I'm a strange mix between planning and carefree (which, I think, we all secretly want to believe about ourselves). Yesterday, after a thorough survey of the best, most oft recommended Prague roasteries and specialty coffee stops, I set out for onesip, a seemingly nice enough place with sweet treats and a great location, since I was aiming to wander the downtown area for a while afterwards.
Except I never got there. A couple of stops before my intended arrival, I peeked out the tram window and noticed, inside a courtyard, hanging lights and little trees, the promise of coffee looming from afar.
I had no reason to look up.
I had options other than taking the tram.
I might've, in other words, never passed by here.
Except I did.
And rather than make a brief mental note to maybe-never check this one out too sometime, I rushed to get off the tram at the closest stop, and walked back. Naturally, meanwhile, as I quickly zoomed in on the area in my phone (to check the right direction of my own two feet), I encountered another cafe with an equally great rating and (seemingly) nicer treats.
We are, always, surrounded by endless numbered options. In this maze that is life, you never need to go left if you don't want to. But maybe, at times, you could.
I decided to not let myself get even further derailed. After all, I'd gone to the trouble of stepping off the tram for this place. Be silly, almost, to ditch it in favor of another. Though isn't that often the case? The more choices we actively make, the more it reminds us of other choices we could be making.
I stuck with Acid Coffee, not because I was looking for something too acidic, but because it was getting late enough already, and I meant to have my coffee and my wanderings. At first, I was a little put off. The place seemed so hip, so trendy and fashionably upscale. I feared it wouldn't be my kind of place. But I stopped by there, anyhow.
I didn't want something milky, since I wanted to be able to actually taste the coffee on offer. But I, also, am incredibly greedy at times, and couldn't contend myself with a small espresso.
I ended up opting for a mug of the batch brew, though seeing as it was cheapest (as is normal) on the menu, I doubted a tiny bit my choice. Questioned, still, whether I should've stepped right, instead, but by now it was late. Watching the nice, moustached man serve up my little pudding-treat-thing, already, not knowing I was still, inside my own self, still so undecided and untethered. Too much to ask of caffeinated gingerbread men? Most likely so.
Choices.
Lucky for me, there was precisely one table left outside, in the nice interior garden, hidden from sight, from noise of trams and indecisive girls. I found my place. I sniffed, questioningly, my brew.
And found myself oddly satisfied. The scent was strong and quite intensely fruity, not what I expect from my coffee normally, but this was my second cup of the day. I could tolerate a little deviation. To my delight, it turned out the coffee wasn't too acidic, which I wouldn't have wanted anyway, though also extremely fruity in taste as well. Tropical. Like something that, if it hit me in the face on an early morning, I might not know.
I'd chatted with the man at the counter a bit and found it was an Ethiopian Arabica blend in the batch brew that day from the Smallholders Farm in the Guji Region. I didn't ask. I just stole answers from the package conveniently displayed at the counter, beside the moustachio man. I don't know, still, whether he minded, or just watched me slink away, in my feather-worm way, with my salvaged treats.
The pack also suggested black tea, beside the apricots and tropical fruit I'd noticed. Too educated for my unschooled naughty little palate. What can you do.
I checked the time. I sat, enjoying my beverage and digging out my Kindle. I recently finished Susanna Clarke's Piranesi (a wonderful recommendation from 
I don't feel much like being on Earth, lately. Suppose that checks out. I let myself for half an hour disappear inside a steal-away book, a red herring of a busy life. Only just starting to get the gist of someone else's story. Hey-ho.
