Once upon a time, I lived in Prague, in an apartment on Biskupcová street. The only way into and out of my apartment was through the kitchen. I lived on the fourth floor. There was a hot water heater mounted on the wall above the washing machine in my bathroom. There was no dryer, but there was a hanging rack: a model of Central European efficiency. I had interesting neighbors. Some were Czech, like Ján, my landlord. Some were Welsh, like Beth, who lived downstairs. We were graduates of the same ESL-instructor’s training course. We were fresh, new ESL teachers in one of the most beautiful cities on the planet. We became great friends, often sharing notes, late into the night, on the best ways to combat the ever-present mold known to inhabit Prague. Once upon a time, I lived in Prague. Beth—from Wales—was one of the first people I met. Later, I came to know other friends. Czech-local friends, with names like Kača and Štépán, Pavl, and Tomás. Beth remained a close friend, and we had Kača and Štépán and Pavl in common. Beth and Kača enjoyed “girl talk”, sometimes at Štépán’s expense, though only on occasion. Beth and I would enjoy Chinese food at various up-hill restaurants…and later—after Beth’s departure from Prague—I would enjoy food in the same restaurants with Pavl. It was with Pavl that I’d christened one such place: “Beth’s Chinese Reastaurant.” Pavl and I both call it that. I’m in Chicago, now, and Pavl—for reasons never overtly explained—lives in Brno. Beth has a nice, happy life in Wales. Things have changed. Things remain the same. Friendships and “Prague-links” remain incredibly strong, and I was reminded of this yesterday, when I meandered through the streets of Chicago, with Beth, visiting the USA from far, far overseas. It was a surreal experience to see and speak with (and giggle with) Beth in Gold Coast Chicago, to hear her speak of Pavl. “Oh, bless his cotton socks!” she said, when I told her of Pavl’s earnest and continued contact with me, and his vague reasons for moving from Prague to Brno. (He moved because of a job offer, but I didn’t get that information right away.) Beth, my former neighbor and colleague in Prague, is now a visitor in the city of my birth. She giggles in the same manner, and breaks into snippets of bouncy pop-songs without notice. As she did in Prague, she wears bright colors, and finds reasons to dance around in parks, or sit quietly at a picnic, enjoying the sunlight, the smell of flowers, or the particular succulence of a peach or strawberries. Beth, my former neighbor and colleague in Prague, has—now—taken many pictures of Chicago’s Cloud Gate sculpture. The Bean. I enjoyed cheesecake (at the Cheesecake Factory) with her. We practiced our rusty Czech with one another, possibly tricking other Chicago-natives into thinking that we were both foreign to this city. Beneath The Bean, I snapped random photos, marveling at the nostalgic, giddy feelings coursing through me. Prague and Chicago occupied the same emotional space. Beth giggled, marveled at tulips, and enjoyed Oreo Cheesecake at the foot of the John Hancock Center. She bought American jeans, and enjoyed the sights and the bustle of Navy Pier at night. At odd and unexpected moments, Prague and Chicago transposed themselves, and Beth and I caught such moments and planned future meetings in the city that maintains its hold on us. We’ll meet there. Again. ** I took this photo (yesterday) with Beth, at “The Bean.” Oddly, neither of us appears in it. We’re obscured, I think, by the reflected, distorted camera flash. It’s a photo we’ll both look at in the future. In Prague. With Kača and Štépán, with Pavl, and perhaps Victor! This photo, I think, will age nicely, and it’s only fitting that I put it here. As always, thank you for viewing, reading, and commenting, and I hope you’re all having a great week.