I had chosen the hotel purely for its proximity to Cirk La Putyka, and then for the name. "Mama Shelter". I miss Mum. It promised refuge. I liked that. And there was something theatrical sounding about it too, conjuring up musical notes of Chicago, Gypsy, and, well, Tangled! Mama knows best... But still, nothing prepared me for the actual set. It was so much fun. From the relaxed welcome of the low-key guys on reception, to the neon lights, the colourful mobiles of foam shapes and letters above the bar, the painted frames on mirrors everywhere inviting selfies and declaring "Mama loves you". It is a space that simply invites your inner child to come out to play, which is what is at the heart of circus.
I've had a couple of weeks on Duolingo now. Enough to recognise the odd word and show off the odd set phrase to a long-suffering Jane. "Ta hruška je stará, ale dobrá", I inform her as I take a bite of her battered old (but good!) pear from the plane and the juice drips down. Jane informs me that my conversation revolves around 90% circus, 5% death and 5% food... I'm quite happy with that ratio, but I do appreciate it's a miracle already she is still talking to me.
Despite the fact that we'd been up since 3.30am, and I'd yet to have a coffee (Jane hadn’t really either - that Costa cappuccino she had courtesy of EasyJet really didn’t count!) we decided to hit the town immediately. We grabbed a paper map and directions from the girl at reception, but somehow completely missed the tram stop just round the corner and set off on foot in entirely the wrong direction.
"No, Lucy, we are not doing Lime bikes."
"Ale Jane, to kolo je banán..."
It doesn't make sense, but I like to think that conveys the idea that Lime bikes are crazy fun. Jane points out I have a death wish and she rather likes her life. Still, even if there aren't really the rollercoaster climbs that you get in Lisbon, a tram has something of the fun of the fair about it too, so we eventually found one that seemed to be going in the right direction.
We ended up in the town square, at the last (poslední, another great word!) table in the sunshine, with goulash and dumplings, a glass of red wine, drinking it all in. There was something so serene about it all. Everyone around us at ease, no loud voices, it was all so civilised, so continental, so grounding. I could hear my father sigh contentedly "This is the life!", as he used to do on holiday or over a cigar in the garden, and we relished every moment of it. We didn't have to rush anywhere, and were free to simply go with the flow. We meandered through the old town, striking the odd silly pose, but mostly caught up in the romance of it all, marvelling at the pastel shades of chocolate-box buildings, and keeping an eye out for little details of wonder.
Okamžik means "in the blink of an eye" and somehow it felt like the city itself was the warm-up act. The astronomical clock marking each moment with theatrical panache, the red umbrellas of the tour guides, vintage cars, lions wrapped round statuesque thighs, the video of a giant blinking eye (how very Okamžik, encore!), sunset on Charles bridge, a gull bobbing on the patriarch's head surveying the tide of tourists flooding past. And even in the midst of all the hubbub it felt like we were in our own little bubble, floating on through.
The afternoon went by in a flash of wonder and, cutting it fine, soon it was time to hop on a tram home. It only took a couple of stops for Jane to agree we were going in the wrong direction, and we jumped off. I'm glad we had that detour because, on the next tram we caught, a young boy of about six or seven (!) climbed on with his grandmother and sat opposite. I caught his eye, he blinked enthusiastically at me, and Jane, almost as though he couldn’t believe we were real, and soon it was a game, batting back and forth between us, with his indulgent grandmother watching over, clearly wryly amused if not joining in. Child's play. There was something refreshing about not having the language to do anything other than speak through the eyes. He did have two words for us at the end, a cheery "Bye bye!" in English, as he hopped off with a wave. He was clearly chuffed with himself. His moment, and for us, a little Prague blessing on the evening ahead.
We made it back to the hotel with enough time for a 15-minute power nap and a cup of coffee. Jane had grabbed a kettle from reception on the way up and magicked up a rainbow of sachets of adaptogenic coffees to choose from. Could I love this woman any more?! Obviously I went for the lion's mane. It's meant to tame racing minds, and now it was time to focus. I spritzed a touch of Gypsy damask over my signature Pomegranate Noir. Everything's coming up smelling of roses. Next stop Big Top...
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