as pen-pals. In 1787, he was in Prague as a guest of the Pachta Family—whose palace is now the Mozart Hotel—and he met Mozart’s librettist, Lorenzo da Ponte, working on the opera Don Giovanni. Those are only a fraction of the tales that Prague can tell!
After passing through the Lesser Town Gate Towers, we went to a tram stop and got aboard a southbound one to return to Prague’s icon of Café Culture. In the 1800s and 1900s, “Café Society” in Prague grew to be world-famous. It rivalled the scenes in Vienna and Paris. Making an appearance at one of its elegant cafés was de riguer as a social necessity. Vibrant conversations and eager people-watching were as important as the food and beverages.
We arrived at our destination, and our foresight enabled us to bypass the queue of 18 people waiting patiently to enter. Café Savoy cushioned us within its Art Nouveau interior again.
During our first meal there, we asked the girl at the podium to make a reservation for us for Sunday at 12:30. We wanted to be there for “prime time” vibes to see how Praguers enjoyed a Sunday afternoon. Lewis asked if we could sit up on the mezzanine to have a nice view. With a grin, she guaranteed that we would have a table along the railing—and she gave us her favorite table: against the window for a view of the street.
That morning, the maître d’ recognized us and ushered us upstairs to our table. The mezzanine was nearly full. The table next to us had two young Korean women taking photos of each other. Behind them, two old Czech men in cardigans enjoyed a friendly meal together. They sat beside a young couple who seemed like they were on a date. In the corner, three young Czechs were dressed like Euro hipsters: black turtleneck with skinny jeans, slouchy sweater with skirt and beret, and denim shirt with leather pants. They held their cappuccino cups with élan. A French couple sat near us but blandly acted like typical French people and only ate French food: Steak Frites and French wine.
Downstairs, we washed our hands (and remoisturized with lotion). Before going upstairs, we peeked through the big window to watch bakers cut dough and roll it to make croissants. Seeing those impeccable techniques would compel anyone to buy one! (We did).
Possessing the expertise to create an elegant meal, the kitchen team sustained perfection with everything that we ordered. If you’re going to have a hearty breakfast or brunch, it should start with viennoiserie as an appetizer, so we had one of their perfect Croissants, filled with slices of hardboiled Eggs, Bibb Lettuce, and Ham. As we broke off pieces of our croissant, we loved the audible “crack” of the flaky dough. A hallmark of perfection!
Our waitress was delighted that we knew how to say Prosim, Dekuju, and Dobré Den. She provided a bottle of spring water (bottled in Karlovy Vary from the Doupov Mountains), and I requested a glass of freshly-squeezed grapefruit juice. Once again, Lewis ordered a glass of the organic unfermented grape wine with seltzer. Oven-fresh bread was accompanied by a ramekin of perfectly-soft butter. It’s always a testament to competence and courtesy when a restaurant serves softened butter, instead of refrigerator-hardened block that can’t be spread on soft bread without tearing it. You might expect that insight to be normal, but it isn’t.
We admired the frescoed ceiling with awe. So pretty. Being high-up, we also savored our view of the glorious antique chandeliers. Peering down, we could admire the smooth efficiency of the cocktail/barista bar. The pops of champagne being uncorked blended harmoniously with the purring of the espresso machines. A barista frothed milk and added whisps of steam to the air, while her colleague prepared drinks with cocktail shakers in each hand. A young man used a machine to make freshly-squeezed orange and grapefruit juices. With patterned perfection, a fourth person continually prepped the small oval trays that were used for each tea, espresso, macchiato, café au lait, latte, and cappuccino. One of those lattes come to me, and it was perfect: pre-warmed porcelain cup, pretty foam art, and delectable flavor. As usual, it was accompanied on its platter by a jigger of sparkling water.
From the menu, Lewis selected Viennese-style “Eggs in a Glass” with Black Truffles: three poached eggs with perfect yolks, layered with loads of the rare truffles. Every spoonful was heavenly. We also shared the chef’s remarkable Duck Liver on brioche with caramelized onions and sliced potatoes. Each forkful was divine.
Surveying the dining room, we watched people enjoying porridge, French toast, aromatic bacon, oysters, cucumber salad with sour cream, Basque anchovies, Loin of Lamb with buttered peas, Viennese Roast Beef, and Eggs Royale with salmon and caviar. With poise, customers sipped vermouth or tawny port as aperitifs, while others chose beer and cider.
As our main courses, we shared two things. Fillet of Seabass that was broiled to form a crispy skin, and served with blanched carrots and steamed kale. Savoy Duck Confit: thigh and leg with red cabbage in its wonderful sauce. It was served with a steamy tureen of dumplings.
