September budget and some travel budget tips

Hello everyone!  Deena here, and it’s time again for a budget update for the month of September.  I am happy  to report we came in around $133 for an average daily spend, and this includes lodging, meals, transportation, and entertainment for all four of us.  I am extremely pleased with this number as we were in some expensive countries this past month.  We covered France, Spain, the Netherlands, Germany, and the Czech Republic—we went way over budget in the Netherlands but only spent 2 days there.  The Czech Republic was very inexpensive and helped lower the number toward the end of the month.  

As I write this post, we are currently on our way to Poland where we will stay for 9 days.  After Poland, we will be in Budapest, Hungary, for another 7 days.   Both of these countries have similar economies and are known for a lower cost of living.  The rest of the month will be spent in Italy.   I’m still not sure how Italy will shake out as far as cost, but I have been proactive and lowered our lodging significantly.   Remember the Barclay Arrival card that Michael opened to lower our AirBnB costs in London?   Well, I opened one as well before we left for the trip, and we had another $500 to use toward travel expenses.  We are in Italy for 23 days, and our original lodging prices were between $30 and $72.  A total for 23 days came to $1,328, and I was able to lower that cost by applying the $500 from the Barclay Arrival card, and our daily lodging average will drop to $36 per night.  This lodging number puts us in a good position to stay at or under budget again for October.  Fingers crossed.

We hopped around a good bit this month, and I wanted to review the prices of the flights we took during September.  We are using low budget airlines that can be found on Skyscanner.  This is the flight search I use for EVERY flight.  They are awesome and list all the budget airlines not always found on Kayak, another popular travel search site.

France to Barcelona on RyanAir:  $20 per person

Barcelona to Amsterdam on Vueling:  $56 per person

Amsterdam to Berlin on EasyJet:  $41 per person

Berlin to Prague was by bus for $20 per person

As you can see, traveling around Europe is very inexpensive if you fly or take the bus.  We are on the Polski bus right now heading to Krakow for $12 per person.

Another tip I’d like to mention is our method of renting cars.  I have been using Autoslash and so far, I love it.  You make the reservation with them, and if a lower rate becomes available, they will contact you with the option to accept the lower rate if you want to change rental companies.  For instance, I rented a car for Ireland and the original price with Avis was $331 for 8 days.  Several days later, I got an email from Autoslash informing me that I could switch to Budget for a rental of $150 for those same days.  Well,  duh..”Yes” was my answer.  Last night I rented a car for our upcoming trip to Greece for $266 for 8 days, and this morning I had an email saying they could lower it to $160; so of course, I accepted.   

Here’s one more tip for those of you who are planning to go overseas for an extended period:  get a Charles Schwab checking account.  They will refund your ATM withdrawal fees at the end of each month.  Those fees can add up quickly, and it’s nice to have that money coming back to you.  We also don’t have to worry about exchanging money as our withdrawls are in the correct currency for the country we are in.  If you are using a credit card while overseas, be sure you have one that doesn’t charge foreign exchange fees.  There are several credit cards that do not have those fees including the Barclay Arrival card that we primarily use.

Joseph

Joseph here, and I am in the midst of what seems like an impossible dream. I never imagined going on a trip like this. Too expensive, too much work, too crazy of an idea.  Ten months?  That’s too much time away from home, the people I love, and the things I love doing.  I absolutely despised the idea when they first told me three years ago, but I eventually grew out of it when I realized how school is so stressful. In order to plan something like this journey, one must be a bit crazy, and my parents are just that!

As soon as we packed the car and drove away, I missed home. My friends and family have been on my mind ever since I said goodbye to them, and it hurts to know I have eight months left away from them. Hopefully, it will be totally worth the experience, and I will continue to learn amazing things about this world and my life.

Ireland, England, France, Spain, The Netherlands, Germany, and the Czech Republic.  These are all places we have been so far in a month and a half.  If I were to assemble a top three, I would have to go with: 3. France 2. Czech Republic 1. Spain.  France is great because of  Paris and Normandy.  Paris had so much history, and going up on the Eiffel Tower is one of the best moments of my life.  Normandy was a very powerful place. I have learned about D-Day in school and have seen movies about it, but being there was something I’ll always cherish.  I was standing on the beach where thousands of Americans died in a horrible manner to protect our freedom.  Prague in the Czech Republic is so cool to me because it is well preserved and unaffected by bombs from wars. It's like walking through a town in the medieval times with its old buildings and old decorations.  Spain was my favorite because of the beach and how cool a city Barcelona is.  It is like a bigger South Beach, but with less restrictions on women’s clothing......But I have loved every place we’ve been and can’t wait to see more.

