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This tour started off on a bad note when I woke up at 8:00 & I was supposed to be in Copenhagen at 8:15. Fortunately, Soren saved the day in his zippy Volkswagon Scirocco scream machine. 20 minutes at 170km/hr later, I was safely in the Flemmings minibus, with a loaf of raisin bread from Sankt Peter’s, to boot.

The bus trip to the ferry was uneventful

[European ferries are really quite amazing, given the volume and size of their typical passengers, which might include tourists, locals, cars, vans, trucks, tourbuses (just like ours) and entire trains. They manage to load the trains by having hinged aft sections which tilt up like a clamshell when they’re docked. Everything just drives right in and lines up in the hold. This design does seem to bring with it a few potential drawbacks—most notably given that in high seas, that hinged rear section seems to have a way of opening rather unexpectedly, resulting in a rather spectacular and quick sink to the bottom of the sea. Not a very common occurrence mind you, but there was one in the news not too long ago. Ferries seem have been a strong theme in most of my travels.]

Once on board though, we hit the tax-free supermarket, an absolute zoo that exemplifies the reverse growth process of capitalism. People who have money and prosperity crammed into a suffocatingly small space stuffed material goods, the most sought after of which is alcohol. The folks on this tour, of course, did their best to contribute to this cause.

The bus ride to Berlin proceeded with much merry-making, including a brief stop in the woods for biological function (except for Steve Leftin, who managed to recycle an empty wine box in the rear of the bus—lovely sight.) We arrived in Berlin near 5:00 and drove through the city to our ‘otel’ [Said building so named because the ‘H’ on the marquee had burnt out, thus simply spelling ‘otel’. This was a source of much amusement to us, being very hard up for comedy those days.] Along the way, we passed a bombed cathedral in the middle of the city, that had been preserved as a monument to WWII. It was hauntingly beautiful at night, washed with orange lights.

Upon arriving at the otel, Kyle Geoff Sean and I attempted to locate a restaurant (recommended by the trusty Frommers) promising "generous portions at reasonable prices." It turns out that it had been closed for some time (this we perceived due to the cobwebs hanging on the walls)

[So much for trusty Frommers. We decided not long afterwards to toss that pile of crap in the garbage and rely instead on a combination of plain dumb luck and the Lets Go Europe to get us to the good spots. Turns out that wasn't the greatest combination either.]

We then went in search of hearty eating elsewhere and found a beerhouse that lured us in with a sign proclaiming an 18DM smorgasbord. Turns out its only a Saturday morning specialty [sic] so we ended up spending 30-35DM for our first dinner in Berlin. We returned to the otel and hung out in Susie’s room for a while, laughing at people who were not present to defend themselves (and thankfully so)

[We played this amusing game that night (from what little I recall) called "Detective." But for the life of me, I don’t know how the game goes. You're not actually supposed to be reading this. This is just to remind me to ask somebody about the game so I can add another small story to try and make this account readable.]

Berlin: Day 2

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Breakfast was served at 8:00—coffee, bread and assorted packets of jams. Yum. The bus left at 9:00 and our first stop was a modernist attempt at utopian housing. There were blocks by Aalto, Fiskar, Jacobsen, Gropius and others. None were inspiring [I should note here that when it comes to architecture in this journal, all the viewpoints come from the perspective of a fourth-year architectural student who would go on to leave the profession and become a systems administrator. Take them for what you will.] The only memorable feature was an attempt to raise the housing block of one building on pilotis (a la unite d’habitation) to create a "transparent" ground floor.

Next stop was the Rauschstrasse housing, planned by Rob Krier (less notorious than older brother Leon.) This was a beautiful complex that I would to live in. I saw a Rossi building for the first time and was loving it. To be able to see his use of lintels, square windows, towers etc. in real life was fantastic. I still cannot claim to understand his theories, but to have been reading about it for so long and then see the results of his thought and design process was marvelous. How I envy those 18 people who rent or own a room in that building.

