August 3 - Athens (written by Andy)

We began our day getting to know the seemingly always crowded Athens metro system, vectoring a path to a park where, according to some historians, Plato's Academy was founded 387 BCE. As is our custom, we emerged from the station thoroughly disoriented - only to spend about 20 minutes just figuring out our cardinal directions. At first I'd exclaim with confidence, "Look, there's the sun in the east; so we should go in that direction.” I'd be right too. Only, after two or three turns I'd discover, "Damn it! We're walking toward the sun again!" Eventually we found the right path and commenced a trudging march past buildings that seem to be held up by graffiti. Athens had recently suffered bouts of urban unrest, and the signs portended of more violence to come.

The park itself was a disappointment. In the sweltering heat we found a basketball court and some playground equipment. Kids were laughing nearby and old men were keeping cool in small cafes across the street. Behind a rusting fence we spotted some barely unearthed stone and a sign for the "ancient road to Plato's Academy." Somewhere among these blocks, I'd read, more of the original site was being excavated. Yet the pictures didn't look much more impressive. I guess that's what you'd expect when searching for material evidence of a life of the mind.

Feeling a bit guilty about our initially underwhelming destination, I turned the day over to Jenny who was determined to use up each of our tickets that came from yesterday’s Acropolis visit. That's how we found ourselves meandering alongside the quiet columns of the Temple of Olympian Zeus near Hadrian's Arch. Afterward we returned to the Plaka for some lunch, allowing ourselves to be drawn off the road by a fellow promising that his restaurant serves the best food in Athens. Actually it was pretty good, though Jenny and I stuck with our typical diet of pita, moussaka, and kebabs. The wandering accordion player was a nice touch.

Ever keen on using our Acropolis tickets, Jenny pointed us toward the Theater of Dionysus. I savored the opportunity to imagine myself exhorting the Greek masses toward some grand vision of democracy, stretching my arms outward to the invisibly assembled company and wishing I'd committed some of Pericles' funeral oration to memory. At that point we both had enjoyed our fill of walking the dusty streets and planned to nap a while in our hotel. But when our metro passed by a cluster of folks walking among ruins outside our window, I knew we had to check this place out.

Happily, this site turned out to be the Greek agora. Our first stop was the Temple of Hephaistos, patron of metal-working. As with the other temples, we found that location is protected by pleasant but stern women who carry walkie-talkies and keep a careful watch against anyone who would remove so much as a stone from the ground. Jenny and I took turns taking pictures, using hand gestures and smiles to navigate a United Nations of touristic shutterbugs. Then we surveyed the expanse of the agora.

Naturally I found myself remembering stories of Socrates and his interlocutors discussing justice, debating the meaning of "the good," and debating the value of rhetoric. Could it have been here, in this place, that these conversations took place? We may never know. Socrates himself is more of a collection of second-hand reports than an actual person. And the agora has been built up and torn down so many times by so many invading armies and self-aggrandizing politicians that only the most dogged historians could claim to know what layer of patina one sees here. Fortunately a nearby museum offers some context, along with an amazing collection of ordinary stuff: wine vessels, children's toys, cooking utensils, and even a complex device built to select citizens for jury duty.

For dinner we returned to the restaurant we enjoyed last night, sharing handshakes with our waiter and negotiating with his entreaties that we try new things. It's always such a treat when someone at a business seems to express genuine interest in a customer, and that has been our general experience with folks we've met thus far. This country is undergoing dramatic fiscal and social upheaval. The tense conversations of men playing cards and the dazed expressions of people riding the metro express the feeling that things have changed. At the same time, the warmth of smiles encountered during our visit convinced us that things may work out for Greece after all.

Day 11 | Day 13

August 2 - Athens (written by Jenny)

Today we left Budapest. I have to say that we found lots to love about this city, even though we though it’d have no chance against Prague. Castle Hill, the Parliament and Basilica were all gorgeous, especially at night. I even enjoyed Memento Park with all of those Communist statues. It was quite interesting. But it was time to move on to Athens!

The flight was uneventful, though metro ride into Athens began with a 40 minute wait and then a long slog into town. Happily, we were rewarded for our patience. As we stepped onto Thessio station, we turned to see the Acropolis rising above us! We were stunned. We knew that our hotel was nearby, but we had no idea how close we were to a place that had captured my imagination since elementary school. Andy snapped a quick shot (maybe he thought the Acropolis might disappear while we were checking into our hotel!) and then we headed off to find our room. The Jason Hotel turned out to be lovely – though in a rough neighborhood. It boasts a rooftop restaurant whose view of the Acropolis is simply amazing.

