Malá Strana

As a kid, I often travelled to Czechoslovakia and the rest of the world that laid behind the Iron Curtain. Then came the nineties and its long afternoons in Central Europe, the coming to age in a time that was still breathing of hope and relief as I kept returning to Prague, Vienna and Budapest.

A few short visits followed in 2007 and 2009 respectively, but then, for some reasons, I stopped going to Prague. With Gabriel living in Warsaw, and so much else to explore in Ukraine, Russia and the Middle East, rumour had it that Prague had been overrun by tourists, and with Red Hot & Blues having permanently closed, I felt little desire to return. As such, a total of 15 years had passed when I finished my last sip of Lavazza coffee, and our Boeing 737 touched down at Václav Havel Airport yesterday afternoon. Still, I was surprised how familiar everything felt, and taking the kids up to the Prague Castle, I could feel my own excitement of once again seeing the rocket-like shaped Žižkov Television Tower and, of course, the white American embassy on the hill.

Starting our second day in Prague with a river run, William impressed Anna and me by running his first 10k, which we topped up with another long city walk ending at the Museum of Communism. Though coming across as a bit one-sided, the museum was a powerful reminder of the horrors of communism, and one could only wish that the degrowth crowd would pay it a visit.