From this housing, we walked to the Bauhaus archives. Along the way, I passed the Oko house by Frei Otto, which was very interesting: dynamic and chock full of great forms and juxtapositions and a variety of cladding and structural materials. I then saw some flats at Lutzowsplads, by Botta & Cook. The Botta building looked like an office building [in great contrast to the fantastic MOMA in San Francisco] and Cook’s was just downright ugly—though it did have interesting drainspouts. Then we boarded the bus and proceeded to the most magnificent buildings of the day: Scharoun’s Philharmonic and bibliotheque. These were and expressionist tour de force—just amazing to behold. It was a bright beautiful day, and the roof lines of the philharmonic were soaring against a backdrop of blue sky and scattered cumulus clouds. The gold anodized cladding shined like a gigantic crown. It was a glorious building to photograph because of its visual excitement. All these planes and angles scattered everywhere but beautifully unified under that giant roof.

We also experienced the National Gallery—the polar opposite in monumental architecture from Scharoun’s building. It was an interesting experience to be in a building that holds so much architectural significance, that has influenced cont. [sic] architecture for decades. I even sat in the Barcelona char and they were surprisingly comfortable.. One thing I couldn’t appreciate about the building was the fact that the most glorious space, under that magnificent steel roof with that incredible span and inspiring height, housed only the temporary exhibits. The permanent works were relegated to what seemed like a basement below the platform upon which this glass and steel temple squatted.

From this center of architectural monuments, we proceeded to walk towards the other side of town in search on an American Express office. This turned into a several kilometer trek across this amazing modern landscape called Berlin. One amazing thing to realize about this city is that it is a capitol of modern architecture, mainly because the classical city was utterly destroyed by the war. This was the genesis for, the unfortunate father of a fantastic Mecca for modern architecture. This point was hammered into my mind when we walked by the Gedachniskirke, the bombed out ruins of a cathedral. Here was a huge monument to the destructiveness of war standing proudly in the center of Berlin, imbued with a greater significance and meaning than it ever would have had as a well preserved cathedral untouched by destruction. Its accelerated decay gave it a completely new existence, more poetic than it would have ever had the right to have. And surrounding it were hundreds of thousands of buildings who owe their existence to the circumstances of its present condition. This is something not architect could have designed, but I think it makes a bolder statement than any designed building could hope to achieve. War is cruel, but humans have the ability to appreciate the positive aspect of any situation. This was a good day in my architectural education.

Day 3: Berlin

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Breakfast again at 8:00. Bus at 8:45, and a few landscaped garden/plazas by 11:00. The rest of the day was spent on a scavenger hunt through southwest Berlin for apartment blocks by various architects (again.) There was nothing spectacular though. . . of interest however were planned blocks by Ron Krier. [Of course now I don't remember if that was a typo on my part, or whether there was more than just Leon and Rob. Or was Ron not even related? It's sad how often memory seems to fail us.

The Aldo Rossi apartment/renovation at Wohn and Geshafsbauten was also worth visting. Most impressive about this building was an enormous white column marking the corner of the block.

[Never did settle on a reasonable analysis of the potential phallic symbolism of that particular architectural gesture.]

There were also some south-west facing sunrooms worked into the façade that seemed to be well used. Checkpoint Charlie, by Peter Eisenmann, was just down the street, and was nothing real interesting from the street.

The best part of the day was at Alexanderpladz, where we saw competition boards and some incredible models, for the planning and development of the new center for Berlin. One of the contestants was Daniel Libeskind, who won second prize behind a far less interesting design that seemed far too severe and mechanical. Not a good combination really with the death star which presides over the plaza.

He was there to give us a little spiel on the project. I think it is an amazing mental feat to be able to take in a program as intricate and complex as the planning of the city center of one of the most important cities in Europe. And here was this man talking about it like it was the most natural thing in the world. It would be an amazingly difficult project to attempt to realize because of all the politics that would be involved in the process. I don’t think I have the drive or ambition to strive for this kind of architecture.