True to form, we had hardly dropped off our bags before Andy insisted that we bound up that hill. It was about 5 p.m., so I was skeptical that we could get in and see much. But Andy couldn’t wait. We walked along a pedestrian walkway lined with vendors selling jewelry and trinkets. Sometimes we saw bored looking fellows selling jelly-like balls. The vendor slaps one down and gazes up in anticipation as the thing flattens like a pancake before reforming into a ball. “Huh? Huh?” his expression would plead. It looked like a miserable job, selling those things.


As we walked up the steep incline, we found ourselves caring less about the Acropolis and more about getting something cold to drink. Right at that moment we spotted a little vendor selling frozen lemonade and other drinks. These folks know a bit about product placement. After a rest and some refreshment we were ready to see thousands of years of history. Standing on that hilltop, we surveyed the city below. It was stunning - especially that view over the Theater of Herodion. It has been renovated and is now used for actual performances (I think Yanni played there).

The Acropolis itself was more impressive than either of us had anticipated, especially the Parthenon [Check out more pix here]. If you’re like me, you have only heard or read about this in history class. I never thought I’d actually be standing next to the structure built over 2,400 years ago. Coming from the U.S., I’m not used to structures that old. Sure we’ve seen Mesa Verde, where a civilization lived thousands of years ago in cities carved upon cliffsides. But these immense Greek are not carved out of rock; they’re built up from the ground. That they have lasted this long is truly impressive. Andy was off taking lots of pictures while I meandered through more slowly, taking it all in.

I also really loved the Erechtheion where statues of ladies (the Caryatids) stand in graceful repose as pillars. They are the only statues still on the Acropolis and are quite beautiful. The view from all around the Acropolis is amazing, and we loved the fact that we could actually walk around and through it (though we couldn’t get close enough to touch the Parthenon or many of the other structures). But we were both awestruck.

The best part was the light. Since we arrived in late afternoon, we saw a wonderful warm light that set the hilltop aglow in reddish orange. Finally, when it was time to leave, we noticed another hilltop just off to the side. Andy exclaimed, “That must be Mars Hill!” I was perplexed, having never heard of this place. So we went to explore. One of Andy’s colleagues, David Terry, spent six months here, much of it on Mars Hill. He eventually published an article about the performances of tourists and locals who hang around this historic site.

Following David’s example, we chatted with people on the hill and thus learned something new. It turns out that this is the place where Paul preached! I had no idea, but I learned about this dimension of Mars Hill while talking with a group of protestant missionaries. Mars hill was beautiful but slippery. The marble was so smooth that we had to walk carefully. It is so easy to slip and fall! It is also a great place to get a picture of Acropolis.

We made our way down the hill another way, toward the Ancient Agora, and later we spent some time bumming around the Plaka. There were lots of stores for shopping and restaurants: a loud and busy part of town. As we wandered around, looking for a good but less expensive place to eat, restaurant owners would greet us, promising that they sold the best food in Athens. One even kissed me on both cheeks, assuring me (and Andy, smiling awkwardly nearby) that I was beautiful - and would be especially charmed by his restaurant. Unfortunately I was less charmed by the high prices on the menu, so we kept walking.

We settled on a place called Centrale. It was time for some Greek food! Andy got the kebabs and I got the moussaka. The food was great and the prices were reasonable. We sat outside and watched as tourists promenaded into the evening. Later, we found some tasty gelato for dessert and then returned to our room. Another great day.

Day 10 | Day 12

August 1 - Budapest (written by Andy)

We worked hard for a vacation day, hiking all over Budapest and traveling some distance away from town to further quench my thirst for retro-communism. At Jenny's recommendation we started by climbing the steps to a hill that overlooks the Danube on the Buda side of the river. There we walked at a slow pace, savoring the views and grooving on the quiet of a medieval village that hasn't been turned entirely into a Disney-fied version of itself. For lunch, Jenny sampled some goulash soup while I downed a regrettable slice of pizza. Oh, well. At least there was dessert, a Kürtőskalács pastry horn that tasted like a crunchy doughnut.

They say the steps downhill are than the uphill climb - harder on the knees at least - but I cheered each clomp toward the river and across Chain Bridge, because blue skies had finally begun to peek through the clouds. For a while we checked out St. Stephen's Basilica, which is perhaps most notable for showcasing the hand of Saint Stephen I who lived more than 1,000 years ago and is viewed by most Hungarians as the father of their country. Jenny found the display a little weird, wondering often afterward just how sure they were that this particular hand belonged to this particular guy. After ten centuries, how could they know for sure?

