Barcelona: Day 3--Last day in Europe

Barcelona

Check out was at 10am, so we woke up at 9:50, told the desk we were checking out, then went back to bed for another hour or so. At around noon Max and I went out to grab some lunch and hit the beach. It was about a 20-minute walk to the beach and by the time we got there it was sizzling hot! First thing was first; Max and I sat out for an hour or so and got our tan on. Then, after debating whether or not to get a massage (I ultimately decided no, for all those wondering) we hit the boardwalk for some drinks then made our way back to the hostel to pick up our luggage and grab some dinner.
We stopped at a restaurant with outdoor seating to enjoy one last meal and take advantage of the 18 year-old drinking age one last time. Shelman asked for a Heineken and, because they didn’t have a drink menu, I said I’d take whatever beer he recommended. Dude came back a minute later with a Heineken for Max and a non-alcoholic beer for me. Thanks, Bro. Really hit it out of the park with one. The only thing worse than having to pay for a non-alcoholic beer is the fact that the waiter pegged me for the type who’d really one. YMAPE, sir. Anyways, we ate our meals, I drank my beer-water, and we headed off for the airport. It was 8 pm by the time we made it to the airport (after waiting at 2 wrong bus stops for the airport shuttle) and our flight wasn’t until 6:30 am the next day. However, not wanting to shell out extra money for another night at the hostel, we made the decision to just crash at the airport. The building itself was pretty sweet, lots of restaurants and shopping to be had, though we just went to sleep on the hard tile floor. Oh, and by the way Shelman ran out of contact solution so the night before he filled his contact holders with Visine instead, which I guess wasn’t a great idea because his right eye got pretty swollen, but anyways…
We woke up at 5:15 and after zombie-ing around for a bit, got on the plane for our connecting flight to Amsterdam to pass out. We then slept for the entirety of the five hour layover in Amsterdam then got on the plane to JFK, where I’m writing this now after a dinner and several (free) dranks.
So, there you have it, folks and friends. Max and I made it through three weeks in Europe with just a backpack each. Hit 11 cities in 20 days, visited 13 UNESCO world heritage sites (as far as I can tell), and only lost one backpack lock (as well as about $2,600, but it was $2,600 well spent). We got beef goulash and great beer in Prague, white sausage in Germany, weird pancakes in Amsterdam, authentic Belgian waffles, croissants and a Royal with Cheese in Paris, steak in Barcelona, gelato and pizza from all around Italy, pasta from Florence, fresh seafood from the Cinque Terre, and wiener schnitzel in Vienna. We saw ancient buildings, modern architecture, countless churches, castles, and gardens, and even had time to hit the beach. We took boats, planes, trains, cars, subways, buses, and bikes. Met people from Holland, Argentina, Germany, England, Australia, Ireland, Turkey, Italy, France, Sweden, Switzerland, New Zealand, Russia, Czech Republic, Denmark, Mexico, Norway, Uruguay, and Ecuador. Thanks for following along, everyone. We’ll leave you with this final piece of advice: Receive with simplicity everything that happens to you.
All for now,
Sneaky n’ Slimetodd

PICTURES: The last picture of Europe with all our luggage; Me eating a last meal in Europe before we left for the Barcelona Airport

Barcelona: Day 2

Barcelona

The weather wasn’t great in the morning but we couldn’t complain—until this point we had mostly sun. The worst weather we ran into during our three weeks in Europe were two days of morning showers that quickly cleared up. Anyways, as history history tends to repeat itself (sic), the weather cleared up by the early afternoon.
We took the metro to the Sagrada Familia, the biggest and most famous work by innovative 19th century architect Antoni Gaudi. We then made our way to two other Gaudi houses just down the block and then up to the Parc Guell, a park designed by Gaudi. All of the places we visited were amazingly unique and way ahead of their time. We got a quick bite in the park and after walking by a few bush-league street performers (one guy just dancing to no music, one guy blowing bubbles, just real rookie stuff) headed home for dinner.
We went to dinner with our two roommates, Emma and Sarah from England, as well as a kid named Eric from Oregon, and an Aussie named Steve. Steve was a real character. The dude was 39 and more full of BS than he was full of himself. He was the king of one-upping. Anything you had done, he had done better. You’re in college? He has his masters. You like the Mets? He likes the Yankees. You’ve never been to England? He never has and never will. Don’t get me wrong, this guy was amusing beyond belief but really just sort of a nut case.
Anyways, that night we went out to a place on the boardwalk called IceBarcelona. It was a beachside bar with a back room made entirely out of ice that was -15 degrees C (dunno what that is Fahrenheit but trust me it’s cold). Max had a good time dishing out drinks, and I had a blast listening to Steve tell more and more outrageous stories. Overall it was a great way to spend our last night out in Europe.