[One thing I forgot to mention abouth this "best part of the day" was a hack session a few of us participated in the middle of Alexanderplatz. It was one of those little slices of time you take out every once in a while, where you can sit and remember fleeting details like what the temperature was, and how I was worried about excessive flare in the image I took on the right. I suppose one might even be inclined to imagine those moments much the way commercials for General Foods International Coffees are presented. Sentimentality is a big theme in my travel journals.]

Today was also Sharon’s fodselsdag [Danish for birthday] so we celebrated at an Italian restaurant in Berlin. She had a very long night. In fact, so did everybody.

[I think I was too exhausted to recount the event in detail while writing the journal, but my recollection of this episode amuses me enough that I’ll go ahead and describe it here. After dinner and more than a few drinks at the above mentioned Italian restaurant, we wound back to the otel and. . . had a few more drinks. Then a few more. You get the idea. After hours of this sort of stuff, and many immemorable hijinks later, we were all relaxing in Susie’s room again. And somebody asks "Where’s Sharon?" Everyone looks around, and much to our amazement, Sharon was nowhere to be found. We dispatched a scout to go check her room to see if she went to bed, but the response was not heartening. Everybody then tried to remember when they’d seen Sharon last, and in the confusion of the mumbled comments, somebody was heard to have said that they’d seen Sharon outside, which caused a considerable amount alarm. Recall the drinking mentioned above. We formed several search parties, and scoured the interior of the otel, banging on doors of people we didn’t know, just in case Sharon wandered into one of them by mistake. No such luck. Eventually some of the search parties made their way around the block, in case the worst were to be true. In the meanwhile, general hysteria was forming since nobody had their wits about them, and we were all frantically searching for a member of our party lost during the heat of battle. It was getting to the point where we began to wonder how we were going to break the news to Sharon’s parents that we’d somehow lost her in the middle of Berlin during a night of childish partying. Not a comforting frame of mind. Finally, a group of us went back to our room to call the Professors to let them know the situation, and who did we find sleeping in one of our beds but, of course, Sharon. After the amazement and relief wore off just a bit, we got the story out of Sharon, which was basically that she was too tired and passed out in the nearest available bed. Ah well.]

Day 4: Berlin

Boy. I barely made it out of bed this morning. It’s another beautiful day out, like the last 3 have been. About 60 degrees, but bright and sunny. A brisk wind cuts through my clothing sometimes, but it feels good.

Our first stop was a hunting castle by Carl Shinkel. It was on a nice estate by a lake. I began taking some human interest photos of unsuspecting folks on this trip. We are now at the Einstein tower in Potsdam—probably the most famous building we’ll see on this trip. It is interesting that the footpath leads you straight on to the building where it looks most static and earthbound. The dynamic angle is the one seen in all the photographs, and it seems a symmetrical axial approach doesn’t work as well.

After the tower, we hit the center of Potsdam for lunch. I had my first Doner Kebap which was delicious. It is a pita stuffed with sliced roast lamb that’s cooked vertically on an electric spit, lettuce, red cabbage, onions, and topped with salt and a spicy white ranch-style dressing.

[This would become a staple of mine on this and many trips to come. The Gyro, at Jack-in-the-Box, which sounds similar, doesn’t even come close. Don’t do it.]

We had two and a half hours after lunch to wander about the Sansouci [Without Worry] gardens, a palace for Friedrich the great. It was huge (200 hectares) and planned along a central axis with the palace at one end.

There was a ‘guest house’ set atop a hill that was terraced in a very formal style. The whole garden is filled with neoclassical pavilions, baths, temples, greenhouses and so on. It is done on a very grand scale.

After Potsdam, we returned to Berlin and I napped for two hours. The gang went to the Philharmonic to see a performance and I stayed in to rest up a bit. I also started reading The World According to Garp

Day 5: Berlin

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This is the last day of the official DIS Berlin study tour. The first thing I did in the morning was take a shower, so the rest of the world could stand being near me. Our first stop for the day was Charlottenberg Palace. To be honest, I’d had enough of monumental royal residences so this wasn’t much of an interest to me. We did play hackey-sack in the empty fountain behind the palace, which made it somewhat memorable. We then proceeded to the Olympic Stadium and Corbusier’s Berlin Unite. What a disappointment that ugly block of concrete was. His famed pilotis did nothing to lift that ungainly mass off the sorry excuse for a park that it squatted on, and the space underneath was nothing more than a glorified parking garage.

