For their little Slovak outings, they settled on a simple rule. Mea would choose a stop, Colombine would bring her sketchbook, and Lu Cia would fill the flask before they left. “So I'm in charge of supplies?” she asked. “Morale,” Mea corrected her. “Supplies is just the technical term.”
An imagined story with Mea Zen, Colombine MichelangeLove and Lu Cia, inspired by original Travel2City photographs. Trnava, two stops in Banská Štiavnica and the High Tatras form a collage of separate outings in cooler weather.
Trnava · Beside a yellow façade and a stone statue
Beneath Trnava's bare branches, Lu Cia produced the flask with the gravity of someone delivering important news. Colombine balanced three little cups in her palm. Mea adjusted her scarf and inspected the colours. “The blue one is mine.” “The cream one is mine,” Colombine added. Lu Cia looked at the last cup. “So it was a free choice until it was my turn.” They burst out laughing. The stone figure above the lantern watched with undiminished dignity. Mea glanced up. “She probably brought her own flask.”
In Štiavnica, they found a view of a tower above the bare trees. Lu Cia poured the tea, and Mea leaned towards the first ribbon of steam. Colombine pointed uphill. “Imagine a tea room in that highest window.” Mea pictured a table, three armchairs and an endless sea of roofs. Lu Cia looked at the slope. “And who would carry the water up there?” Colombine slowly lowered her hand. “Perhaps we should remain a pop-up for now.” The cups stayed on the low wall. All three had the same view, and the service was exceptionally personal.
On the open hillside, the wind decided to join them. Mea wrapped her hands around her cup, Colombine pushed the hair out of her face, and Lu Cia stepped a little closer. “The terrace has lively air conditioning today,” she observed. They turned this way and that until they found an angle for a peaceful sip, like three hands on a very unusual clock. Then they stood shoulder to shoulder, and it became easier. Colombine looked at the straight path ahead. “I'll keep the sketchbook closed today.” Mea nodded. “That leaves both hands free for tea.”
In the Tatras, the upper landscape disappeared into mist. A narrow stream remained between the rocks, along with dark dwarf pines and a few patches of white. They stopped on a broad, level stretch of path. This time, nobody invented a name for the tea room. Mea warmed her hands, Colombine rested a hand lightly on her shoulder, and Lu Cia watched the steam dissolve into the cold air. “I've only just noticed we haven't said anything for a while,” Mea murmured. Lu Cia lifted her cup. “The tea had its say.” Colombine smiled. They let it go on talking a little longer.
“The tea had its say.”
From notebook to book
The Map with No Last Page
The world of Travel2City continues between the covers of a book. Discover The Map with No Last Page and more illustrated journeys.