I am happy to dodge the stresses of junior year in high school and instead I’m living my friends’ dreams.  After a while I have really missed the perks of America like air conditioning, refills on drinks, time with friends and family, and snacking. I miss my TV at home, and I especially miss watching Panther games.  But I have true friends that realize my struggle and know I have cheap parents that won’t buy a TV package, so they FaceTime me the games. Yes, I know it is desperate, but they are willing to do it—amazing.  Otherwise, I have had a great time making unforgettable memories with my family.  I can’t wait to make more and see incredible things. 

Deveny

Hello, this is Dev. I wanted to talk about things in the trip that my dad hasn't mentioned yet:   things like how we all get along, how I communicate with my friends, my teeny tiny backpack that is supposed to hold my entire wardrobe (still not okay with that, Mom and Dad) and what it’s like to travel the world at fourteen.

Okay, so let's start with what it’s like to live with your parents and moody brother for ten months. You have to understand living with your family at home and on the road are two completely different things.  Not saying it's all bad, but it does have its cons at times.  Now I love my brother dearly, but finding his socks on my bed...and in the bathroom..and on the couch does test me a bit.  Being on the road and living in an airbnb doesn't guarantee you your own room, which is difficult after a long day and you just want your own space, but it's all worth it in the end.

I stay connected with my friends through snapchat and instagram.  It's definitely not the same as being with them and hearing their stories about the awful thing we call high school, but it does the job okay.  I wish I could've taken them with me, and whenever I'm out wandering the streets of some foreign country, I often see things that so and so would love or things that so and so would really get a kick out of.  I have to keep reminding myself that this isn't a permanent thing, and before I know it I'll be back in a classroom wishing I were here again, but until then, my friends and I make these...we’re weird, give us a break.

And now the dreaded backpack.  Right now my wardrobe consists of four shirts, two pairs of shorts, one pair of pants, and two dresses. We try to keep it as simple and light as possible, and whenever I buy something I throw something away to make room in the backpack.  You don't know how much it pains me to walk into a pretty boutique in Paris and not go crazy and buy everything. But I have been making plans to come back one day and buy so much stuff I'll have to check a bag at the airport (the horror). Living out of a suitcase does get cumbersome at times, but I try to make the best out of it, and just think, I never have to clean out my closet!.

All in all, I think traveling is the best thing since sliced bread, and anyone who says differently obviously hasn't met my mom and dad.  Travel as much as possible.  I think almost anyone would rather travel the world then go through freshman year in high school. Okay, I think that's all I have to say...for now.
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#getdevabiggerbag2016 

Vysehrad

The 1,100-year-old fort of Vysehrad sits about 700 feet above the busy streets of Prague. We determined it was a little over a mile from the flat, so our intrepid group set off for a close-to-home expedition.  Up to this point in our visit to the Czech Republic, we’ve used the cheap, reliable public transportation to get around, but today we wanted to get a better feel for the streets around the neighborhood, so we hoofed it using an oft-folded tourist map as our guide.  The blessings of beautiful weather have been bestowed upon us since we’ve been in Prague, and another generous portion was given to us this day.  High soft clouds barely smudged the canopy of deep blue sky. Walking under the sun’s rays provided cozy warmth but strolling in the shade of the tall buildings gave a slight chill for which a light jacket was the perfect remedy.

The streets in Prague commonly change names every couple of blocks, so we had to keep consulting the map to make sure we were on the right track to the fort, but we had the luxury of time and nowhere else in the world to be on a nice afternoon.  Somehow we got a bit off track and ended up walking some of the way on a trail through a park that ran parallel to the main street, a bit of serendipity that we didn't mind.  As we got closer to Vysehrad, we could see the towering ramparts of the old fort in the near distance, and our heartbeats quickened as the street began to rise.  There are camps of historians that contend Vysehrad was the original settlement of Prague while others maintain that the city emerged from the area around the castle on the other side of the river.  Details get a little hazy after 1,100 years, so maybe all the smart guys can settle things with an arm-wrestling match.

The grounds of Vysehrad occupy the entire ninety-acre hilltop beside the Vltava river, and the majority of the area has been converted to a park that includes a walking path around the perimeter of the ramparts.  The old basilica of St. Peter and St. Paul with its twin spires sits at the back of the grounds right beside the historic cemetery that holds the graves of many Czech natives dear to the people such as Bedrich Smetana and Antonin Dvorak.  The cemetery was completely engaging, and we spent the better part of an hour walking among the graves.  Deveny particularly enjoyed our time here as many of the markers were individual works of art with sculpture vignettes and busts of the departed presiding over the graves.  She asked if we could return to the cemetery at night, and I offered some lame excuse that the park would surely close before nightfall, disguising my fear of sitting in an ancient eastern European cemetery in the dark when the vampires come out.  We found the resting place of Bedrich Smetana, the world-renowned composer of "The Moldau", and took several pictures of the obelisks marking his grave.  The two flanking obelisks are affixed with plaques engraved with a run of notes on a single measure of music, and I purposed to find their origin later that evening.

