The rain has stopped and people wander down into Old Town from the Prague Castle, with a hankering to satisfy their mid-afternoon cravings with traditional Czech food and beer.
I am doing the same.
Along a series of restaurants, cafes, and bars linked together under a pillared canopy, I take an empty seat at an outdoor cafe.
I order my pint of Svijany lager and a bowl of goulash soup, and sit to watch the tourists, students, and people with no discernible purpose walk by.
Despite this being a tourist area, the prices are quite reasonable – ten Canadian dollars for my beer and soup, including a tip.
The server is in her late sixties, maybe early seventies, is in good shape and is attractive.
Her English is poor, but then again I see her trying to communicate with customers in many languages, including French and German.
She has a pretty smile, but doesn’t show her teeth.
I see on the chalkboard menu that dessert is spelled incorrectly.
I’m not the least bit bothered by it; certainly I, who cannot speak any other language than English above that of a toddler, have nothing to complain about.
I do smile to myself, however, imagining the Great Victoria Desert being re-marketed as The Great Apple Strudel Desert.
I also think it would be clever to have a Desert Menu, with items such as The Sahara (apple crumble), The Gobi (Honey Cake), and The Kalahari (Lemon Pudding).
Sigh, the things one imagines when one travels.
I slide over to the next table to make room for a Swedish gentleman and his two sons, both of whom look to be in their early twenties.
The gentleman and I chat about his boating trip to Vancouver Island fifteen years ago, when he saw a feeding whale’s tail clear the water right near his kayak, which elated him, but also scared the bejeezus out of him.
He had taken the trip with his brother, who regularly antagonized the guide because of the guide’s restrictions of beer consumption on the trip.
I tell one of the sons that I like his backpack, which is of an old canvas style, and ask him where he purchased it.
He laughs and says he stole it from his mother, although she knows and is delighted that he’s using it.
Though I am enjoying the conversation with the Swedes, my meal is finished and people are waiting for the table, so I take my leave.