PICTURES: IceBarcelona; The entrance to Parc Guell; Shelman at Parc Guell; La Sagrada Familia

Barcelona: Day 1

Barcelona

The ride to Barcelona was rough. Our first train was at 7 in the morning and one of our connecting trains was absolutely terrible. It was a rinky-dink red box-on-wheels that looked like it was being held together by scotch tape. The train was so full that even with people standing in the aisles, some passengers were left behind because they couldn’t fit inside. Definitely a ride to remember. Anyways, miracle of miracles we made it to Barcelona at about 4:00. We stopped for lunch on the way to the hostel. I ordered at double hamburger, which was literally just that. Two beef patties on a plate. Great. Max had a chicken sandwich that came with a fried egg on top (eggs, we later learned, came on top of pretty much everything). We unpacked, looked up things to do in Barcelona, geeked around for a little while, then passed out.

Paris: Day 2

Paris

We set off for the Palace of Versailles early in the morning by way of subway. The first stop was the garden, although this was more like Central Park than a garden. God knows how long it would take to explore the entirety of the massive garden, but I’ll tell you one thing, Shelman and I were not about to find out. We took a small tour, hitting all of the main attractions (still took us nearly two hours) where we saw this little bug:



Figure 1: Not sure what kind of bug this was but I sure dug its colors! (Cooler than this bug: http://ghanaphotoandvideo.blogspot.com/2010/05/little-red-bug.html? Vote in the comments section)

Then made our way to the actual building to get a look at the famed Hall of Mirrors as well as whatever else was in the Palace. Keep in mind now that we were on a time budget here. Today was our only full day to see Paris, so not only did we have to tour the palace but we also had to get back to the city, see the Eiffel Tower, and get my Royal with Cheese all before dinner and it was getting sort of late. With a line just to buy a ticket to the palace that looked to be two hours long, there was no chance that this was happening. So Shelman wormed his way to the front of the ticket line (instituted ‘cutsies’ if you will) and I met him there. Getting to the front of the ticket line in a minute when others waited an hour to get there may have been sort of a mean thing to do, but sometimes the ends justify the mean, right? (see: The Office) Anyways, we got into the palace, rented an audio tour type thing, checked out the hall of mirrors, the king’s room and all that good stuff then were on the way to the Eiffel Tower in no time.
The view from the top of the Eiffel Tower is pretty awesome—the climb to the top is not. After goofing around for a bit up top, Max and I made our way back down (took the elevator down because as much as I hate walking up stairs, nothing grinds my gears like having to walk down hundreds of stairs. The whole way down as I thump down stair after stair, all I think about is how much more awesome a slide would be. Like it wouldn’t be that hard to install and it would make the walk up totally worth it. Although if it’s one of those plastic type slides like at McDonald’s with those fat metal screws on them that shock you on your way down, then forget about it, I’ll just take the stairs. Cause if there’s one thing I hate it’s getting shocked by fat metal screws and if there’s two things I hate it’s getting shocked by fat metal screws on slides and cancer (see: East Bound and Down). Anyways, I digress)
That night, nearly out of money, we went to the grocery store for dinner and picked up pasta and beer—a French classic (so we were told). Not wanting to nearly miss our train again, we called it an early night and woke up at 7am the next morning headed for Barcelona.

