with the roar of cars and the lulling of the cafe bars the sweetly sleeping sweeping of the Seine, lord I don't know if i'll ever be back again

I woke up yesterday morning after the party in a dark bedroom and looked at my watch. To my horror, it was already 11:30! Fortunately, after I stumbled into the den and started talking to another just waking guest, I learned that we had gained an hour over night.

I took advantage of this unnaturally bright morning in rural France to explore Nico's yard, which appeared much bigger at night than during the day. I realized that the darkness behind a first row of trees led to a few acres of agriculture! I only know that some of what was grown was radishes (because we ate them the night before), but otherwise it was all a mystery. I saw the "old house", still on the property, built 200 years ago, a goose, some chickens and some hay.

When people tell me that they live in "the countryside", I usually don't believe them. I assume they are describing their neighborhoods so because in comparison to Los Angeles, they are accustomed to significantly less development. But usually I expect something more or less suburban. When we got in the car to drive back to Troyes, I saw that we had spent the night in a tiny village of old buildings, a historically designated church, surrounded by farmland.

Unfortunately, the next train to Paris was at 12:20 and there would not be another until 3:45, so I decided to take the former with L, one of Claire's friends that I had heard much about in L.A. before actually meeting her two nights ago. This was to be the final train ride of my trip. I was glad to have company, because otherwise I might have felt sad.

I met up with Julien and Nicholas around Tour Marbourg and visited with their friend Marie, who was taking a short break from studying philosophy. We listened to Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band while eating falafel sandwiches and talking about how bad a recent French movie was, that none of us had seen.

Last night, Julien took me to the Pop In, a great bar where he used to work (and where Nicholas currently works.) Here, i was able to use real life examples to make clear the definition of the work "hipster", which I had taught him a few nights before. I really enjoyed this bar. We have ones like it in L.A., but never this happening on a Sunday night. Of course, I was also made much more comfortable that for an hour they were playing a Smiths compilation.

I also heard a lot of English, both American style and U.K. I wondered whether this was because this was a bar very popular with English speakers or if there are so many visitors in Paris at any time that there are bound to be some in any good bar. Hmmmmmm....

Be we in Paris or in Lansing, it Doesn't Matter When We're Dancing

During the month of June 2005, I had 2 French roommates named Claire and Nico. While they sadly left soon after July 4th, they invited me to visit them in Troyes when I came to France. And this I did.

Little did I realize that they did not live in Troyes proper, but in a tiny village outside! And a good surprise it was. I took a train to Troyes yesterday afternoon and watched as they prepared dinner and drinks for a party of about 20 friends they made growing up. This was a striking change in scenery from Paris. It felt far from the city (I could see the stars) and I could vaguely smell trees. Dinner was a delicious stew of sausage, pork stomach and some other unidentified forms of pork and beans which I saw go from raw to steaming hot and delicious. I maybe ate too much, because I felt fool even when I woke up.

There wasn't any actual dancing, but it was an excellent party. Only a few of the Troyens spoke any English, but I had a few "conversations" with those that didn't by using the handful of French words I've learned these weeks, the handful of English words they knew and the old favorite: hand signals!

Claire and I recalled the old days of being roommates. She remembered some funny stories that involved me that I had completely forgotten. That's what friends are for, right?

I played a game called Badaboum! that involved stacking oddly shaped wooden blocks upon each other. On the box (from the early 1980s at least) was a picture of a very awkward looking family. The father's mustache was hilarious. Made me wish i had mine back again.

Later in the evening, Nico invited me downstairs with his other friends to his father's wine cellar. And he offered me a glass of wine from 1986! Quite good, only I wish it had been my FIRST glass of wine rather than my last. Soon afterwards I went into my bedroom to get something out of my backpack and fell asleep. When I woke up again at 4:30 to find the party still bumping, I felt embarassed when everyone saw me.

Earlier in the day, I took the Metro to La Marais for lunch at a Jewish bakery (pastrami sandwich!). I had had a slow day, tired from the night before. Julian and I had slept at his friend's house, and took the Metro home at around 9 in the morning. After getting a few more hours of sleep, a pain au chocolat and some quality time on the internet, it was well into the afternoon. La Marais was a good place to go then, just to chill out and do some oh-so-refreshing walking.

I'm glad I got to go to a party in the countryside. One thing my trip has somewhat lacked is non-touristy interaction with local people. This was not a problem in Paris or in Poland (and that weekend in Reykjavik with Eva), but still thank you Claire and Nico for having me over!

And again, that dinner was super.

Now hear the boys singing Bee Gees songs under the skies, And on the steps of Montmartre they harmonise

First the most shocking thing to happen yesterday:

I was sitting outside at a bar with Julian and his friend Nicholas when a girl comes up to me and in French asks me if I am from the United States. I vaguely get a sense of what she means, so say yes. She switches to English and informs me that she is Blanca, the French girl who lived with my aunt and uncle for a summer in 1998. If I recall properly, she stayed with my family too for about a week or a weekend. I hadn't seen or heard from her or any reason to believe that I would, especially since 1998 was before email because nearly universal.

I was shocked. This was even more shock than when I saw three law school acquaintances in one day in Cinqueterre or when I saw the same girls again in Rome and Warsaw. Or when I saw that guy again in Chamonix. This outdid all previously experienced shock. She now lives upstairs across the street from the bar we were at and was celebrating her boyfriend's birthday with a bunch of their friends. We exchanged information and I think will try to get in touch before I go. Bizarre.

Yesterday morning, I took a train to Chartres (made the train by about 2 minutes, running through the station) to view the cathedral. The cathedral was worth seeing, and because it is probably one of the very last cathedrals I see on this trip, I spent more time than I usually do. Instead of just racing up to the top, racing down and doing a quick round of the interior, I sat up on the top for about 20 minutes taking in the (yes, again) "breathtaking view" of the town. Some Japanese tourists smiled at me.

Downstairs, inside the cathedral, I sat for about half an hour, admiring the stained glass windows (especially the Blue Virgin) and repeating empty Hail Mary's in my head.

For lunch, I spent an hour searching the town (which itself was a disppointment - B-O-R-I-N-G!!!) for the most "typical" restaurant. I found a good one, and had an entree (which in French means appetizer!) of herring and main course of tripe. I've had a lot of tripe on my European vacation, and have decided that in L.A. I hadn't given it a fair shot. True, I occasionally get tripe at taco stands, but when prepared properly for dinner it can be surprisingly good!

I slept on the train ride back to Paris, listening to DJ Earworm mashups of the Scissor Sisters, Fischerspooner, George Michael, the Eurythmics, Avenue D, and Depeche Mode. Although I was half asleep, it made me want to dance.

Metro to Montmartre. Ran up the steps, toured the Sacre Couer church. Sat on the steps for a few minutes staring down at Paris for one last time...

Walked all over the Montmartre area, which was more touristy than I had imagined, but also really good. Paris is mostly flat, so it was fun for me to walk up and down hills as I would (and will be doing all too soon) back home. I walked down the kind of disgusting Clichy street, which is lined with mostly porno theatres (with very aggressive door people who try to physically pull in anybody who as much as glances at the very attention grabbing advertisements), past the Montmartre cemetery (closed) and back up the hill to meet Julian at the Place du Tertre.

We had an unexceptional dinner at the bottom of the hill but then walked to a much cooler bar (I heard "Gut Feeling" from Devo) and met up with his friend. And I ran into Blanca.

Later went to an even better bar, which although a bit too smoky, had great music and people watching. Made me all the less envious of the L.A. scene.

Again, a great day.

If You Don't Think Paris Was Made for Love, Maybe Your Heart Needs a Telegram From Up Above

I have found it surprising how much I love Paris, (or at least "like it very much, as a friend") considering I'm not much one for "romantic" cities. When I got off the train 5 years ago when I visited for the first time, I was almost immediately enchanted, even though my expectations were very low. I had a similar, although not quite as intense experience two days when I explored by foot many of the touristy areas of Paree. Why? How is Paris able to make me feel that special feeling when a city like Venice was not? I think part of the reason is that while Paris is appropriately reputed to be all about love, it also idolizes reason and order, as demonstrated by the street layout. I got so excited by the wide boulevards, circles and squares that made so much sense. With my Paris Nord to Sud guide, I never got lost!

I saw so much on Thursday and WALKED so much, it's hard to say much meaningful about each individual place.

1. The Eiffel Tower - The last time I went up the Eiffel Tower was when I was 20 years old. I have a picture from that visit, taken by one of two Italian girls I met up there asking me to take their picture. You can see in my face that I'm about to explode with joy. This trip I was not QUITE as enthusiastic, as I have had SO many "breathtaking views" from the tops of cities, but still the combination of nostalgia, collective excitement from the other tourists who reached the very top and the thrill of seeing all of Paris simultaneously is worth mentioning.

2. Arc de Triomphe - Bigger than I had expected or remembered from last time!

3. Champs Elysee - Of course, just like last time, I couldn't help humming the song to myself as I walked. Unlike last time, I didn't stop in the Virgin Megastore to buy Radiohead's Kid A which had just come out.

4. Jardins des Tuileries - Relaxing walk. I stopped at a cafe for an espresso and pulled out one of the few blank pieces of paper I had and began mapping out my trip to NY.

5. The Louvre - I decided to skip the Louvre. Controversial decision, I know. But I went last time and I found it overwhelming. It takes hours and hours, I've already been to a million museums and it was too beautiful a day to get stuck inside. I walked past the outside though.

6. The Opera House - I didn't want to pay to go in to where they keep the cool stuff, but I walked in and saw statues of some all time famous composers like Gluck. I sat on some stairs and poured over maps.

7. Le Marais - Paris' Jewish and gay neighborhood (kind of like West Hollywood, eh?) Really liked it. I plan on going back if I can. Stores selling cheese and sausage and wine! Smaller streets. Some enticing and not too expensive restaurants. Place de Vosges, where I sat on a park bench for about 45 minutes not moving, next to another guy also not moving. This day involved too much walking, so I was pretty worn out at this point.

