Cafe Louvre

We wandered through the branch of the National Gallery dedicated to the decorative arts: glass, porcelain, clocks, silver, costumes, and pewter. The craft of the Czech people is well developed and elegant. The workmanship since way before the Hapsburgs arrived is humbling: watches with jewels, inlaid furniture, hammered silver. Czech glass is sensational: delicate, etched, colored, some pieces from the fourth century look absolutely modern. This branch of the museum is housed in a palace, like each of the six National Galleries, just a few blocks from our hotel. Then we walked through Old Town Square to the Cafe Louvre.

Opened in the first years of the twentieth century, the Cafe Louvre has had such notable guests as Franz Kafka and Albert Einstein. The food was delicious, although the thick smoke permeated my hair, clothes, shoes, coat. All of me. I had a thick vegetable soup, fresh bread, and a light Moravian white wine. The local white wines are quite lovely and delicate. The reds are mostly imported.

There is no hysteria here. Life is very calm, even in the heart of downtown on a business day. America is too new. It's too young and keeps itself immature, prides itself in its self-centered adolescent essence. Watching BBC World and even CNN here, one doesn't have the sense that every minute is urgent, that every word is essential, that every decision is precipitous.

Is it because there is so much more history here? The aristocracy were all nuts, all of that intermarriage, and of course, incest. Despite their magnificent palaces, riches beyond belief, intricate laces and brocades, jewels and crowns, vestments and holy objects, the rulers here were caught up in dramas that probably make our American brand of hysteria look quite tame.