PICTURES: Max at the Eiffel Tower; Me in the famous Hall of Mirrors; Me at the Gardens of Versailles; Shelman at a fountain in the Gardens; a picture of the colorful Gardens

Paris: Day 1

Paris

The train ride from Florence to Paris was nuts. I woke up at 8:53 am in our hotel room with clothes and cantaloupe scattered everywhere. Our train, I realized suddenly, was at 9:00. I quickly ran the numbers (thanks, Mr. Jolley) and, if my calculations were correct, figured we had seven minutes to pack, check out of the hotel, and get to the train station. I shook Max awake, gave him the rundown, and we booked it out of the hotel. As we ran down the street, half of our clothes in our bags, the other half falling out of our bags, and the third half in our hands, I remembered that if we missed this train we likely wouldn’t be able to get another one to Paris before our return flight home. Instead, we would have to spend more money on another train ticket directly to Barcelona and skip Paris altogether. Determined not to miss an opportunity to get a Royal with Cheese from Paris (see: Pulp Fiction) and maybe Louvre and the Eiffel Tower if there was time, we got on our proverbial horses and turned the jets on all the way to the station.
The finish was more last minute than Landon Donovan’s World Cup goal. Closer than Michael Phelp’s photo finish. More thrilling than Fairfield, CT going to the Little League World Series. And more exhausting (exhaustive?) than this list of recent great sporting moments. At any rate, we made the train and enjoyed a peaceful ride to Paris.
Upon arrival at 7:30, we realized that the Louvre was free for students under 26 after 6:00pm on Fridays with a passport (pretty specific guidelines, huh? I had to read the rules like 5 times to make sure we qualified, which we did). We went right from the train station to the Louvre and saw some of the greatest works of art in one of the most famous museums in the world.
Afterwards, we stopped at a nearby McDonald’s for dinner. I was beaming when I saw that the Royal with Cheese was on the menu, but when I ordered it they said they didn’t have it (not sure if it was sold out or what, their English wasn’t very good). Needless to say, I hadn’t be this disappointed since I ran out of sports metaphors to describe our train station dash (see above). I settled for a Big Mac and we made our way home for the night.

PICTURES: Me at the Louvre with all our luggage for 3 weeks; Shelman with the Venus de Milo, Me with the Mona Lisa, Us at the Louvre

Tuesday, August 10

Hey all, sorry we haven’t been keeping up on the blog. The Internet here has been flakier than Sticky. Finding a good connection has been more challenging for us than it is for Gator to tie his shoes. The service is worse than his comedic timing. The wireless is splotchier than his senior year prom pictures. (We’ll get all the jokes out of the way early this post. On an unrelated note, miss ya Justin! Got you a sick tie in Florence) That being said, the postings won’t cover every day now, but we’ll try to fill you in for the most part and if things are slow, maybe we’ll fill ya’ll in on whatever we missed. Anyways, here it goes:

Florence: The Cinque Terre

We spent the day in the Cinque Terre, a set of five cliff-side villages on the coast with a hiking trail between them. The weather was premium, if not a bit hot, but the scene was unreal. We started at the Southern-most town, Riomaggiore, and worked our way north to Monterosso. The second town was basically a set of colorful streets and narrow alleyways. One alley in particular had a bunch of balconies looking over it. As we and other hikers walked through, we were bombarded with water balloons and kids dumping buckets of water out onto us. It was a nice cool-down for me as well as Max. I know this because until that point I had been practically wading through Max’s trail of BO (which was, in all honesty, most likely compounding with mine). Anyways…
When we finally made it to the last town, the sun was setting but we went for a quick dip before finding a place for dinner along the boardwalk. What I experienced next was one of the greatest seafood meals of my life.
I ordered mussels in a green garlic soup as an appetizer and fried calamari for my entrée. When the waiter brought out my appetizer, I was surprised to see linguine in my dish but you never know when Italians might throw pasta in something just for kicks and the linguine looked delicious so I just went with it.


Fig 1: My linguine. Looks pretty delicious, huh?