We'd hardly been on the Pest side an hour before I decided that we had to grab a metro back across the river to photograph Budapest's neo-gothic parliament building in glorious afternoon light. Jenny, ever flexible, agreed and we returned to one of Budapest's impressively ancient subway cars for the ride. Topside, looking out over the Danube, I remember another photographer grinning at me as we both studied the departing clouds, waiting for them to slowly spin apart enough to let the sun shine fully upon the building's facade. Once more I recalled William Gibson's words on the subject: "Architectural photography can involve a lot of waiting; the building becomes a kind of sundial, while you wait for a shadow to crawl away from a detail you want, or for the mass and balance of the structure to reveal itself in a certain way."

Throughout the day I'd made my peace with the fact that we'd probably not see one place that had attracted me to this town, Memento Park. I'd read that the Park boasts a collection of Soviet-era statues that had been torn down elsewhere and, rather than face demolition, were collected into this place. Our day's organization had precluded use of the tram that occasionally runs well out of town directly to the Park, and I've never been too excited about figuring out local bus systems.

Purse-snatching sign on Budapest bus

Metros, I can handle. Jenny, however, was feeling adventuresome (and she has the patience to sort through the picayune details), so she spread out the maps and charted a course. We found a tram and, after a few stops in the wrong direction, and alighted at a bus stop heading out of town. Then, after dropping off and picking up passengers every couple minutes, we arrived at Memento Park - two hours after we left the hotel.

Was it worth it? Well, anything that demands such time had better be worth the hassle. Actually, though the place was smaller than I expected, I was enchanted and saddened with the array of Communist-era art. At Memento Park, a vanguard of the revolution races toward the Worker's Paradise, carrying a flag that streams behind him. Elsewhere, stern but heroic women in bronze stand quiet and forthright, ready to bear any burden to help unleash the utopia that would never come [click here for more images]. The sun was setting, casting long shadows, and we walked slowly. Maybe five or six other tourists were were snapping pictures in the orange light. Just before the office, with its supposedly original memorabilia and goofy souvenirs, I spotted a new acquisition: a relief of soldiers sharing a fraternal handshake. They were lying on the ground, like cheerful corpses, next to an upright statue wrapped in plastic. When it was time to go, Jenny and I sat a while at a lonely bus stop while the sky turned pink. I imagined us waiting for a ride that might never come, far away from the city. But the bus eventually lumbered along and we drove another hour back to the city.

Back in Budapest, Jenny and I walked along the Danube once more, holding hands. Lamp posts cast yellow streaks over the water and we felt like we were inhabiting the kind of romantic movie that our grandparents might have watched. The evening was winding down when I spotted a guy hunched over on the sidewalk, using a spray can to paint a stencil onto the concrete. I'd been searching for spray art in every town we'd visited, but I never thought we'd see someone producing the stuff. I was flummoxed. Should I try to get picture, or should I avoid looking any more like a tourist than I already do? I'd decided to keep moving when Jenny insisted I turn around ("30 seconds later it would have started eating at your craw and you would have insisted we go back anyway!"). She was right, naturally, and I met him and his crew of pals who'd committed to painting fish around town to protest the Danube's declining water life. They were friendly, earnest folks who enjoyed talking about their project and offered me a map for their other spraying locations. I felt silly about my initial anxiety. How scary can anyone be who would spray paint fish onto the pavement?



We wandered a bit some more, searching for a place to grab dinner. Dodging taxis we crossed streets and quiet roads before spotting the glow of the basilica we'd visited earlier that day. Once more Jenny requested a bowl of goulash soup, and once again I opted for a regrettable piece of pizza. Nearby, a drunken group of revelers began belting out four part harmony that attained nearly operatic quality. A comfy bed waited just a few metro stops away.

Day 9 | Day 11

July 31 - Prague (written by Jenny)

Our second day in Prague and as soon as we get out of the hotel we know it will be a better day than yesterday. With the sky still grey but with less rain, we can walk without the use of umbrellas. I can appreciate this gorgeous city a whole lot more when I can look up and see things! And did I mention I love the night trains? Go to sleep and then wake up in a new place! And what a time saver! We have two full days in Prague with just one night because we didn’t have to use our days for travel. I love it!

We did so much today I don’t know where to begin. I guess I should start with the mundane; we got a new camera. It had to be done because there’s no way we could go the rest of this trip without it. But it seems like every two years we have to buy a new camera on a trip. I know we’ve done it at least three times. But it’s worth it so we can save our memories. Plus, it wasn’t that arduous. We researched a bit last night and then got a Canon PowerShot (the European version, at least). It seems to work just fine for what we need.

The fun stuff began with climbing the tower at the Old Town Hall in the square. This is the tower with the astronomical clock, and it has an amazing view of the city. You can see all the way to the castle and the Petrin Tower, with all those lovely red roofs speckled with towers and cathedrals along the way. While we were up there, the hour passed, and not only did the clocks go off below but a trumpeter came out and played the traditional tune that is played every hour. I grew to love that sound. I came to dread it too, as it meant another hour past. But it’s always a lot of fun to hear the trumpeter and see his red and yellow flag-like sleeve wave in the air when he’s done. There are lots of neat traditions that they carry on these days. Another one is the uniformed guards at the Charles Bridge towers and at the castle. It’s like going back in time.

