Malá Strana

As a kid, I often travelled to Czechoslovakia and the rest of the world that lay behind the Iron Curtain. Then came the nineties and their long afternoons in Central Europe, the coming of age in a time that still breathed 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 reason, 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 fifteen years had passed when I finished my last sip of Lavazza coffee and our Boeing 737 touched down at Václav Havel Airport Prague yesterday afternoon. Still, I was surprised by how familiar everything felt. Taking the kids up to Prague Castle, I could feel my own excitement at once again seeing the rocket-like Žižkov Television Tower and, of course, the white embassy on the hill.

Starting our second day in Prague with a river run, William impressed Anna and me by running his first 10k. We topped it off with a long city walk ending at the Museum of Communism. Though it comes across as somewhat one-sided, the museum remains a powerful reminder of the horrors of communism – and one cannot help but wish that the degrowth crowd would pay it a visit.