Fortunately, the Olympic Stadium was more interesting to experience. It’s a funny feeling being in such a hallowed place, where so much glory and spectacle has taken place. Brian Rekasis and Dave Intner took a lap around the track and gave the whole experience something of a personal touch. We went from there to Peter Behren’s AEG Turbine Factory. Again, this was a building that I had seen so many times in books that it was very moving to see it in person. That was basically the last stop on the whirlwind tour. The bus took the group to the zoologischer garten, where we split off to see some sites individually. I wandered with Laura Jacobsmeier around Kufurstendamm for a while doing some window shopping, and then we walked to the East/West border to the Gropius Bau museum to see a Japanese/Europe exhibit. It was a marvelous display of Japanese art—paintings, drawings and some handicrafts. Especially powerful were the monochrome/duotone watercolors of various animals and landscapes. There was also a permanent exhibit of some modern steel kinetic sculpture that I liked.

On our way back to the otel, I ran into Brian Rekasis and Sean Trujillo and had dinner with them at another doner kebap restaurant. We decided then to see an opera at the Berlin Deutsche Opera Haus. We bought last-minute tickets at 27DM, ran back to the otel to change (my ensemble was Levi’s 560’s, a borrowed shirt and borrowed tie) and raced back to the theater just after last call. "Fidelio", a Beethoven opera, was playing, but in German of course, so we understood absolutely nil. It was still fun to go to the opera though, and see all the very upper crust of Berlin.

Day 6: Berlin

This, I think, is where this trip starts to get interesting. On our own for the first time. I almost feel giddy. Sean, Brian and I decided to check out some more of Berlin’s culture, so off we went.

First stop was American Express, to get some dinero. While waiting out front, we bumped into Daniel Libeskind, of all people. If I hadn’t seen him speak a few days earlier, I never would have known it, but I did and here he was. We chatted for a few minutes and he was off, but what a strange experience.

[It seems that I might be seeing Daniel Libeskind for the rest of my life. This past year, the firm I work for managed to get together with Libeskind’s German office for a joint-venture on the San Francisco Jewish Museum project, so we end up seeing Daniel rather often in our office. Once, after bumping into him in the lobby, we got to chatting and I reminded him of the time that I’d seen him several years before during his Alexanderplatz competition. He, of course, looked at me like I was an idiot. Later, I would come to realize he was right. But nevertheless, a very charming and frighteningly intelligent man.]

We then walked to Ka De Ve, Europe’s largest department store, and had a look around. The entire top floor was devoted to food—everything you could possibly desire had its place here, including an incredible buffet that made Sizzler look like a McChicken salad.

After that quick dip into capitalist Berlin, we took the U-Bahn to Frederickstrasse Station in East Berlin. Here, we located the infamous Pergamon museum and saw, inside the museum, the entire temple of Athena/Zeus in a room. It was almost too much to comprehend, seeing this monolith preserved in an air-conditioned room in the middle of Europe. If that wasn’t enough to shock me, just around the corner were the Lion Gates of Babylon! You almost have to stop and reconsider the validity of museums when you see such an outrageous thing as this. The moral issues shout to be argued. It was too much for me.

[And thank god. Imagine having to read an entire treatise on the validity of the preservation of monumental/historical works of architecture w/r/t their original settings. Yawn.]

On a much more personal scale, our companion Brian was suffering from a bit of food-poisoning and proceeded to vomit into the train tracks at Frederickstrasse. Lovely sight. We went to the hostel a bit early. Sean and I marched ahead to Hansaplatz to see a Scharoun exhibit at the Kunst center.

This was also a very moving exhibit. There were drawings and paintings from early in his school days, all the way to the design-development sketches for the Philharmonic. It was awe-inspiring to see such a large collection of a single man’s work—the product of a lifetime devoted to architecture. The most impressive sketches were some very outlandish expressionistic sketches and watercolors of a variety of different buildings. He had quite a fertile imagination and the artistic ability to express it. Very humbling to look at.