We made our way to the Charles Bridge, always stopping along the way to look at shops or take pictures of whatever caught our fancy. We finally began to know our way through the streets that wind around closely packed buildings. But every street is charming, with cobblestones and beautiful old architecture, so even when we get lost, it’s OK because we enjoyed everything we saw around us. We found a spot just south of the bridge that juts out into the river, which allowed us a great shot of the bridge and castle: a great view for self-portraits.

On the other side of the bridge we found the John Lennon memorial wall. We’re not sure why there is a John Lennon memorial wall in Prague, but I suppose it’s because he did some cool things here or lived here at some point. Anyway, it is a living monument where people come along and paint or write whatever they want in remembrance of the beloved Beatle. Unfortunately, the message has degenerated over the years as other kinds of graffiti often obscure the original message. Who knows? Maybe that was the original intention and John Lennon wouldn’t have minded. It was a pretty neat thing to see, anyway.

A block or two away was another interesting cultural piece: an iron fence covered with locks. Again, we couldn’t figure out the purpose of this site, but we loved the idea of people adding to the artwork by donating locks. Throughout our trip we saw other similar collections. I think I overheard someone say that lovers lock their promises at these places. How romantic!

Our next wanderings led us through the “Lesser Town," up the steep hills toward the castle. The walk was a bit arduous, but we knew it would be worth it. We headed to the Strahov Monastery. I had seen some pictures of the chapel here, and it is gorgeous, so we thought we’d give it a try. It was a bit disappointing, though, because we paid about $3 for each of our tickets but didn’t find out until the end that we weren’t allowed to even go into the chapel. We saw several other beautiful rooms, some with paintings on the ceilings and ornate pulpits, even a funeral casket. Sorry, we often couldn’t read the descriptions, since they were in Czech. We did get to peer into the chapel from an outside door with windows, but we couldn’t really see much.

Afterward, on our way to the castle, we stopped for a quick lunch and encountered another stern waiter. This one just outright said that he had no tap water. Yeah, right. No matter, the castle was stunning! We started by seeing some gorgeous views of the whole city from the hilltop. The castle gate had two motionless guards in light-blue uniforms, one on each side. Once you walked through the gate, you were standing at the foot of a huge cathedral with ornate details. We could go into the cathedral, but we didn’t feel like paying for pricey tickets. Pictures from the back were fine with us. It was stunning enough from there. Stained-glass windows in mosaic styles showed the twelve apostles. Vaulted ceilings drew our eyes upward, and the pulpit was magnificent, even from a distance. We took our photos, but they wouldn’t allow Andy to use his tripod, which is typical for these places.

Outside we walked around the cathedral. We couldn’t learn much about the details, but it was lovely all the same. From one point, on our way out of the complex, we looked down again at the city. Not far from the castle, but at the bottom of the big hill, we saw a place that was all black and looked burned out. We decided that when we got down we’d look for that spot, and we’re glad we did.

We walked down the old castle stairs. There are also the newer castle stairs, but these seemed a better idea. We found our way to the building that was surrounded by a wall. Before too long we spotted a doorway. To our surprise, there was no entrance fee, so we just walked in to discover a beautiful garden. There was a lovely pool of water and hedges that formed pathways toward that burned-out area. On our walk through, we spotted a white peacock with her two chicks: a gorgeous bird with a crown of feathers on her head and the two chicks sticking close to her all the time. We got a bit sidetracked from our objective. We loved watching those peacocks.

Getting back on track, we meandered through the hedges to a back garden area in front of a large building marked “Senate.” Oh, so this was where the Senate meets, which kind of explains why the gardens were free. And just beyond the Senate building, we found the spot we’d been looking for. Only it wasn’t a burned-out building. It was actually part of the garden, and the black stuff we thought was charred remains was actually an artificial rock wall. It looked like it had been melted and dripped on. It had stalactites of dripping rock mingled with greenery and flowers. The placard said that it was meant to convey a blurring of artificial and natural elements. And that there were faces of monsters mixed into the rock to add a sense of mystery. We had to look hard, but we finally saw those creepy faces in the wall. What a creative addition to the garden! Nearby, owls kept a close eye on us from a large cage. And not far away, an alcove leading up to a building contained gorgeous paintings that hung form the ceiling. We were glad that we were led to this beautiful garden.