Always attentive, two servers cleared and reset our table. Through the window, we looked outside and watched trams and Prague’s iconic “vintage touring cars” pass on the street. Our smiley server presented the dessert menu, but we knew the local custom of going to the Patisserie Window to see what looked good on that day.
Lewis selected another Vetrnik that we now love. Trying something new, I picked a Kremrole (Cream Roll), which was a tube of flaky pastry filled with gooey goodness of vanilla whipped cream. Next time, we’ll get a Vetrnik and a slice of luscious Apple Strudel with vanilla sauce. After serving a glass of grappa and a snifter of pear brandy to the neighboring table, our server asked if we wanted a digestif… but we were content. We paid the bill: 2,552 crowns ($107).
The maître d’ wished us a lovely day and opened the door for us. Everyone in the queue greeted us… instead of looking annoyed because they waited in a queue. When you have proper Life/Work Balance, slight delays don’t bother you.
We went around the corner to buy espresso-based drinks from Kofarna Ujezd. It was recommended on a “Best of Prague” sightseeing video as one of the best specialty coffeeshops. It has four rooms with cozily-made wood interiors, and lavatories are downstairs. The well-educated baristas were cheery, and they made an excellent espresso for me (60 crowns = $2.50) and a lovely latte for Lewis (90 crowns)—including foam art that resembled a swan… like the ones on the Vlatva River. Respectably, they do not charge extra for non-dairy milk. (In NYC, that requires $1). Their sophisticated roaster is on-site. If you drink your beverages there with the reusable cups, you save 5 crowns (instead of needing a disposable paper cup). If you bring your own cup, you save 5 crowns. Of course, we remained and used their pre-warmed porcelain cups/saucers.
A showcase brandished all types of mouth-watering sweets—from Pumpkin Cheesecake and Linzer Torte Cookies to Cottage Cheese Buns. Customers bought mulled wine and hot ginger with yuzu.
Boasting about its international clientele, a chalkboard was used by guests to give compliments and indicate what country they were from. We saw signatures from Italy, Spain, and Nashville, Tennessee. Lewis inscribed our praises and drew an arrow to New York. (We will change that location soon).
A local woman told us that a great place to see springtime blossoms is at the Seminářská Záhrada(Seminary Garden) on Petrin Hill, so we walked there. Nothing is nicer than burning calories with a Nature Hike. Praguers often visit the garden for picnics and romantic walks in its orchard. Indeed, we saw picnickers with blankets on the lawn. Covering 17 hectares, the garden includes 2,100 flowering fruit trees: cherries, apples, and pears. They usually start blooming from February until April. In colder NYC, the first blooms don’t appear until after Saint Patrick’s Day in March—an entire month later. (Last year, we noticed that same phenomenon in Ireland, which is much farther north than NYC, yet has milder weather).
Phenomenally, Prague is a modern city that retains much of its medieval qualities. Irregular-shaped square are dominated by clocktowers and church spires. Winding lanes are lined with bright-painted palaces and mansion that have dynamic stucco. Orchards and vineyards still occupy prime real estate, amidst office buildings and modern infrastructure. As such, Prague is applauded for its prioritization of green-space that allows it to have 70 orchards! Amazing. They are managed by the City Council, and 15 are open to the public for fruit-picking.
Seminary Garden was first envisioned as a vineyard by Emperor Charles IV. In the 1640s, it was owned by the barefoot Carmelite monks, and they built a chapel that still stands. In 1784, Emperor Joseph II abolished their monastery, and the garden went to the Archbishop. The seminary clergy from Prague’s Clementinum tilled the soil. In 1927, the land was traded to the municipality for land elsewhere. The monks’ wall was demolished in 1930 so the public could enjoy access. It is now a Protected Cultural Monument.
As we sauntered along the hilly paths, we observed an American flag on the flagpole of an ornamental pavilion. It belonged to the American Embassy, which occupies the former Schonborn Palace with a big garden. Perhaps boastful of its acreage, the U.S. put a flag on the pavilion at the farthest point, which abuts the Seminary Garden. The palace was built in 1656 by a one-legged Czech count named Rudolf von Colloredo who was a Field Marshal during the Thirty Years’ War. Swedish invaders captured the castle in 1648, but he prevented them from invading Old Town. Emperor Ferdinand III made him a royal-appointee to the Privy Council. Later, the property was owned by the princely Schonborn family (founded in 1275), which had its own sovereignty in the Holy Roman Empire. Their coat of arms still adorns the embassy. They owned the palace until 1919. In 1917, Franz Kafka lived and worked in it. In 1919, America’s first Envoy to Czechoslovakia was Richard Crane, and he bought the palace (apropos for the grandson of an American millionaire of the Gilded Age). In 1925, he sold it to the American government and returned to the USA. The suicidal man shot himself in 1938 at his southern plantation, named Westover. (Years ago, I visited Westover Planation as an example of American colonial architecture from 1750 that survived the Revolutionary War and the Civil War).
