A Bottle of Tokaji

Or: The Man Who Had Castro By The Balls.

Not the storied bottle, but just as delicious.

A grave little Czech man  met us at the train in Prague. He held up a handmade sign with my friend Anastasia’s name written on it. When we identified ourselves to him, he greeted us with a curt “Hello”, a sharp nod, and a slight raise of his pale grey hat. It could have been a fedora or a trilby or even a p…