I know for sure there's not much left in the flat for me to make a decent dinner. So then, the question is: Should I go to the store on the way home? But that'll take too much time and the security guard always follows me around when I have my satchel over my shoulder like I'm going to steal something even though I go there twice a week anyway.
Then, I remember! Ever since Carnevale, there've been food vendors set up in Old Town Square. They're open nearly every day selling kebabs, sausages in buns and cinnamon roll-type things. It's like the Czech people have decided it should suddenly be springtime even though it's still friggin' cold out. They've started to assemble chairs and tables outside cafes and such -- well, OK, some of the more touristy places have been doing that already. It's just they come equipped with space heaters.
Anyway, so I skip through Old Town Square and find a vendor who is still turning kebabs and sausages on a grill, order what's basically a kielbasa hot dog and walk home happily, hurriedly trying to eat it before the bread gets soggy in the misty, drizzly night.
That's probably why I think I have second-degree burns on the roof of my mouth now. Ah well, my stomach is full.
It's a gorgeous thing to see, though, as strange as it sounds. All these wooden booths with smoke stacks and sizzling grills, situated in some kind of a circle in the center of the square, all connected by strings of hanging lights, the Tyn Church looming in the background, lit up like the evil twin of Cinderella's Castle (but in a good way), bar tables scattered about so people can stand and eat the street food, talking and laughing.
It makes one feel like he's in a small, Bohemian village. Not such a big city. It also makes one remember tourist season isn't that far away.
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