Spelling counts

It's been hot here, so early morning and late evening are the best times for walks. The sun comes up well before 5:00, so 6:00 AM is a perfect time to get exercise.  I've grown more confident about my ability to navigate Prague, and I've located a lovely park three quarters of a mile uphill from the seminary, where there's a rose garden.  Friday morning was clear, and if anything cool.  Taking only my keys, which I stuffed in my bra, I made for the park.  The air smelled of summer.  The start of a glorious day.

Feeling adventurous and knowing approximately where the seminary was in relation to the park, I did not retrace my steps.  Descending the steps from the park, I passed gated homes, with vine-covered walls and crossed a busy street where there was lots of graffiti. Confident I knew where I was going,  I became absorbed in watching people boarding buses and trams as they traveled to work. I noticed workers repairing the cobble stones and people buying their morning papers. Czech is alphabetic, and I was trying to puzzle out the environmental print: kava for coffee; restaurace for restaurant.  I was enjoying my walk. Only when I came to a modernistic clock tower I had never seen before, did I realize I was lost.

 I had left the park at perhaps 6:30, and it was now nearly 7:00.  Without a pack, I cover a mile in 15 minutes.  I might have walked a couple of miles in the wrong direction.  I was supposed to start a big pot of soup for our lunch as our cook had the morning off.  I needed to be back at the seminary in 15 minutes or so. I was totally lost.  Michelle's business card lists the address of the seminary, but I'd been too cocky to carry one.  I did remember the name of the street-- Plucko, or something like that.

I was now in a rundown neighborhood.  There were workers around who appeared to be fixing a water main, but none of them spoke any English. Nor did several other people whom I approached.  A young man wearing a tie said he understood English, but he'd never heard of Plucko Street.  He referred me to the nearest Metro Station-- Jinho z Podebrad. "There will be an information station.  They will help you."

I descended the steps and looked for the information booth. All I found were small shops selling newspapers, water, and coffee.  Wanting to know the booth's location, I said, "Informace?"

The store personnel, who had limited patience with lost Americans, shouted "Ne!"

A woman who was passing out leaflets was a bit more accommodating and answered my inquiries-- in Czech.  I must have looked pretty upset.  When I told her, "Nerozumim"-- "I don't understand"-- she walked me to the booth herself.

The attendant behind the barred glass window spoke English. When under stress, I have tremors, and now I was shaking all over. I told the attendant I was an English teacher, and I'd gotten lost on an early morning walk.  He smiled, and it was clear he wanted to help me. Then he told me there was no such street as "Plucko."  He asked if I was staying at an apartment  or a hotel.  I explained I was staying at a seminary.  He fiddled with a computer.  He could not find anything.  I remembered the Number 135 and X22 buses stopped by the seminary, and the building wasn't too far from the large Tesco market.  

"Ah," he said.  "This helps very much." The Methodist seminary was actually on Pluku Street, in Prague's 10th district. I had spelled the street's name incorrectly. "You are not very far away," he told me.  I was to take the subway one stop to Namisti Miro (Peace Square) and then take the 135 bus about a mile and a half.

But I needed to go on foot, since I was not carrying money, and the three day transit pass I'd purchased was back at the seminary.

"I will give you a ticket," said the attendant. "That will be better."

Still shaking, I found my way to the platform.  My five minute wait for a train seemed very long. When it arrived, the door nearest me did not open.  I scrambled to find another. I hung onto a pole as we traveled to Namisti Miro. The door did not open when we arrived at the station. There was a button that had to be pushed, and I did not know this.  A  fellow passenger helped me.  Namisti Miro is one of Prague's major transportation hubs, and I'd been there a number of times.

  There's a major bus stop across from the church near a gelato shop. But buses 135 and X22 had been crossed off the list.  I would have to make inquiries.

Here at Namisti Miru, there were many well-dressed people going to work. It was not hard to find an English speaker. A woman told me the buses I needed now stopped across the street.  The 135 arrived very quickly.

Though I'd ridden this route several times, it appeared unfamiliar, and I wasn't sure we were going in the right direction.  The shops and building facades did not look familiar.

This wasn't good. My stomach tightened. I'd been feeling queasy for quite awhile. Would I ever get back to the seminary?  Then I remembered my temporary transit pass entitled me to a ride in the opposite direction, if necessary. Either way, I was almost home. When the bus turned right after coming down a long hill, I realized we were on Pluku Street.  This is the way you spell it.  As I often remind my students, spelling's important.