8. (Metro to) Pigalle to meet Julian at a great bar/cafe whose name I cannot remember but had a chandalier made of wine bottles. I read a bit of Persuasion before he got there. We talked about our days.

9. A fondue place (don't know the name) - Extremely close sitting which forces both physical and social contact with one's neighbors (which I like.) We talked to two English folks teaching in France. The cheese fondue was good, and my stomach was able to handle it because of the wonderful pills that I brought from home. The wine was served in baby bottles. I had never seen such a thing.

A Free Man in Paris

I felt unfettered and alive.

I'm not one much for palaces. I've seen a few on this trip, notably the one at Wilanow in Warsaw, but I felt that my trip to Paris would be incomplete without a visit to Versailles. Yeah, yeah, Louix XIV isn't exactly my type of king, but you can't criticize it until you see it, right?

It wasn't so bad after all! Julien's mom drove me there (very nice of her) and I had a great time with the audio tour, checking myself out in the Hall of Mirrors (those who know how much I love mirrors should only imagine...) and I actually thought some of the rooms were more "majestic" than "obnoxious."

The real gem of the Versailles palace was the garden. Again, I'm not a huge fan of gardens. Usually when I go to carefully arranged gardens I think, "uh...so it's a forest where the trees are arranged in parallel lines". But this was different! For one, the size. First, the Versailles gardens are HUGE. I walked through them for at least an hour (quickly) and only caught a small bit. Secondly, something about the order of it, the straight and diagonal lines, the cruciform canals, made me feel good. Looking straight down the canal and immediately sensing the order of the whole area was comforting without taking away from the grandeur of the place.

I spent the time listening to DJ Danger Mouse's "Grey Album", which mixes up the Beatles' White album and Jay-z's Black album. I rarely listen to it in its entirety, but it was super, super good. Maybe I DON'T hate all hip hop! This was followed by some Magnetic Fields.

Got back to Paris and did as much as I could around town before meeting up with Julian at 6:30 in Place du Sorbonne.

1. Sainte Chapelle - When I was 20 years old, I came to Paris for a week during the fall break granted to UCL students. I had taken AP Art History at Harvard-Westlake only 3 years before, so the image of Sainte Chapelle and its stained glass windows was still fresh in my mind. I was so excited about being there, that I attempted to take a picture of myself with the stained glass windows in the background, using my disposable camera. Unfortunately, the picture came out super bad. On my return, as a hardened 25 year old, I spent a few minutes with my digital camera making sure that I had something at least slightly more presentable. this time I gave much more attention to the details of the stained glass than I did last time. Each panel uses a completely different scheme as that adjacent to it! Who knew!?

2. Notre Dame Cathedral - I saw the exterior of Notre Dame 5 years ago. I believe I may have been walking with Kate at the time, but I am not sure. More importantly, I did not go inside until yesterday. And I had missed so much! The place totally scared me! Wikipedia calls it "the finest example of French gothic architecture." Sure, why not? There was much more to see than was possible in the 20 or so minutes that I spent inside. I'm angry though, because the tower was closed so I didn't get to go up and see the gargoygles. Which reminds me that I think the whole "low season" in Europe thing is EXTREMELY lame. They say it is "low season" so they don't have as many people working or as many buses running or places don't stay open as long so stuff is just as crowded and inconvenient as it would have been in high season. My stupid bus from Dubrovnik to Split ran half as frequently as the Let's Go book predicted because of "low season" (except the streets of Dubrovnik were FULL of people) and I had to take a later bus because the next one was full! The tower to Notre Dame was closed because of not enough staff, even though there was a huge line of people to see it! And it costs along the lines of 3 or 4 euros per person for the right to climb some steps. I don't get it. The demand is there. France has an unemployment problem. Why not hire a few more people? It probably takes about 2-4 tourist entry fares to pay for an extra employee!

3. The Pantheon and Foucault's Pendulum - After having recently completed Umberto Eco's Foucault's Pendulum, I couldn't help but visit Paris' Pantheon where it is now housed (in the book it was in the Conservatoire National des Arts et Métiers but it was moved in 1995). I didn't find it as philosophically significant as the narrator, but it was pretty neat to have the earth's rotation proved right in front of me! Underground the Pantheon is a crypt containing a bunch of dead famous French dudes like Voltaire and Marie Curie who wasn't French, but was super cool (and I think I did a report on her in elementary school.)

4. The Place du Sorbonne - where I had a beer and a water (it is amazingly hard to stay properly hydrated in Europe when water costs 2.50 euro for 50 cL.

We went for sushi (first time I've had sushi since L.A.) and then to a bar to discuss everything.

A nice day and a nice night. That's how I like it, right? Sightseeing during the day and dinner and drinks at night. Why can't life be like that all the time!?

Before you left your garrison you'd had a drink maybe two, you don't remember Paris, hon, but it remembers you

Remember how in Cinqueterre I ran into three people I know from law school? Remember also how I met two girls there that I ran into again in Rome? And then ran into them again in Warsaw?

Yesterday in Chamonix, while leaving my hostel I ran into this Australian guy that I had met in the same hostel in Cinqueterre! Seems that he is now working in Nice and was up in Chamonix for a visit. Again goes to prove that people one does not expect to reappear will do exactly that. We talked for 5-10 minutes and I used words like "flabbergasted" and "shocked" and "gosh!" but no matter how much I shook my head, the moment could not be explained with satisfaction.

I had an espresso in town and realized that unfortunately, when I return to L.A., I will at least temporarily become one of those jerks who complain about "how hard it is to get a decent coffee in America."

Within seconds of getting on the train to St. Gervais, I realized that I was much more dehydrated than I would safely have planned to be. I drank the remainder of my magnesium enriched bottle of water but knew that without more and soon my approaching headache and sickish feeling in my stomach would not get better.

I had to resort to drinking the water on the train, happily labeled "do not drink". After a few centiliters of this, and an extremely overpriced bottle of Vittel at the next station (and more "do not drink" water on the next train) I felt fine. Disaster averted. Phew!

On the rapid train from Annecy (where I happily checked my email) to Paris I sat next to a French dude who upon realizing that I was American informed me that he had lived for two years near Century City! I was intrigued. "Where exactly?!" and "why!?," I asked. This led to more questions. It turns out that this guy had gone to law school in France, had completed an L.L.M. at B.U. law school and had just taken the New York state bar exam in July. We exchanged stories about taking the bar (the word "sucked" was used repeatedly) and tried half successfully to recall the meaning of terms like "fee simple," "piercing the corporate veil" and "burden on interstate commerce."

I arrived happily in Paris (although not happy to again shoulder my travel bag, which had just become one book heavier -- join the pile, Umberto!) and found my way with amazing grace and ease to Julien's apartment. I know Julien from one encounter in Hollywood's Beauty Bar, after being introduced by my brother. What fortune! I think he and his mother were a bit surprised by my appearance, which was worn. They provided me with a delicious dinner of potatoes, quiche Lorraine (and water! so hard to find!) with a selection of cheese and my laundry being done for dessert.

we live on a mountain right at the top

Along with all of Iceland, Cinqueterre and Dubrovnik, Chamonix is one of my favorite spots on the trip.

I arrived at night, and only had the cold, thin air to remind me that I was somewhere near mountains. When I woke up and stepped outside, I found myself surrounded by snowcovered Alps, some with sharp, steep edges and others smooth and white (like mont blanc).

I gather than when moving quickly (as I have been) places with natural beauty are much easier to appreciate than cities with cultural charm. I could wander all over Berlin by myself looking for the perfect cafe, or the perfect bar, or the perfect group of super cool artsy looking friends, but without guidance, I am completely lost. In a place like Chamonix, all I have to do is open my eyes and my jaw drops.

On the other hand, I think I would get extremely tired of places like Chamonix or Cinquaterre if I had to live there. Not enough people. No music scene. Nothing really to do but hike or ski. Which you can only do so much of.

But my one day of hiking yesterday? Fantastic.

First, I took a lift up to 3800 meters (Chamonix is at 1000) which was slightly scary (and very expensive -- 35 euro!) but very worth it. While the weather in the town was pleasant enough, it was icy at the top of the mountain. I had a terrific view of Mont Blanc (actually not THAT impressive, kind of flat) and all the other nearby peaks. I had to move slowly because my lungs were not so adjusted to the altitude.

After lunch and descending the mountain, I put on my hiking shoes that I bought in Iceland and haven't used since and took another gondola up to the other side of the mountain (2000 meters). I walked for about an hour, going up 500 meters before stopping at the peak, meeting a fantastic French couple from Annecy and then walking down the mountain with them. Probably the steepest hike I've ever completed but also one of the most worthwhile. I felt extremely hot from the walking, even though there was ice on the ground around the top.

Hung out at the hostel and had happy hour with some Canadians, had a mediocre Chinese dinner (listening to the amusing interfamilal bickering of some English at the next table) and returned to the hostel for chatting and a viewing of Mars.

Another perfect day.

There ain’t no way to hide your Lyon eyes

Okay, really running short on time here...

Yesterday was spent almost entirely on a train. As I may have mentioned before, I feel that it is on train rides that I center myself, and that only on trains now do I really feel at "home." I change cities so often that nowhere feels that familiar, or at least not more than any other. I've been on a million trains though.

I thought that getting up at 7 AM would ensure that I would arrive in Chamonix by the late afternoon at the latest. Boy, was I wrong.

Due to infrequent and booked trains, the best deal I could get was a morning 5 hour train to Lyon (which as the crow flies, is kind of out of the way), a 4 hour layover there, and then another 4.5 train to Chamonix, to arrive at 9:35 at night. That's 13 hours, including the layover.

I took advantage of my time in Lyon to have a delicious 4 course meal and walk around for about 45 minutes. The meal was at a tiny restaurant near the big central square. For only 10.50 euro I had an appetizer of pate (cooked, with tomato sauce), the rarest lamb I've ever had for an entre, a bit of Creme fromage and then an apple tort for dessert. SOOOO good. And free water. And a bit of local wine. Probably one of the most satisfying meals of the trip. The guide book says that Lyon is famous for its food. It deserves the reputation, I think.

What Lyon is BAD at is internet. I wasted a lot of time, searching all over town for internet, and never found it.