We went back to the zoologische garten to get our train tickets out of town. Sean decided to head for Nuremberg, and I chose Vienna.

Then, we headed for an art deco/art nouveau museum near Charlottenborg. The metalworking exhibits were fascinating. Dozens of very organic vases, candlesticks and various foodservice items were on display.

Finally, to top off the whole Berlin experience, we headed for Scharoun’s Philharmonic. We walked in carrying 50lbs of our life strapped onto our backs [Standard student tourist in Europe uniform: Passport/money pouch, flannel shirt, levi’s, Timberlands or Rockports, more clothing and crap than you’ll ever have a need for crammed into a REI Internal Frame backpack covered in straps and clasps and pockets, made from brightly colored panels of Cordura.] into the lobby and purchased 15DM tickets for a chamber-music performance. We were a little bit out of place in our dirty jeans and flannel shirts amid a sea of black silk and rayon, but it was well worth it to see the inside of that incredible building. There’s no way to properly describe how dynamic and frankly expressive that space was, full of light and pageantry and snobbery. It was a nice way to end this chapter.

[And the string quartet we heard that night was also quite good.]

Day 7: Vienna

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It was a rough night on the train. I boarded at HauptsBahnhof or something at 10:00 and was on the train for 10 hours. Along the way, I met a girl from Prague who was working in Mannheim, Germany for a Czech bank. She was only 18 and had been living in Germany for 2 months. Her english was very good (since she’d been studying it for 9 years. . .) so we had a nice conversation.

[How I wish I could have added to this account with a story about how she and I talked well into the night, and upon arriving at our destination in the morning, found we could not part and so went for breakfast in Vienna and . . . but alas, I was only 20 and not well versed in the art of casual romance. Plus, she got off the train about 6 hours before it arrived in Vienna.]

Upon arriving in Vienna, I spent about three hours wandering on the busses and trains trying to find a hostel. I finally arrived at a vacant on e called Jugendgastehus in Hutteldorf. I then re-entered the mass-transit to explore downtown Vienna. St. Stephen’s cathedral was probably the most impressive building, as cathedrals usually are—filled with sculpture and stained glass and encrusted with spires and various sculpture. The State Opera is also very grandiose and occupies a rather large square, where the walking street begins.

I referred to the Let’s Go Europe book for a place to eat lunch, and was happily rewarded with a very filling and tasty meal at a schnitzel place on Neubaug (52 Neubaugasse—HUGE schnitzels and something to drink for about $10). After lunching (at 3:30) I made my back into the heart of Vienna and wandered a bit more before falling into queue at the opera for a performance. It reminded me of waiting in line at Disneyland—the interminable wait to reach that bit of entertainment promised at the end. Fortunately, I only waited for one hour and we were let in. The ticket was 15 schillings, and then everybody made a mad dash to the uppermost balconies to tie their scarves around a railing to reserve their post. I’m waiting now in the garderobe for the performance to begin. . .

I was standing (15 schilling tickets. . .) there in the opera house, during the middle of the performance when it suddenly hit me—here I am in Vienna’s greatest opera house listening to the most incredible voices I’ve heard on stage—just standing there like its something I do every night, just as natural as can be. The night before, I was listening to chamber music at the Philharmonic in Berlin, and the night before that, a German opera. Okay, reality check please. But the best part is that all three times, I’m wearing jeans and Timberlands. It’s a strange world sometimes. [For the record, in the 5 years since I’ve been back from Europe, I’ve attended exactly one symphony performance, and one opera. In black slacks, shirt and tie.] Now I’m relaxing under the square in front of the opera, in a café drinking coffee au lait and enjoying a heated viennese apple strudel. If anybody else were around, I’d have to give a toast. I have no idea what’s on the itinerary for tomorrow (except a shower.) I don’t feel like hanging around Vienna—today was just perfect. I think I’m going to try to catch a train to Salzberg or Innsbruck. I’d really love to see the Austrian alps and breathe some fresh air. I may as well enjoy this while it lasts. Oh, and the strudel (apfel-marillenstrudel) was excellent.

