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Cafe Kafka?

The main campus of Warsaw University, where I work, is on a hill, with the Kazimierz Palace overlooking a slope down into a small park. At the base of the park are several terrific bookstore/cafes, where I have already spent a pleasant half-hour drinking amazing cappuccino and playing Othello with my son.

But on Valentine's Day I announced at the Center for East European Studies that my husband was coming to take me to lunch. The largely female staff found us endearing and shooed us out the door. We wandered a bit along Krakowskie Przedmiescie, the main street, but were not tempted by anything we saw. The destination of last resort would have been the bufet in the Old Library building, but we've eaten there several times already, and the day called for a special treat, so we headed down the hill.

Halfway down, just at the point where stone steps go down into the park below the Palace, there was a signboard: Cafe Kafka, with specials of the day listed in chalk.

We looked at each other, and looked around. There was no building anywhere near. Just the signboard, the sidewalk, the stairs down, and the street.

We had to do it. We began to giggle. Where was the Cafe Kafka? and who would be lured -- or more importantly where would they be lured -- by such a signboard?

Finally a young woman came down the hill on the sidewalk, and we gestured and spoke in broken English, or Polish, or something, asking her if she had any ideas. Eventually she shook her head, and smiled when this induced further laughter in us.

What was to be done (in the famous phrase)? We walked down the hill, thinking that we might end up at the bookstore cafe... But then, in a corner of a building some 75 yards down the hill and off to the right, we saw it: the Cafe Kafka.



By believing passionately in something that still does not exist, we create it. The nonexistent is whatever we have not sufficiently desired. 
Franz Kafka 


A great find. We will be back. 

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