I met an old French Armenian woman on the subway from the old town to the train station who told me all of her life story that she had time to tell within 4 stops.

I arrived in Chamonix late at night. So understandably. Little was I prepared for the view of the mountains surrounding the town that would appear the next morning when I woke up.

The trip from Lyon to Chamonix was lonely though. The train was small, the riders sparsely spread among the cars. I read a lot of Foucault's Pendulum and listened to my iPod, and thought a lot. Thinking about memory. Thinking about how I am probably going to be thinking about this trip regularly for the rest of my life.

Alsatian Cousin

Now TWO days ago was almost as good as THREE days ago. But I have little time to write. I am sitting in a very expensive internet cafe in Chamonix, France and want to get out to the gondola in time so that I can go hiking in the French Alps before I go to Paris tomorrow. Appreciate my attempt at brevity, then?

After my bike around Strasbourg, I was inspired to bike around the Route de Vin, a scenic highway that curves through the vinyards of Alsace, connecting about 100 small, primarily wine oriented towns.

I took a train to Colmar, the northern "hub" of the route, and rented a bicycle from a guy who, while initially gruff, noticed my Beach Boys/Bjork themed wallet and said, "That's Brian, right? And that's...that's Carl!" Soon, he and I were talking about the Beach Boys and soon after that he informed me how very much he loved music. The most unusual among his favorites was Grandaddy. I'm glad to know that indie rock lives on among middle aged bicycle store owners in touristy Alsatian towns.

Before embarking on the bike ride, I went to the town's biggest museum (forgot the name) to see the Isenheim Alterpiece, painted by Grunewald. This particular work of art was a good part of the reason that I went to Colmar at all, rather than beginning my trip in another town. While no expert at art, I've always loved Grunewald's depiction of Christ's crucifixion, mostly because it is so terribly gruesome. I think I liked it so much (especially in high school when I first discovered it in Art History class) because it depicted death as something horrible and painful, unlike many of the other famous crucifixion portraits from the middle ages and Rennaissance. I was very excited to see it. Rarely do I get so excited about seeing any one painting in person.

The bike ride was beautiful of course, but as all of the towns COMPLETELY shut down between 12-2 in the afternoon, I found my goal of "wine tasting" to be partially frustrated. I did find two wineries that were open to provide a free tasting, and I bought a bottle from the second (although perhaps foolishly, as he proudly informed me that a major wine store in Los Angeles is one of his clients (and I could have gotten the same wine in L.A.))

There wasn't much to DO in the towns, but they were old and separated by only 1-3 kilometers, so I was about to see about 5 in the course of the afternoon, while taking my time.

For lunch I stopped in Equisheim and had a delicious chicken in a Riesling sauce (one of the very few times I've consumed chicken on this trip) with some pasta that tasted like matzoh meal and a few glasses of Vin Nouveau. Vin Nouveau is not real wine (as one might imagine, from the name...especially considering that Beaujoulais (sp?) Nouveau is very much a real wine.) Instead, it is juice that has been fermented for only a few weeks. It has only the faintest taste of alcohol, but when served cold was extremely refreshing, especially after a few hours of bicycling.

In the evening, I returned by train to Strasbourg, had a merquez sandwich for dinner and met some of the people from the night before in the hotel bar. By this point I felt sad to be leaving Strasbourg, as I was just getting the hang of it. I love the Alsatian food, the people are nice and the city is fun to get around (on a bike, not so much on foot.) Unfortunately, I felt that while it might have been nice to "chill" there for a while, my time was better spent doing something really special.

I sat in that hotel bar, studying my Let's Go Guide, trying to decide. Amsterdam? I've been. Cologne? Probably nice, but would it be that different from other places i've been? Bruge? Maastrict? Antwerp? I've seen enough old buildings and alterpieces to last me a lifetime.

So Chamonix it was. Home to the first winter Olympics back in the 20s and at the foot of Mt. Blanc, the tallest peak in Europe. Little did I know how much trouble it would be to get there.

Andy would bicycle across town, in the rain, to bring you candy

You know, none of the pictures I post are my own. I do not know how to upload from my camera, so all pictures I put here come from somewhere else on the web.

Yesterday, my first full day in Strasbourg (the jewel of Alsace) was one of the best days of my entire trip. Not because Strasbourg was one of the best cities I've visited -- although I have no real complaints -- but rather, because yesterday contained most of the elements of what I am looking for in a trip, very little went wrong and I felt consistently content or excited by what I was doing. Because I did so many things, I will list them with numbers.

1. I rented a bicycle. Which brings me to "regrets." I have few true regrets on this trip. True, I have made many MISTAKES. And I have had many things go WRONG. And I do not doubt that I have made choices to visit cities or sights that were ultimately not the best ones I could have chosen. I can't feel regret over these because no person and no trip is perfect. I couldn't have done better. I DO feel regret over not renting a bike until yesterday. I've KNOWN since day 1 that I would enjoy exploring some of these cities on a bicycle. I see people riding everywhere and I know that most European cities are much friendlier to bicycles than they are in Los Angeles. Still, for some reason, I was too lazy or too cheap or too unmotivated to get up that much earlier in the morning and rent one. Renting a bicycle yesterday was the best decision I ever made. I got to explore the entire city of Strasbourg and get more of the exercise I have been craving. I was able to carry more in my basket that I can comfortably carry on my back. I got to feel the cold and refreshing air of Alsace on my face rather than soak in the heat my body produces when I walk for hours. True, while Alsace is amazingly bike friendly (lanes EVERYWHERE) it is one of the most confusing cities I have ever visited (including Durham, North Carolina) with no real way or orienting oneself, an irrelevant north/south/east/west, no one major central river and no center street. I was glad to be on a bike because when I made mistakes and got lost I was able to correct them fairly quickly.

2. I visited the Strasbourg Cathedral. I've seen far more cathedrals on this trip than I had ever planned (it's funny how once I am in a new city I feel a moral obligation to visit the cathedral), and it has been weeks since I began to grow tired of them. Still, this one was one of the best. Very tall, very scary, very ornate without being tacky (lots of carving, rather than colors), stained glas windows, dark...

3. I climbed up the cathedral steps for yes, a "breathtaking view". The 330 steps to the top also left me "out of breath."

4. The Astronomical clock in the cathedral. Boring. Totally missable, but I waited outside for 45 minutes to see it perform as it always does at 12:30 (the apostles dance out and Jesus blesses them).

5. Lunch! I know, I know...I try to eat as much "typical" food as I can, but this time I broke my rule and had that sort of modern California-ish, healthy, not so oily, "Asian" food that grows more and more popular. And this was some of the best I've ever had. Spare ribs, noodles, some Alsatian wine (pinot noir) and I was so happy. I spent more than I would have liked (ever since I hit Germany), but the trip is almost over, so no matter.

6. Bicycled to and through The Orangerie, the most famous of Strasbourg's (many) city parks. Here, I felt a real jolt of happiness. I felt relaxed, even though I was pedaling my feet.

7. I BOWLED. I came across a bowling alley in the middle of the Orangerie park. I haven't bowled since I left home, and I had nothing better to do, so I paid a few Euro and bowled a game. According to the machine I scored a 101, but I think I was given an extra pin by mistake (giving me a spare on the 10th frame) and thus allowing me to break 100.

8. Biked around the international buildings (Strasbourg is one of only 3 cities that are not world capitals that are base to major international organizations!)

9. I biked out of town to the north into a quiet suburb, looking for something different. It was boring.

10. A boat tour around the city. Not really my thing, but it was included in the 10 euro ticket I bought that also got me the bike and entry into the cathedral. I felt sleepy, especially as night fell.

11. Dinner at a touristy Alsatian restaurant near the Cathedral. As often happens when I dine alone in Europe, I find myself talking to the person next to me. This time, it was a Dutch woman who commented on my attempt to speak French with the waitress. We talked for the rest of dinner, only interrupted by...

12. This woman who was singing with a microphone in the restaurant and occasionally making the audience participate. She started singing mostly French and German songs that I didn't recognize, but when she started singing "Money Money Money" from ABBA, she must have seen my eyes perk up because she ran over to me with a microphone and made me sing the chorus. She had done the same for many of the other tourists in the restaurant who, not knowing the words, mostly grunted into the mic. But she must have been surprised that I knew the words. Later on, she was singing a song that required dancing and pulled me and a big fat German guy from our seats to perform it. She had this guy and me twirling each other around and alternating kicks while she sang. It was all terribly fun, especially since I'll never see anybody in that restaurant again. And, I heard something I'll probably NEVER hear again: "Good singing! And good dancing!" Oh, what people will say for tips!

13. Back to the hotel bar where I was reading over a campari and soda when this French guy starts talking to me and invites me to join his table of friends. By the end of the night I was standing outside the hotel singing Leonard Cohen's "Famous Blue Raincoat" with another, Strasbourger.. They all invited me to a party (which was tempting), but I wanted to get up early today so I could visit the Route de Vin. Which too, was a lot of fun.

O the wind is blowing, it hurts your skin, as you climb up hillside, forest and fen

Yesterday was the kind of day I was hoping for when I decided to go to southern Germany.

Sure, I have loved the cities I've visited: Warsaw, Berlin, Prague...

I've been looking for something not only small, but also outdoorsy. I remember fondly the days of hiking around Icelandic glaciers and seek the chance, just once more time before I hit the office life, to see forests, to breathe fresh mountain air, to say "Yes! I climbed to the top of that mountain!"

Angela and I stayed in Heidelberg one more day, but this time we crossed the river Neckar in search of the Philosophenweg, a path high above that overlooks the city and serves as a base for hikes up Heidelberg's "Holy Mountain." I only saw a few of the sites atop this mountain (as time and physical energy are limited), but that which I saw was green, and fresh and full of trees. Just what I wanted.

The path up to the Philosphenweg was narrow and steep, covered in moss. Reminded me of the narrow path I took in Lopud, one of the Dalmatian islands, that took me past stony walls and green floors (and a donkey) from one side to the other. This path alternated cobblestones and stairs. When we got to the top we met a group of German tourists who directed us in a direction (I have no idea if it was the best direction) up through a forest.