Lewis and I wanted to see “real places” in Prague, so we decided to travel to outer districts to walk around, observe, and experience “local vibes”.
Recently, the owners of Taste of Prague Food Tours (Zuzi and Jan) opened a bistro named Šodó. It is in the Dejvice neighborhood, which borders the prosperous Bubeneč neighborhood. The government designated both as Urban Monument Zones. Dejvice is in Prague 6 (coat of arms)__. After hearing Jan brag about it, we were inspired to visit it, so we rode north on Tram #20 from Victory Street to Vitezne Namesti. It arrived without delay and only needed 13 minutes to travel 4 kilometers (6 stops). Conveniently, the bistro was a few streets away.
It has the area to itself because there are few competitors. Smart location. Jan described the layout as Parisian with a Scandinavian style. We concur. Outdoor seating benefited from elegant space-heaters. The cozy interior was full of jolly customers, and we were impressed that Jan employed four people to prepare/serve food. Before this job, Chef Ondra was the executive chef at Eska. The main barista, Honza, was lured from The Barn in Berlin. The menu focuses on breakfast-style food that is served all day, and their prized ingredient is browned butter. Their wines come from Moravia, which is a plus. Naturally, the aromas were enticing. Candlesticks flickered amongst the pastries. We bought lattes and a koláč. It flavored with poppy seed paste, and it was the BEST koláč that we ate during our trip! (I emailed Jan and Zuzi to share our compliments). Their baker, Eva, also supplies koláče to Letec Espresso Bar—near the National Gallery of Contemporary Art. Each one cost 68 crowns ($2.86). We saw coins in the tip jar, but we gave our gratuity electronically. Then, we carried our drinks and explored the handsome area.
That part of Prague 6 is directly north of the castle and is well-connected to mass transit. It’s very appealing. Due to sensible flight paths to the airport, there were no planes overhead. (For comparison, NYC uncaringly allows jets to fly over millions of residents—with thundering noise pollution—going to both of NYC’s airports. It could easily keep the flights over the water around Long Island, but it doesn’t care). In Prague, Life/Work Balance is a priority.
We paused to admire a rectangular fountain that created a faux stream—with plenty of rocks and wooden footbridges to cross it. At night, the burbling water is illuminated. Bronze statues of horses seemed to be using the stream. Created in 2008 by a sculptor named Michal Gabriel, the artwork is titled Three Bronze Horses.
A useful parking garage is concealed beneath the square, so it doesn’t disrupt the serene scenery. We like that clever infrastructure, and we noticed it in London, Valencia, and Amsterdam. Guess where it fails to be used? America’s richest city—with the most traffic congestion.
Anywhere in the city is reachable within 20 minutes by public transportation. So, we walked to Dejvicka Metro Station and used Route A (Green) to get across the city to Strasnicka Station in a suburb named Strašnice. It is in Prague 10 (COAT OF ARMS___). We were happy that our ride was uninterrupted and timely: 17 minutes to go 9 kilometers and complete 10 stops. As I said earlier, there is no weekend in the year that you can depend on NYC’s subway. Riders must always go online before using it to see if a route has delays, is suspended, or if a train is suddenly running on a different track, or skipping certain stations.
We exited at Strasnicka Station (opened in 1987) and strolled around the vicinity. Several suburbs have “apartment blocks” that were erected during the Soviet Occupation. They were economical and standardized. Nowadays, they are painted in bright pastels, and their sturdiness is desired as well-spaced apartments.
Strašnice is older, so it’s different. The streets were full of terraced houses behind hedges, gabled cottages with terracotta roof tiles, and postwar apartment buildings (when it was a novelty to use prefabricated parts). In some ways, the linear style of the pretty homes and their fences reminded us of Japanese communities.
Shops and markets lined both sides of Starostrasnicka—including a sex toy shop. The company operates three locations in the capital, and one in the City of Brno (former capital of Moravia). Posters advertised Easter Baskets full of sensual gifts. Its windows displayed lingerie, twin-head massage wands, vibrators, suction toys. A “vibrating stroker” cost $42—less a 15% discount—and a remote-controlled stimulator was named Charles II and cost $67. We wondered if it was named for the former emperor?