Basilica

Smetana's Grave

All Along the Watchtower

After walking the grounds of the basilica for a while, we spent the rest of our time at Vysehrad walking the ramparts and taking in the lofty views of Prague from a perspective we hadn’t yet seen, eventually resting for a while on benches and talking about our adventures so far.  By the time we were ready to leave, the shadows from the chestnut trees were long on the grassy lawns. We began our descent from Vysehrad headed to a coffee shop we had noted on the way up.  Anna, the cheerful proprietor of the shop, enjoyed using her English skills to describe the goods on display that she had baked earlier in the day.  We enjoyed raspberry cheesecake, pumpkin bread, and cranberry muffins while sitting on a comfy sofa near a window looking out to the street.  Petr, the barista, made a cafe americano for me, and I watched with admiration as he perfectly pressed fresh grounds into a cup of steaming espresso.  At the table I added hot water and sugar to the cup and entered a dreamscape that can only be understood by lovers of this most excellent hot beverage.

We stopped in a few shops on our way back to the flat taking our time, pleased with our decision to stay in the neighborhood today and cooked up a big spaghetti supper when we got back home.  Later I spent some time researching the bar of music from Smetana’s grave, and I was dismayed by the absence of information.  I had my suspicions though, so I pulled up the score of "The Moldau" and compared the notes from the first measure to the one on the grave marker—a perfect match.  The piece opens with flutes playing to create images of the flowing Vltava, and I liked that one of the Czech Republic’s favorite sons now rests overlooking the river he portrayed so beautifully in music.

The Moldau

In the spring of 1994, I was twenty seven years old, newly married, and about halfway through my second attempt at college, a six-year, night school odyssey in pursuit of a bachelor’s degree.  I was working 50 - 60 hours a week and could only manage one class per quarter, but I enjoyed my classes in a way that I had never experienced when I was younger. I began to realize that maybe I wasn’t as thick as I had always considered myself.  I took night classes at Central Piedmont Community College for four years, and I liked my professors very much: they were sincere, well-prepared, and engaging, and I found myself enjoying courses like psychology, logic, philosophy, and creative writing.  One of the courses I enjoyed the most was music appreciation, and in the spring of ‘94, I was introduced to compositions that stir my emotions to this day.

I can’t remember my professor’s last name, but her first name was Marylou, and she was passionate about classical music.  She was a tiny lady in her late fifties with short brown hair and huge glasses that covered two thirds of her face.  She wore colorful bohemian style clothing with tall leather boots and always came crashing into the classroom with armloads of CDs, sheet music, and a chunky boom box.  She would spend the first half of class exploring musical periods through history while explaining terms and covering biographies of classical heavy-hitters.  The second half of the class was everyone’s favorite as Marylou would plug in the boom box and excitedly share beautiful music with the group, her anticipation so intense at times that she would fumble the CDs and send them clattering to the floor.

The piece of music that I remember most vividly from that class is "Vltava" which translates as "The Moldau". It is one of a set of six symphonic poems from a work called Ma Vlast (My Homeland) by Czech composer Bedrich Smetana written between 1874 and 1879.  Nationalism was popular in music of that period in history, and Smetana composed "The Moldau" in praise of the river that is the lifeblood of the Czech people and their land.  He described "The Moldau" this way:

“The composition describes the course of the the Moldau, starting from the two small springs, the Cold and Warm Moldau, to the unification of both streams into a single current, the course of the Moldau through woods and meadows, through landscapes where a farmer's wedding is celebrated, the round dance of the mermaids in the night's moonshine: on the nearby rocks loom proud castles, palaces and ruins aloft. The Moldau swirls into the St. Johns Rapids; then it widens and flows toward Prague, past the Vyšehrad, and then majestically vanishes into the distance, ending at the Elbe.”  

Isn’t that great? The melody of "The Moldau" is hauntingly beautiful, and I remember closing my eyes when I first heard it imagining farmlands and old castles on the banks of a river that must be spectacular to behold.  I also remember thinking as I listened that it would be wonderful to see that river and that country, but it would be impossible to do so.  