I loved this forest. I've been taking it too easy lately. Ever since I hit eastern Europe I've been spending too much time on buses and trains, sitting, eating sausages and drinking beer and coffee. Getting soft. Here, I got to run up the path, Heidelberg beneath me, the air chilly (but not enough to prevent me from getting super hot) until I hit an auditorium built during Hitler's reign (but Hitler only came to Heidelberg once, the Germans remind me) that was once a Celtic religious site. I took a few pictures and ran up and down the stadium stairs (partly so as to not be outdone by the old man who was running up and down for exercise).

Angela and I only had a little bit of time left in Heidelberg so we went back to the Irish pub from the night before and had an "Irish Breakfast" of sausage, bacon, eggs, tomato and potatoes. Although not German cuisine, this was yet another example of consistently satisfying food I've had in Germany.

We took a bus to the train station, said goodbye (although probably not for long, as we both ultimately end up in L.A) and I grabbed a train to Strasbourg and she back to Berlin.

Why Strasbourg you (and I, years later, trying to remember) ask?

I wasn't quite ready to leave Germany, but felt that I should be getting closer to Paris, as I need to be there sooner rather than later for my flight out and I have a lot that I want to do there. I kind of want to go to Munich, Cologne, Leipzig and Hanover, but not so much that I am willing to deal with another big city. Strasbourg's culture is a mix of French and German, so I get to cross over to France without entirely saying goodbye to Germany.

Besides, Joe Frank was born in Strasbourg, so it can't be that bad, right?

The train was that bad though. WAY too crowded. But full of students, so I was more energized by their "youthful energy" than uncomfortable since I was standing on a train for an hour. A girl let me put my bag next to her seat (again, proving that people from Heidelberg are nice) so I didn't have to hover over it the entire time and for the most part the other travellers (probably commuters) were smiley. I was in Strasbourg before I knew it.

My trip to Strasbourg began optimistically (as I liked the feel of the city and felt excited to be in Alscace) but the hostel suggested by Let's Go was full and it took me 3 hours to find a place to stay.

In the process, I went to an Internet cafe on the French/German border where I met some children (11 years old, but they say 11 funny in France (seven plus four?)) who were very excited to hear I was from L.A. "Do you know 50 Cent? Do you know Snoop Dogg? Tupac?" Of course, my answer was "yes." They were also very proud to demonstrate to me their English. One of them pointed to one of his friends and said "motherfucker" and the other responded by saying "suck my dick." I was very impressed.

I love my hotel, although it is costing me 40 euro a night. Yes, hotel. I couldn't find anything cheap so I chose the second cheapest option in the book. I get my own room, my own BATHROOM and....

A TV!!!! All the stations were in French, but I found an old Clint Eastwood movie (dubbed) that I left played (with the sound off) while I slept. I took a shower and brushed my teeth in peace and it felt like one of the most luxurious nights of my life.

And dinner? The Zen Cafe next door, featuring several Alsatian options. I noticed "pickled pork with potatoes" and was intrigued before I noticed that the German translation was "eisbein" which I tried in Berlin and (though I loved it) do NOT need to try again. I chose something else, not knowing what to expect.

Alsatian saurcraut (meaning, an entire jar's worth of saurcraut -- I've never had so much at once) and about 5 kinds of sausage. And some Alsatian wine. All of which was fantastic.

Yesterday was a terrific day. And today was even better. Shame internet is expensive and I have only 5 euros in my wallet.

October damp on down the street: remember?

I take that back...I REALLY liked Heidelberg. If only I were a college aged, extremely smart, German speaking student I think I would love to go to University there.

1. Great student scene (EVERYONE there is young, unlike say...Venice...)

2. Good food: delicious wurst, great local beer, saurcraut, the best doner kebab I've had on the entire trip (even better than the one I had in Nice or the one I had in the Turkish neighborhood in Berlin).

3. Not TOO expensive (although definitely no Warsaw).

4. The most friendly people I've met in Europe (consistently: people on the bus, waiters, people working at the hostel, random people on the street asked for directions...what other city can offer this?)

5. A beautiful castle that Angela and I walked up to. We took a narrow and extremely steep path from the Old City center up to an area high above the city (for yet another "breathtaking view".) We took a tour of the Pharmacy Museum (who would ever have thought that I would go to TWO Pharmacy museums on one vacation -- recall Dubrovnik...) that was located in the castle, explored the walls and had a mouthwatering lunch of rindswurst, saurcraut and mustard. Or rather, that's what I ate.

And it finally rained! After weeks (well...since October 1st...) I have been praying for rain, something to cool me down from the just a bit too hot for a jacket/just a bit too cold to stand outside without one weather I've been experiencing and finally got it yesterday. Nothing too serious. While i was in the internet cafe, the clouds decided to break and when i came out the street was damp. Remember? It'll be so long until it's June!

Uh...what else happened...

Oh yeah, I was a glutton. Besides the hostel breakfast and the sausage lunch at the castle, I also ate a hamburger (I called it a Heidelberger -- isn't that clever?) at the Ernest Hemingway cafe (while writing postcards and having a conversation: aren't I a great multitasker?), a plate of Pad Thai at a surprisingly good (you guessed it) Thai restaurant and then a doner kebab to follow up the Guinness I enjoyed at the town's Irish Pub (and ALL European cities seem to HAVE Irish pubs for some reason...)

We walked across the old city bridge at night, sang songs about how terrific Heidelberg was and by late night took the long bus ride back to the hostel.

I have to go when the whistle blows, the whistle knows my name: Baby, I was born on a train

When I was in Iceland, climbing to the top of a hill in Stykkisholmar, I met a German woman who suggested that rather than Berlin and Munich, the best place in Germany is Heidelberg. I took note, and over 6 weeks later, here I am, in a small city that until that encounter I had never even heard of.

Heidelberg is home to Germany´s "oldest and most pretigious" (according to Let´s Go) and for two nights, where I will be living.

Getting here was not so easy. Over a bockwurst and ketchup last night, Angela and I decided to travel together here by train. Easier said than done, right?

An overpriced train ticket, an hour late train, a missed stop in Mannheim, and by mistake getting on the world´s slowest commuter train, we arrived in Heidelberg at around 8 PM. The trip was otherwise uneventful, unless you consider the consumption of 2 jelly donuts by me to be an event worth mentioning.

But Heidelberg hasn´t disappointed. Just as I desperately felt the need to get out of London, Budapest, and Prague, I felt the urge to leave urban and metropolitan Berlin for a smaller place. A place where I can walk throughout the old town in one day and not feel like I´ve missed too much.

We found room at the city´s youth hostel, which while only average in terms of quality had the single most helpful and friendly girl working at the desk I am yet to encounter.

We explored the town at night, had some pizza and pasta and visited a bar which was strangely overpopulated with Spanish speakers.

But how do I FEEEEEEEEEL about Heidelberg? I dunno. I guess I like it. The night felt cold. We had a long walk home, assisted by a Slovakian girl from Hungary studying medicine in Heidelberg.

I pick my clique and set to go to work but the only thing they care about is to whom to play the Turk

Days don´t always (or usually) go as planned.

Monday morning I woke up, took a bath (yes, a bath, not a shower) and set out by myself (for the first time in Berlin) to a modern art museum about which I had been anticipating all week. I was so proud of myself: without Sarah´s assistance (she was at work) I navigated the U-bahn system, made no mistakes and got all the way to the museum relatively early in the day. Unfortunately, on Mondays almost all of the museums in Berlin (as in Warsaw) are closed. I had the same bad luck with the German Film Museum on Potsdamer Platz so decided to take Jannes´s advice and go past Alexanderplatz to Kothusser Ter, which according to him is the center of Berlin´s Turkish neighborhood.

And as we ALL know, Berlin has the largest Turkish population outside of Istanbul! In the world!

There wasn´t so much for me to do of course. I ate a doner kebab and wrote a postcard (which i´ve done everywhere else), I walked past some fairly monumental women with head scarves and stopped again for a bread and spinach based food (I don´t have any idea what it was called) and a coffee while I read Foucault´s Pendulum.

But at 2:30, I realized that I had told Sarah that I would be back to the apartment in Kreutzberg between 3 and 4! What could I do that wouldn´t take so long?

In almost every city I have visited, I have made an honest effort to at least once, place myself in the highest point in the city for one of those oh-so-memorable "breathtaking views."

In Berlin, the highest point is at the top of the formerly East German television tower located near the Alexanderplatz. It was expensive (7.50!) but they took credit card so I wasn´t too bothered. The view WAS amazing. I looked down upon the Berliner Dome, upon which I had stood just a few days before, thinking of what a terrific view of the city I had.

I did make it home, only an hour late, and chatted in the kitchen with the girls for a bit before calling Angela (who coincidentally is in Berlin at the same time). Even more coincidentally, she was living just a few blocks away, so it was especially convenient to meet up at the corner, grab a drink with some friends of hers and finish off the night with a currywurst at Curry 36.

When I got back to the apartment, everybody was still up, so we watched some Don Hertzfeldt videos ("Rejected", so funny...but scary), roomate Monica´s college silent film (in German) explaining the basis behind and method for revolution of the oppressed proletariat and proof by roommate Suzy that she is not a hipster (in response to my accusation) by naming several Dave Matthews bands albums by title and even coming up with the name "Tim Reynolds."

And that was that for Berlin. I liked it, and among the places I´ve visited would consider it one of the most liveable. It´s got everything a big city should have: good food, art, all sorts of interesting people, extensive and efficient public transportation, and a good music and film scene. Unfortunately, I still speak no German

Bitte?

Zoo Station (Just a stop down the line)

Did you know that until a few weeks ago, it hadn´t occurred to me that Zoo Station was an actual metro station in Berlin and not just some bizarre U2 invention? Well fine, maybe it HAD occurred to you!