Modern office towers lined the thoroughfare named Cernokostelecka.
Lewis suggested taking the next northbound tram and seeing where Fate brought us. Another of Prague’s clean trams arrived: #7. We climbed aboard and—with a clang of its bell—we rode onward for 20 minutes (15 stops). The scenery was interesting. The tram drove along the ridge of a steep hill, and we got great views. Then, it crossed a bridge named Pod Plynojemem that curved above train tracks and swooped down to the Mezitrati neighborhood. After pausing at Palmovka Station, it clanged its way through a traffic roundabout. There were modern buildings, yet they were still painted in classic colors so they blended harmoniously with the community.
Lewis pressed the button to make the tram stop, and we disembarked at Vysočanská
Metro Station, which is in Prague 9 (COAT OF ARMS__). The community of Vysočany was first recorded in 1115. It has Prague’s oldest airport, largest flea market, and tallest residential tower. Its vineyard is nearly 1000-years-old.
The Metro Station served Route B (Yellow) which was a convenient surprise because we were able to ride it across the city to our hotel. The distance was 7 kilometers yet the ride was only 13 minutes, which seemed like space-age speed for people accustomed to subways in New York. By then, Lewis was thirsty, so we exited at Mustek Station to buy bubble tea at Chatime again. Per usual, it was populated with teenagers—even on a weekend. That time, we noticed a neon sign on the wall...
At our hotel, we activated the automated window shade and napped for 30 minutes. Then, it was time for a snack at Choco Café, located north of our hotel. I found it online, and it serves luscious hot chocolate. During our stroll on cobbled streets, we passed the Embassy of Vatican City (the Vatican calls it an Apostolic Nunciature). Other old buildings were impressive, too. A light-blue one had an ornate red door, with a doorframe that was topped by a person holding wheat. A seashell was depicted above that. On either side, the building had embedded columns with nude men who looked like dancing angels. Their three-dimensional details were astonishing: furled fabric, feathers, and legs. In every direction, structures were embellished handsomely: cornices, oriel windows, foils, and antefixes on roofs.
Peeking inside another courtyard, we saw big artificial trees that were made of wires. They were illuminated with strands of lights, and they provided ambiance to a restaurant within the courtyard.
Indicative of a stylish society, we saw a hat shop—brimming with fedoras, trilbies, and newsie caps. We used a covered passage and emerged on a square that looked “as pretty as a postcard”. Sincerely, every turn in Old Prague brings a lovely scene. We meandered through a narrow old lane, with buttresses overhead that stabilized the medieval buildings. The tight space opened at another square, and we paused to appreciate the beauty. Cobbled streets intersected by a stately old church—its steeple reflecting in the ebbing sunlight. Bicycles and e-scooters were arranged in orderly rows by the curb. Silent cars with electric engines rolled gently on the stones, and couples chuckled merrily as they went in different directions.
An Italian restaurant had its outdoor seating illuminated with chandeliers and table-lamps. The chairs had faux fur covers, and blankets were folded nearby… so customers were comfy under the heat-lamps. Clearly, the Czech population cares about the appearance of their communities. In stark contrast, eating outdoors in NYC is plagued by piles of garbage because the city layers its pavement with trash. There is no “garbage containment”. Here are my photos of NYC’s expensive neighborhood; it looks like a trashy ghetto. People overpay for the “privilege” to eat their pricey food near the trash. In summer, the smell is putrid. ___
New Yorkers spend thousands of dollars on their outfits, yet they congregate at restaurants that exist in filth. They sit on stinky pavement that reeks of spilled garbage, while sipping overpriced cocktails. In the background, there is the ever-present rumble of vehicular traffic—full of aggravated horn-honking. The scene is inelegant and unattractive, yet those morons overpay to be in it. People who settle for those standards are like kids who sit in the mud and ignore a better life. That is very typical of NYC and much of America. That’s why things don’t improve.___
Nearby, another antique water pump stood with perfect preservation.
Choco Café is on Liliova Street. The cobblestone street existed since the early Middle Ages, and it was used to arrive at Judith’s Bridge (built in 1158 as a precursor to the Charles Bridge). At that time, it was the oldest bridge in the nation, and only one of three stone bridges in Central Europe. (Yes, Prague was always a trailblazer). Similar to other medieval lanes, Liliova has several bends and curves because it had to adapt to pre-existing buildings. Significantly, it was part of the Royal Route for coronation processions through the capital.