Well, yesterday, I plunked down fourteen dollars and my driver's license as a security deposit, and in return, my family received an hour of time on a paddleboat in which we paddled all over the Moldau in the shadow of the Prague Castle and the Charles Bridge.  Deena brought the whole thing up, and I was initially leery of the idea considering the river is a daunting third-of-a-mile wide with a current that would surely sweep us into the hinterlands of Poland or the realm of Count Dracula farther into eastern Europe.  My fears were calmed as we easily paddled with and against the river’s gentle current; we spent a relaxing hour taking in the city of Prague from a completely different perspective.  At 5:00 in the afternoon, the setting sun’s rays were in direct line with the buildings on the banks of the river, and the colors of the stucco facades were rich and intense in the light.  The sun was setting behind the cathedral and castle on the hill above the city, and the backlighting made them seem more prominent and imposing.  The water looked like gently undulating glass, and we were accompanied by huge gliding swans and mallard ducks bobbing up and down searching for an evening meal.  Was this paddleboat excursion a blatant touristy activity?  Heck yes it was, and we enjoyed it so much that we might go back and do it again before we leave in a few days.

Deveny on the Moldau

Joseph on the Moldau

We spent the rest of the evening ascending the hill by tram and walking the grounds of the cathedral and the castle, eventually strolling back down for a meal as darkness descended on the town.  We walked back across the Charles Bridge stopping every so often to take in the views of the city and the warm glow of the towers and spires lit from every angle.  The Old Town Square drew us back once again, and it had a completely different look at night with fewer crowds to negotiate, and we enjoyed watching the antics of the fire eaters along with other street performers.  The hour was late when we returned to our flat, and we stayed up a while longer talking about all the fun we had during our evening in the city and how leaving Prague will be difficult in a few days.  I made a trip to a place in this world which I thought to be impossible in my younger days, and now I have some memories of good times with my family in the Czech Republic to go along with the melody of "The Moldau" that’s been with me for so many years.

View from the Castle

Weekend in Prague

Other than being 4,600 miles away from home in a temporary dwelling in a different city where everyone talks funny, our weekend in Prague, Czech Republic, was fairly normal.  We slept late, cooked a big breakfast, and teased each other good-naturedly around the table as we lazily started our Saturday.  By mid-morning the sun was bright, and from the open windows, the cool fall air filled our flat while we stuck to our routine of schoolwork, writing, and research.  Having learned our lesson in Normandy where Sunday grocery store closures forced us into survival measures, Deena and I walked to the neighborhood market with a substantial list of needed supplies for the weekend and aspirations of cooking fancy meals at home.  For the next hour, we haunted the aisles of the Tesco Express loading our cart with staples and searching for harder-to-find items like canned black beans and a can opener, which was the only appliance our kitchen lacked.  I would challenge anyone in the world to walk into a grocery store in the roast duck and cabbage-loving Czech Republic and locate a package of fajita seasoning—it took us an hour, but we found one package at the back of a lower shelf that I’m sure had been languishing there since the Velvet Revolution.  Our two weekend dinner recipes called for chicken broth, and we couldn’t find it anywhere to our dismay.  I stood in the aisle and typed in a Google search for the Czech translation of chicken broth but kept getting directed to articles written by world-class foodies lamenting over the non-existence of chicken broth in the Czech Republic.  

We finally gave up, grabbed a few packages of chicken cup-a-soup as a substitute, and spread all our items on the checkout counter for purchase.  The cashier was friendly, and after she scanned our items, she kept pointing over my shoulder and repeating something in this other language they keep speaking here.  I just stood there and gave her the pleasant “I have no idea what you’re saying smile” and handed over my money.  I realized a few moments later that she was pointing at a poster of a Tesco loyalty card behind me and was asking if I had one to scan.  One cannot buy anything in the United States without suffering through a ten-minute interview at the register while the cashier asks for some form of a “valuable customer” card leaving one to feel like a second-class citizen if a card isn’t produced, and one will be sure to hear,   “Well, you could have saved five percent today with a card. Are you sure you don’t want to apply for one?”  They leave off “...so we can track your shopping habits under the guise of member savings and send you advertising based on your past purchases so we can control your life and eventually rule the world.”  The citizens of Eastern Europe think they’ve won their freedom, but they’re sadly mistaken—Tesco is gaining control of their lives, and for once I was glad I couldn’t speak the language.  

We searched for chicken broth one more time at another store on the way home with no success, but we did find a can opener that set us back three dollars.  There is a convenience on the corner of our street run by a friendly Vietnamese family. Knowing it would mostly milk, bread, beer and snacks, we considered going in there on a last ditch effort to find chicken broth but decided against it thinking we would be greeted with, “Good morning!  Today we have sale on chicken broth, everything must go!  Free can opener with purchase!”