In typical me-in-Berlin style I got a late, late start on yesterday and by the time I had finished with internet, shower, breakfast (doner kebab!!!) and figuring out a plan it was late afternoon. And since something tells me its all happening at the zoo (I do believe it, I do believe it´s true), Sarah and I headed out to the Berlin zoo to see more non-insect animals than I´ve seen since I was a little child. Or at least more LIVE animals (I saw a lot of really cool STUFFED animals in the Natural History Museum in London). Spider monkeys (stand for honesty), giraffes (insincere), elephants (kindly, but dumb), orangutans (skeptical of changes in their cages), Lions (roaring at each other), gorillas, howler monkeys, a sleeping panda, kangaroos, hippos, rhinos, camels, vicunas, llamas and dromedary (but no alpaca?)

I hadn´t been too excited about going to the zoo and was halfway saying that I "didn´t really care" when I saw a rhinoceros running past me and I screamed "my god! this is amazing! did you see that?"

Dinner at Monsieur Vuong´s (I said the day started late!) which was delicious and reminded me very much of L.A. dining. Super hip Vietnamese dining, full of super hip not Vietnamese diners. I requested some hot peppers for my soup, making this one of the very first spicy meals I have had in Europe. I was extremely impressed.

I met up in the evening with Jannes, the German dude I met in Nice. Unfortunately he didn´t have so much time to hang out because of a project he is working on, but I ate spagetti with him and his bandmate. I think he may be playing in L.A. in April and if possible I am going to try to check them out.

I was born on the other side of a town ripped in two

When I left home, expected to spend much of this trip deep in contemplation. I had expected to be in an almost constant state of reflection, pondering both the meaning of the moment at hand and my life in general.

Instead, most of the time my mental energy was concentrated on questions such as "where am I eating?", "where is the nearest post office?", "can I see everything I want to see in 3 days here or will I need 4?", "how much does that price come out to in American dollars?" and "how does this pay phone work?"

I don´t know if I should have expected this or not, but sinceI hit the spots where I had friends, I have not been able to stop reflecting on "things." It seems late in the trip for this to have happened, but I find it uncomfortable to think how far away places like Iceland and Italy seem. And I´m amazed at how I cannot but help have a certain fondness for certain memories that I am sure at the time were actually unpleasant (like 1) walking along a narrow, car filled highway to get to the catacombs outside Rome, with no idea how far away they were or 2) standing in the tourist office in Reykjavik and finding out that the rental car would cost 30 dollars a day more than I had just been told or 3) getting pelted with rain in Nice.

Yesterday began in East Berlin.

1. Sarah and her roommate Monica and I walked along the East Side Gallery, a large section of Berlin Wall which was left up because of the notable artwork painted upon it. I took a few pictures that would be fun to post if only I knew how to do that from an internet cafe.

2. Next, a short subway ride to Alexanderplatz, a large plaza by the 368 meter high television tower, the tallest structure in Berlin. We visited the statues of Marx and Engels (which had been graffitied with Stars of David) and heard some live music playing in the background which I vaguely suspect may have been religious.

3. The Pergamonmuseum. Houses only ancient art including entire temples or walls extracted from their original locations in the Near East and Greece. We saw a big blue walls with relief lions from ancient Babylonia, ancient Greek statues and temples, 17th century Turkish rugs, Assyrian lions, a replica of Hammurabi´s code stone, and some stone constructions from the 4th millenium BC. I liked this museum a lot.

4. Dinner at "Haus of 100 Bieres". All day, I had been begging for "eisbein", a traditional German food we had read about in one of the guidebooks. I was told that the word translates to "ice leg," the "ice" being the thick layer of fat which surrounds the pork leg on the bone. I must admit, I was slightly afraid of consuming a meal with so much fat, but I´m only going to be in Germany once and I felt the vacation would be incomplete without going head to head against the eisbein. Our restaurant was traditional German, and as you would expect, had a list of 100 available beers listed by number. I ordered my eisbein, which was, as expected, a giant piece of pig leg along with potatoes, saurcraut and something green I could not recognize. For ordering my second beer we were without menus so I chose a random number out of 100 (it was 63, I think) and called the waitress. I was prepared for almost anything besides what I received: "the world´s strongest lager beer", weighing in at a solid 14% alcohol! Yuck! That´s above the strength of many wines! I can´t lie and say that the 14% beer tasted good, but it was an acceptable compliment to the eisbein which was delicious.

5. Back to the apartment to kill time for a few hours and then out to a bar called "Wiener Blut". I thought it was a cool bar.

Some people try to pick up girls and get called "asshole;" this never happened to Pablo Picasso

I can´t help feeling increasingly preoccupied with this trip nearing its end and with the fact that I do not want it to be over! 2 weeks left in Europe and then a few days in New York to top things off? Shucks.

The big cultural event of yesterday was a visit to a museum (an important one, but whose name I cannot remember) to see an exhibit of Pablo Picasso´s private collection of his own works. That is, we got to see the pieces that he kept for himself. Sarah´s roommate was working there giving "English language" assistance regarding the paintings so, while we didn´t get in for free, we got some personal advice on looking at the paintings.

I don´t think that Pablo Picasso is overrated. I thought the exhibit was great, possibly one of the best I´ve seen so far on this trip. The works came from a broad range of his career (unlike the Picasso Museum in Barcelona, that had an unusual, disproportionately early selection) and featured paintings, sketches, and sculptures. It is sad to admit, but my capacity for enjoying art is not as great now as it was in college when I was studying it, but I had a good time stopping in front of some of the more interesting works yesterday and giving them a more "in depth" check out. The feeling I did start to get, that bothered me, was of detachment between the artist and the subjects. Not bothered me in that I thought it was bad for the art, but that I felt uncomfortable. By the time I left the exhibit, the coldness started to overwhelm me and I was happy to go.

Earlier in the day, I ate a "curry wurst." A sausage, with ketchup and french fries. I´m not a huge ketchup or fries fan, but I loved the sausage and hope to have a few more before I leave Berlin. I think today might be a good day for a doner kebab (although I had one last night, I just remembered...)

Trouble finding an internet cafe got us off to a late start, and besides for running around on trains, eating a little and looking at maps not much happened until the Picasso Museum at 5.

However, afterwards we went to a dinner part similar to the one the previous night. A stir fried tofu something, a salad, spagetti, "Cars" by Gary Numan...was there anything else? It was a good time. Dinner parties are fun, especially when one person isn´t stuck doing all the cleaning and cooking.

On the way home from the party we met a dude who went to Beverly High and is studying music here.

We´re in a Road Movie to Berlin, Can´t Drive Out the Way We Drove In

While my train did not actually ARRIVE in Berlin until 8 in the morning (forcing Sarah to wait 40 minutes in the freezing train station to meet me) I woke up on the train at around 6 in the morning, hardly refreshed.

And why not? The train bed was comfortable (I would hope so, after how much I paid), but I felt uncomfortable and restless.

Part of the reason, I think, is that along this entire trip I have imagined everything from Germany on to be the final stretch. That once I got here, I would nothing really to worry about because I would be so close to the end. It felt shocking to be in such exotic places as Iceland, Croatia, Hungary and Poland, but Berlin feels like another big, liveable city. Not so far culturally from home.

And despite all the troubles I have had, and despite being sick of the 6 shirts I am wearing, and being sick of not having enough money to spend, and sick of trains and desperate for Mexican food, I am NOT ready to go home. There is a lot more out here that I want to see, and now that I´ve had some solid "not-alone" time I feel ready for another week or two of the relative isolation I experienced in September.

But what of Berlin? What do I think of it? What have I done? Isn´t it too big? Too overwhelming?

Remember, for the next few days I will be staying with a friend from college, just as I did for the last few days in Warsaw, but under much different circumstances. Rather than living in the guest room of a house, I´m on the futon of an apartment shared by three girls and a very hungry rabbit. I think they are all teaching assistants somewhere but no matter how many times I ask, I never precisely understand the deal.

The day began fairly productively, a breakfast of lachs (lox!), bread and various milk based spreads and then a walk to the Brandenburg Gate (so famous I´ve heard of it!), the Reichstag (waited in line for a free view of Berlin from the top) and a climb to the top of the Berliner Dom (a big church with a blue dome). As we all know, I love the views from the tops of monuments and this was no disappointment.

Had some sort of wurst for lunch...

Went to one of Sarah´s friend´s places for a dinner party. All American, but they all spoke German. And the apartment was owned by a German. And we listened to Kate Bush.

And that made me happy.

You can get anything you want at Alice´s Restaurant

Unfortunately am updating after 2 days from the world´s worst keyboard so am having trouble typing but will do my best. Am in Berlin for sure but am trying to remember accurately my last day in Warsaw, which was, actually pretty great.

I will begin mentioning the coincidence of the century because I, as we all know, love coincidence. I took a bus in the late morning to Wilanow, the great 17th century palace built by the legendary Polish king Jan Sobieski (so famous that I learned about him in high school) which was also miraculously not destroyed during WWII. The palace was what it was; that is, I enjoyed it and got a taste of 18th and 19th century Polish history from the audiotour but couldn´t help feeling that "it´s just a really fancy house!" Nice portrait gallery though. Learned that the Glenn Danzig hair lock I saw on the guy on the street the other day was actually a fashionable style back in the 17th century. Which is NOT my favorite century when it comes to aesthetics, so no big surprise. I got stuck behind a class full of Polish kids on a field trip (everywhere I go there are TONS of field trips--´where did I ever go in elemetary school? the water purification plant?) but I didn´t mind because they were well behaved.

But the coincidence part...

I´m walking outside the museum, passing by a chocolate store, trying to find a place to eat lunch when I hear "Oh my God! Oh MY GOD!" in what was ultimately a Canadian accent. Remember those two girls from Cinqueterre that I magically ran into on the steps of St. Peter´s Basilica in Vatican City? It was THEY! Having "drinking chocolate" with one of their grandparents. I vaguely remembered that they would be going to Poland, but the chances that they would be taking the same day trip at the same time was almost too much.

After they left I had my own glass of "drinking chocolate" followed by a much too big salad and finished my Hunter S. Thompson. Upon which my final judgment is positive! Not a GREAT book by any means, and not as innovative as Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, but an enjoyable straightforward story about journalists in Puerto Rico in the late 1950s.