As soon as we strode through the door, the smell of chocolate was heavenly! My nostrils were filled with decadence. Choco Café is a family-owned chocolatier that serves the best hot chocolate in Prague. Their extensive menu wowed us with single-origin and organic varieties (they truly care about chocolate). Handmade bars of exquisite chocolate were so impressive that we bought several to bring home… and two to eat as late-night snacks in our hotel.
It was only 5:30pm, yet almost every chair was occupied! Three employees worked behind the counter, and they melted/prepared our beverages promptly. In the meantime, we scanned the shelves of single-origin and organic-plantation chocolates. Their selection was staggering! Quality was abundant everywhere.
Lewis chose a cup of hot chocolate made from White Chocolate: whole organic milk and organic vanilla from the island-nation of Madagascar. It was classified as “Bio Chocolate”. Mine was made of Dominican Dark Chocolate (71% cacao) harvested from the Los Bejucos area of that island-nation. The wonderfully-rich taste derived from Criollo beans that retain their purebred qualities. While other plantations are genetically modified, Dominican ones are famously non-adulterated.
When they make hot cocoa, they don’t use powders. They melt chocolate so it liquifies. That’s how we prefer it, too. Our beverages had the perfect consistency: thick and syrupy—as hot chocolate was intended to be served. The watery types in the USA—made from chemicalized dehydrated powder and innutritious additives—are woefully wrong. Every sip was delectable, and the shop gave us small spoons to get every drip. It was a perfect afternoon snack! Our drinks cost a total of 265 crowns ($11).
After passing Bistro BO each day near our hotel, Lewis decided that it looked nice enough to dine at. The Asian bistro occupied a corner property on Ostrovni (Island) Street. The first room had a barista counter, bar, and display case for choosing ready-made takeaway food. Tables were against the big windows. A bigger dining area was downstairs, but we chose a table in the midway section. It was a few steps down from the entrance room. The kitchen team was unseen, and two chatty Czech girls worked as servers.
Lewis drank refreshing Elderberry Lemonade with Mint, while I chose Melon/Lychee Juice. We ate Beef with Coconut Curry and Green Chilies. It was seasoned with coriander, spring onions, freshly-grated ginger, garlic… and it was served on Jasmine Rice. Next, we ordered Rice Noodles (Korean clear noodles) with wok-fired Beef and mixed Vegetables. We also shared Tiger Prawns cooked in ginger and garlic oil, with a drizzle of squeezed lemon. For dessert, we enjoyed jiggly panna cotta.
We overheard another American gay couple talking with our waitress. They lived in Los Angeles but spent half their year in Prague. They loved Prague more than L.A. They want to relocate away from America as émigrés and live in Czechia. According to them, the Czech government will ease its requirements for work/residency permits, this year.
As we departed, we savored the historic lanes: tidy, preserved, and quiet. In the USA, narrow roads are congested/choked with motorbikes. In NYC, motorbikes are rebuilt to deliberately make unnecessary noise: they sound like guns shooting! Such unlawful disrespect proves that America hasn’t matured from the gun-slinging Wild West era that it created.
Back in our room, we did our online pre-flight check-in, and we nestled under the blanket to enjoy Czech TV and a breeze through the window.
Monday morning began brightly. We used the gym and ate a big breakfast in the hotel. Before packing our luggage, I dashed over to Super Tramp for a supremely-made espresso. As a departure gift, the hotel’s Front Desk team gave us a small bottle of olive oil. It was organically grown on a farm in Costa Navarino, Greece that is owned by the hotel’s owner. It was cold-pressed from Kalamata olives. To reciprocate, we gave the boys all of the business cards from eateries that we liked in Prague. They instantly recognized Restaurant 420, but they hadn’t eaten there yet. We recommended it. With sincere smiles, the three young men thanked us—and showed gratitude for our patronage. They wished us a safe journey. (We will use the hotel again).
They also scheduled a taxi for us to get to the airport, and they confirmed the price. Advice: some taxi drivers are tempted to cheat their customers by increasing the fare, so you must agree to the price before getting in their car. The hotel told us that the fare would be $30. The driver was punctual, and he hoisted our luggage into his van for us. He opened the doors for us. He delivered us to the airport promptly. Then, he asked if we could pay with cash, but we could not. So, he fetched his credit card reader. Suddenly, the price increased to $38. Lewis paid before I could warn him. He told the driver the take the gratuity out of the increased fare. That’s an example of cheaters to be wary of. It’s why we recommend Welcome Pickups because their rates are guaranteed in advance. (Tipping is not expected for taxis. If you pay with cash, it is customary to round-up and make that a gratuity).
