Snow is falling wetly outside my window, though it is still too warm for it to stick to anything. I get the impression that Prague rarely gets the winter wonderland look. I am sitting in my bed, 1.5 liters of Dobrá Voda at my side, replenishing my precious bodily fluids. They seem to be depleted this morning.
Pivovarský is Czech for brewery. Dúm, I believe, translates to “One heck of a good time.” Or was it “Yummy?” I know Marianna used that word more than once as we reduced the world beer supply half a liter at at time. At some point during the exercise we ordered fried Camembert with cranberry sauce – also yummy. “We already have bread,” Marianna said, pointing to her beer. I had several orders of bread last night.
Another reason I need to learn czech quickly: over the course of my journey I have become mildly skilled at flirting with waitresses and bartenders. It’s going to take some intensive study before I’ll be able to do that here. The waitress last night wasn’t really a flirtation candidate, but I realized that an important part of my bar-going experience was missing.
When we got back home Marianna pulled a big ‘ol bottle of Gambrinus out of the fridge. Of course, I couldn’t let her drink alone, so she pulled out a bottle for me as well. Yummy indeed. The stockpile in the fridge was greatly reduced last night. We talked about stuff and nonsense and listened to Irish music. Dang, I love Irish music. Out on the road it served as a great loneliness enhancer. It seems even in the happy songs there is a trace of sadness, and in most songs someone either dies or leaves home forever. Good stuff.
I have not heard Marianna stirring yet this morning. If she is suffering any ill effects, she will blame the fact that she had two different kinds of beer, not that she had so many beers. I think she will miss the snow; the flakes are fewer and falling faster as they melt on their trip down from the featureless gray sky.