On our way back to the Charles Bridge, we found a spot by the river where we could photograph that romantic walkway from another angle. Not far from there was a real treat: a Franz Kafka museum. Though we didn’t go in, we were able to see the interesting sculpture in the courtyard of two naked men peeing. Yeah, it’s pretty much exactly what you expect, except the men were green with stripes, like they were created with layers. Andy, of course, was enthralled and made a video of it from several angles.


On the other end of the Bridge, just as we were about to come off of it, we heard music and saw people lined up looking over the edge. Well, of course we had to investigate! Though it was hard to see over the people, we caught a glimpse of two ballet dancers on a travelling boat stage who were practicing their art before a group of enthralled tourists. Andy found a good spot from which to see, so we stayed and watched for a few minutes. I love finding musical performances spontaneously, especially such beautiful ones. It’s these kinds of things that add the magic to each city.

We made our way back to the old town square to pick up our camera and get some dinner. We wanted to try the little stands selling ham on spits and sausage over the open fire. It just looked good and we thought it must be a bit cheaper than other places. Well it was tasty but not cheaper. Still, we got our fill of great food and then got some chocolate from a nearby shop. Really we were just waiting for the town hall clock to chime again. I wanted to get some good footage of the twelve apostles that circle two by two from tiny little doors every hour. This time was much better than yesterday because there wasn’t a bunch of umbrellas in the way. Andy got some great footage and, once more, we saw that wonderful trumpeter.

The last thing I wanted to do in Prague before getting on our night train was to get a good picture of the Charles Bridge and the castle at night, all lit up. So we took one more walk. While we waited for the darkness to come, we heard more music coming from the stage on the river. There was a lovely soprano opera singer performing a beautiful piece. Right afterward we saw another ballet couple performing something a bit more edgy (I could tell from the style of the woman’s red dress). I know these weren’t spontaneous shows, but I loved them anyway. We did capture some beautiful shots and then it was time to go. We knew we would miss this lovely city, and we wanted to preserve our memories.

From here, we took our first underground back to our hotel, grabbed our bags, and got right back on the metro. Our goal was the train station at the other side of town. Of course we were there a bit early so spent some time writing and editing photos. The train came right on time and we grabbed our sleeper cabin and got ready for bed. But the next thing we noticed was that we were stopping in the train station near our hotel. Shoot! That meant that we could have spent about another hour out in the city instead of going all over town and waiting at the first station. Well, there was nothing we could do about it, so we settled in for a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow we hit Budapest, Hungary. Another new city, another new undiscovered country!

Day 8 | Day 10

July 30 - Prague (written by Andy)

We woke up an hour before pulling into the Prague station, with just enough time to organize our gear and freshen up. Splurging on a private compartment on a night train may be bad for our budget, but I surely loved the quiet and privacy of the trip. Best of all, we'd traveled plenty of miles without losing an opportunity to spend all day in a city about which I knew almost nothing. Our only disappointment was the drizzle that drifted down from grey skies. At least our hotel was near by, a block away from the station. And the manager let us have a room, though we arrived at around nine in the morning. Right away we opened our laptops to gloriously free wifi, looked up a few Czech phrases, and picked a path to the Old Town.

Now if you've read this far you'll note that we use that phrase to describe the premodern center of a town where stone walls and narrow alleys typically surround a square a cathedral and other religious sites. That's what I expected from Prague. And since Jenny and I had crossed a facsimile of Charles Bridge at the 2010 World's Fair, I added that item to our itinerary as well. Otherwise I had no clue what to expect. What we found: block after block of centuries-old buildings, winding cobblestone streets, and cheery outdoor cafes. We'd turn one corner and see something even more beautiful: marionettes on display, folk dancers in the central square, hidden walkways that formed interior passages, flag draped battlements marking garrison edges, and stone castles set atop distant hills.

Before long we joined a crowd waiting under the astronomical clock, all of us hoisting umbrellas in the light rain. For our patience we were rewarded with animatronic apostles that rotated above us. To mark the time, a trumpeter in medieval costume played triumphant notes that echoed across town. I felt sorry for patrons of a restaurant behind us, though. The advertisement for Great View of Astronomical Clock likely didn't forecast the presence of thronging tourists standing in front of the tables to snap photos.

We sat down for a tasty lunch at a nearby cafe. Our waiter took one look at our white socks and Jenny's preference for tap water and treated us with disdain. Jenny made no friends in the restaurant's WC, either, especially after asking why we should pay to pee after already committing to buy a pricey lunch there. We'd miscalculated the exchange rate between dollars and koruna, and we dreaded the final cost of our meal. Later on we'd find that the cost of sustenance in Prague is not quite as awful as we initially suspected. It's merely insane.