By 2:00 we were hungry and ready to get out of the flat; so we boarded a tram and headed back to Wenceslas Square and the fall festival to which we had vowed to return.  In the square, which was packed with people enjoying a beautiful fall day, we all stood in separate lines to wait for our food of choice.  I scored a chicken kebab right off the grill, placed in a fresh baguette; Deena and Deveny split a steaming sausage; and Joseph walked up grinning over a plate full of roast pork shaved right off the spit.  The food was delicious and cheap, and we had money left over for cinnamon-covered chocolate-filled doughnuts—good thing we’re walking a lot on this trip. We spent the next hour back in the fabulous Old Town square and waited with the throng to see the astronomical clock chime the hour and put on the show.  After another stroll through the Jewish Quarter, we boarded the tram back to the flat where we made a successful pot of taco soup with our fake chicken broth and twenty-five year old fajita mix.  Deena sat me in the middle of the floor and gave me my third haircut of the trip while the kids caught up with their friends on social media.  We had a fun Saturday, and we looked  forward to attending church across the river on Sunday.

The Square

Krispy Kreme doesn't have these

Fall Festival

A little internet research led us to the website of the Faith Community Church of Prague, an English-speaking congregation located across the river and up the hill in the area of the Prague Castle.  The church website listed brief biographies of the ministerial staff, and we read that three of the five pastors attended Reformed Theological Seminary back in our hometown of Charlotte, North Carolina.  Churches in Europe have services in the afternoon, a practice we hope will catch on in the States one day, and we chose to attend the 4:00 worship experience.  

We boarded our trusty number 18 tram and settled in for the thirty-minute ride through the heart of Prague.  About half way through the journey, two young men in their early twenties staggered aboard the tram, one clutching a bottle of beer, both very drunk.  They were dressed in black—one had a shaved head and a few days worth of stubble on his chin, and the other one wore a flat-billed ballcap and mirrored sunglasses.  They spoke to each other loudly in English with thick accents, and we determined that they must have hailed from different parts of Europe and shared English as a second language.  They stood in the aisle next to us and for the next fifteen minutes through a high-volume, profanity-laced conversation, we learned they were roommates with gambling and alcohol addictions; they had struggles with money and family issues; and one had seen so much evil in his life that he had to consume large amounts of drugs in order to sleep at night.  I was angry that my family was subject to their lack of consideration for others, and I breathed a sigh of relief as the tram reached their stop, and they staggered back to the streets of Prague.  As I sat there during the remainder of our ride, my anger quickly turned to concern for these young men, and I considered the masses of young people across the globe who lack hope, purpose, and direction and use alcohol, drugs, and other vices to fill in the gaps as they drift along.  As a fifty-year old man with a wife and kids and thirty years of hard work in the rear view mirror, it’s sometimes hard to remember when I was young and not much different from the two men that were standing next to me a few minutes before.  I bowed my head and prayed that God would forgive my cold-heartedness, and that he would show Himself in a powerful way to the young men I saw on the the tram and to people everywhere who need hope and direction.

We found the Faith Community Church building with relative ease arriving with twenty minutes to spare before the beginning of the service.  To my delight and hearty approval, they had coffee available from a large silver urn, and I filled up a big cup before joining my family in the small sanctuary.  The room looked like a large fellowship hall with chairs arranged around a small lectern and a guitar plugged up to a sound system in the corner.  There were large open windows down the length of the wall behind the lectern, and they were closed before the start of the service to drown out the sounds of passing trains.  One of the pastor’s wives, Shanna, welcomed us and was curious to hear about our travels.  The service started, and for the next hour and a half we sang, prayed, and listened to Pastor Jake preach a compelling sermon from the book of Micah about the faithful promises of God.  We traveled back to our flat thankful for new friends in this warm congregation.  

Our homemade dinner of pan-fried chicken with a white wine and green onion reduction, rice, and buttered carrots was a huge success, and we listened to the Carolina Panthers lose to the Minnesota Vikings while we ate.  After a few Facetime sessions with family back home, we called it a weekend in Prague and went to bed ready to start a new week of our journey.

Faith Community Church

Czech Republic - Prague II

The Czech Republic and its capital of Prague have seen many political changes since the city’s founding 1,100 years ago, but the people of the country have persevered, and strong national pride is evident.  The citizens of Prague have enjoyed an extended period of freedom since the Velvet Revolution and the fall of communism in the late 20th century, and they are proud of their capital city.  We decided that a walking tour was in order to begin our historical immersion in this eastern European metropolis, and some traditional food was in order as well.

