After walking with directions (not leading us to our desired destination, but directions nonetheless) for about half an hour, we decided that stopping for some kind of breakfast may be a good idea. We dropped by this bakery cum café, where there were a trio of caped men. Not crusaders, but more like Medieval-types. In jeans.

One of them (a particularly smarthy fellow, but then that’s just my opinion, which is far from sage, I’m sure) told the girls their orders were on them, much to their flabbergast-ment. He was only joking of course, the way a hyena would grin and pretend he’s not chewing off your left arm.

But we had good eating and coffee and a chance to just relax for a bit. Especially after the night we had on the train. Despite being just one change, (no Berlin-style new schedules at every single stop, thank Rob) we still managed to encounter some difficulty with the conductor-people.

Dear Dona managed to persuade the nice lady onboard (who decided her colleague at the platform was utterly misinformed about the most current ticket pricing) to charge less than half of what was her original intention. We ruminated upon this with icing sugar smeared all over our blissful grins. Silent, joyful leaps.

When we finally decided to leave, the first place we came upon was the Municipal House, an Art Nouveau building situated on the site of the former Royal Court Palace. Gold trimmings, stained glass and sculpture. The usual Euro-deco. Nothing particularly fascinating.

Till we came upon our robed men from before. Finally figured out that they were dressed like half-hearted madmen to entice would-be concert goers to their place of employ. As we would confirm much later from encountering more, many more, leaflets-and-signs people, street labour was cheap in Prague.

Which was perfectly fine, till you refused their fare. When we declined, (well, not outright, but heavily hinted our lack of interest) the guy, upon hearing Claudia wanted very much to try Czech gulasch, told her it was no good. She didn’t try it for rest of trip cos of that dickhead. Well, he was a silly man in silly clothes. There, so.

Walk, walk.

I had an amusing time correcting Mike’s Chinese – both Mandarin and Cantonese. He had picked up an alarming amount of practical phrases from his time in China and Hong Kong. Almost four full sentences. Nah, I’m being nasty here. At least six, I’m sure. Important stuff like Xin Nian Kuai Le; extremely useful unless it’s not actually Chinese New Year when you greet folk with it.

Through a jagged maze of colourful alleyways and crowded buildings, we came into a courtyard. Cobblestone square. Mike, Manuel and I tried out an ancient water pump, which rather disappointingly, did not actually pump water, despite our best and most sincere efforts. Great fun all the same.

It was here in the Tyn Courtyard that I discovered Anagram, a tiny English bookshop that sold books solely related to Prague. Like Kafka, Kundera, and children books! Prague is a wonderful city for illustrators, I must say. Dark, mysterious corners, goblin cats, scarecrow trees – a Halloween for kids without pop marketing.

Soon, the girls sent the other boys, one by one, to get me to leave the bookshop. Eventually, they realised that, one by one, the boys were not only failing in their task, but somehow they were not reappearing themselves. So, being brave little girls, they decided to investigate…

…to be continued.

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Copyright © 2002 Kenny Mah Ying Fye.