Well, let me tell you, the linguine was delicious. About three minutes in I was halfway done with my meal, as Shelman and I had worked up quite the appetite (the hike was just about 5 miles long.) But, here’s the best part—they gave me the wrong dish! Munching harder than ever, I received a tap on the shoulder from our waiter, followed by an explanation about how he mixed my dish up with someone else’s, an apology, and a huge, fresh bowl of mussels. Never has anybody apologized to me for doing something so nice. “Apology pending” I told him, and shot him a million-dollar smile (thanks, Jack). Anyways, I absolutely MURKED those mussels, then it was on to the calamari, which I also DESTROYED. Sidenote: The calamari came with no marinara sauce and when Max asked the waiter for some, he seemed confused (didn’t speak much English) and brought us salt (sounds like “sauce” I guess) and bread (who knows what he thought we were asking for). Eventually, a different waitress came over, again couldn’t understand what “marinara sauce” was, but after a while brought back cold meat sauce. Close enough, for Max, and not worth any more trouble. But is calamari and marinara an American thing? Lift-up on the sidenote: Isn’t marinara Italian? Why didn’t the waiter understand what “marinara” was? PS on the lift-up: Did you know that root beer is strictly an American thing. Not only is it not served in Europe, people here don’t even know what it is. When Max asked a waiter (separate restaurant in Rome) for some RB, the dude had no idea what he was talking about. How do you explain to someone what root beer is? It’s tough, believe you me.

Pictures: Max and me on the boardwalk, A view of one of the towns from the hiking trail (I believe this is Riomaggiore), Me climbing the rocks, Shelman taking in the view.

Monday, August 9

Rome

As soon as we woke up this morning we realized had been too focused on raging the night before and forgot to book our Ancient Rome Tour for today. After scrambling around for a bit, we found a bus tour that would take us around to the important sites with an audio recording that told us fun facts about each place. Maybe not as good as a real live tour guide, but on a hot Rome day (proximal to 95 degrees) less walking was more premium.
Our first stop was the Colosseum—-amazing in Gladiator but even better in person. The place is huge and mad old. After stopping for drinks (we were un-quenchable that day) we got back on the bus and visited the Piazza Navona, the Pantheon, and finally the Trevi Fountain, which may have been my favorite stop in Rome. The thing is massive and just altogether epic. Italy hasn’t rolled out something so awesome since Mario and Luigi. I guess it’s true what they say: When in Rome…
We stopped on the way home for some authentic Italian pasta and seafood (mussels, clam, and shrimp pasta):


Fig. 1: Delicious seafood from Rome for me and a pasta dish with many cheeses for Max.

then headed for the train station en route to Florence. Really it was a pretty long day, filled with lots of sight-seeing, but summed up pretty easily I guess. Any suggestions of things to do in Florence, Paris, or Barcelona, leave 'em in the comment sections please. Thanks -Sneaky 'n' Shel

Pictures: Me at the Trevi Fountain, Raphael's tomb at the Pantheon, Me and Shel at the Colosseum, Max on the bus tour with some nice gardens in the background.

Sunday, August 8

Rome

An alarm clock wasn’t necessary this morning; the second hand smoke was so strong we could see it seeping from the walls and Shelman was spooning me for the third time that night. Nevertheless at 10:50 we got a call from the front desk telling us to get out. Like, thanks Bro, but you’re preachin’ to the choir. You don't have to tell us twice--thx.
After riding a rickety elevator (felt safer sleeping on the Venice streets) to the first floor, we walked outside and were in Rome. Incredible.
On the subway to the Vatican, a kid was killing it on the accordion, playing Somewhere Over the Rainbow—Italian rendition (I didn’t know it was possible to rock an instrument from 1822 so hard). We saw the St. Peter’s square, St. Peter's Basilica, the Pieta, and a bunch of papal tombs (including the tomb of Pope John Paul II). From there we walked to the Spanish Steps, snapped a few pics, and decided to head out for some more authentic Italian pizza (the pizza in Venice was, how you say, dank). We sat down and ordered two slices each. Now, I’m more of an eater than a cooker so correct me if I’m wrong, but last time I checked this was not two slices:


Fig 1: Whatever this is, it's NOT only two slices of pizza.

