Cautiously balancing himself as he teeters across the black and yellow speed bump on the cobblestone road outside Onesip Coffee in Prague, he looks up and catches the eye of an old woman. She doesn't look a day older than 80, but she is 92. She is wrapped warmly in her coat and colorful scarf. The fringes of a beautiful pastel colored dress reach out from below the hem of her dark, snug coat. Her black boots steady her feet as she balances her cappuccino with a lovingly crafted foam swan atop her beverage. She has a modest IG following and today's entry is sure please her followers. Diego greets her gaze with a smile as they both admire the simple joys they are taking in their delicious cups of coffee in the crisp air.
Walking up, Diego offers, May I hold your cup for you?
She looks at him tenderly and smiles wide. She responds in her native tongue, to the unfortunate befuddlement of Diego, “Oh, young man, if you speak my beloved Czech, or even Slovak or Russian or German, we can talk. But if English is your only tongue, then there is little for us share.”
Blinking through her response, there is nothing in there he understood, except the word for German she used. He spent a summer in high school studying German to impress the German teacher at his school. She was young and energetic and showed a genuine interest in her students. Being a hormonal young man, Diego decided she was nice because she was interested in getting to know him better. Her spouse would likely disagree, but that being unbeknownst to Diego he pushed hard to learn and grow as a German speaker. The universe sought to save him from the embarrassment of becoming vulnerable before her in a language in which he was still only a novice by presenting the teacher with a position at a more prestigious school with a promise of tenure after only three years. She was gone when he went back to school in the fall and scarcely pursued German as a third language out of resentment of lost opportunities. In his long broken German, he responded, Ich Kaffee halten?
Her face lit up and responded in German, “Thank you, young man. That is very kind. I think I like my hand in the photo I took, and surely my loyal following will appreciate it as well. I have taken many photos of treats and I have held them all. Because of your sweet offer, however, I think I will also take a photo of you holding it. Perhaps if you went down on one knee and presented it to me as a gift? That would be fun, wouldn't it? I will turn my back to you and will take the photo over my shoulder and get a portion of my face and shoulder and your hands behind me lifting up the gift of this drink to me. Oh, what fun!”
Feverishly trying to follow along, and immediately recognizing he remembered far less than he thought he had, he nods along throughout, catching knee, face and behind. He responds, Yes! Good, good, good. I hold. Knee down?
With a short chuckle, she recognizes he speaks very little German and offers, “Yes, please. You kneel down and hold the coffee up. I will turn my back to you, 'behind', and will take the photo over my shoulder. Here, place your coffee on this ledge so you can use both hands. Two hands. Okay?”
Two! Yes, two. Okay!
He places his black coffee down on the ledge beside them and takes her drink. He kneels down and holds it up, even dipping his head down in a bow of reverence. She giggles and with a wide smile, snaps a photo catching a portion of her face and shoulder, his hands and the crown of his head dipped downward behind her. “Good, good. This came out so well, I will definitely use both. Oh, what fun indeed! Thank you for being in my photo. I am certain my followers will enjoy this.”
Diego hands her back her coffee and with a wide smile of his own, Thank you. Thank you. Realizing he could not fully convey his sentiment for being allowed to participate in this lovely older woman's IG feed, he switches to English. This was so much fun. I hope it turns out well. The whole bowing thing was great. I just thought maybe you wanted to see two hands holding the mug and saucer and that would make a fun shot. This stretch of road is already really cool. I mean, I did a search when I was home for cool coffee shops here in Prague before I came, and this place had a bunch of social media photos taken here on this street. It's a pretty cool drag.
The narrow cobblestone road fitted with evenly spaced black and yellow speed bumps between the relatively short block between cross streets and the typical-to-European-city-centers narrow sidewalks along the long stretch of joined buildings on both sides. The few street signs posted, luckily wordless, communicate everything they need to with color and shape. The crisp air quickly moves between the narrow set of buildings and expands on either side as the area opens. The comfy feel of a nook amidst a bustling city center fills the space with charm.
