Islands and Continents: Short Stories by Leung Ping-kwan

Postcards from Prague

39 Postcards from Prague Translated by Tong Man, Jasmine P ostcards from Prague 1. Dear Hannah, I’ve arrived in Prague and it’s the evening of the day of Havel’s inauguration, and even though I’m just passing through I can feel the excitement in the air. It’ll take place in St. George’s Basilica. An old man said to me excitedly, ‘They’re using the old ceremony for the first time in 50 years.’ After I settled down I went to look for that toy salesman at the address I’ve got for him. The houses of the city look quite old, but for some reason familiar. Passing through the square, walking around in the cobbled streets and looking at the elegant old palace, I can’t help thinking about all those years ago when Beethoven or Mozart came here looking for rich patrons. Did they walk along the same road? Looking at those simple, almost crude, old houses and those winding little alleys, I think about Kafka — I first read him when I was a teenager — and think about looking for a way out of this maze. I laugh at myself. How come I’ve become such a romantic these days? Maybe it’s because I’m thinking about you, Hannah. If you were here, you’d 40 Short Stories by Leung Ping-kwan definitely love this place. But, as a middle-aged toy salesman passing through Prague with my suitcase, all I want to do is to find out about the products and the market here, to see if there’s any business after the change. I got some information and I’ve made an appointment to visit the toy factory tomorrow. I haven’t forgotten the toy you want me to find for you — the A630287 model, the paper garden. But the shopkeeper said they haven’t produced any since ’68. Then he said he would ask another factory and see if they have any in stock. I’ve copied down several addresses of old toyshops and I’ll go and have a look in the next few days. Oops! I’ve written too much and there’s no space left. Take care, Lee Ping 2. Dear Hannah, I just sent the first postcard. Watching it drop into the letter-box covered with such closely written characters I couldn’t help laughing at myself. So now, just as a joke at my own expense, I’m going to send you another. Because you collect postcards, I promised to send you some before I left. Actually I’m not at all the kind of person to send postcards. Postcardwriting should be concise, humorous — a few incisive witty remarks, a few open secrets of a personal nature, a suitable degree of familiarity, some explanation of the picture on the other side, a bit of harmless teasing. More suited for people who know where to draw the line, who can do free skating in their postcard writing. But everything I do is always over the top. Like the last postcard I wrote — too long, just like the first half of a letter. I even used up most of the space for the address. See! I’m no good at this game. I’m having dinner in this open-air café, sipping chilled white wine and eating smoked oysters as an appetizer. But Havel’s broadcast on the radio has caught my attention. Nearby there’s a pair of lovers who never stop kissing, even while they’re busy translating the broadcast for me. Maybe 41 Postcards from Prague because Havel’s words arrive through those kissing lips, I can feel particularly strongly his real humanity. He’s so self-aware and humble in his hopes. I raise my glass to them again and again, for their country, for the emotions that those words arouse in me (even in translation). Oh dear! I’ve gone on too long again. Lee Ping 3. Dear Hannah, Prague is really a beautiful city. Here’s another postcard for your collection. I spent the whole morning visiting the city. Now things have changed, the market here has quite a lot of potential. I’ve been thinking about a partnership with a toy sales company here. This afternoon I went to those old toyshops on the addresses I copied. I wanted to find you the toy but had no luck...