A majority of the time, I took the Red line to Vltavská, where I caught the tram onwards. Vltavská was a model of Communist working-class architecture - modern (well, as modern as 1970s architecture can get) and streamlined. A man stood at its entrance selling fruits and vegetables; I’d pick up a pale yellow Chinese apple, or a waxy persimmon, or a bag of grapes, every so often. He was inexpensive enough, and the fruit was fresh. The tram was more or less on time, but the only direct one was the number 25. It ran about every ten minutes, but there were often delays. Sometimes when the 1, or the 3 would pass by twice, and I’d become inpatient. It was cold, and if it was raining, it was wet. I just wanted to get on the tram and sit for a bit, admire the view as we passed through Prague 7.