One final note about European cities and traveling: Two at a time seems to be the maximum. I’m definitely ready for a retreat from the ‘civilized’ world.

Day 8: Vienna to Salzberg

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I met a nice Canadian last night at the hostel. He was from Alberta. He’d just come from Rome, and has been on the road for a couple of months. He described a typical travel horror story in Rome—getting his backpack stolen by a group of con-artists. Very bad luck, I’d say. There were also a couple of Australians who’d been living in Spain for 3 months. Darryl, Joe and I forgot the other Aussie’s name. I had a typical hostel breakfast of bread, jam and coffee with them, and we exchanged a few travel stories.

I decided to go to Salzberg finally, and went to WestBahnhof to get a ticket. It cost 380AS, and after I bought it, I had about 50min. till the train left, so I decided to try and hunt out the Hundertwasser apartments. I found them on Lowengasse, but only stayed about 5min. to take some photo’s and then rushed back to the station to catch my train, which missed by 1 minute, so I waited another hour for the next one.

I have to admit, I’m a bit disappointed in myself because I haven’t sketched anything for several days. In all honesty though, I haven’t seen anything I really want to sketch. . .

I’m in Salzberg now, and I have a feeling that things are going to change. I could sense it on the train, when I saw the city slipping away and the countryside started flashing by the windows. I felt almost renewed.

The train ride was otherwise uneventful, and I settled into the International Youth Hostel with no problems. The folks there were very friendly, and the place, as Let’s Go puts it, is "overrun with americans."

After unloading my goods in the room, I headed for the heart of Salzberg, in search of much needed nourishment. I found myself at the foot of Monchsberg, one of the several cliff-like hills that seem to surround the city. I hit the elevator for the 21AS ascent to the top, only to find that the restaurant I was seeking had closed up shop for the winter. However I was pleasantly surprised at the magnificent paths that wandered around the top, and the spectacular views of the city from various vista points. I could not explore for long because my stomach and legs were crying to be satiated, so I zipped back down and found a restaurant just outside the doors of the lift. That is where I am now, my hunger somewhat appeased by a tasty bowl of goulasch soup and some bread. I’m awaiting the arrival of my wienerschnitzel as I write these words. All the people around me are drinking, smoking and carrying on in their native tongue. I feel comfortable and relaxed, and eager to begin exploring tomorrow. I get the feeling that I’m going to end up eating my way around Europe. Aah, my food has arrived. Maybe I should sketch it. They just played that Queen song—something that goes like "I get so lonely, lonely, lonely. . . yeah." I guess only I’ll know what that means to me these days. [Cryptic, and meant to be]

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I won’t even pretend to like Vienna more than I like it here. Sure, the opera was great, but I felt lost in that big city. Here, I feel like I can almost be a part of it all, tourist that I am. Even the people seem more decent. Yeah, two big cities at a time is definitely the max. Maybe just one at a time would be better.

Now, they’re playing the Rembrandts. Visions of delivering pizz for Domino’s and Bonnie [my girlfriend at the time—that I was delivering pizzas, that is.] come to mind. It seems like so long ago. I’m glad I can reminisce about it though.

Ooh, dessert has just arrived. Sweet cheesecake pastry with vanilla sause (Toftenstrudel mit vanilla sauce.) and coffee with milk. This is heaven! Men without Hats is playing now. I haven’t heard that song since the 8^th grade, and now I’m listening to it in Salzberg. . . good god, the music in this place is just too weird—I’m getting the strangest combinations of songs and memories—now with Soul Asylum’s Runaway Train.

Day 9: Salzberg

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Wow, what a crazy night that was! I guess Saturdays are the big party nights at the International Youth Hotel—It’s a pretty happening place. I’ve never met so many Australians in one place. They were all very nice though, and they know how to have a good time.