I'd seen signs for something called the Museum of Communism; the image of a sweet Russian nesting doll baring fangs caught my attention. Jenny agreed that any indoor activity would offer a nice diversion from the rain, so off we went in search of the place. As many other visitors have noted, there is a certain irony in the placement of a museum dedicated to the Czech Republic's communist era: near a casino and above a McDonalds. Nonetheless the site is worthwhile, featuring a mocked-up classroom where a red kerchief-wearing girl is reciting some koan of Marxist dogma, an industrial workplace where the New Socialist Man is reminded that "Timely Arrival to Work Deals the Decisive Strive Against the American Aggressors!" and a bleak interrogation office where a desk lamp shines into the eyes of anyone unlucky enough to be dragged within. After a film commemorating the violence, upheaval, and courage that led to the events of 1989 the museum concludes with a walk along an ersatz Berlin Wall.

Later on we made a pilgrimage to the "Ginger and Fred" building, also known as the Nationale-Nederlanden building. In classes where I introduce postmodern architecture to my students, this is a go-to image. At the same time I've always felt a bit strange discussing a place I'd never seen personally. It was therefore a special treat to make our way toward the river's edge and see it for real. From there we followed narrow streets in search of spray art (a guilty pleasure of mine) and a restaurant called the Iron Curtain. I heard the owner had fashioned a clever retro-Communist enclave there. The place could easily be called The Dungeon, because the restaurant is built in a dark, almost cave-like, underground set of rooms. The ambiance is somehow perfect, with paintings of Mikhail Gorbachev competing with Maggie Thatcher, and a collection of Soviet-era posters that calls to mind the creepy optimism of a future that is now abandoned on history's ash heap. The food was pretty terrific too, especially for the uncharacteristically reasonable cost.

The weather continued to coat the city with a depressing pallor, a feeling intensified by the growing realization that our travel camera had ceased emitting occasionally quirky noises when the lens was extended and had finally died. Here we are, I thought, in freaking Prague, and our camera has gone kaput. I remembered a similar crisis in the Australian outback when we had to settle for a cheap plastic film replacement after another camera bit the dust [literally - One sharp gust knocked our tripod to the ground and we were without a means to take pictures of the amazing places we were seeing]. Hell, we had to replace a much more expensive camera just two years ago after a similar bit of bad luck! Somehow we regularly manage to offend the travel gods. Fortunately Prague abounds with tourist conveniences, including two camera shops across the same road. The next day, we decided, we would pay the price and get a decent travel camera for the rest of our trip. And who cares about a little rain?

Day 7 | Day 9

July 29 - Frankfurt to Prague (written by Jenny)

Today was going to be an exciting day for me. As a brief background, if you’ve known me a while you know that in 2007 I travelled with my company, Seagate, to New Zealand for a team-building adventure race: four days of training on bikes, orienteering, repelling and rowing and then a day for our team to race against 20 or so other teams through the wilderness. It was one of the most amazing experiences of my life. But when it was over, I didn’t think I’d ever see some of my teammates again. They were four guys from around the world: one from Milpitas, California so I have seen him a couple of times at employee meetings, one from Colorado who we actually met up with once in Miami when we happened to be there at the same time, one from Singapore and one from Ireland, though he is actually a German now living in (drum roll please) Frankfurt! Yes I actually put Frankfurt on the itinerary so that I could see my old teammate, Torsten and I was quite giddy with anticipation. But he and his family were not available until the evening, so we spent the day exploring more of Frankfurt since we didn’t get to see much the night before.

Also because we’d been on the road for a week already it was time for some laundry. The nearest Laundromat was about one kilometer away, or about .62 miles to you and me. We took the U-bahn to keep things simple. The laundromat itself was an interesting adventure. Not only was it all in German but you’re expected to select your washer and dryer, and pay at a central station on the wall (not at the machine itself). So it took us a few minutes of studying, guessing, and putting the puzzle together to figure out how to make one of the machines run. But we conquered it and felt pretty good about ourselves afterward. Once the clothes were in and we verified that water was actually pouring into the machine we were free to roam the streets - well, for 40 minutes anyway, until the cycle was over.

We were in a shopping district on Zeil street, and as we walked we saw malls and markets along the way. In one stall of an open market, we saw some men cooking sausages, all laid out on a big round grill hanging by three chains. The men were swinging the grill across a fire pit, presumably to cook the sausages evenly. It was pretty neat. Once the wash was done and dry, we stopped back at the hotel to pack, shower, and check out. We still had all afternoon to explore.

Just a block or two away from our hotel was the old town square that had been destroyed in the war. Romerberg, as it’s called, has been restored and has amazing old architecture that looks like new. Andy’s main goal of the day was to get a good picture of the buildings in this square, which turned out to be no easy feat. For one, the sun was in and out of the clouds all day so sometimes we’d have good light and sometimes not. Usually not, actually. Secondly, there were quite a few more people in the square than during the previous night, so composing a shot that didn’t involve people dominating the picture was difficult. We returned to the square several times, each with varying results. Finally, later in the afternoon, the clouds cleared away enough that Andy had a good window of opportunity to get his shot.

