It was a cold winter, and I'd found myself holed up in a quiet suburb a stone's throw from the D5, which can get you to Germany in under two hours. I was comfortable in the quiet but it was like going into stasis. The front door shut out the rest of the world and isolated the soul so completely, that there was a physical feeling associated. I'd not long been working for a company in the city, where I'd met an interesting man, and he had told me of a place where the vibe was right and the people were good, and I'd been thinking about going. Only I lived so far away, and it was so cold. I put it off for a good while, preferring the warmth of the apartment, despite its solitude, to the thought of braving the sub-zero for more than an hour at some late time, when buses don't run.

Until, one evening, staying later than usual, we'd headed out for a drink and I'd been convinced to tag along for a trip to the tea house. The name alone was cosy, and I did feel like something hot. We caught a tram and I followed on foot from the stop to the door, where I was hit by the kind of light that makes you want to sleep. Down a small staircase, on a cold and quiet street, a different world, immune to the weather, embraced us. The walls were brightly colored and adorned with books, LPs, board games and tea-related trinkets. The odd lamps threw warm light over couches and tables that could have been found in skips or built by artists, such was the timelessness.

My friend led me to a book case and pulled on a concealed rope to open a door into another room. This one, full of chairs, facing a small stage, where stand up comedy was interrupted by friendly heckling, the odd bark of a dog, and notes from a piano, fingered by a passing guest. Everything in here was free for all. People were encouraged to discuss, to touch, to engage, to play.

It wasn't long before we were on our second and third drink, and I was taken through a wardrobe into another room, wherein, we found more games, music and friendly faces. And then out and back through another wardrobe and into another version of free expression. The place was magic.

We sang and played music, games and jokes with and on each other. We drank tea and ate homemade treats and soups. We stayed until the early hours, and the early stayed with me until the next day, when I woke up on a couch in someone's living room, having only sat down for a quick rest before setting out across the town to my apartment. And nobody was surprised to see my new face in their home. Apparently, it was normal to make friends this way.

And years passed, as I became a part of Prague, and it grew into me. And through all of it, that little tea house was the hub wherein all the life could be found, and wherein, my friend was usually somewhere to be discovered.

Tea corner.

Retro music corner.

Doris, a regular at the tea house.