The two I was sitting with were from Adelaide, on the south side of Australia. Very friendly and talkative. I also met a very beautiful young woman from Argentina, and I made here pose for me in the lobby so I could sketch a portrait. The drawing makes her look older than she is (21) but she has very strong features: full lips, high cheekbones and very expressive eyebrows. I think she was easy to draw because the light really sculpts the features on here face.

This morning, I woke and had breakfast at the hostel: bacon, eggs, rolls and coffee—the first "american" breakfast I’ve had since I’ve been here.

Then, I walked to the old part of Salzberg, through a picturesque shopping street where Mozart used to live, and arrived at the Universitatsplatz, where I sat to sketch Johann Bernard Fischer von Erlach’s church. It’s a beautiful baroque building—the altar has a backdrop of a scene filled with angels and clouds sculpted into the wall of the apse—absolutely breathtaking. I’m trying to warm myself back up in a café now.

Spent the rest of the day walking around this place—so peaceful and relaxing.

Up on Monchberg, there are paths wandering everywhere, leading to the castle and houses and scenic points, all underneath a canopy of trees turning orange and yellow and red for autumn. Most of the people wandering around were Austrians, taking a Sunday stroll. Most of the men wore felt hats and everybody was in their winter coats, which gave it such a picturesque flavor. I hate to leave this place, but if I stay too long, it probably won’t seem so wonderful. I have a ticket on the night train to Prague, so I leave at 9:05.

Day 10: Prague

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Took night train from Salzberg, via Munich. There was some confusion about connections, and had a 2-hour layover somewhere in the middle of Germany, but arrived safe and sound in Praha at 8:30. We got a room from a nice lady at the station—only $6 per night for a double room, bathroom and access to the kitchen. I’m traveling with Robert Stolarick; we had some great conversations on the train, but I only got three hours of sleep. He’s traveling with a chameleon that he got in Morocco, and has made his way through Northern Africa, Spain, Italy, Amsterdam and Austria. Really mellow and laid back—easy to talk to. [Sounds like a good beer] We’re in a restaurant in Old Town Prague—this place is unbelievable. It’s an old wine cellar, but is really clean and comfortable. Best of all, dinner with soup, bread and several beers is only $4. We’ve been here for a couple of hours now, just sitting and chatting and relaxing. Even the bathrooms are clean and sweet-smelling. This is the best bargain so far, and a rare combination of comfort and economy. I had a tasty plate of desserts and turkish coffee which was excellent, and cheap!

I’m having the strangest experiences here in Prague. The first thing I did when we got into the downtown area was go to the American Express to change money. Just as I was walking into the office, I bumped into Sally Ann Kluz

[Whose parents I would meet later in life, when I was helping an ex-girlfriend move a piano which they had given her during a trip to Boston—small world.] Then, inside, I saw Tatiana Baranca and Jeannie Zinc from Cal Poly [Both classmates who were spending the year studying in Florence.]

We talked for a while and she said there were about a dozen students from Florence in Prague at the time. Then, after coming back over the Charles Bridge from lunch, I ran into James, Rick, Gina and Valerie [more Florence students.]

We agreed then to meet later that night at the old Town Square. At 6:00, I met Kyle, Sharon, Mark, Hae Kwan, Erik and Dennis Vo [classmates studying with me in Denmark that year] back at the American Express. We went to dinner together and then to a bar (called Profit—10kr beers!) and exchanged travel stories for a couple of hours. Afterwards, we made our way back to Old Town Square and met up with the Florence group and we went en masse to another bar nearby. There were about 20 of us then, and a dozen were from Cal Poly. We talked and talked for a couple of hours until Kyle, Sharon, Mark and Hae Kwan had to leave for Vienna. James, Valerie and Gina were talking to me about Florence, which was nice to hear.

