The aeroplane takes off into the sky as it makes its way back to the UK. Its wings tip to the side as it tilts and turns over Prague, like an eagle creating a shadow over the city. I watch every movement it makes until only a tiny flashing light is visible.
I am too late; there is no turning back. The plane is heading home. I remind myself it is only six more days until I am back there too. Six more days! That feels like forever right now.
I console myself by thinking how Aunt Grace thought I could do this, and she was never wrong about anything. I remember that poor old lady in the newspaper again, and it reminds me how easily that could be me if I don’t get a hold on my life. I steady myself by gripping my luggage and try to calm down. Somehow, I have to get through this, and I will. Although, first, I must put on my Christmas jumper. It’s blooming freezing!
As I pull my head through the jumper, I notice a piece of paper flying out that must have got caught up inside. It is in Dewi’s writing.
Welcome to Prague. Don’t forget to have some fun. I’ve made an itinerary for you that I thought you’d enjoy. I hope you can get out and about once you’ve met with Marek. PTO.
I look at the other side of the paper and see a list.
Day one, visit Marek. If time, Old Town Hall/Astronomical Clock. Must see this ASAP!
Day two, Old Town Hall (in case you didn’t make it on day one.) Even if you did, you must go up the tower there. Check out the views of the city! Then stop for a drink at the rooftop bar opposite the Town Hall. Cheers! Later, have dinner in the Old Town.
Day three, don’t forget to stop at the Christmas markets. By now you’ll have walked among the Old Town marketplace, but make sure you go to the ones at Wenceslas Square and Charles Bridge too. Then head to Letná Park, there’s a beer garden if you get thirsty after all the shopping.
As I am about to read what I should be doing on day four, a bus arrives. I place the paper in my pocket and ask a lady who looks approachable if this is the correct bus into the town. Even though Dewi has drilled into me which bus I need, I still doubt myself and need to double-check.
‘Yeah, sure. I’m going that way. You can follow me if you like.’
Her English is excellent, her smile is warm, and she makes me feel welcome in her country. It makes me think that we do need other people in life. After all, where would I be without this kind stranger and her help?
She sits beside me on the bus to make sure I don’t get lost and puts her headphones on as I look out the window and watch the scenery for the next twenty minutes. We weave around roundabouts, and then the landscape turns to fields and trees as the bus makes its way to the final destination of the metro that will take us into town. As we pass all the greenery, it reminds me of home, which makes me feel a little more chilled. Although, despite starting to relax, I am still dreading the moment I reach Marek’s, as I imagine a wife opening the door as I stand there blank and tongue-tied.
When we arrive near some apartment blocks, the lady tells me that we have to get off as this is the final stop. She kindly navigates me down some stairs and stays with me until we get to the platform for the metro, which will take me into the Old Town.
‘Okay, it’s five stops. It’ll be about ten minutes,’ she says as we board the metro together. Then she leaves me on my own and takes a seat further up the carriage.
As the metro moves along, I count each stop until I come to number five. Still, I doubt myself and start to worry that I miscounted. Fortunately, I see the lady further up ahead, who looks back to make sure I am getting off. She gives me a thumbs-up and rushes off.
As I reach the outside once again, I look up in awe at the old-style buildings that confront me. Renaissance, baroque and Gothic styles fuse together and reflect the city’s historic past. The architecture is stunning here and no doubt every building has an important relevance.
My Google maps app informs me that the hotel is only a few minutes’ walk from here, and I figure I will manage to find it since it is practically a straight line and then a turn or two. Surely, even I can manage that.
As I walk along, I notice again how much colder it is here. Between the cold air and the Christmas decorations that hang ubiquitously on the lamp posts and distinguished buildings, there is no disguising what time of year it is. I try not to think about it and hope that the clattering of my suitcase wheels hitting the cobbled street will eventually drown out the sound of Christmas carols that I can faintly hear coming from somewhere nearby.
A horse trots beside me at one point with a couple being towed behind in an ornately decorated pink carriage. I look at them enviously as they snuggle up together. Then the horse trots ahead of me as my wheel gets stuck in a cobble, and I fight with my case to get it released.
Finally, when I reach the hotel, I get quite a surprise. I hadn’t expected anything quite this luxurious. It is the type of place where a man in an expensive-looking uniform opens the door for you. The hotel reception is so magnificent, with its stucco columns and old portraits of posh-looking people, that I walk straight into a statue in the middle of the lobby. I automatically apologise to it and scuttle away. Aunt Grace certainly gave Dewi the budget to book me into one of the best hotels. This is just the kind of place she would have loved. It is so glamorous and sparkly that I am not surprised she chose it.
I am so impressed that, for the first time since this whole trip was planned, I forget about not being at home. As I check-in, the receptionist hands me a glass of fizz, which also helps me forget where I am for a moment. It’s as if the Olivia who enjoys gardening and staying at home has been transformed into some glamorous champagne-swigging socialite! Except that I don’t give off the appearance of a socialite as Rudolph’s nose on my jumper seems to be flashing particularly brightly under the hotel lighting. Even though I am warm, I button up my coat to try and hide the intermittent flashing light that beams out from the centre of my chest and seems far too incongruous in this place.
Once I am given my room key, which comes on a heavy brass ball, and I finish the lovely welcome drink, a helpful bellboy leads me to my room. We go up in a super ostentatious lift with gold leaf, befitting of the hotel, and then walk along the corridor to the room, which is as beautiful as everywhere else with its polished wooden doors and fancy blue wallpaper. The bellboy hands over my luggage and tells me that if I need anything at all I should not hesitate to contact him. I look at the huge comfy bed and luxurious room and begin to wonder how much room service is. I could snuggle right in here and have a bite to eat. Normally, I probably couldn’t afford it, but with Dewi’s holiday allowance and the imminent inheritance, I am tempted to push the boat out.
Before the bellboy leaves, I ask if he can arrange to send up another glass of that fabulous fizz I had at reception. This moment is deserving of a toast to Aunt Grace.
I can already see that it is going to be quite tempting to not leave the room for the next few days. No wonder Dewi gave me an itinerary. He probably guessed I wouldn’t want to leave this luxury once I walked through the door. Perhaps he shouldn’t have gone along with booking such a fabulous hotel then – this is partly his fault!
After walking around the room examining everything, including sniffing the gardenia toiletries in the bathroom, I think even Dewi could forgive me for staying put tonight.
With all the travelling, a lovely bubble bath would be perfect. So I skip the room service and decide that the roll-top bath is calling me the loudest right now. As I change into a lovely, soft, cosy, white dressing gown branded with the hotel’s insignia that I found hanging on the bathroom door, a lady from room service knocks with my glass of fizz. What perfect timing.
I walk straight to the bathroom with my glass and pop it on a ledge beside the bath. I jump into the bubbles and soak right into them. This has to be the most perfect night in I’ve ever had. I can’t remember when I last felt such pleasure. The water at the mill takes ages to heat up so I am normally too impatient by the time it gets to the right temperature to have a bath at home.
I sink deeper into the foam until I feel as though I could get lost. Amidst the bubbles I make the toast to Aunt Grace and remind myself why I’ve come to Prague.
After one of the best nights’ sleep ever, I refuse to go anywhere the next morning until I have eaten the hotel breakfast, which has everything a hotel guest could wish for, from avocado and salmon to French toast with caramelised bananas. There is, of course, no contest and I wolf down my French toast.
