Postcards from: Prague

It all happened so fast that nothing felt real - for any of us.

It was Wilson's 20th birthday and a flash flood was threatening to delay our flight. With a diploma in one hand and a passport in the other, I scrambled as quickly as I could from the car into JFK, shielding my camera from the pelting rain. Still steeped in disbelief that my campus on a hill officially became a chapter in my past, I found myself, twelve hours later, walking through a city as storybook-like as Tallinn with a grunge-y, rebellious edge.


My ears tuned into the orchestral hum of Spanish, Japanese, Korean, English, German, French, Italian, American and British English. Stylish street musicians, trdelnik, and Thai massage salons were nestled into every corner. Just as reliable were the busy waiters at restaurants with the identical menu: pork knuckles, ribs, goulash, duck confit with cranberry cabbage, and apfelstrudel.

Prague. A city connected by 18 bridges, home to 66% of Czechs. Here, I stumbled upon one beautiful facade after another, each adorned - to the nines - with a collection of statues, frescoes, and ornate embellishments.

I don't foresee myself shuffling through the crowds again, but our two days here still swept me away. Prague was an awakening to a new life beyond my last four years, to familial tensions I finally had time to confront, to new ways of documenting where my feet wander. Simply put, Prague was the beginning, and there's always something magical about that first breath.

Lokál: The Cafeteria We All Wished We Had in Elementary School

Don't let the schoolroom-esque tones of the wooden benches and silver marker scrawled table numbers on the walls fool you. Lokál is leading the gastropub scene with a daily menu, locally sourced ingredients, and a fine attention to detail. 

The doors swung open just thirty minutes before we arrived, but lunchroom chatter already filled the air. There was no build up of tickets from the kitchen printer - as gingerly as the chef placed final touches at the pass, he was on top of his game. The bus boy took the time to wipe the underside of the glass shelves above the display case (which was chock full of profiteroles and cakes). 

Take a look at the drink menu - beer-juice or juice-soda-ice combinations, anyone? Sides were all you can eat.

"Ummm... actually, can I have the variety of sausages on the side of my skirt steak and eggs?" - Wilson

"It's like Czech medicine!"