Learning To Live In Prague

Our bus from the airport to the city centre was missed by seconds. I ran, I screamed, I waved my arms frantically - the bus driver was having none of it. Although my sister and I waited for half of an hour for the next bus to arrive, I would not let it spoil my mood. Skin faced towards the sun, bursting through the frosted air, I thought to myself, I am still in Prague.

After silly conversation that made the wait feel like nothing, my sister and I boarded the bus. Despite it seeming like the most tedious part of a trip, I always enjoy the transfer journey from the airport to the "destination". It is never the most glamorous view - half-built or half-demolished houses. Though, I tend to find it far easier to romanticise the quieter spaces of land and lives - where the stories are not already written for me.

Pastel-coloured houses lined in a row along the river. Bringing a smile to my face and a memory to my mind, I recalled the teenage year I met a boy on holiday - who I was sure I fell in love with. In the hotel lobby those years ago, we browsed handmade bracelets and got to know each other. I remember vividly telling him about the coloured houses I saw on the coach to the hotel from the airport. How beautiful they were, how romantic. All I remember was his sweet smile at my words - the smile that started it all.

Once my sister and I checked into the hotel and lightened our load, we searched for somewhere to eat. If we are hungry enough, we search online for nearby restaurants that take our fancy. This one looks good! my sister insisted. Trusting her and following her lead, we took off in the direction of the brunch cafe. On our way, we crossed paths with a traditional Czech restaurant named "Husinec". Impressed with what we saw, we made a mental note to return in a few hours for dinner. Arriving at the cafe my sister suggested, we swiftly turned away after seeing a proud label on the menu - "Completely Plant-Based". Shall we just go to Husinec now? Agreeing with my sister's good idea, yes.

Walking through the doors and down the stairs, a scene of two ducks guarding a nest of eggs greets you. There are yellow flowers surrounding and a warm welcome approaching. Taking our seats, I admire the exposed brick and dim lighting. It is quiet, it is comfort. After our tiring travel, my sister orders a pint of beer - me taking joy in the cost of it compared to anything in London. Despite deciding to eat something only light for lunch prior to looking at the menu, I wanted to taste authentic Czech food. Beef goulash for me and pork schnitzel for my sister - both accompanied with a rich potato mash. The sauce was silky and the meat tender. Although it may not be as traditional as dumplings, I soaked my sister's side of potato-dough pancakes, which she kindly let me share with her, in the deep meat sauce. Perhaps unconventional, I did try the traditional dumplings with another serving of beef goulash a few meals later and I much preferred the potato-dough pancakes as a pairing.

When visiting a new city, my sister and I like to visit their National Gallery. Though they have their similarities, The National Gallery Prague owns a phenomenal exhibition of minerals. I watched the gleam of the stones reflect into my sister's eyes - she was in her element. After our slow strides came to a halt, I asked my sister which her favourite minerals were and why. Taking me to them, they were bold and bright. Fluorescent colours and loud statements. While mine were more timid - speaking to me in a way only I could understand. Chalcedon, its gradient of pale blue to white reminded me of sea foam and how much I miss dipping my feet in it.

Even though Prague was the most delightfully inexpensive city I have visited, my sister and I had somewhat of a budget. We researched nearby museums and chose only a few to visit, so as to not exceed our spending desires. Despite the cost of a museum ticket already being relatively cheap, we are both students and were able to deduct a third of our cost. On our way to the Sex Machines Museum, which my sister insisted be on the list out of curiosity, we passed the Mucha Museum. Although we originally rejected it from our itinerary, we decided to step inside - as we were already there. Feeling intrigue at our surroundings, and it feeling too early in the morning for a tour of sex machines, we bought a ticket and emerged into Mucha's art.

What struck me initially was the representation of beauty in his work - more vividly how opposed it is to current standards. Round faces and hip indents and strong arms. Now, it seems so many women, and girls, take extreme precautions to reduce or remove or prevent all of these features - features that were once deemed desirable. As well as this premise, I was fascinated by Mucha's work ethic. A lot of the artwork displayed, large and proud, on the blank walls were advertisements. His art nouveau style displays champagne or chocolate or biscuits - each telling a story of how the product may be consumed in a moment. After being laid off from his job, Mucha began working as a freelance illustrator for magazines and consumer companies. Having had experience in marketing, myself, I find the whole concept overwhelming. There are few advertisements I see from day-to-day that are not cheap, run-down ways to take our money. So, when I saw a poster of two children scrambling at a woman's feet as she peacefully held a tray of steaming hot chocolate, I quite longed for a time when marketing meant something. When it made you feel something.