Joseph and Deveny continued their studies in the morning while I sat by an open window to enjoy writing while looking out over the courtyard.  A crew of tradesmen were performing an exterior renovation on the building across the yard, and they were chattering back and forth to each other in the typical cheerful banter of a tight crew working outside on a nice day.  Deena dived into research and secured a bus ride from Prague to Krakow for late next week, but we eventually left the kids to their schoolwork while we went shopping. We returned with a lot of food for little money.  Lunch was leftover Chinese supplemented by the Czech version of pigs in a blanket still hot from the grocery store bakery.  These beauties were crafted with a sausage a little larger than an American hotdog, wrapped in a buttery croissant, and baked with a crust of sharp cheddar cheese—they set us back thirty cents.

Our walking tour was scheduled to meet at the historical Powder Tower at 3:30, and we had to take a different tram line in order to reach this part of the city.  Fortunately, our public transportation mojo was working at a high level, and we secured tickets and seats on the number 18 tram within 20 minutes of leaving our flat.  The majority of the public transportation systems we’ve used on our trip so far have been based on the honor system.  Each ride on a bus, train, or tram has required a ticket for passage, but in most cases we could have just walked on our chosen method of transport without paying, and no one would have been the wiser.  We’re honorable people and would never attempt such chicanery, but I’m sure many people take advantage of the system.  All of the tourist booklets and city websites mention the possibility of random ticket inspection by transportation officials, but we’ve never witnessed such an act—until we rode the number 18 tram today.  

The Czech method of riding public transport in any form requires the purchase of a single ticket from yellow machines cleverly hidden from tourists around the city.  The machines take only Czech coins, which are difficult to obtain unless one stands in line at a bank to change paper currency. I’ve started hoarding these coins letting them slide through my fingers while muttering, “My precious.”  The single-ride tickets are good for thirty or ninety minutes and must be validated by machine immediately upon entering one’s chosen form of transportation.  Failure to possess a properly validated ticket can result in hefty fines levied by plainclothes transportation authorities who supposedly target tourists typically unaware of these procedures—yeah right.  My custom is to keep my family members’ tickets together zipped up securely in the hidden pocket of my synthetic zip-off hiking pants, because...well, because that’s just the way I am.  

The number 18 tram was crowded, and we had to take seats at different locations all along the length of the car. Halfway through our journey, I noticed a man and a woman sitting in front of me turn to each other and nod in a way that could only be a signal—it was a raid.  They rose quickly from their seats, took badges out of their coats, and began demanding proof of ticket purchase from passengers, and they were heading directly for my ticketless children, who were woefully unaware of the possibility of detainment and interrogation.  As the tram sped along twisting and turning on the rails, the kids cluelessly stared at the inspectors as they yammered at them in rapid-fire Czech. I desperately tried to reach them working my way through the tram looking like a painter who had just consumed his paycheck at the local watering hole.  I finally managed to show a validated ticket for all of us, and the inspectors were pretty cool about the whole thing, but from now on, everyone carries their own dang ticket.

We made it to the Powder Tower with fifteen minutes to spare. Our guide for the next two hours was Vaclav, a native Czech with strong command of the English language.  The tour group of only eight members set off promptly at 3:30 into the Old Town section of Prague.  Rounding the corners in this area was like turning the pages of a fairytale picture book as the cobblestone-paved alleys opened into plazas full of baroque buildings trimmed with gilded gables and statues of popes and Czech heroes of days gone by.  Most of the buildings are finished with lime-washed stucco in tones of ochre, sienna, earth brown, and pink capped with terracotta tile roofs.  Statues built into the walls of many of the buildings in corners at the edge of the road served as a medieval form of street address.  We saw the house of the Black Madonna, the house of the Two Golden Bears, and the Stone Bell house.  We couldn’t believe our eyes when we walked into the Old Town Square and beheld medieval majesty suspended in the 21st century for our absolute pleasure.  

Powder Tower

Stone Bell House

Unlike the lives of the citizens of Prague, the buildings were undamaged by wars of the last 100 years. Surrounded by street musicians and food vendors roasting huge hams over charcoal fires, it seemed that we had stepped back in time.  We lingered for a while at the famous 500-year-old astronomical clock which gives a didactic mechanical performance at the top of every hour.  Vaclav told us about the legend of the clock’s builder, who was supposedly blinded by the town fathers so he couldn’t duplicate the clock in another town—that’s how they rolled in the Middle Ages.  Angered by his treatment at the hands of the city council members, the builder threw himself into the largest gear of the clock, ending his life and bringing the clock to a halt until his body could be removed—good grief.  

Astronomical Clock

Vaclav told us many stories about the suffering of the Slavic people over the centuries while subject to governments and ideologies forced upon them by outsiders, and he said now that the Czech Republic and Slovakia have separated, there is much less tension and no more blame for civil unrest.  The second half of our tour took place in the Jewish Quarter where we saw one of the oldest synagogues in Europe and had a glimpse of the Jewish cemetery packed wall to wall with 12,000 grave markers and as many as 12 layers of graves in some areas.  The Jewish community in Prague had a few highs but mostly lows over a thousand years, and the population was decimated during WWII as the ghetto was emptied and its occupants shipped to concentration camps.  We will hear many more stories of Jewish persecution as we continue traveling in Europe, and our hearts break a little more each time one is told.

