Ed. Note: Due to circumstances I won't go into here, the following post was composed on a German keyboard, so zou'll excuse me if a z shows up where a y should be.
This is inside the Prague main post office. Nice, innit? Ian was engaging in some good old fashioned postcard writing. I, of course, have entered the 3rd millenium and am blogging, so everyone from my grandmother (hi, grandma!) to my nemeses (you know who you are) can follow my adventures, and feel that I truly do, wish they were here.
Before leaving Prague, we escaped the suffocating heat and brightness of the Czech midday at a lovely little Italian restaurant near the international bus station called Caffe Theatro. It was the sweetest moment Ian and I have had on this trip *sniff*.
.true but sad It's
The bus ride was long, if uneventful. I slept through most of it, stirring only occasionally to see beautiful swaths of Bohemian countryside
and, Ian assures me, a burnt-out, yet rebuilt Dresden.
Arriving at the ZOB (your guess is as good as mine), we then had to negotiate the U-bahn across the city, a 19-stop odyssey made somewhat more bearable by the many beautiful young fraüleins riding der metro that evening.
After check-in at St. Christopher's, we were about to do our trademark citywander, but a freak thunderstorm kept us drinking until all hours at Belushi's, the hostel bar, discussing issues of great importance, determining not only the nature of the world, but our place therein.
Ian took a Xanax (at this point, we'll try anything), and we turned in, noticing that the Berlin dawn happens well before any that we'd previously experienced. Just how far north are we?
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