(no subject)
Cesky Krumlov is apparently the most well-preserved medieval town in all of Europe. Meaning it's old and beautiful, but also that everything closes early. It's also been a little cold and rainy, but it's been fine, because the hostel we're staying in is warm and cozy with a kitchen and a balcony and a nice mix of national and international travellers. Even though it's cheap, though, it's been hard to find places to eat when travelling with two vegetarians. The standard non-meat menu here consists of: 1. Fried cauliflower or other vegetable; 2. Fried cheese, with or without cranberries; 3. A baked potato. There was also one vegetarian menu where the first ingredient of the first item on the list was ham. So we've been eating at a little pizzeria where they make a cream of spinach pizza and they use "oregon" instead of oregano, and show the non-American football matches. They also have the most dangerous playground I've ever seen out back, with such illegal-at-home activities as the thirty-foot high rope web, the steel pipe zone, and the loose rock ground cushioning.
I'm in the train station right now and all the postcards they have are photographs of trains, buses, and fire trucks. If anybody wants one, let me know, so that I can make fun of you in the near future. We're waiting around to buy tickets to Bern for a few days from now. The station is a bit outside of the city, but it's easy to get here and back if you don't mind taking the most harrowing cab ride of your life, nudging pedestrians out of the way on cobblestone streets too small for a bicycle and on wooden bridges that creak when you walk over them. It's thrilling. I may also ride a horse, not so much because I want to but because it's cheap and I can, and I want to do it before they eat them all.
To those curious parties: There has been no mention of David Hasselhoff's broken-chandelier shaving accident in the local news reports. When I hear more of this continental tragedy, I will keep you informed.
Tomorrow is massage day and the local vegetarian restaurant for the sore-bodied vegetarian birthday girl Samara. I don't really know what we're doing the rest of our time here. We tried to visit the castle last night, but were told by the 18-year-old guard in a plaid shirt and windbreaker that "to see the castle would be impossible." Apparently it was some kind of VIP-only baroque musical event. Three men in powdered wigs and ruffled collars were let in, and suddenly it felt like being bounced from the worst nightclub in the world.
We're skipping Salzburg for time and accomodation concerns. Bern is next, where we will eat mayonnaise sandwiches because the Swiss Franc is almost twice the value of the dollar, and where affordable Internet access will probably be as inaccessible as it was in comparatively rich Stockholm. After that, there may be some black forest, with or without cake, Munich post-Cup, and then Vienna for the last few bits. But that's assuming I can make it off the horse.
I'm in the train station right now and all the postcards they have are photographs of trains, buses, and fire trucks. If anybody wants one, let me know, so that I can make fun of you in the near future. We're waiting around to buy tickets to Bern for a few days from now. The station is a bit outside of the city, but it's easy to get here and back if you don't mind taking the most harrowing cab ride of your life, nudging pedestrians out of the way on cobblestone streets too small for a bicycle and on wooden bridges that creak when you walk over them. It's thrilling. I may also ride a horse, not so much because I want to but because it's cheap and I can, and I want to do it before they eat them all.
To those curious parties: There has been no mention of David Hasselhoff's broken-chandelier shaving accident in the local news reports. When I hear more of this continental tragedy, I will keep you informed.
Tomorrow is massage day and the local vegetarian restaurant for the sore-bodied vegetarian birthday girl Samara. I don't really know what we're doing the rest of our time here. We tried to visit the castle last night, but were told by the 18-year-old guard in a plaid shirt and windbreaker that "to see the castle would be impossible." Apparently it was some kind of VIP-only baroque musical event. Three men in powdered wigs and ruffled collars were let in, and suddenly it felt like being bounced from the worst nightclub in the world.
We're skipping Salzburg for time and accomodation concerns. Bern is next, where we will eat mayonnaise sandwiches because the Swiss Franc is almost twice the value of the dollar, and where affordable Internet access will probably be as inaccessible as it was in comparatively rich Stockholm. After that, there may be some black forest, with or without cake, Munich post-Cup, and then Vienna for the last few bits. But that's assuming I can make it off the horse.