She looks at him before heading back inside to enjoy her drink, “Back to English, I see. Well, it was a pleasure talking to you and taking this photo with you. I am going to go back inside and enjoy my coffee where it is warm. I suggest you do the same. However, if you choose to meander out here, perhaps I will show you my IG handle and you can become one of my followers. My name on the social media is just my name, Vera Cerny, only it is all one word. Here, let me show you. Pulling out her phone a final time she pulls up her account and shows him her profile. Diego quickly pulls out his phone and because he forgot to bring the Euro-sim card he purchased to use while abroad in Europe, he opens his notepad app and writes down her information. They share another round of pleasantries and Vera quickly scampers back into the warmth of the coffee shop behind them.
Diego takes to the sidewalk in front of him and begins walking and admiring the space he is in. Oh man. That was fun. She was nice. I'm glad I made it here. I can't believe I didn't make my way here when I was on my way to Poland with hot cocoa. What a waste of a few seconds. I really should stop complaining about losing moments to exploration and just enjoy where I am when I'm there. Besides, this place is so super cool. I think one of my favorite things about grabbing snacks in Europe, which this place is a great example, is how little waste there is when they give you things. Like the coffee, in America when I go to a local coffee shop and ask for black coffee, they give you a mug and fill it to the brim. By the time you make it to a seat or the counter along the glass you end up with a mug of coffee swimming in a saucer of coffee, so the first trip isn't to your seat, it's to the garbage or drain if there's a water faucet and a drain. I mean, I could stand at the register and sip it a bit before I go, but then that means that's something everyone did and would add so much time to the whole exchange. So, we don't. We just spill. Wow, I didn't realize how passionately I felt about this.
At a comfortable pace, Diego makes his way along the tiny streets and even tinier sidewalks. Expertly sharing the space as they walk, he catches eyes with most of the passersby and offers greetings in shallow nods, smiles, quickly raised eyebrows and even in some cases waves. Waves are usually reserved for the kiddos walking hand in hand with their dads or sitting up in their strollers, eyes wide and taking in their surroundings with their childlike wonder. He makes his way over to a bench along the Vltava river nearby and shares it with a stout gentleman sitting back with a cup of coffee of his own. They acknowledge one another and quickly return to their respective focus, the man on his newspaper and Diego on his cup of coffee.
Ah, this was fun. I think I'll head home. Or, am I hungry? I mean, I could eat. I could always eat. Maybe there's a restaurant nearby that offers free Wi-Fi? I could ask Jamish if he wants to get lunch. Or... maybe I could pay attention to the time difference and he's sleeping. It's weird how energetic I am whenever I poof myself somewhere. You'd think since it was night at home, I would be tired, but nope. I'm all good.
The man looks up from his newspaper curiously and peers in Diego's direction. He sits with good poster showing off his well-toned chest beneath his slim fitting jacket. His hat sits atop a full head of sandy brown hair that is well trimmed and rests carefully just below the brim of his hat revealing a tapered neck. His beard is well manicured and sits close to his face. His eyes are beady and pure blue. The tan colored pants and brown leather shoes round out his outfit and all of it is neat, pressed and well maintained. Reluctantly he asks, “Are you on the telephone? If not, what do you mean by poof?”
Mortified, Diego stares ahead planning his next move. Thinking to himself, “Fuck... why did you assume he spoke no English? Because of Vera? She doesn't speak English, so nobody here does? You fucking idiot. Think, be cool and think.”
Poof? Well, I think I use that term to describe heading to somewhere I haven't been, and I sleep on the way. I took the train in from Berlin. Long ride. Well, four hours long anyway. I don't remember any of the ride as I slept pretty much the whole way here. I board the train, grab my seat, close my eyes and “voila”, poof and I'm here.
“Oh. That is a fortunate way to experience some travel, but please, keep your eyes open next time. It is a beautiful ride from Berlin here. I visit at least once a month.”
To himself he says,“Fuck. Please don't ask me any questions about it....”
