On a Saturday afternoon, I buy a beer from a craft brewery at the edge of Old Town Bratislava and carry my glass across the street to a large cobblestone square, at the centre of which is the inevitable fountain, taking a seat at a cheap metal table, although there are a few wooden benches available as well.
This isn’t something I would see in North America, with adults drinking alcohol outdoors, under shady trees, while children run around playing, and pedestrians walk around and through us.
In Canada, such places would be roped off with signs indicating a minimum age to enter.
But in Brataslava, such things are a family affair.
I see the joy and I sense the spontaneity.
A little boy knocks down all the wooden men on an outdoor chess table and dances with delight, exclaiming his achievement in several languages – in English he yells, “Look what I did!”
A little girl goes to climb one of the trees, but only to the first branch.
She would like to climb higher, but she is unsure.
She looks back at her father, but he is in conversation with the boy’s father and is not watching.
The boy, the one who knocked down the chessman, sees the girl in the tree, runs over and climbs up to the third branch, where he stops, afraid to go further.
The boy calls out to his father to look at him – “Papa, Papa, PAPA!”
Finally his father looks and waves.
The girl calls her mother, who comes over to the tree.
With her mama’s support, the girl climbs to the third branch too, but then her foot slips a little and she scurries back down.
A minute later, her courage restored, she climbs back up to the third branch and stops there, likely because to go higher would put her out of her mama’s reach.
She sighs and laughs, seemingly satisfied with her success.