What this is here is over 5 pounds of pizza. We know this because they charge by the kilogram and what we thought would be a small snack ended up costing over $20 each. Just ridiculous. Back when I was working at the Birchwood Snack Bar, if somebody ordered a bottle of water and I came out with a 5-gallon water cooler, I'd get punched in the tooth then get fired. No respect. I just don't know where this lady gets off serving slices of pizza that are more than a pound each. At any rate, you can be sure that Shelman and I have had our fill of pizza for a while.
After our meal we headed for our hotel (a nice one, for a change) to freshen up and wash our clothes. The hotel was great-—nice staff, clean rooms, and blizzard cold A/C. The only confusing part was the bathroom.


Fig 2: Bad-flushing toilet on left.

The second toilet took like 15 flushes to flush down number 2’s, and when Max and I were using them at the same time we were looking each other in the eyes. Anyways…

Now Sunday night isn’t the biggest night in the holiest city in the world, but Shelman and I still had a great time tearing up the pong table and absolutely lighting up the dance floor. At one point, Max dropped a move so hard I swear even the pope felt it, funny hat and all. We also met this kid, Harry, who dished out handshakes WAY too much. Like, once he gave me a handshake for giving him such a great handshake. Hilarious, but the dude needed to relax. We also met two Irish girls with funny accents and a bunch of other goofs n smokes.
Anyways, the night came to a close and after picking up our sweet free t-shirts (what’s better than a free t-shirt?) we stopped at McDonalds (classic Wieser) for some munch. There, like with the pizza, I was clowned on again. Now there’s no way of knowing for sure, but I’m almost certain I ordered two hamburgers. What I ended up with was a piece of cheese between two burger buns. After looking everywhere for my patty (could it have fallen out in the bag?) I devoured my cheese-and-bun-sandwich and Max and I headed home.

Pictures: Us on the Spanish Steps, Sheltod climbing around at the Vatican, The Pieta, Inside St. Peter's Basilica (the place is huge, this is just a corner of it)

Saturday, August 7

Venice

Max here (aka Lord of the Dance): After our train ride was conveniently changed to arrive in Venice at 3:40 am, we found ourselves with nothing to do, but sleep in the tunnel leading to the main terminal, which was closed. Other backpackers and bums were getting some shuteye. Pete popped his backpack on the ground, rolled over, and passed out. Being the more responsible character I am, I stayed awake and watched as rando's passed, keeping an eye on sleeping beauty. It struck 5:30 and I decided a warmer shelter was in need. Like most Americans, especially Wies, we started our day at McDonalds. Once the sun finally showed up we went into town to receive the first breakfast at an outdoor cafe. Off to St. Mark's Square, we thought, but the Venice streets were narrow and very misleading. After a solid wander-sesh and a few loser laps, we arrived. More food was on our minds after a long journey and a few kinks in our backs. Peter munched a raw ham sandwich (gross) and I took down some za. Next was to see the Grand Canal leading into the ocean. Watching the sun light up the boats and ports as the day went along, "made me realize something. The weather is amazing, even the birds are bumping." So we lugged our bags back to the square to feed the silly pigeons. Silly, they were, because without even feeding them one perched on my backpack. Peter giggled up a storm as we played like 4-year olds with these birds. Since it was only 10 am after our bird sesh (remember we started our day at 5:30) we left to check out the sites--the St Mark's Basilica, the Peggy Guggenheim Museum, and the classic Venice bridges. On the way, pizza and gelati was a big hit and kept us going under the hot sun.
Pizza was primo--thin crust, but not too crispy like at V in Westport, chewy and tastey. An excellent snack by all means. Gelati is just as legitt, sweet and creamy with a sprinkle of Italian love. Trying to follow the canal was a challenge because of dead ends, so we would hit a pier every now and then. Two tall logs standing vertical in the canal as boat cleats struck my eye and I felt the need to climb and so I did. I'm about to fully stand up and I get the wobbles. I think to myself "I'm about to take a dip." Luckily I hop off and stomp the landing. Lastly, we wanted to get on the water because that's what Venice is all about. A ferry ride up the Grand Canal to the train station ended our Venice voyage.