The city felt rather small. It seemed as if we had seen all we could within the first day and a half of our trip. I have always found boat tours to be a great way to view a foreign city in a short space of time. However, they tend to be too expensive to consider. Though, we were in Prague. If you are acclimatised to London's cost of living, Prague's financial demands are a breath of fresh air - mostly, a relief. This meant that a boat tour was not off the cards. Including a student discount, the tour was cheaper than my train ticket to the office. With the boat leaving in a couple of hours, my sister and I scanned our surroundings for somewhere to enjoy a coffee and something sweet.

Stepping onto the boat, I was unexpectedly delighted by its interior. Rows of floral-carpeted seats and glazed wooden frames, it was a taste of a time I never knew. Ordering my sister a pint which, of course, was priced twice the usual rate, we snuggled up to the heaters and watched Prague swim through the window. I love bodies of water, I really do. It makes me feel comforted and inspired and alive. Though, I fear it, too. I long to live by the sea and step into it underneath the morning sun, though I will not proceed where my feet do not meet the ground. So, I was slightly unsettled on this boat. That did not stop me from leaving my seat, stepping out onto the deck and holding my arms out to the world.

Stood at the front of the boat

Let the stream come up to kiss my cheeks

Felt unsteady beneath my feet

Though continued to breathe through my poetry

~

Watched it unfold before me

Unravel at the seams like a tapestry

This moment is mine to be seized

Here today, gone tomorrow, alive forever through my poetry.

As I sat in a gorgeous gallery cafe writing poetry, warming my soles and warming my soul with a thick hot chocolate, my sister and I researched where to eat our final dinner. She found a restaurant on the sea named "Marina Restaurant", which I instantly grew fond of. After looking towards slightly cheaper options, I told my sister that I had a gut feeling this place would be special. On our way to the restaurant, we stopped just before it to stand upon Charles Bridge. Dusk had illuminated the city with warm bulbs, yellow and blue, as trams and strangers strode along - writing their stories for the evening.

Greeted warmly by staff who offered to take our coats, we glided to our seats with gleeful anticipation. The view we had just immersed ourselves within outside was now appreciated through glass windows. Why is the city always most beautiful at dark? A delightful waiter welcomed us to our dining experience. When I sat undecided on my main course option, I asked the waiter for his opinion. Without hesitation, he answered - enjoyment felt so easy. To start, my sister and I shared a margarita pizza. Simplicity done beautifully, glistening chunks of mozzarella, a generous amount of basil and a glug of olive oil to finish - all sliced into two separate portions by the thoughtful chefs.

Feeling more full and more satisfied, our mains were next to arrive. My sister went for the spaghetti carbonara and I chose the mushroom risotto. Having deliberated between the two, I was overjoyed with my, (well, the waiter's) decision. Perfectly al dente rice submerged amongst a, non-sickening, creamy sauce. Shaved truffle and shaved parmesan rest delicately on top with chopped pecans scattered throughout - adding a delicious range in texture, something I have not seen featured in this dish before. The shallow bowl of flavour was finalised with a vibrant drizzle of herb oil. It was a true joy to eat - and, to experience.

Despite my appetite having been filled to capacity, I could not resist a dessert. While my sister chose an Italian speciality, ricotta dumplings filled with nougat, I opted for the panna cotta. As I plunged my spoon into the salted caramel-coated dessert, a question came to my mind. If you could only achieve three more things in your life, what would they be? My sister and I often speak of the things we want to do, while having no clue how to accept that we cannot, and will not, do everything. We consider the ways our lives would play out if circumstances were different. If they would be better, worse. This question seemed like a good way to understand your priorities in life. I encourage you to do the same if you are struggling with this. You may surprise yourself.

Concluding a wonderful trip with great food and company, it was time to get the bus back to the airport. Usually, I despise this part - I either want to be exploring in the heart of the city or back home in my own bed. The time spent in between these places tends to feel so carried out, it is draining on the spirit. Though, I attempted my best to enjoy each part of the travelling. The buses, the planes, the taxis. All of the waiting around. I viewed the bus journey as time for me to say goodbye to the city that was very good to me and my sister. Once we got to the airport, far earlier than necessary, my sister and I got through security only because another flight was boarding for the same airport we would be in three hours. Security staff looked at us as if we intentionally, or accidentally, did not board our flight. Due to coincidental timing, my sister and I were able to sit in an empty airport lounge - drinking coffee and playing Uno. Other passengers of our flight would curiously peer through the window - they must be VIPs. It felt ridiculously funny to me. The time did not feel unbearable as I was enjoying this quiet moment with my sister. In an airport, possibly one of the most un-relaxing environments, I was truly relaxed. It was then that I realised relaxation is birthed through contentment.