After completing our tour on the east side of the Vltava River, we walked across the Charles Bridge, which is used exclusively by pedestrians, to the New Town side where we said goodbye to Vaclav, an excellent tour guide.  Along the way, we saw statues of religious figures along the rails and watched the artists sketching portraits on the edges of the walkway.  Hunger pangs turned our thoughts toward our neighborhood and the promise of local cuisine; so we managed to find a tram stop on a new line, and thirty minutes later we were seated at a table in the U Bansethu restaurant sipping cokes and local brew waiting for our food.  

Roast duck and pork prepared with dumplings and cabbage are traditional Czech favorites, and neighborhood restaurants prepare these dishes with pride without charging a lot of money for them.  Czech beer is regarded by aficionados as the best in the world. At one dollar per half liter, a visitor to Prague could afford to have the best beer in the world at every meal…theoretically.  Deena ordered roast duck with dumplings and cabbage; I ordered pork with potato salad; Joseph and Deveny ordered duck burgers made from ground duck breast with fries; and we started the meal with a plate of fried cheese and savory sauce, another Czech traditional favorite.  Each entree cost about four dollars, and I am not ashamed to say that we stuffed ourselves silly with this amazing food—everything was so flavorful and compelling we couldn’t stop eating until our plates were almost empty.  I saved a portion of my pork to fry up with our eggs the next morning, and we paid our small check before waddling back to the flat feeling like Prague was our new favorite city in the world.

At the Charles Bridge

Vltava River

Czech Republic - Prague

We spent our last day in Berlin on the banks of the Spree river at the DDR museum which exists to show the quality of life for the average citizen of communist East Berlin.  One does not need a museum to ascertain that the quality of life was not that great, but it was still a kitschy, inexpensive way to fill the time before we were due at the central bus station at 3:00.  We spent the early morning packing, cooking breakfast, and cleaning the flat, and we even managed to catch the early bus to the train platform.  Our flat in Potsdam was so comfortable that it was hard to lock the door and walk away for the last time.  

Back in the center of Berlin, we discovered large lockers for rent at the Alexanderplatz, and we were able to stow all our gear—walking around was then a lot easier.  The DDR museum was not too crowded, and thanks to our sacred printer, we already had tickets in hand and could sail through the entrance.  Overall, exhibits in the museum were kind of hokey, but there were excellent maps and explanations of the the government setup, and culture references were posted everywhere in an easy-to-follow format.  The curators did their best to provide English-speaking visitors proper translation. I got a kick out of reading signs with out-of-date idioms like “...a dishwasher was as rare as hen’s teeth.”  I enjoyed seeing the two cars on display:  one was the tiny Trabant, the ONLY car available to citizens of East Berlin, if they could survive the seventeen-year waiting list to get one, and the dark blue Volvo Landaulet reserved for the ruling class...or whatever they were since the society was supposed to be classless...hmmm.  The main point of the museum was to show the disparity between the average citizen living in fear and want and the government living in plenty with laser focus on controlling the lives of the people.  The creepiest display was a kindergarten classroom which was considered the gateway to grooming a child for service to the state. It was full of propaganda appealing to children.

We got our eight euros worth out of the DDR museum, ate our lunch of peanut butter sandwiches and apples on the bank of the Spree, and watched the tour boats glide by in the early afternoon sun.  We hiked back to the train station, retrieved our luggage, and spent an hour searching for a non-existent bus stop due to outdated information from one of our trusted navigation sites.  Fortunately, we had plenty of time and were able to figure out an alternate route to the central bus station, and made it there after a thirty-minute train ride and a half-mile walk.  We found our platform, loaded our gear on the bus, and settled in for a four-hour ride to Prague, our home for the next nine days.  The ride was smooth and  uneventful, and we arrived in Prague around 8:00 in light rain and darkness.  Deena negotiated a taxi ride, and fifteen minutes and 300 kronus (12 dollars) later, we were greeted at our new flat by Monika, the cheerful and efficient owner.  The flat is beautiful, well-stocked, and inexpensive, a great combination.  Monika spent a lot of time with us explaining the public transportation system and showing us the locations of nearby grocery stores and restaurants.  Eastern Europe is known for less expensive goods and services, and we’re hoping for a little lighter tension on our budget.  We settled in quickly and crawled into soft beds with thick comforters, ready for some good rest and excited about exploring a new city.

