Via Prague

The ball dropped softly on Monday. A rattle of a key turning in the lock. My guests were in the kitchen, snug on the sofa watching 'Ferris Beuller's Day Off.'
Hana came in, with an air of having things to do.
'How are you?' I asked, coming out of my room cautiously.
'Fine.'
I made a subtle gesture to the kitchen.
'Yes, you didn't tell me.' Hana's eyes widened.
'I did though,' dropping to a whisper, I recounted the evening we spent over wine just before Christmas, and I'd showed her Tonnie's email. She'd seemed agreeable to the idea at the time.
'Yes, James, but you said maybe they will come. Maybe. I come home last night and there are strange people in my flat, and you were not even here.'
This was true. Expecting Hana to be at her parents' place in the country through the New Year, I'd assumed my guests could stay comfortably until then, and have them on their way before Hana came back and I left for Paris.
'So next time -- just SMS me,' Hana said. 'It's no problem, just SMS.'
'OK.'
'Oh and the coffee is finished, and the tea -- almost finished.'
'I know, I'll get some. I'm sorry.'
'No problem. Just -- next time.'
A few minutes later though there was a knock at my door. 'Can I come in?' Hana asked.
She came in carrying a floor mat. 'So -- they can use but they must blow up.'
'Wow, thanks, Hana.'
'Sure.'
Hana was having a girlfriend over for a pre-New Year's Eve party. Later they were going to Wenceslas Square to watch all the Chinese fireworks. Pavel was having a party at his place, and I'd invited Tonnie, her boyfriend (his name is Steve) and the Australian guy, Carl. They were dead broke, and I nearly was, but I figured I could stand them a round, and hated the idea of them ringing in the new year in Prague stuffed up in a stranger's flat.
Around six, Hana's friends were arriving, and I was restless. I drew a map showing Tonnie and the guys the way to Pavel's, then headed out.
It was a surprisingly warm evening for December, but the humidity had a chill in it. There's been no snow for several weeks, and the streets were slick and shiny with the rain from earlier. Pavel's was already open and a warm cheery light came from the window. 'Cau, Jamesy!' Pavel said. We shook hands. There were a handful of other people. Most of the tables were reserved for the party later, so I sat at the bar with a pint of Bernard, a spicy light beer. On the TV they were watching 'Svejk,' the classic with Rusinsky, again. It was still early, just after seven. I sat at the bar drinking a beer and sending text messages to students and friends wishing Happy New Year. Messages came from Jitka and Katja, and Marja in Finland, Martin in Ireland, Pavel at the Arts Academy, JIrina and Illona.
Then Mirka, a pretty blonde, and her boyfriend Roman, and their little white and brown dog Milos came in. Mirka andRoman are from Slovakia, and have the warm hospitality typical of most Slovaks. Mirka wished me Happy New Year, and offered both cheeks to be kissed, and Roman and I shook hands. Mirka had brought a bottle of Slivovice, a plum brandy famous in Moravia and Slovakia. 'Homemade,' she said. 'My father's brand.' She got all of us a shot and we drank. Good slivovice, if you drink it slow, doesn't taste like alcohol, but only the plums. But MIrka insisted we shoot it so it burned going down. 'Happy New Year!'
They were going to another party so a few minutes later they left. Then Patrik and some other people came, and for a while I joined them at the table. I also went back to the kitchen and said hello and Happy New Year to Islam. He was trying to send a New Year's SMS to his wife and daughter in Bangladesh, but was having problems getting through. He asked to use my phone. We tried sending it on mine, but the only report I got was 'message pending.'
'Sorry,' I said. 'Maybe it's really busy.' He kept trying on his phone and also Pavels.
'I come,' he said. A little while later he came out and sat at the table and everyone made a space for him.
'Did you hear the latest about Bhutto's son?' I asked.
'Yes. But I think he is too young.'
'Nineteen.'
'Yes, they need someone among the older leaders who has more experience.'
'But what if he's got some of his mother in him? It's possible.'
'Yes, it is possible, but he's too young.'
'His mother was very strong.'
'Yes, very strong.'
Tonnie and the guys showed up a couple hours later. By then, the place was pretty busy, but we found them chairs. An American guy named Lane, and Courtney, an American girl, were rolling a joint.
'Here,' I said to Tonnie. 'You can watch something you can't do in America.' We turned and watched Lane.