“Usually for work. But sometimes, sometimes I will take a short holiday. Do you live in Berlin? I am guessing you are American. Did you relocate or are you on a holiday? If I remember correctly, Americans get a very short holiday. Are you spending all of it between those two cities?”
Actually, I am on vacation. Or holiday. Yeah, we only get like two weeks usually, but my job ended so I decided to come for hopefully close to a month. I guess it depends on if I can get any short-term work while I am in town. I did some bicycle deliver when I was in Berlin. No, he didn't. He came from home and has only been in Prague for two hours. It sustained me enough to stay for another week. I am hoping to find something similar while I'm here.
“How does that work? Are you supposed to remain in Germany to work or can you also work here?”
Well, from what I've read, I can apply to do nominal work in the places I visit to help defer some of the cost of exploring wherever I am. It was easy to get approved in Germany, and I am hoping it is just as easy here.
Becoming more and more uncomfortable with the lies, he deflects back, So, what do you do?
“I work for the police. I investigate crimes and collect evidence. I am a specialist and work usually on high profile cases and anything that crosses the border from Germany or Poland or anywhere. It is very rewarding. I find it completely satisfying to investigate and discover things and present evidence and participate in arrests.”
Oh. Nervously, that sounds fun. I guess. I bet the hours are long and mostly thankless.
“Only as long as it takes to be thorough. Tell me about the deliveries you made. Did you deliver anything here originating in Berlin?”
A wave of dread washes over Diego. Wanting desperately to turtle himself into his jacket and hide his face from the stranger just a few feet from him, he swallows hard and pauses for a moment. With a sheepish smile, he lowers his head and embarrassingly retorts, No. I delivered bread for a bakery. They gave me twenty Euros and a deep discount on bread. I have a receipt for it, if you'd like to see it.
“Ha ha. No. I don't need to see a receipt for your bread. I was having fun. I am an investigator, but I am not investigating you. Should I?”
Oh, God no. I am very boring. The highlight of my day is getting lost in a city I have never been and feverishly trying to find work to sustain myself while I do so. Do you need an assistant? Perhaps, if I file correctly and am quickly approved, I could help you investigate.
“No. I do not need an assistant, nor would I ask that of you. You are American and are very unfamiliar with how the law works in places other than where you're from. If you are a typical American, I am sure you are unfamiliar with how the law works even where you are from.”
Harsh. I mean, you're not completely wrong, but harsh.
They share a quick laugh. Diego returns to his coffee and the investigator returns to his newspaper. Content with his time spent in Prague, he decides to make his way home before he gets himself in actual trouble.
Diego.
“Excuse me?”
My name, it's Diego.
“Oh, hello. I am called Nathaniel. It is not a typical Czech name, I know.”
Wow, my name is Nathaniel.
“You just said it was Diego.”
Well, yes, my name is Diego, or I choose to be called Diego. My name is Nathaniel Diego. I never really liked Nathaniel or Nathan or Nate, so I went by Diego. It suits you though. You look like a Nathaniel.
“Do I look like you then?”
Well, no. But I think I look like a Diego. I think I wear it well. I think you wear yours well, too.
After an intentionally long pause, the detective finally responds, “It was a pleasure to meet you, Diego. I am going to finish reading my newspaper.”
And with that, it was done. The breadth of their exchange lived and died in those few moments, as life and times are want to do. Diego takes the final sip of his coffee, scans the area around him and makes his way along the river as far away from his new friend as he possibly can go. His heart is pounding, and he can feel the sweat accumulating on his palms. His breathing is short and quick, but his pace as he walks away is slow and steady. Believing himself to be looking further into the exchange than he ought, he maintains his stride and begins to calm himself down. He turns a corner and at first glance is completely alone. He quietly says, Home, and in a moment is standing in his bedroom. The familiar chill is in the air, the scent of incense burnt shortly before he left lingers in the air. The jasmine aroma rests on his pillows and bed sheets. He quickly disrobes and lays face down, burying his face in his small stack of pillows. He is tired again. He was so energetic a few moments ago. After a few slow deep breaths in and out he melts into his bed and drifts solemnly to sleep.