Next day, we began a new routine that will be our modus operandi through eastern Europe.  After our stay in Prague, we’ll be in Krakow, Poland, followed by Budapest, Hungary.  Since we’re staying in each area for a longer period of time, there’s not so much pressure to pack in the sights, and we can get a lot of schoolwork done.  After breakfast, the kids started their assignments about 10:00 while Deena and I ventured out to explore the neighborhood and to buy groceries.  There are several small markets within a couple of blocks of our flat as well as a huge drugstore that has more than one brand of deodorant and toothpaste unlike the stores in other countries where we've been traveling.  We enjoyed a big lunch together around the kitchen table and gave the kids the option to do another session of school after lunch or in the evening upon returning from sightseeing—they chose the afternoon.

 

Today was the first day of autumn, my favorite season and one that brings me a strange mixture of comfort, reflection, and yearning—for what, I do not know.  Maybe it’s for the small, simple joys of youth and the pleasures of being a reflective child during the fall.  Growing up, I loved this time of year when the trees were tipped with red and gold, and the low angle of the sun stretched longer shadows on the ground all through the day.  The air became dry and crisp with a slight chill that was just enough to warrant pulling on my favorite faded jeans and trusty denim jacket.  I didn’t mind that darkness came earlier, and I enjoyed riding my bike in the twilight as the smell of crunchy decaying leaves and woodsmoke from neighborhood chimneys took me deeper into the reverie of the season.  School didn’t provide much pleasure for me, but I endured the long days in the classroom anticipating weekends, Halloween, and Thanksgiving.  

When I was twelve years old, I discovered The Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien, and the pattern of my life was forever altered.  Along with The Hobbit, these three volumes became my escape from the realities of life, and I spent hours in my room reading every word wishing I could travel to Middle Earth.  Since that time, I’ve read Tolkien's masterful trilogy every year beginning on September 22, Bilbo and Frodo Baggins’ shared birthday, and I started reading it again for the 38th time yesterday—call me a geek, I do not care.  The Lord of the Rings is my literary mountaintop, and I have read every word of the forewords from many editions, the prologue, the works themselves including every line of every poem and song, and the appendices at the end of The Return of the King.  After lunch yesterday as I opened our sitting room window, I could see the courtyard one floor below lined with oaks and evergreens and the grass already partially covered with yellow leaves.  A light breeze carrying a slight chill softly swelled into the room as I settled into a chair and entered Middle Earth one more time.  As locations and points of reference shift in life, I’m thankful for the few small alcoves that are unchanging and offer comfort and refuge through the course of the journey.

We determined that we would tackle the Prague tram system, have dinner in Wenceslas Square, and return to our flat before darkness set in.  With that lofty goal in mind, we hit the streets in search of a place to change paper money into coins for the ticket machine, and then find a ticket machine—and then find our tram stop.  All those things accomplished, we finally boarded a tram an hour later about fifty percent sure we were headed in the right direction.  Even though the Czech language sounds softer than German, it’s just as undecipherable with added symbols making it appear Elvish.  Many helpful people have already offered assistance by counting change and pointing directions down the angling avenues.  

Our research paid off, and we stepped off the tram into Wenceslas Square to join the throng of people strolling the square, enjoying the sights, and searching for a suitable restaurant.  Our aim this early in our stay was not historical but to start getting a feel for this 1,100 year old city and life in eastern Europe.  A popular meeting place for citizens of Prague is “under the tail”—the area around the statue of good prince Wenceslas sitting on his horse, presiding over one of the largest and busiest squares in Prague.  The stirring view from this statue overlooks colorful buildings and distant spires, and we began our search for food from this spot.

The Side of the Square

Like any good travel enthusiasts looking to sample local Czech culinary staples, we had dinner at a Chinese restaurant located on the second floor of an alley building right over the Zombie Bar.  The fried rice and sweet and sour pork was delicious and cheap, and we enjoyed our repast looking out the window onto the square below.  There was a gelato stand right outside the alley, and of course we stopped there to order cones of limone, fragola, chocolate, and Snickers to top off our meal.  We strolled to the far end of the square about a half mile away and found ourselves in the midst of a fall festival complete with mulled cider and wooden carts full of bright orange pumpkins.  There were vendors roasting whole pigs on a spit, craftsmen offering their creations for sale, and a blacksmith was working in his shop right in the middle of everything, the smoke from the forge tinting the air with the acrid tang of bituminous coal.  We wished we had discovered the festival upon our arrival on the square, but we decided to return over the weekend and sample some of the food.  We achieved our goal of arriving back at our flat before dark, and by 8:00 we were settled in and doing a little reading before bed.  Much to our delight, a quick review of our expenditures for the day revealed that we were under budget by half—welcome to eastern Europe!