Thankfully, the airport’s Security Checkpoint was the FASTEST that we ever experienced in our lives. It was quicker than Dublin and faster than Copenhagen—which brags about having the shortest Wait Times.
We paid more than other airlines to have our flights on KLM because we trusted its reputation. We should’ve double-checked its current reliability rating. First, after they took our money, they altered our flight arrangements by switching us to one of their “affiliates”: a budget-airline named Transavia. Lewis phoned KLM to complain because that airline is lower quality. To appease us, they waived the $150 fee for our checked baggage. However, that airline was pivotal in ruining our return flight to NYC. We hate it when we pay a company for something, but they outsource their obligation to a “partner” or “affiliate”. If I pay a restaurant for their food, I don’t want food from another one. If I buy a household appliance, I don’t want it to have components from another brand. Increasingly, airlines forget those principles.
The Transavia jet was delayed from leaving its hub at Amsterdam’s Schiphol Airport. The delay continued for hours… always being postponed (as if the Dutch staff was clueless about when to anticipate the jet). Making it worse, the Dutch airline failed to inform its flyers, so everybody gathered at the Departure Gate. Finally, the jet arrived, but its crew seemed lackadaisical to get it ready for a swift turnaround. Travelers complained loudly. The airport dispatched suited men who looked official and issued commands that got the luggage exchanged and got passengers onboard. During those stressful hours, the crew for our flight hinted that delays at Schiphol should also delay everyone’s connecting-flights, so nobody would be stranded. They lied.
Our plane was airborne when we were finally told that we missed our connecting flight in Amsterdam. People going to Spain and England also missed their flights. Many people were unhappy, but the flight crew did nothing to pacify their uproar. The crew did the minimum effort. When the plane landed, Lewis and I arrived at KLM’s Customer Support Desk before other passengers. A nonchalant employee was gossiping with a coworker, and I cleared my throat to gain her attention. “Do you need help?” she asked. “That’s why I’m standing here,” I answered grimly. She turned away from us to give kisses on the cheeks of her coworker and they said their goodbyes. Clearly, customers do not come first. Finally, we explained our problem and she directed us to another woman.
That fat Dutch woman made us wait until she received her hot cocoa from another coworker. She took a sip and asked us to describe our problem. With a lack of empathy, she said that there were no more flights to NYC—not even on another affiliate. She sat there looking at us. Retaining my composure, I asked, “What are you going to do about that?” She got us seats on the next-available flight to NYC: 8:00 in the morning aboard a Delta jet. Next, she gave us vouchers to a “nearby hotel” and said that its shuttle bus made trips to the airport. “Dinner and breakfast are included,” she said, “The hotel will provide vouchers for them”. She took another sip of her cocoa and wished us a “pleasant night”. She smug lack of concern was so glaring that I hoped the cocoa would spill all over her. I stared at her fat face and reminded her that we were stranded at the airport in the middle of the afternoon and hadn’t eaten our lunch because the flight was delayed by 3.5 hours. She gave us vouchers to buy lunch at the airport: $15 for each of us. That paltry amount only allowed Lewis and I to get a sandwich and a juice.
While we ate, I researched online and saw that Royal Schiphol Group’s CEO, Rudd Sondag, was quoted to say “Never before in Schiphol’s history have we disappointed so many travelers and airlines as in 2022. Our efforts and hard work did not lead to the necessary improvements in the system, and, as a result, we were not able to provide the service we wanted.” Schiphol Airport had a loss of $82 million! Evidentially, they continue to fail at their jobs because it is 2024 and the same problems persist. (Royal Schiphol made a “royal f*ck-up”). Recent articles criticized the airports increased delays, which the airport blamed on “labor shortages” that triggered “operational issues”. When we visited the airport in 2019, there was a tiny amount of absenteeism: only 4.7%. Something changed. When a corporation claims to have a “labor shortage”, it’s usually a backhanded way of admitting that they mistreat employees and people don’t want to work for them. We were infuriated that KLM and Schiphol failed it get their own plane out of their own airport. That’s like being in your own kitchen but unable to find the refrigerator!