Later in the afternoon I was stopped on the street by a girl using the old line "Do you speak English?" I immediately told her I had no money to spend, which was true, but she said that she didn´t want money, only to tell me someone about the religious organization to which she belongs. I mostly nodded my head until I noticed some ´conspicuous Chinese writing on all of the pages of the notebook she was holding. I asked what the deal was.

She was a Moonie! A follower of Rev. Moon! Yikes! I smiled and said "well THAT´s interesting" and made my way away.

The early evening was less enjoyable and moderately frustrating as Alice´s cell phone that I had been borrowing in order to contact her ran out of batteries and I had to use an internet call center to contact her. When I called her work, one of her coworkers told me to call her at home. When home didn´t pick up after several hours of trying I gave up and decided that I would GO home and meet her there. I walked a good deal of the way, until I did´t recognize my surroundings and found a cab.

The cabdriver spoke no English and I no Polish so we negotiated the cab fare in German, a language neither one of us seemed to have much competency in. I THOUGHT that we had agreed on "fumph" but instead (as I discovered when I got to Alice´s parents´ place) that it had been 15. I argued with the cabdriver with hand signals but gave up. 10 zloti is only worth about 3 bucks anyway so not a big deal.

But Alice was not at home, but rather at work. So her stepfather had to drive me all the way back to the city to meet her!

I had my final Polish meal (potato pancakes with cream and sugar, veal pierogi and Hungarian wine) and kept our eyes on the clock so I wouldn´t miss my train. I´ll miss that Polish food. Not easy on the stomach but great in the mouth!

Alice walked me to the train station, I recovered by bag from the locker and I got on the night sleeper train to Berlin.

Go ask Alice

Another long walk around Warsaw, except this time I actually got to go inside the museums.

I spent the first hour or two of the day in the National Museum. Mostly good. Saw a lot of alterpieces downstairs. Got bored by some of the landscapes upstairs. Enjoyed the Jesuses hanging on the walls and some of the more colorful early 20th century work.

Big chunk of internet time.

"Polish" lunch of tripe soup and black pudding sausage (with fried onions and mushrooms.)

Chopin Museum for a viewing of Frederick Chopin's personal relics (his pencil! his ink well! a letter he wrote to George Sand! original handwritten sheet music for the Polonaise in A flat!)

Aimless walking around and some time spent in the cafe with Hunter S. Thompson and writing postcards. Two very friendly old Polish women who gave me directions in sign language to the post office after my questioning them in sign language (one cleverly pointed to her own red shirt to remind me that the post boxes are red).

Quick dinner with Alice, and not realizing that a very famous Polish politician was sitting next to us.

A Chopin recital performed in an old Warsaw Palace (one of few not destroyed in the war). Very touristy (we were informed that Chopin is the best way to understand Polish culture), but good.

AND, I almost forgot to mention. Yesterday, I saw the worst thing I've seen so far on my trip. Walking down the street was an old, homeless looking man and woman. He had a long white beard and a scowl and she had no teeth, but did have a confused and very red face. They both looked drunk, and probably insane as well. He had his hand gripping her tight by the next, wrapped underneath her jacket. But it was obvious he had a firm grip, because no matter how much she squirmed to get away, she didn't budge. Although we were walking down Novy Swiat, a major street, he screamed at her and punched her hard in the face. As her neck was gripped tightly by his other hand, the punches hit unusually hard and even down the street I could hear the SMACK! sound.

I didn't know what to do. It seemed almost unconscionable to do anything, but I couldn't risk him punching ME in the face. Fortunately, a Polish guy yelled at the old guy and told him to leave her alone, and after some persuading, she was permitted to run down the street, embarassed and in pain.

The only silver lining to the story is that all nearby Polish people on the street looked shocked and horrified, implying that this is not something common or expected here.

War(saw): What's it good for?

I've been whining and complaining a lot lately about feeling lonely on the road, but yesterday reminded me that I don't mind having days to myself as long as I have someone to hang out with at night. I spent a day alone in Warsaw and had a blast. Not a bit of loneliness or unhappiness because I knew I had plans that evening and the evening before. Fair enough.

A's stepfather drove me to the city center in the late morning and I saw just about everything I could without going inside anywhere. All the museums were closed for Monday (who knew?) so I couldn't go inside the castle, or the National Museum or the Chopin Museum. Which I guess was fine...because I got to see the statue honoring Copernicus (one of my favorite historical figures -- what a great idea!)

It seems that Warsaw was completely flattened in 1944 when the Germans put down the Polish uprising so all of the historical buildings are actually reconstructions. The people of Warsaw seem also preoccupied (understandably) with the fact that their city was reduced to rubbish and rebuilt all within the last 60 years. Whenever you ask about a place, the answer recieved amounts to "well, you know, this was totally destroyed by the Germans, but now..."

I went to a mall so as to find the "big" American bookstore" and was surprised at how nice it was. Nicer than most malls I know in the U.S. (especially the ones in Durham.) Unfortunately, when I tried to take a few pictures of it, a security guard ran up to me and me stop. I guess indoor photography is prohibited inside malls. Why? I have no idea.

For dinner, I met up with Alice and I ate a big piece of pork on a bone (supposedly the Polish "macho" food analogous to a steak in America) with potatoes, cabbage and horseradish. We walked around town trying to find something social to do, but on Monday everything was closed or barely occupied. Bars and museums not happening on Monday?

Tropic Alice-land

So yes, two posts in one day because I didn't have the chance to update yesterday. So yes, this one will be shorter then the previous because internet access doesn't grow on trees. And I'd like to get out of this cafe and check out Warsaw.

After the aforementioned glut of Polish food mostly still sitting in my stomach, I thought it would be a good idea to begin yesterday's dining with Indian food. Which was not a bad idea at all. 1) The last time I saw Polish Alice was in D.C. over Indian food. 2) While delicious, the food in Poland or the rest of Europe for that matter is NOT spicy enough. And 3) I was curious to see how Indian food would taste in one of the first countries I have EVER been to where there don't seem to be any Indian people. Quite good. And spicy.

Lunch was followed by a walk to St. Anne's cathedral, featuring the largest alterpiece in the world (I think?)

Saw some some street performers, including an old guy with a Glen Danzig hairstyle playing what looked like a large harp.

Walked around in circles.

At the last minute bought a train ticket to Warsaw. First several hour train I've been on where I didn't have a seat. We spent the time standing or sitting on the train floor, but it really wasn't so bad. Unlike the other train I took in Poland which was disgusting, this one was on the same quality level as western Europe. I think it may have ultimately been heading for Berlin, where I go in just a few days.

Everybody go, hotel motel holiday inn

I would like, if I may, to say a few words about Phil Collins. On this trip, I have treated him as a sort of benign protective being that watches over my travels and makes sure that I never feel too far away from home. While never a particularly big fan fo Phil Collins (with the exception of my brief childhood obsession with the Philip Bailey duet "Easy Lover"), hearing Phil Collins and Genesis songs in Europe has consistently made me feel good.

It all began in Iceland, when after a day or two of driving around the barren fjords of Stykisholmar, scanning the radio for ANYTHING besides religious talk, or bizarrely bad Icelandic music, I THOUGHT I heard a Phil Collins song. I was probably wrong (the reception faded out anyway as I rounded the next cliff), but from that moment I was determined to hear more. It wasn't for a while that I was so fortunate, but the Venice DVD concert I saw in a bar one night made me much happier than it should have. Again, when walking down the street in Budapest I was handed a flyer announcing the fact that Phil will be performing in Budapest in October, I leapt for joy. Just a few days ago in a below street level kielbasa shop in Krakow, I heard a dance version of Genesis' "Land of Confusion"!

I'm quite the fan of Krakow, by the way. There wasn't nearly as much to do or see there as there was in Prague, but the Old City layout was straightforward, the food was good, the buildings were attractive (and relatively un-destroyed after WWII) and the prices pretty good. With the exception of my day trip to Auschwitz, I saw nothing outside the Old Town, but as a tourist the Old Town was completely satisfying for a few days.

Alice and I walked up to the Old Castle, which I believe is the largest Castle in Poland. As typical of all castles I have visited we had a "breathtaking view of the city" and of course "the river" as all old European cities seem to have.

Exhausted by the really-not-so-difficult walk up and down from the castle (have I mentioned that I have grown progressively lazier, and less motivated for physical exertion as time passes?), we walked slowly around the big square and then found a tower in the center to climb, giving us yet again another "breathtaking view of the city." I have grown quite fond of these towers that all old European cities seem to contain. Typically, there is a very narrow, twisting stairway rising to a point higher than all others in the city, allowing a clear from from 4 angles of the layout below. I have grown a little tired of the "magnificent" churches in each city, as they all blend together, but the tower views haven't gotten old yet.

Sitting on the steps outside the tower, a woman from Detroit grabbed my attention and asked if I was the son of a family friend of hers and her husband's from back home. This is at least the 3rd of 4th time on this trip where someone has thought I closely resembled someone else they know.

The woman actually recognized me from the Auschwitz tour. In fact, that afternoon, 3 different groups of people greeted me, recognizing me from the Auschwitz tour. There's something darkly comical about running into someone on the street, making eye contact, having a moment of recognition and then with a big smile saying "Oh! I know you from Auschwitz!"

Oh yes, Polish food.

When I come to a new city or country, one of my primary goals is to consume as much of the local food as I can. Unlike Hungary, where it took me a few days to find it, I've already had more than my share of Polish food, which I find extremely delicious but very heavy.

For the first afternoon I ate a plate of kielbasa, with beets and cole slaw.

For dinner, the night before a strangely fancy feast of stuffed cabbage.

On Saturday, a late lunch of pierogie.

And then for dinner Saturday a traditional Polish restaurant for some fried and breaded pork (on the bone), kasha (which I mostly associate with home, rather than traditional Polish cuisine), and bread. Instead of butter, the restaurant provides a jug full of lard to spread on the bread. Of course, I ate a little too much, and felt way full when I was done.

Still, all delicious.

Here I Dreamt I Was a Soldier and I Marched the Streets of Birkenau

Inspired (or rather horrified) by the Holocaust related exhibits of the Jewish Museum in Prague, I decided that a trip to Krakow would be incomplete without a daytrip to Auschwitz/Birkenau, two of the Nazis' most famous concentration camps.

