What Time Is It, Anyway?

International travel reminds you how fluid clock time can be.  I looked for the Pines while flying over Fire Island.

September 29:  5 p.m, Eastern Time

Charles de Gaulle is a nightmare airport to change planes, especially in the middle of the night. Nobody asked me for my expensive ($175) and unnecessary negative covid test.  Fuck Air France and its moldy, stale dinner rolls in economy class!  

September 30:  5 a.m. Parisian time

After catching some shuteye at Chris's place in Prague, he took me to Mistro where the out-of-this world cheesecake and superb service set a high bar for the restaurants to come.

September  30:  7 p.m. Czech time

Victor flew in from Frankfurt not long after I awakened Friday morning.  We hadn't travelled together since our great trip to Italy in the 2000s.

October 1:  10:30 a.m.

While Victor napped, I explored Havlicek Park for the first time.  Chris directs the CEELI Institute, housed in the Villa Grebovka which impresses locals as much as his American pals. His imminent retirement means the end of a free place to stay in  Mitteleuropa.  That's why I was making my third visit.

Social distancing had unforeseen benefits.  Chris's post-pandemic office affords views of the park's vineyard.  The grapes were nearly ready for harvest.

As lovely as the villa is, it can't quite compare to the charm of the fairy-tale grotto just up the hill. It almost made up for the blue one that choppy Mediterranean waters closed when Victor and I day tripped to Capri in the days before Photo Pest.

Graffiti knows no borders.

Vinohrady overlooks Havlicek Park.  

There is no shortage of striking ornamental details in the affluent neighborhood.

Scooters seem to have replaced Segways as the bane of Prague.

Chris said  even ice cream entrepreneurs had to get creative during the pandemic.