My last day in the office! Gábena (Gabriela) and I go for lunch outdoors, and have chicken with cinnamon, roast garlic and grilled beetroot, utterly delicious. Martin and I have a lengthy chat in the morning about how our firms can work together and what specialisms they have in real estate. As is becoming habitual we break for tea and cake on the balcony – today Míša has bought chocolate cake with coconut, which is delish.
I have quite an emotional farewell with the people who have looked after me, including Míša, Bára, Petr and Martin, and they give me two beautiful books of photos, one of Prague and one of the Czech Republic, which they have all signed.
Gábena has invited me to hang out Friday evening and Saturday. We go to her flat to check on her new kitten, Chip, who is miniscule, and then we take the tram to the big park overlooking the city. We hop on the funicular railway and take it the two stops to the top, where we discover to our delight that the mini-Eiffel tower there is still open. We climb to the top. The city is shrouded in a light mist which makes everything glow and gives Prague an even dreamier, more fairy tale feel.
We have dinner at a Mexican place (Prague is absolutely dripping with Mexican and Chinese restaurants) and then I go back to my hotel.
Saturday morning Gábena rings to say she's running late and can I meet her at the Metro station in Wenceslaus Square. I do my best to be on time but 1) wheeled suitcases are designed for rolling on pavement, not on cobbles, so it's rather slow going, and 2) the main square has about eight streets that come off of it and "over there" is not really the world's most helpful directions under the circumstances.
We find each other eventually and we take the Metro to the end of the line where her parents pick us up. We then drive about 20km on the motorway to Beroun, where there is a bi-annual pottery festival.
It takes us 45 minutes to park and then we breakfast on some pastries with prunes, cheese and poppy seeds (mmmm) and spend an hour or so wandering around looking at all the wares. Hilariously, Czech hippies look... just like hippies everywhere else!
I buy a pair of stripy handmade mugs (à la Paul Smith) for my friend Mary's birthday and then we eat klobasa (giant pork sausage) with mustard and beer.
We go back to Gábena's parents place, which is five minutes from the airport, and after a couple of hours sitting in the sun in their garden with her parents' new kitten, Nelly, who is equally miniscule, she drops me at the airport. It is with great regret that I leave Prague – but I know I'll be back.