And yes, horrifying they were. I walked through the bunkers in Birkenau (the larger of the two camps, constructed later in the war when the science of human extermination had been better perfected) and saw the scratches on the concrete walls. And I saw the tiny spaces where 4-6 people would squeeze at night after 10-14 hours of work. And the walls against which people would be regularly shot for disobedience or trying to escape. And the underground "dark rooms" where four people would be forced to stand in a space of 1 square meter overnight, often suffocating because of poor ventilation. And the mounds and mounds of human hair collected from the corpses after gassing, used to produce wartime clothing material. And the piles of shoes. And eyeglasses. And pots and pans. And suitcases.

And pictures on the wall of faces, along with the dates of their births and deaths.

And I wondered if each of them looking at the camera knew for certain that they would within a year or two die.

The tour was 3.5 hours long, and led by a made up late 40s Polish woman with extremely long fingernails who was able to very articulately recite to us the details of the concentration camps but almost entirely incapable of meaningfully responding to any questions from the tour group.

But while yes, it was bad, for some reason I was not as emotionally ripped apart as I was by the exhibits in the synagogue museums in Prague. True, what took place in Auschwitz was most definitely more extreme, even than the regular persecutions in the ghettos. But walking around in Prague, knowing that once there had been a large Jewish population, using these now empty temples and also knowing that now the Jewish population is miniscule was more disturbing. The fact of human removal was much more real in a city than in the now empty fields of Birkenau.

I took an hour and a half long bus to get there, along with two Japanese students I met the night before looking for a place to eat. They were nice, but not extremely easy to talk to.

That evening, after getting back to Krakow (which I like a lot), I checked out of my hostel and walked over to the Holiday Inn where I met up with Alice, old friend from college that I hadn't seen since January 2003. It is always good to see an old friend, but especially good to see ANYBODY of acquaintance after so many weeks of solitude. Sure, it is fun to introduce oneself and to make light chit chat, but it is also nice to tell and retell the old stories from college that I haven't found interesting enough or relevant to any of my friends back home. Talking to Alice, I re-remembered how much about college I've forgotten, just for lack of having anyone to discuss them with.

Does anybody in L.A. really care about the details of the cafeteria I ate everyday? Or the annoying guy who lived next door to me freshman year? Or of my freshman dorm? Or the two girls who used to drive me to bowling class because it was off campus? Of the Cosmic Cantina on Broad Street?

No. They don't. I think for people who go to college in places like NYC, it is easier to remember the details of college, because they are more relevant to people who didn't actually go there.

We had dinner in a Polish restaurant, I had stuffed cabbage. Delicious. The waiter performed some strange ritual where before serving the bottle of wine poured a small amount into a metal spoon, heated it on a giant candle and then tasted it himself.

It's nice to be here. I'm starting to feel sad that the trip will be over relatively soon.

life is too short to hang around so I stay so long in a place and then move on to the next town

Do I miss home?

A little. I miss Mexican food. I miss knowing my way around.

But it's funny that I don't really miss L.A. so much, as much as I defend it. Not that I would rather live in Europe. By no means! Too many things annoy me about the way things work here (such as unwillingness to use credit cards and my inability to speak any of the languages) for me to ever be happy living on the continent for longer than a few months (which accurately implies that I wouldn't mind living here some day in the future for a few months).

I miss friends and family, but most of all I miss knowing people well and being known well. I'm tired of introductory conversations that don't go anywhere. Listing the places I've visited and remembering to ask where they have been.

I miss being able to fix my problems with relative ease, with being able to explain myself without sign language and for subtle language to be subtle rather than just plain confusing.

But yes, I'm in Crakow, (or Krakow.) Today was spent almost entirely on a train or in train stations. For one of the first times, I had almost no trouble reserving, catching the train, catching the connection and finding my hostel. Was it because I've gotten better at this?

No, I've just gotten better at navigating Prague. Now that I am in Krakow, I need to start all over again.

The trip here was almost painfully boring, while not painful in any other ways (as other trips have been.) I found my cabin with plenty of time to spare, and sat 2 seats away from a 40sish woman from either the Czech Republic or Prague who made no eye contact or speech with me for the entire 8 hour journey. This allowed me to finish my Capek mystery collection (which was actually extremely good, although I got a bit bored of reading mysteries after 48 of them). Unfortunately, I had not properly charged my iPod, so no music. So almost no speech for 8 hours (I ordered a cabbage soup from the cafe.)

I'm at Nathan's Villa Hostel in Krakow now, probably one of the best hostels I've attended. I met a Japanese couple outside and had dinner with them at a Georgian restaurant.

I think I'm going to call it an early night because I have to be up early tomorrow morning.

Chronic town, poster torn, reaping wheel, Stranger, stranger to these parts.

I'm glad I spent the night in Cesky Krumlov. It was, as expected, a picturesque town with a river running through it, small wooden bridges, castle walls built into the rock, a quiet central square full of mostly Japanese and Korean tourists snapping pictures.

I didn't find so much to do, but after the busy-ness of Prague I was happy for a little break. I walked down the river, climbed the 167 stairs to the top of the castle tower for a "stunning view", got lost in the streets, bought Hunter S. Thompson's "Rum Diaries" from a bookstore run by a San Franciscan and ate some more delicious Czech food.

I also took some pictures.

I somewhat regret not renting a bike, as the San Franciscan bookseller informed me that the cycling around Cesky Krumlov is fantastic, but I also would have felt bad not seeing the main sights.

My favorite place that I visited was the Egon Schiele Art Centre. While I am only moderately familiar with Egon Schiele from high school Art History and Eban Lehrer, I have grown to enjoy his work. Unfortunately, his Art Centre only had one room devoted to him (had some good stuff in it though), and the rest was filled with exhibits by other artists. Fortunately, most of these artists were great. Faces made of California kelp, viewed through submarine window like lenses, grotesque female forms by Estonian artists, cars carved from wood, a dark room with jellyfish looking lights hanging from the ceiling, a video piece depicting what appeared to be a flood in Cesky Krumlov, and a set of guitar sculptures formed from ordinary items like cigarette lighters, uncarved wood and a bar of soap.

One thing this trip has taught me is how many great artists there are (or were) of whom I am completely unaware. In the Hungarian, and Czech museums I've checked out, I've been surprisingly pleased by artists who are well beneath the radar of most high school or college art history classes. Not that I think these relatively unknown artists need to be taught. But rather, I'm pleased to know how much there is to discover outside of the main canon.

I caught a 4:30 bus back to Prague, and despite not planning properly, the trip went smoothly. One of the first trips I've made where I reached my destination when expected.

well, it won't hurt to think of you as if you're waiting for this letter to arrive because I'll be here quite a while

I just found out that FIVE postcards I mailed out yesterday will almost definitely not arrive because of insufficient postage. I asked the guy selling me stamps for 5 "to America", and he hands me five stamps for 7 Crowns. He does not mention that the postage to America from here is 12 Crowns. So, I proudly mail out the five postcards I carefully composed (4 of which were to people that had not yet received one!) before I left Prague. But here in Cesky Krumlov, at the Egan Schiele museum, the guy working at the counter broke the bad news to me as he sold me the proper postage I requested. Oh well, I suppose I'll try to rewrite them as best I can...

There's not so much to be said of yesterday. After the great night previous, I had scheduled myself a number of important tasks for the morning and planned on catching the earliest transportation I could to Cesky Krumlov, a medieval town (15,000 peeps) in southern Czech Republic. After missing the 12:23 train because I went to the wrong station, and then the 1:50 bus because it took going to three separate stations to 1) find out where I needed to go to find out where the bus departed, 2) go to that place and 3) actually purchase a ticket, and by that time the bus had gone, I caught the 2:23 train and did not arrive until 6:00. The train ride was nothing to complain about, though. Running from station to station with a full pack is miserable, but I tend to find the knowledge that I am on the correct train very soothing. I know that all I have to do is sit and wait, and I am being brought only closer to my destination. As opposed to when I run around the city, often heading in exactly the wrong direction.

The final leg of the journey was on a single car train, a first for me. I finally finished Jane Eyre and began a collection of mysteries by a Czech writer named Karel Čapek, described to me by a book salesman as "The Czech Shakespeare."

Not much happened when I got to town. I took Alex from last night's hostel suggestion, found a spot though I had no reservation and had dinner in town.

Feeling adventurous, I ordered "The Chef's Secret". Deciding to play along with whatever mystery the Chef was trying to create, I did not ask what it was before I ordered. When it arrived, it smelled good, but besides the side vegetables (beets, red cabbage, carrots, lettuce, mustard), I was mostly unable to identify what I was eating. Clearly part of it was meat, and part of it seemed to involve some sort of grain (or mashed legume...) After clearing my plate, I ask the waiter what I had just ingested.

"It's a secret!" he replies.

Happy New Year, you're my only vice

As all of you I am sure are aware, last night was the beginning of Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year.

Despite being extremely unobservant, I decided to attend Rosh Hashanah evening services at the Spanish Synagogue in Prague.

One of the best ideas I have had so far.

First of all, this was perhaps the most beautiful synagogue I've ever seen or entered. Perhaps even better than the big one in Budapest. There was nothing particularly "Spanish" about it besides that it was in the architectural style of southern Spain, which if I recall, is Muslim style.

The service was fine, not so long, I was able to follow along a bit. At least, it was infinitely more familiar than all of the Christian stuff I've seen along the way in the countless churches I've checked out. The service was conducted by what appeared to be an American Rabbi, with simultaneous Czech translation. The Jewish community in Prague is quite small (after having had quite the bad time from hundreds of years of government oppression from the 10th century until the 20th, when they were mostly removed by Hitler and then repressed by the Communists), so this (the reform service) was composed largely of ex-pats.

I must admit, as unreligious as I am, I couldn't help being moved by the fact that I was in a synagogue in a country like the Czech republic where for the most part the Jewish population had been exterminated. The only reason several of the old Jewish buildings in Prague are still around is that some Jews convinced the Nazis to establish a Jewish Museum. Wow.