'Yeah,' Steve said. 'In China too, it was free where we were at.'
I mentioned the dogs too. By then there were two dogs, one a white pit bull with a blank, cartoonish face, and a big black dog. They took turns drifting around the tables, sniffing, or letting themselves be petted. The white dog went over to a young Czech girl sitting by herself. She spoke to the dog and petted it. Encouraged, the dog jumped up onto his hind legs, and then up onto the table and looked out regally upon the bar. Finally, his owner, a Czech girl at our table who was very quiet, got up and fetched him down.
'I miss my dog,' Tonnie said.
'I can't believe you left him in China!'
'We had to. He's with a friend. But we'll send for him once we get back to California.'
Lane passed the joint, and passed it over to Tonnie. They'd had a rough time the past few weeks, so I figured they needed it more than anyone. She smiled and took it, smoked, and passed to Carl and Steve. I went to the bar and got Pavel and introduced him, then he brought three pints of Bernard.
'Now you can try a Czech beer,' I said. 'Sorry Pavel doesn't have the Pilsner. That's the most famous one.'
'Oh, I love Pilsner,' Steve said.
'Nazdravi,' I said, raising my glass.
'Nazdravi?'
'Nazdravi.' We clinked glasses.
Islam came out from the kitchen with big plates of chlebicky, Czech open-faced sandwiches with crab, ham, cheese, squeezes of lemon, tomatos. He put them on all the tables. I had a couple, but then let Tonnie and the guys devour the rest.
'It's a nice change from potatos,' Tonnie said with a wan smile.
A Czech guy with a guitar was standing up at the bar, doing a spontaneous concert. He and Pavel and the other guys went through a bunch of American standards, mostly Sixties and Seventies rock, 'Smoke on the Water,' kind of stuff. A Czech guy at our table had a drum, and he beat along. He showed me the inside of the drum. 'Made in the USA' was the label.
'Good drum? Not Chinese?' He nodded.
It was very warm and festive in the bar. You felt on the verge of complete intimacy with everyone in the room, and there was that sentimental feeling of the holidays, when it's OK to go up to complete strangers and clap them on the back without being boorish. 'It reminds me of beach bonfires back in California,' I told Tonnie.
Later on the TV they put on a Tina Turner concert, which was great.
Around 11 to my surprise, Tonnie and the guys rose to go.
'I'm just not feeling too well,' Steve said.
'Well, I'll walk you back.'
I wanted to be back at Pavel's in time for midnight, but the walk was refreshing, the brisk air clearing my head and lungs. There were explosions from fireworks reverberating up and down the long broad avenue that is Francouzka Street. We went up the hill and in the small park near my flat a group of young guys were lighting chasers and rockets.
'It's too bad about everything,' I said to Tonnie. The guys were trailing twenty yards back.
'Yeah,' Tonnie said.
'But it will be good for you to get back to America for a few months, get your bearings.'
That morning they'd told me they'd decided to go back. They were buying a ticket for Carl to Ottawa, where they had a friend who could help him.
'We'd like to come back,' Tonnie said.
'Yeah, just bring enough to get by for a couple months.'
'Yeah.'
Once they were safely back in the flat, I headed back to Pavels. The young man who'd called himself Death, Smrtak, and whose real name was Tomas, was there along with Andrea. We exchanged greetings and there were other people too. Islam came out from the kitchen and sat again. Then people were lighting sparklers, and on the TV we saw a clock, counting down. Piet! Steri! Tri! Dva! Jedna! Hezky Slvestr! Happy New Year!' I hugged Islam, and the girl Zora with the sparkler and even went around Death and stole a happy kiss from Andrea, who winked and flashed me a happy smile. Death looked confused so I just laughed and shook his hand.
Patrik's group had popped a bottle ofchampagne. They invited me over. We raised glasses, then I went back to the table with Islam. He doesn't drink, but since it was a special occasion, and he was so far from home (both of us) I offered him the glass of champagne. To my surprise, he accepted it. He looked at me before tasting it. 'It's champagne,' I said. 'Really good.'
'Champagne? Very good?'
He drank it and nodded approvingly.
'Happy New Year!'
'Happy New Year.'
'And your message to Bangladesh?' I asked.
Islam tipped his head sideways.
'Maybe it got through,' he said.