Everyone’s ambling along. Walking down the cobbled streets your eyes are either fixed on not crashing into any crowds or up at the buildings. The colours are blocked and pastel and I like seeing the different patterns. Every time you look up there’s a new one, as though the concrete figures are swimming with the flow of people. Because everyone’s ambling you’re forced to slow down and look at these things. Angled arms and pictures at every step. There’s also an exception to this widespread crowd. It’s quite a comical sight, but on the hour you’ll suddenly find people have gravitated to the clock tower. Everything’s at a stand still by the time the bells start chiming, poised to focus on the mechanical dancers. It lasts about twenty seconds. Sometimes the crowd will applaud before dispersing again. There’s a lost kind of excitement on their faces while they decide their varying directions. It’s easy to walk miles without feeling like you’ve wandered far from anything. My friend and I quickly noted that we had been here the best part of the week. About an hour before we left, on Friday, a plane load of stag dos landed in the centre. A knowing glance at each other, ‘it could have been fun drinking with that bunch’. The thought perished soon. Prague had treated us well enough the last four days.
We spotted the savoy café because the word ‘winotheque’ is plastered on the side, and if only one word was to be used to describe our conversations that is probably it. It’s a quiet place, invisible unless you’re looking right at it, which is just filtered away from the Charles Bridge mania. When you’ve just faced the rain and look moderately chaotic you feel slightly out of place on entering. The decoration is beyond expectation. Yet you’re not made to feel unwelcome. The atmosphere remains quiet with everyone’s eyes fixed on their own table. It’s warm and ideal in the gloom. Coffee in Prague is notably good wherever you go.