One of our stops during the day was Paulskirche, a church located about a block from Romerberg with a long history as both a religious edifice and a political one, where parliament was actually held at one point. Many important decisions in Germany’s history were made there. Paulskirche was ravaged by wartime bombings and fire, but afterward the mayor rallied the city to restore it as a memorial. Now it has been redone, with displays and a video on its history, a circular mural right in the middle of the main floor, and a bright, airy upper room that contains a lovely pipe organ. It was an interesting history lesson for us.

After Paulskirche it began to rain - and it wasn’t the light California rain we’re used to. It was more like the heavy thundershower type we had in Florida growing up. We ducked under the umbrellas of one of the pubs in Romerberg and had lunch: sausage and sauerkraut for me, again! I love that stuff. But, here’s the other edge of the sword of the orderliness and rule-following that we love about Germany. I asked if I could have half sauerkraut and half potato salad (a request that is usually accommodated here in the states) and I got a stern “no, no.” OK, no changes to the menu. I get it. Luckily, the rain didn’t last long and we were on our way again after lunch.

We wandered around for a while longer, saw a giant Euro symbol, kept trying to take pictures of the Romerberg square, found some open markets and narrow alleyways to enjoy, and stopped for a quick refreshment. Here, I got another dose of that double-edged sword. Andy got a cappuccino type drink with a lovely cube of dark chocolate on a stick for stirring. The chocolate was very tasty, and since I don’t drink coffee I asked the waitress if I could get just the chocolate. “No, no, no” was her reply before she walked away. OK, I have to learn my lesson better, I guess. Oh, and the Germans hate it when you order tap water, even if you’re getting a big meal. They want to sell you a bottle are are delighted to charge a premium if you’re the slightest bit vague about your preferences. When I am clear that I merely want tap water, I get dismissive glances. Oh well, I want what I want.

Late in the afternoon we went to see the Dom, which is one of the few cathedrals around in this largely Protestant country. It was a real treat. The inside was quite ornate like most cathedrals, and it had the most interesting pipe organ. Some of the pipes stuck out and curved outward to look like a couple of waves next to the vertical ones. It was very cool looking. The organist played interesting music, though most of it didn’t sound religious (and sometimes it didn't sound like music at all). It was more dirge-like, a conglomeration of dark sounding chords. But his playing revealed another set of pipes away from the main set. This was a bit surprising and lent well to the coolness factor of the whole organ. How many of you get turned on by pipe organs? I’m betting a least a couple!

Finally it was time to go and meet Torsten and his family. We waited patiently at the end of the iron bridge called Eiserner Steg. Then I saw him bounding up in a green t-shirt to give me a big hug. What a thrill to see someone I never thought I would again. It’s kind of like magic in a way, but then in another way I felt like it was meant to be. Have you ever experienced that? His little girl, Maya, came running up behind him. She is two and a half, adorable and so full of energy! Torsten’s girlfriend (Maya’s mom), Layla, came up after with the stroller. It was wonderful to meet her and introduce them all to Andy. Pleasantries done, we walked across the bridge together and sat down at a nearby restaurant on a boat for a quick refreshment. While the adults chatted, Maya explored, ran away as much as Layla would let her and played with her tiny stuffed dogs. She had three of them. Though each wore different colored hats, they were otherwise indistinguishable; she’d named them all “Jasper” – so cute! Maya sat on my lap for a while and we played with her stuffies while I half-paid attention to the conversation. Years of multitasking at work pay off!

Torsten and Layla then took us to their neighborhood, a short walk along the river. We saw ducks, geese, and swans, and Layla showed us a nearby island that serves as a bird sanctuary. Maya insisted on feeding the birds, so we took a few minutes to throw bits of bread out to them. Torsten then carried her on his shoulders as we moved on. In their neighborhood, Torsten and Layla found us a great authentic German restaurant where everyone sits outside at long tables to enjoy sausages, cured pork, pig knuckles, and sauerkraut. It was a great place with wonderful food (I had the schnitzel). Torsten and Andy got along famously. Of course, I knew they would get along as great drinking buddies. Torsten recommended biers and Andy drank them. It was a winning combination. Maya was a constant bundle of energy. She had too much to do to sit still. A gentleman pointed out a playground across the street, so we took turns taking her over for a few minutes at a time. Otherwise, we talked and ate and drank and had a great time.