After that, we joined other people waiting for the hotel’s shuttle. Stupidly, Schiphol makes bus riders wait outside. There is no protection against cold or wind, and the “smoking section” was directly behind the shuttle area, so cigarette smoke blew on us constantly. The windy temperature was 42-degrees, but windchill made it colder. After 20 minutes, other shuttle buses came and went, but ours was not seen. One woman was in a wheelchair, and her airport attendant felt sorry for her, so he called the hotel and was told that the shuttle should be there soon. After another 20 minutes, he called again and was told that it would be there in a few minutes. Outraged, the man scolded the person at the hotel. Lewis and I wondered why KLM didn’t put its stranded passengers in a hotel within the airport? My online search identified 12 hotels at the airport. Uncaringly, they put everyone in a hotel that was 15-minutes away… because it was cheaper. After a full hour, the shuttle finally arrived. It was outdated and worn. That was a hint about the hotel.
The Leonardo Hotel is classified as 4-star but that rating is impossible! The hotel sucks. It has 17 floors, yet the lobby had only one Front Desk employee. She was from India. It was 7pm (19:00) but the lobby was void of life. There was no background music, the lighting was bleak, and there was a chintzy display case selling plastic mugs. An area that might’ve had a faux fireplace was repurposed to hold a cheap TV monitor. A “café area” only had two stale-looking croissants. (Those croissants were still there, the next morning). The queue moved slowly, as stranded travelers got their room-keys. A swarthy fat man from India arrived to supervise. We overheard him boast about how much business the hotel got from KLM’s stranded passengers… and he walked away. Finally, we got our room-key and our dinner vouchers. We were aghast to see that they were only worth $30 each! Considering the marked-up prices at hotel restaurants, we didn’t know what KLM expected us to buy?! Then, we got another insult when we were told that we needed to be in the lobby for the 6:40am shuttle… but breakfast wasn’t available until 6:30. I asked if they could let us get into the buffet early? The woman gave a “plastic smile” and said, “No, I can’t allow that.” Angered, I replied, “My voucher from KLM promises me to have breakfast, but if the shuttle leaves at 6:40, how do I eat?” She didn’t care, and simply said, “I have no information for you.” Flabbergasted, I wanted to demand to speak with the manager, but Lewis told me to forget it. (He complained to KLM later).
Half of the lightbulbs in our bedroom didn’t work, so it was dark. A chill penetrated through the windows. The bathroom had two large cracks in the wall. There were no Dental Kits or Tissue boxes. At the restaurant, a pudgy man from India worked at the bar, and a blonde Dutch girl served our food. The portions were embarrassingly small. Once again, chilly air leaked through the window by our table.
The next morning, the room was chilly. In the lobby, another swarthy fat man from India was at the desk, but he made a black man do our Check-Out (and had him clean the coffeepots). KLM’s motto is “We know your time is precious, and we want you to make the most of it!” That is a lie. We won’t use KLM for a while, and it’s shameful that their behavior degrades the notion of Dutch reliability. It made us savor our Czech experiences even more! Our Delta flight was uneventful, and it had legroom. Back in the squalor of NYC’s JFK Airport, it required 45 minutes for citizens like us to get through the Security Checkpoint. Foreigners needed twice as much time.
To avoid the unmanaged long queue for taxis, Lewis used his phone to summon a ride-share. In NYC, Uber and Lyft drivers are usually former taxicab drivers who bring their despicable behavior. We experienced their bad habit of accepting online rider requests (to grab money) but then not wanting to go to the rider’s destination, so they cancelled and left us stranded. After 15 minutes of those rejections, Lewis was angry. Evidentially, Uber and Lyft don’t penalize drivers for that rude disregard of their jobs… because those corporations are only concerned about making money. Furthermore, it is apparent that those faceless corporations do not screen their drivers for quality. You can’t escape NYC’s cruddy corruption!
We finally got an Uber driver. He was Indian, like a typical cabbie. Racially-profiling Lewis, he assumed that we were going to Flushing (due to its overpopulation of Chinese immigrants). Lewis reminded him of the destination on his screen. During our ride through NYC’s unfixed traffic problems, the driver complained about his increased rent.
Lewis paid online but was aghast at the expense. Suddenly, there was a new JFK Airport Surcharge of $2.50. A few years ago, the governor decreed that a fixed-rate applied to rides to airports. Evidentially, the greedy city changed that. Uber and Lyft also include an additional 2.5% surcharge for customers to support the pathetic Black Car drivers that nobody wants. NYC regulations stipulate that rideshare organizations must put a 2.5% surcharge on fares for payment into the “New York Black Car Fund” that pays for those drivers’ compensation benefits. It’s outrageous! Why are rideshare users paying for the Taxi/Limousine Commission’s medical benefits?!
In addition to that, our bill had a NY Driver Benefits Surcharge! Another fee came from NYC’s Congestion Surcharge. It is basically an MTA fee, so the transit authority still gets paid whenever people use a rideshare car to avoid the MTA’s broken system. On top of it all, NYC sales tax is applied… and 4% of that is mandated to go to Commuter Transportation! The whole scenario is a huge money-scamming rip-off.
