I've been waiting for someone to ask me a question. On Wednesday, I took the number 17 tram to the Jiráskovo náměstí stop, within spitting distance of the right bank of the Vlatava River, and made my way along the river walk to see a photo exhibition my friend Jara put together with a handful of her classmates.

I stood with Jara on the river walk, listened to student DJs, watched families of swans swim along the edge of the river, traded swigs out of a bottle of cheap French wine, and enjoyed the honeycomb-tinted darkness that covers Prague before dark... Until one of her peers finally asked it.

"Wait-- you don't like beer?" He asked, cocking his head and looking at my eyes.

"I just can't" I replied.

"Then why are you in Prague??" He said, and giggled loudly to himself, half-covering his mouth.

"I know. I know." I said, "But... really, why not?"

I have travelled thousands of miles to a city renowned for its delicious $1 'pivo' (beer) and I'm not even drinking it. I haven't even tried it. I know that McDonald's sells it--so does our neighborhood KFC. But I can't tell anyone how it tastes. I have a health condition that mimics the symptoms of a handful of other auto-immune disorders, including Celiac's disease, so I can't eat gluten. Or beer. Or whiskey.

However, even within a city in which wheat flour seems to be more prominently thrown into dishes than salt is, I have succeeded at becoming as healthy as I can manage, even without a kitchen. Many pharmacies--such as DM-- and organic, health food stores-- such as Country Life-- carry products that claim to be "Bezlepkovy," the Czech phrase for gluten-free. In addition, Diana Svět Oříšků, aka Diana International Food, carries quite a bit of bread.

The first time I walked into Diana, I immediately noticed the large "Bezlepkovy" sign in the glass display case of their breads, "no wheat" logos on most of the bread packaging. And I sort of wanted to the whole room to be stuck in a giant musical theatre vortex, in which I'd jump up onto the counter, swing madly around the brass pole on top of it and sing and the whole counter staff behind me would raise up their arms and sing things during the chorus like, "YES SHE'S GOT IT!.. It don't got gluten!"

"Bezlepkovy?" I asked the woman behind the counter, pointing at one of the packages of bread.

"Ano! Bezlepkovy!" She replied, nodding, and the grin I got after walking into the store grew about a foot and a half.

According to the Advisory for Celiacs in Prague, "Gluten can be anywhere, in bread, cornflakes, dairy products, ketchups ... It is the ideal carrier of taste and smell." Yet, a self-made dictionary of food-related words in my journal and a growing awareness of Celiac-friendly places in the city in my head, I'm sure I'll be fine.