Pictures: Us at the waterfront, Me gazing into the Grand Canal, Me balancing, Peter on a canal, Peter with a bird.

Thursday, August 5

Prague

Because we booked our hostel so late we were only able to get 2 nights at one hostel and needed to stay our third night at a different hostel. So, this morning we had to get up by 10:00 and check in a few minutes down the road at the Pension Tara. The whole thing was slightly annoying, but we put up with it (see: being friends with Grodman). We dropped off our luggage and headed for the Lennon Wall, armed only with two cans (BM, G, Bedford) of spray paint.
After a few minutes of planning, we went to work. In front of a small crowd (see: TB Devil Rays games) Shelman and I tagged the Lennon wall, forever leaving our orange and yellow marks in Prague. Three quarters of the way through, however, we ran out of paint and not wanting to buy another can, were forced to leave our artwork unfinished.
Later, we made our way up towards the Prague Castle, stopping for a hot-dog (see: Smith, of course) lunch along the way. We walked around the castle, through its many courtyards, and even into a mini vineyard on the Castle grounds. The small grapes in the vineyard were extremely sour to eat and left much to be desired. [Fun Fact: the Prague Castle is the largest ancient castle in the world, according to the Guinness Book of World Records.]
After hiking back to our hostel, Shelman and I passed out hard (see: Akshay Buddiga, Spelling Bee, 2004). When naptime was over, we went downstairs for dinner and then to Starbucks to connect to the Interweb and update you, dear readers. Tomorrow at 7:00 am it’s off to Vienna for the day, then we’ll take an overnight train to Venice and see Italy for the first time. Suggestions? Questions? Ideas? Leave ‘em in the comments section, folks!

Pictures: Us telling the Castle guard to RELAX; A view of the city from the castle (vineyard in the background); St. Vitus Cathedral at the Prague Castle (Variety is the spice of life, KWIS?); Me tagging Lennon Wall; Max and I with our (semi) finished products

Wednseday, August 4th

Prague

Hey all, it’s Shelman. I also go by Max if you didn’t know, but most recently Lord of the Dance. That name came from the Americano dominance on the dance floor in Prague. A pub crawl was in store for us on Wednesday night where we hopped from bar to bar with 80 other fellow bar hoppers. The first three bars were cave-like, in that they were underground and bricked out with green laser lights. However, none compared to the final club with 5 floors and a different style of music on each floor, called Karlovy Lázně. The night was spent going up and down floors and busting new moves that Europe has never experienced – the nugget, for example. Girls ranged from British to American to Australian to Czech to Danish. The breakdown:
British – very cute, but a strong attitude, which was either good or bad
American – really cool…just kidding really boring
Australian – accent is amazing, all around primo (study abroad spring 2011 yeeee)
Czech – not big on dancing and became very offended when I broke wind which due to the new food here, was a common occurance
Denmark – LOVED American and Aussies, right oh
“We do not speak Americano” was a crowd favorite and grew on sneaky Pete and I . However, American music was overwhelmingly popular so the songs were of no surprise. Sheltod out.