Robert and I left around 12:30 to take the night bus back to our room, and I was feeling pretty good about Prague. That’s when the nightmare started. The lady who rented us the room gave us virtually no information about how to get back to where she lived, via the night bus. So we got on bus 505 and completely missed our stop. At the end of the line, we realized our mistake and had to wait until the bus was returning to town. The funny part is that there were three other americans who’d also missed their stop—no Czechs though (imagine that) so we sat there talking for half an hour. When the bus went back, we managed to get off at the right place, but once off the bus, we started walking the wrong way. It was 2:30, so we wandered around the outskirts of Prague for an hour, trying to find any recognizable landmark, which was completely impossible. The roads were totally haphazard and we got nowhere, so we managed to find our way back to the bus stop and got back on the bus with absolutely no clue where we were. But the bus went the wrong way again, and we ended up further away than we had been. We jumped off two stops later and started walking back. Eventually a taxi drove by and we flagged it down to ask directions. He said he could drive us back for 100kr (about $4) so we hopped in and finally made it back at 3:45. I dropped into bed and slept until 12:00 the next day, exhausted and thoroughly pissed off. [Though in hindsight, that was probably one of my most interesting experiences in Europe. Being lost in the middle of a strange city doesn’t sound terrible, but the outskirts of Prague are a frighteningly unusual place at night. There was virtually nobody in sight anywhere, but huge factories and apartment blocks loomed up around us on all sides. The roads curved in the strangest ways, an a straight route anywhere was almost impossible. Sometimes we’d spot the tracks for the train (which didn’t run at night) and then we’d turn a corner and see a completely different line. And the city appeared and disappeared in totally different places behind buildings and hills. Walking 100 steps would get you completely lost in a totally different direction. It almost seemed like a nightmarish Alice in Wonderland world. When we finally found that cab driver, he had no clue where the address we were trying to find might be. He even had a Czech version of the Thomas Guide, and looking through it was like admiring abstract art. I’m still not sure how he managed to locate the house we were staying in.]

Day 11: Prague

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After a long nights rest, we were both feeling much better, and all thoughts of killing the landlady pretty much disappeared. We didn’t make it into Prague until about 3:00, so we headed straight for an Italian restaurant to have lunch/dinner. Just as we finished, Erik, Laura and Dennis walked in, so I sat with them while they ate. We talked for a little while, then Dennis and I went to a jazz club called Agharta and listened to a quartet for 3 hours. They were great—especially the sax. He was about 6’-6" and kicked ass on the sax—very exciting to watch.

Day 12: Prague

Thus begins another lazy day in Prague. It’s so easy just to relax and wander about in this city. There’s no guilt about not visiting every museum and building, or not sketching as much as I can, because its so inexpensive just to live here. We start the day by going to a restaurant and eating a great meal and relaxing in the wonderful atmosphere of the place. There’s no rush because the waitress is never forcing the check on you and trying to move you along as quick as possible. You stuff yourself for only five dollars, and enjoy it more than a $100 meal at any fancy restaurant. It’s so easy to be lazy in this city.

This also seems to be the continental meeting place for Europe—I keep running into people all over the place. And I’ve never seen more beautiful women in one place. The late fall dress code here seems to be ankle-high boots, leggings or nylons, a short skirt, and a knee-length wool coat. These women look so elegant breezing by in this relaxed garb, almost unconcious of their beauty.

[The women of Prague frankly amazed me. I’d always thought women in Prague would be your stereotypical Eastern Bloc creatures, very stout earthy women with strong legs and hairy armpits. Clearly not a valid assumption on my part. But in a city like Prague, there’s monetary value in beauty. I began chatting with a prostitute one night on Venceslas square, and found out in the course of our conversation that she would charge $500 US to her customers. No, I didn’t.]

I walked around the Charles Bridge for a little while, and had a great time taking photographs of the people meandering about. I also bought a nice leather backpack at the Old Town Square for about $32. Now, I’m back at the same Jazz club with Dennis and Rob. The musicians are very mellow this time, so once again, I’m just relaxing.

[It’s odd that I should have simply have left off there, but I suppose it’s appropriate. In any case, I finished the trip by buying a bunch of Bohemian crystal at ridiculous prices, carting the wares back through Germany and into Denmark to be shipped to the states and distributed to various wedding receptions located around the country. And then it was time to go back to school. Perhaps in the near future, I'll manage to cobble together parts 2 and 3, Continental Europe and Northern Scandinavia. Stay tuned.]

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