At the service I met a guy from Sacramento (who read much, much, better Hebrew than me) and later a guy and a girl from America doing a study abroad program in Prague. After 3 nights of stumbling around town trying to find my way with no more assistance than that of the other travellers in the hostel, now I had some "friends" who had been here a month and could take me to the places they liked to go. The four of us went to a few bars around town, I ate about three dinners (pork and saurcraut, a cheese platter and then a sausage and pickled cabbage), we saw the Frank Gehry Dancing Building, walked along the river and eventually met some Czech people who introduced us to even more places. Definitely one of the more fun nights I've had on the trip. Thank you, Rosh Hashanah!

Earlier in the day, I actually checked out the Jewish Museum I mentioned before, which is the collection of a handful of synagogues and the old Jewish Cemetery. The synagogues were full of old wine goblets, torah crowns, torah covers and even some of the ridiculous outfits that Jews were required to wear in the 17th century to identify them from other Czechs.

I would like to think that I was disgusted by the exhibits about what the Nazis and later the Communists did out of a general sympathy for humankind and a horror at all human suffering. Honestly though, despite growing up in the United States, I can't help but take the centuries of oppression in the Czech republic somewhat personally. I felt extremely sad.

In one of the synagogues, the walls were inscribed with the names of all of the Jews in the Czech republic who were killed by the Nazis. As they were listed alphabetically, I was able to find my own last name relatively quickly. I didn't recognize any of the first names, but it was still particularly terrible to see.

Break my body, hold my bones

Ridiculous.

The word I repeated as setback upon setback delayed and complicated the journey that two others and I made yesterday to the "Bone Church" of Kutna Hora.

Seemed like a good idea the night before last when I mentioned to an Australian girl I had met in the hostel that I had heard good things and would be taking a day trip. A guy I met in Melbourne told me that a short trip to the town of Kutna Hora (used to be the second largest city in Prague, but now no longer!) would be rewarded with an old church decorated entirely with human bones! How grotesque! But what great pictures I could take, no? Supposedly on the inside was a chandelier made of all the bones of the human body, including mandibles!

I woke up yesterday morning, met up with the Australian girl, as well as an American guy from Seattle at around 10:45. It seemed we had an early enough start. We only had slight trouble finding the train station, but slightly more figuring out when the next train to Kutna Hora would leave. Despite the Let's Go guide claim that the trains run hourly, the next train was not until 2:10 PM. Late, we thought, but since the church closes at 6, we'll still make it in plenty of time. We sat in the train station where we were harassed by a very drunk and possibly homeless Czech man, attempting to sell us batteries, a floppy disk and a plastic picture frame.

We did catch a train, at the correct time. Before getting on, I asked a Czech woman if it was the train to Kutna Hora. "Yes" she seemed to communicate. When 45 minutes later the conductor came by to check our tickets, he yelled at us in Czech that we were on the wrong train and attempted to explain to us the convoluted measures required to get ourselves to famous Kutna Hora and the fabulous Bone Church (which he seemed to be unfamiliar with). Seems that 2 train changes would be required as well as an hour of waiting in the Kolin train station.

Fine, we thought. We'll still get to Kutna Hora by 5, and the church couldn't be far from the train station! We'll still see it!

By the time our hour wait in the Kolin station began, we were all getting a bit tired, especially the Aussie girl. The three of us (basically total strangers) sat in the smokiest bar I have ever seen, surrounded by old, and extremely drunk, red-faced Czech men, talking about procrastinating in college and the book 1984.

"This damn bone church better be pretty good," we said.

"I'm sure it will be!" we agreed.

We arrived in Kutna Hora on time, and were greeted at the station with a large map of the town.

"Perfect," we said. "Let's look for 'bone church' on the map and then walk to it!"

Unfortunately, the bone church was NOT on the map. We did see a large church on the other side of town called St. Barbara's. We assumed that its cartographic prominence must be related to its importance as a tourist site, so split a cab (CHEAP!) to it.

Big, pretty church, with a lovely view of the town, but we start asking around "Is this the bone church? Is this the bone church?" pointing to different parts our bodies trying to convey the word "bone" to people who speak no English.

It was not. We rushed through downtown Kutna Hora, the streets empty, the shops closed, looking for another cab, found one (Seattle waved it down on a deserted street as one might in Manhattan) and were driven to a cemetery.

"Uh oh...I wonder if by "bones" he thought we meant "cemetery"", we considered. By now it was 5:40, and we feared that even if we did find it, it would be closed. We crossed the street to find another church that was not the bone church, and asked around until we discovered that yes, the bone church WAS the cemetery church.

And it was closed.

No bones on the outside. And we didn't see the chandelier. But we did managed to look through some grated windows in the basement to see some big stacks of bones. I took a few pictures, from which you can make out a few illuminated skulls if you look closely.

We waited another hour at the train station for the train back to Prague. Another hour on the train.

And then hot dogs at a stand for dinner.

It was an adventure, I suppose. It's not the destination, but the journey, right?

Prague-tically perfect in every way!

Forgive me my pride, but I am very proud of my touristic performance for the first day of October. For the first time, I did not find myself overwhelmed by the amount of sights to see and was able to view many locations in many parts of town before having a quite fun night and calling it an evening.

But I should first mention:

Yesterday was the first day of the trip (since Iceland, of course) where I wore a jacket. Autumn settling in and a rapid change in latitude (Prague is north of Budapest) combined for a much colder climate. I didn't mind so much actually. Budapest had been in my least favorite temperature zone, where if I sit still in a cafe without a jacket I get a chill, but if I walk down the street with one I get overheated. At least here, I can walk AND wear the jacket and feel the proper temperature.

But I did so much yesterday!

1. The Main Old Town Square (Staromestske namesti) where I saw (at least the outside) of many of the most important central Prague sights such as the Old Town Hall, the astronomical clock, the Tyn Church and a bronze statute of Jan Hus. I paid a small amount of money to enter the Franz Kafka museum (Franz Kafka was born in Prague!) which didn't have much, but I liked the idea of being there.

2. The Charles Bridge. Pretty, but packed with Tourists. I managed to not get pick pocketed.

3. Prague Castle. Walked up the 287 steps to the top of st. Vitus's cathedral (I love the church tower climbs -- they make me feel as though I have accomplished something on my trip!), checked out the outside of the Old Royal Palace and St. George's Basilica. Bought some postcards and walked down the castle steps to the river area.

4. Walked past St. Nicholas's Cathedral (the one with the big green dome you see on all the postcards) and took a walk through Wallenstein Garden (where a Czech jazz band played "It Don't Mean a Thing if it Ain't Got That Swing" and "Take the A Train."

5. A long walk to the the outer area of southern Prague to Vysehrad, the "former hanut of Prague's 19th century Romantics", one of the oldest areas in Prague. I saw the oldest building in Prague (from the 13th century, I think?), Dvorak's grave (in a cemetery for famous Czech people), a nice walk around the castle walls for a view of the city, and a hot dog.

6. A great dinner of saurcraut, roast pork and potato dumplings with some of the original "Budweiser", which was actually quite good. Talked to a Danish couple outside who had once lived in Greenland.

7. Back to the hostel, met 2 Australians with whom I went out to "the club." Danced. Actually had a good time.

8. Doner Kebab at the shop outside the hostel.

Czech-in with its head cut off

So yes...Prague!

I remember once in 9th grade running into one of my classmates in the cafeteria wearing a t-shirt he had purchased while his family was on vacation in the Czech republic. With horror, I asked, "Does anybody actually go there???," imagining unimaginable poverty, run down streets, land mines...roughly a 1970's era Phnom Penh. I'm sure even Soviet era Prague wasn't that bad, but for some reason that fact that the Communists had left and the country was rapidly rebuilding hadn't hit me yet. At the time, the only other country I had been was Mexico, so I considered my classmate to have been very adventurous.

But look at Prague now...tourists, tourists, tourists! The city appears almost as if it were built for the purpose of entertaining foreigners, old buildings, cafes, bars, over-priced restaurants, hawkers and accommodations on every corner.

I have been here for fewer than 24 hours so have not had the opportunity to scrape beneath the super touristy surface yet, but for the moment, the surface I shall be scraping.

While it took me (as usual) about 3 and a half hours to get from the train station to being fully settled in a hostel, my initial experience is Prague was much smoother than it had been in Barcelona, Rome, possibly Dubrovnik, Naples and definitely Dubrovnik. I had made no reservations here (as the phone in the Budapest hostel was so quiet as to make it almost unusable), but was fortunate to find something right near the city center for what was for me a great price (although supposedlty expensive by Prague standards.) The Dioha 33 is probably one of the nicer hostels at which I have slept (although the two dudes I met from my room were unimpressed), has TONS of people (so it should be easier to meet folks than it has been in other cities) and only costs me about 17 bucks a night.

Hostels are a funny thing. I've paid everywhere from 12 to 40 bucks a night for dormitory rooms but have found little correlation between the price and what you actually get. Sometimes they make your bed every day. Sometime you get a free towel. Sometimes you get no linens at all. Sometimes you have the option of renting linens or a towel. Some have free breakfast, some do not. Some are much cleaner than others. With or without curfews. Everywhere from free to above market rate internet access. Staff that is extremely friendly and helpful (Domus Guesthouse in Reykjavik!) or cruel and cold (everybody but Mark at the Station Guesthouse in Budapest). I like hostels though, and am sad that this may be the last trip where it is age appropriate for me to use them. While I have met a few folks as old as 30 (Australians of course), I have met few people above the age of 22 or 23. I was much comforted by the Bed and Breakfast I stayed in in Napoli, but it was lonely to have so few other guests to meet.

Oh, and what did I do after checking in last night at the hostel? Met these two guys in my room that I did not particularly like, but who seemed up for hanging out (and beggars can't be choosers when it comes to company, right?) We went for drinks to a bar, which was fine. Discovered that despite having some fairly backwords viewpoints on some issues they were fairly together when it came to others.

Any suggestions as to what I should do in Prague are welcome in the comments. I plan on staying here at least 3 more nights after last night.