Later on, Torsten walked with us back to our hotel to get our bags and help us decipher our train ticket while Layla took Maya home. Once we discovered we didn’t need to be to the train station until 1:00 am, and since the train station was right next to their apartment, we had extra time to hit a pub for some more conversation. This time the boys ordered apfelwein, a cider for which Frankfurt is famous. Then Torsten mentioned his bottle of LaPhroaig back at the apartment. Great. That’s Andy’s new favorite spirit, since he discovered it in Scotland. Torsten insisted on taking us back to his place so Andy could enjoy one last small drink. So while I worried about getting to the station on time, Torsten and Andy got more and more relaxed. Torsten would look out off of his terrace to see if our train was on the track, reassuring me that since it wasn’t there, we had nothing to worry about. I trusted him - mostly.

Finally and unfortunately the night had to come to an end. Torsten walked us to the station and made sure we got to the right place, and then we said our goodbyes. I don’t know if I will get to see him again, but I’m so grateful for the wonderful opportunity I had to see him and meet his family. Plus, if they ever come out to California, he knows we have a place for them to stay. Andy and I got to the train just fine and into our sleeper cabin. Andy was, of course, out like a light in a couple of minutes. I lay awake a while longer, remembering the wonderful times we just had with our friends in Frankfurt. I absolutely love seeing friends and this is now my favorite part of the trip (sorry bagpiper). Tomorrow we will be in Prague, Czech Republic, starting a new day and a new adventure!

Day 6 | Day 8

July 28 - Humburg to Frankfurt (written by Andy)

Sleeping in: such pleasure, such rarity! But today we splurged and allowed the morning to drift by for two hours. And why not? Aside from plans to visit Miniature Wonderland - the purpose for adding Hamburg to our itinerary - we had no specific agenda for this town. Nonetheless, Jenny and I agreed that we'd stumbled onto a lovely place. A working place, yes, with plenty of construction projects and a palpable sense that architecture must first be functional before it can be beautiful, but also an undeniably delightful place to walk. We bought a day pass for the U-Bahn, knowing that no one would check to see that we paid. What a difference from London, when every coming and going requires some queue to pass through a ticketing barrier. Jenny added to our reflections on the town by commenting how much she loves the German appreciation for punctuality.

I could therefore hardly be surprised to find at the Miniature Wonderland a long line to enter, counterbalanced by "fast pass" tickets for reserved times later in the afternoon. While I dreaded the prospect of shifting our visit so near our planned departure, I couldn't imagine an alternative. So we snapped up two early afternoon reservations and commenced to wandering the town some more. Aimlessly we crossed canal after canal and ambled as our instincts led us. Whatever caught our eyes - a sculpture, an outdoor market, or an interesting piece of architecture: that's where we'd direct our feet.

A couple hours later, though, we both were ready for a break. That's when I realized we'd paid for day passes and were hardly using them. I looked at the map and noticed a museum in a nearby suburb, Volksdorf, that appeared to showcase German rural life. Jenny was game and, about a half hour later, we were there. As much as we enjoy Hamburg, the difference between a relatively big city and this small village provided a calming respite. Figuring on the time it'd take to return, we estimated a window of only about 20 minutes to enjoy this place. Fortunately we had no difficulty finding the museum, which offers free admittance to folks who merely want to walk around the grounds. We loved our visit.

Our final stop was Miniature Wonderland, a fascinating collection of tiny worlds with blinking, moving, storytelling versions of places whose actual expanse exceeds the singular gaze. The place was packed with camera wielding folks jockeying for position to take snapshots - especially of the new airport with traffic-jammed departure roads, moving fuel trucks, and jets arriving and landing every few minutes. Best of all, like any great miniature attraction, lights dimmed and brightened to produce the effect of night and day. We stayed as long as we could, determined not to miss our train for Frankfurt, yet I am sure we could have wandered those cramped walkways all day and never discovered every little visual gag or clever depiction of everyday life, both simple and fantastic.


The minutes ticking away before our departure, we walked along the waterfront to a metro station. We'd grown comfortably accustomed to the efficiency and speed of the trains that whisked us through the city. After finding our hotel to grab our bags, we tramped back to the underground and then to the train station. There we snarfed down yet another meal of sausages and potato salad before boarding our train. Our bags were growing tighter as our collection of souvenirs continued to grow. At the same time we both felt more connected to each zipper pocket and hidden compartment, having spent so much time living out of our luggage. Traveling experts will tell you that "If it's Tuesday, it must be Belgium"-type tourism is a shoddy way to see the world. Heck, I'd agree. But Jenny and I love the newness of our experiences, where every day brims with fresh delight. Thus a little more than three hours later we found ourselves bumping along the cobblestones of Frankfurt's medieval center. Our hotel was merely a block away and we had a new place to discover.

Day 5 | Day 7