JULY 27, 2009
HOTEL EUROPA, PART 2 [Go to Part 1]

We played in the extremely packed Archa Theater. We performed a song in memory of Michael Jackson and also sent out a salute to our former guitarist Ivan Kral, a refugee of the Communist invasion of Czechoslovakia in 1968. Ivan played in PSG from 1974-79 and wrote the music to some of our most memorable songs. It was hot and raucous night, our clothes were soaked; the people were soaked as well. Afterwards cold Czech beer was served. I had some cold coffee. Black Nescafe.
***

The following morning I go back to the Café Europa, have my espresso with the shot glass of water but skip the pancakes. I pick up the key to 501. Three small steps greet me when I open the door to my little jewel box room. No WiFi. No television. No air-conditioner. But a lovely little desk, an area for tea and large windows that open above the main boulevard. It will serve my purpose just fine; to write what you are now reading—a little coffee drinker's narrative of a day off in the city of Praha. I temporarily say good-bye to 501 and head toward the old town square. There I bump into Lenny Kaye who has also hit the charity shop where he snapped up a pair of crime novels. They are naturally in Czech, but at a dollar for the pair we agree it was worth it just for the covers. We meander about, stopping in churches, used bookstores and any place we fancy. It is pretty hot so we buy bottled water to drink as we walk. I am drawn to a small cloth scapula collection and a handful of unique holy cards. Lenny finds a first edition of Tarzan in English with the cover intact.

We head to the bridge of saints over the Charles River. Saint Margarita peers at us from the bridge railing and we immediately embark on a discussion about The Master and Margarita. In the sky is a huge white hot air balloon. We saunter past children with balloons, sailors, one- man bands and violinists. We nod to stone effigies of Christ and his benevolent cronies. There are sketch artists, stalls, saints and souvenirs. That is the bridge.

We find a little café and share a huge plate of fried anchovies. Lenny has beer. I have filtered coffee. Afterwards we start back but as we step on the bridge I am drawn to a sign below. Handmade musical instruments. We decide to make one last stop. While I am busy examining clarinet reeds Lenny is drawn to some handmade instruments from the twenties. He calls me over excitedly. He has found a remarkable old lute with a cat headstock carved from ebony. As sure as we exist we are struck that it has the personality of the famous cat of the Bulgakov classic we had been so animatedly discussing. The statue was a sign. Lenny must have the margarita lute. I add some reeds and a special harmonica for my daughter Jesse, and it is done. Lenny is in heaven with his whimsical cat lute. As we part company I watch him disappear with it slung over his shoulder like Rita Tushingham at the end of Dr. Zhivago.

At twilight I return to my café. By now the waiter knows I want hot water with my coffee so I don't have to ask. Since it's barely two blocks to the Radisson I go and retrieve my computer then re-enter my secret haven, room 501. The light is beautiful and I sit and write what I am writing. Afterwards I just daydream, think about my life. As it grows dark I pack up and say good-bye to the little blonde desk and blue flowered settee. My room has served me well. My mission is accomplished.

I have one last small task. I want to buy one of the shot glasses from the café. Then when I get home I can prepare my coffee in the style of the Grand Café Europa. I am a little bashful but finally pluck up my nerve. My waiter looks at me somewhat sardonically and presents me with one wrapped in a napkin. I am of course unspeakably happy. I slip the sacred shot glass in my pocket, walk past the charity shop and the Radisson for one more aimless turn into the Prague night.


(End of Part 2)
Go to Part 1