Sneaky Pete here supplementing Shelman (you may know him as Max or, more recently, Lord of the Dance).
A few things we saw today: the Prague Astronomical clock (pretty cool), Old Town Square, the Charles Bridge, and the Lennon Wall. Fun Fact: the Lennon wall, a symbol of youthfulness and freedom, has been covered with John Lennon-related graffiti and lyrics from Beatles songs since the 80’s. Anybody who would like to can tag the wall at any time, a pretty cool concept (see also: 5 Pointz in Brooklyn).
Some things we ate: Sandwiches at Bohemia Bagels (thanks Cassidy for the recommendation), and Czech Beef Goulash, which is entirely more appetizing than it sounds. Sorry, Queen Stickums, we couldn't find doner kabobs but we'll keep our eyes peeled in Vienna.
An adventure we had: Getting a new camera. The camera that we had was pretty old and didn’t take great pictures (see: pictures on our blog), plus Max didn’t bring the charger and we were running out of battery. So, we went downtown to Tesco, the European all-in-one store. While I walked around looking for spray paint (for the Lennon wall), Shelman was asking around for a camera. When I came back, the scene was hilarious. Max, already tired from a long day of travel, was being "helped" by a salesman who wouldn't know if something bit him in the ass if he knew something bit him in the ass. Anytime Max asked the dude a question he would huddle up with two other salesmen, discuss with them, and then he would return more clueless than he was before. Max, just wanting a camera already (is that so much to ask?!) started getting more and more frustrated, which only flustered the saleman more. Like Galen's beard, this cycle kept building on itself until it was unbearable. In the end, Shelman, like a bad doctor, had no patience for the dude's shenannagans and we left (not before taking a picture, of course).


Pictures: Old town square at night; My Beef Goulash and Shelman's chicken with potatoes (see: last night's dinner as well); Tesco salesman; Shel with a smoke; Fog waterfall at Karlovy Lázně

Tuesday, August 3

Prague

The 7-hour train from Munich to Prague was one with 6-person cabins, rather than individual seats and boy was it packed. Max and I couldn’t find a cabin with two seats together so we had to split up. I’m not sure who exactly Max sat with, but there is zero chance that they were smellier than the family in my cabin. These guys could have gone pro in making people uncomfortable. I almost lost it when they closed the door, ending any chance for air circulation for the next 6+ hours. And, as if that wasn’t enough, their choice of snack for the train ride was sunflower seeds. Now you may be asking, Peter, I love sunflower seeds, what’s the big deal? Well, young reader, as you may or may not know, while the inside of sunflower seeds can be eaten, the outer shell must be spat out. Do you know what an entire grocery bag of regurgitated sunflower seeds smells like?
Anyways, once we got off the train, I decided it was well time for a prank. Shelman had gotten off the train a few doors ahead of me and was looking the other way. I walked briskly up to him, bumping him as I went past and tried to pickpocket him, for which I almost got a punch to the face. Worth it, though, to see Max snap into action so quickly (truly a beautiful specimen).
On the walk up to our hostel we stopped for sandwiches ($2.00 a piece—you can’t find that in America). Prague, with its narrow streets, few cars, old buildings, and many shops was an instant favorite of ours. We had dinner outside at a traditional Czech restaurant on what can only be described as a swing-set table (the whole thing was on a platform and rocked back and forth). I had rabbit thigh and Czech potato dumplings, and Max had half his weight in Czech beer.
That night, based on my sister’s recommendation, we went to a place called the Beer Factory—a pub where every table has a tap that keeps track of how much beer the table has had, and tables can race against each other. Cool in theory, but when we got there the place was empty. I’ve been to more hoppin’ Waffle Houses at 2:00 am than this place. Put another way, the most interesting part of that pub was the amount of vomit in the bathroom sink (apparently beef is very popular in Prague).
We ditched that joint for another place, Sudu. We stopped briefly at a bench to rest and figure out where we were going when a lady interrupted us (see: Kanye West, 2009) asking us something in Czech (listen lady, if it’s our bench you want you will never have it. We had fives.) Anyways, when we finally found our way to Sudu we were impressed; the club was designed like a series of underground tunnels and had music playing in several caverns. Unfortunately, since neither Shelman nor I are 40 and slightly overweight, we didn’t fit in with the 7 other people that were in the entire place and dipped out early.
We made our way to the Chapeau Rouge where we met up with a French girl and two French guys from our hostel. The place was bumping—a nice bar upstairs and a sweet dance floor downstairs where we showed everyone our moves (see: Captain Falcon). We stayed out late into the night dancing, drinking, and ended up having a great first night in Prague.


Pictures: Shelman peeing with some statues that are also peeing; Us with guards on the Charles bridge (see: Jobs I never want to have); Us with our 3 French amis; My rabbit thigh and potato dumplings, Shelman's teriyaki chicken and potatoes; Us at dinner on the swinging chair-table.