We returned to NYC to endure 4 days of rain and 6 days of overcast cloudiness. One day had sunshine. Prague’s weather was better. We hated our first commute to work. Residents pay $3,000 per month to live near “15-minute subway access to Manhattan”, yet the subway is often unreliable and delayed that it seems as if they live one hour away from Manhattan! At 8:10am (the peak of morning commuting Rush Hour), trains were already delayed because an old one’s brakes malfunctioned at the tunnel into Manhattan. Despite being the year 2024, the trains on our route are still from 1974! They were made before we were born! NYC doesn’t care. After 26 minutes, the train crew told passengers to walk 20-minutes for three-quarters of a mile (in heavy rain) to an alternate subway route. That is uncaringly ridiculous. After 40 minutes, NYC suspended trains in both directions—crippling a main subway route in Manhattan, Queens, and Brooklyn! According to our train’s conductor, the stalled train was still waiting for responders to arrive! Idiots. Overpaid idiots. Next, he told riders to leave the train and try using buses. That’s always dumb. Each train carries 250 passengers, and a bus holds 80. When half of the train’s passengers descended to the street, they flooded the next four consecutive buses (because buses at that time of day are already almost full). Since buses arrive every 10 minutes (if you’re lucky—and 30 minutes if the driver is late from a snack), that meant that subway riders would waited in the rain (NYC still lacks shelters at bus stops) for 40 minutes for a bus.
Equally unhelpful, Uber and Lyft sensed the increase in demand for cars near the crippled subway. So—being indicative of greed—the surged their prices; a simple ride into Manhattan suddenly rose from $15 to $80! That type of price-gouging should be illegal, but NYC doesn’t care. (After the mass-shooting on the NYC subway, people avoided public transportation for the entire day. The demand for Uber cars increased. Callously, Uber’s surcharges soared from $18 to $67! Greedily, it uses the same tactic during storms, power outages, and violent crimes. It pocketed outrageous fees until complaints appeared on social media. If there hadn’t been online criticism, Uber would never acknowledge how it took advantage of vulnerable citizens to leach off them).
Having lived through similar stupid scenarios many times, I simply remained on my train. Hundreds of others (many are newcomers to the wretched city) fled the train and scurried for buses, overpaid for Uber, or trekked soggily to another subway route. I was an hour late for work, but I knew to wait… and the train eventually moved ahead. Nobody in a “first-world” city should have to endure that crap, yet it happens every month of every year in NYC… for the last 14 years.
I was excited to describe Prague to my five coworkers. However, two were afraid of travelling because too many murders happen in other countries. One woman said, “Why can’t other places keep themselves safe? It’s shameful that it’s so dangerous!” The other said, “Who wants to spend money to travel where it’s unsafe?” I replied, “That doesn’t make sense. Do you think that NYC has less murders than Prague? That’s absurd.” They were silent. For the month of January—in middle of winter—NYC suffered from 27 (reported) murders, and there were 66 shootings. As a nation, Czechia only had 159 in 2023. The women stared at me, with perplexed expressions of their own stupidness. Americans are too afraid. I asked them, “Have you ever left the USA?” No. My colleague asked one of them, “You’re 56-years-old, and you never ventured or explored beyond your boundaries?” No. He said, “You only get 2 weeks of vacation time per year, and you prefer to stay home during it, or overpay for Disneyland—in a hot swamp—or casinos in a hot desert?”
Self-absorbed American tourists prefer to see the faux “World Showcase” at America’s Disney Resorts or the artificial “Venice” in a Las Vegas casino. They prefer to eat at American-based “junk food/fast food” chain-restaurants (owned by conglomerates that evade taxes, underpay employees, and infest their foods with chemicals), instead of tasting authentic local cuisines. Does it make those Americans seem smart?
After our visits to Europe, we realized that American industries and media spent decades badmouthing foreign ideals. It seems like a Soviet tactic. Those industries remain fearful that superior quality products and beliefs might erode their graft-insured market-share in America. In reality, European and Asian inventions, food, healthcare, cars, public transit, appliances, and energy generation are wonderful… and way ahead of American levels! American industries behave like former Soviet ones: blindfolding and brainwashing their population. Maybe we oughtn’t always trust American organizations.
When a country is rotten at its core, it never seems to mature. You can remember my words because they rhyme. Lewis and I have adulation for Prague, and we know that it’s better than London or Paris. We move ahead as speedily as we can.
