Prague, 27.6.03: At the Sign of the Red Lion

An expression sticks in my head from yesterday: Tomas, son of the proprietors of our b and b, Jan and Charlotta Rippl, says to us, explaining the danger of pickpockets in Old Town, “Here, you’re as safe as in your mother’s belly”—meaning here in the b and b.

I also now realize that the bistro in which we had beer yesterday was at the Carolinum, and a faded mural on the wall in the courtyard outside was the astronomical clock, in some mystical stylized fashion.

Prague, 26.6.03: At the Sign of the Donkey in the Cradle

A pretty summer day in Prague. Cumulus clouds scudding high above church towers. We’re in a quiet little bistro in the old town just past Charles bridge, St. Francis and St. Salvator churches. We discovered a walk-through away from tourists and are drinking beer overlooking a green square with lilacs (not in bloom), another verdigris church dome outside the window.

All is a bit disorganized and dirty in a way Germans wouldn’t tolerate—peeling paint, fly specks all along the wall by the radiator. I’m very tired, jet-lagged, mentally foggy.