If Thursday was a good day, Friday was a decidedly less-good day. I was going to spend a good portion of the day in a neighborhood more removed from all the action because it has some museums I wanted to go to. I had some frustrations getting there. Did I tell you I have the frustration tolerance of a toddler? First, I tried to use the ATM at the metro station but it did not have an option for English so there I am trying to translate the words on my phone, but unsuccessfully. (By the way, I can’t help thinking that traveling alone has become a lot less bad-ass since the smart phone. The other day, on the train back from Kutna Hora, the train stopped at a station in Prague and I was able to look up whether it was the right one to get off at before it left the station again). So I got on the metro. And they’re right about the metro system being very easy to negotiate here. I got to the stop of the National Gallery- Valetrzni Palac, but I couldn’t find a street sign for the life of me and it’s one of those stations that is surrounded by tracks and highways. Oh and that ATM didn’t have English either. So I commenced walking the wrong direction. Then I turned around. Then I found that the street the museum is on is lined with banks and ATMs. Nice! 
I get to the museum. It’s pretty incredible…and huge. They have a Alfonso Mucha exhibit and Ai Weiwei Zodiac Heads outside, but also have a regular collection with Klimt, Picasso, and some great modern art. It’s 6 floors of art. It’s sprawling. It’s a lot of art. As a side note, the virtue of taking pictures of art is that it makes it easier to write off of later; I was able to get pages and pages of writing done later without being distracted or knowing I have three more floors to get through. Anyway, I think it took me two hours to get through it and that is with me rushing through the last two floors. By then I was kind of museum’ed out and cranky. I was going to go to another gallery.
I stopped at the museum cafe for a snack (my second emergency apple streusel of the trip so far), looked up the gallery on my phone to see what exhibits they had, and decided I was okay to skip it. The only other thing to check out was a market near by. I took the tram, more because I didn’t know how to figure out the road system than because I didn’t want to walk. The market was mostly selling cheap clothes and household items but there was an inside part that had numerous produce vendors. So I got some more fruit- apples, apricot and strawberries. Then I took the tram to the metro to my hotel and decided I was done with that part of the city.
I stopped back at the hotel, made myself a small salad. Here is where the obsessing began. I got it in my head I should go ‘out’ and perhaps ‘out’ meant to see live music. So I looked at the clubs in my book and found one with a psychobilly band playing with a woman who plays an upright base. I thought about going. But then I thought I would be the oldest person there and it’s late and what do I do with myself when I get there? I went back and forth, mostly to avoid the self-judgment of not going. But as soon as I thought about going I was in a worse mood because the thought going was stressful. So I decided not to go. Maybe I could do something Saturday night. My plan had been to go to a cafe to write and then get dinner later. But I was hungry and it was too early to have dinner. So I kept eating fruit but it wasn’t working. I didn’t want to eat dinner early, then my Friday night will end at 7pm and I’ll feel bad about myself. And then I saw the restaurant down the block is a nice place to have wine and chill out. But is ok for me to be drinking so much (mind you, I’m concerned about calories, not getting shit-faced). Then I wonder if not going to Budapest is a mistake since I’ve obviously already run out of things to do in Prague and then I’ll spend more evenings like this feeling bad.
I spend a lot of my time like this, trying to figure out what to do so I don’t feel bad. It happens at home too but in different ways. I’ve been told, I’m trying to avoid disappointment. And what would be disappointing? If I did something and felt bad about myself. I flew 6000 miles alone but the hardest part is figuring out how to spend my weekend nights. I am quite aware that none of this shit matters. I will never see these people again and this is all in my head. And there are much worse things to worry about. Because I feel awkward I am afraid of begin found out as awkward.
In the end I went to that restaurant down the street. I had a good feeling about it. And I decided to have wine more in an effort to get out of my head. By the way, I looked it up- the glasses of wine are .15 liters which is 5.072oz- who knew? I had a very nice light dinner and wrote pages and pages with my phone and camera to remind me of the things I had seen in the last two days. Of course all this over thinking infiltrates my writing and it’s like I write through it, getting the gunk out, like rinsing out a glass before you use it. The fact is I have a bunch of free time to do what I want and I have numerous writing projects in progress and it IS appropriate for me to use this time to work on them. Making progress on them would make me happy. And being in a cafe drinking coffee and writing in a foreign country makes me happy.
When I got back to my hotel, I decided to remedy the Saturday night going-out stress I would go to the theater. I got a ticket for what looks like an interesting show. So maybe I do have to plan for things while I am here, or at least be in a place where I can keep busy. Since I am not curing my neuroses in the next week and I am in this beautiful city, I might as well do what I can to enjoy it.
Tonight I hope to go to yet another vegetarian restaurant before the theater. Whenever I travel, I find these incredible vegetarian places. I still have a couple on my list to try.
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