Madrid, Spain, May 22nd - 25th, 2009

In part due to our love of Barcelona last June and also because we had another bank holiday to take advantage of Eric and I decided to travel to Madrid at the end of May. A friend of a friend hooked us up with a hotel arrangement that was right in the center of town. It was a no-frills, truly authentic place; so authentic in fact that we had to confirm 24 hours before we arrived and no spoke English. Eric's Spanish is quite basic and mine is only what I learned from Sesame Street so when they became over-booked and tried to send us to their sister hotel near the airport, our arguing skills in Spanish weren't really all that effective. We said, 'thanks, but no thanks' and at the very last minute, ended up finding another hotel that was quite aways outside of the city, but seemed nice and was really cheap (which is our style).

We arrived late on Friday night and took the metro from the airport to our hotel. The hotel was nearer to the airport than it was to the city center which was nice because it was so late. However, once we got out of the metro, the walk to the hotel was about 10 minutes or so and one guess as to what the weather was like...a wee bit of rain until we actually were inside the hotel and then the heavens opened up. Luckily we were inside when that happened. We watched the most spectacular lightening show from our room. I think we may even have some video footage of it. Didn't do too much that night except go to bed. Nothing except for some really sketchy Chinese place was open for dinner and I was so hungry I think I may have had some canned potato sticks from the mini-bar.

One of Eric's colleagues, who is from Madrid, was kind enough to write out an itinerary for us. We love taking recommendations from locals and were so grateful to Gonzalo for taking the time to share his favorite places with us.

Our first day was spent seeing the major sights of Madrid. We started out first at a coffee bar/tapas bar to get us going. We then took in a few gardens and a few of the main squares, Plaza Mayor (where bull fights and Spanish Inquisition-related executions used to take place) and Puerta del Sol (the official center of Spain). We also wandered into a random market down at the end of Cava Baja, a street we would return to many times. The market was definitely for locals, not tourists, which means it was gritty looking, but great. There was everything you could think of to eat, at least in terms for fruit, veg, meat, fish, etc. Spaniards, at least those who shop at this market, don’t waste any parts of the animal. Strangely, looking at raw cow snouts made us hungry so we went to lunch next. We chose Prada a Tope on Calle del Principe from our guidebook. At 3pm, it was just starting to fill up for lunch so we were lucky to get a table. The hostess/waitress was very friendly and helpful. Her English was about as limited as Eric’s Spanish, but she closed the gap by bringing over an English menu. Then, in case we were still confused she brought us a picture menu, presumably to be used for people who lack both English and Spanish. Well it worked and we had the first opportunity to sample the highly built-up manchego cheese and Serrano ham. Verdict? So so. Sorry, just being honest - go easy Gonzalo!

Makes a good stew?

After lunch it was time for the Prado Museum. If you know me, you know my attention span in museums is pretty short, so we only stayed for about 2 hours. The audio guide, as always, was worth the extra €5 or whatever. The Prado was full of works from artists we tend to see at all major museums throughout Europe (and the Met in NYC), but it’s obviously heavy on the big Spanish names such as Velasquez, Goya, Picasso – these were our focus and they did not disappoint. We then took a little nap on the steps on the way out because it was finally not raining and because it was siesta time. (Aside: Thank you to the inventor of siestas! Siestas son muy buenas. Please come visit America and England and introduce the beauty and rationality of your invention to our ignorant populations.)

A surprisingly nice, quiet drink in Plaza Mayor

After El Prado, we wandered through the Royal Botanical Gardens where we were tempted (successfully) by Edward Scissorhands trees and (unsuccessfully…for now) by the rent-a-boats in El Retiro. We slowly wandered back into town via Gran Via, taking in tons of various pre and post-Franco architecture. Eric’s favorite was the grand art-nouveau Metropolis Building. Since our hotel was so far out of town and we had a few hours to kill before dinner, we wandered the triangular shopping area between Gran Via, Sol, and Plaza de Callao. For dinner we went to a well known and highly regarded place in Plaza Santa Ana called Cerveceria Alemana (‘The German Beer Bar’). Eric’s calamari was a bit rubbery and the ham and cheese was again so-so, so we quickly moved on for a drink along Las Huertas. I can’t remember the name of the place, but it was good enough for people watching and cheap vino. It was relatively late by that point and since we had a long Metro ride back to the hotel we called it a night after a brief and fruitless search for ice cream.

On Sunday morning we were able to move into the Hotel Emperador on Gran Via. We also stopped into the Hostal La Macarena to argue (in Spanish) our case about being unfairly charged for cancelling our reservation (when in fact they had run out of rooms and tried to move us to a different hotel!) Eric later challenged that Visa charge and the case is still pending as of the editorial deadline of this blog entry.

San Gines was flooded with visiting students and visiting
family members of visiting students.

Rastro Market on Calle Ribera was a priority for us, because we love a good market, but this one was more ‘flea’ than ‘antique.’ No purchases made. If nothing else, though, it drew an interesting crowd and the people watching was reward enough. After a lot of walking, we were starved. We went to Orixe on Calle de Cava Baja, a tapas place we had walked enviously past a few times before. Eric had a little trouble ordering the tapas. Image yourself at a popular bar/club, trying to shout drink orders to a busy bartender. It was kind of like that, but instead he was competing with a bunch of Spaniards, all of whom were shouting orders for a few different plates of food – keep in mind that there is no menu and some of the items had already been picked over. Not easy. Thankfully, just about all the different tapas dishes are really good so as long as he could avoid the anchovies, we were all set. After lunch we went to see the main cathedral (Almudena), the Royal Palace (Palacio Real), and the royal gardens (Jardines de Sabatini.) All were very impressive from the outside, but we didn’t venture into any of them, per recommendations from our guidebook and Gonzalo. Between the Palacio Real and the Opera was an amazing statue by Galileo in the Plaza de Oriente. It is supposedly the first ever statue of a rearing horse. The horse is being ridden by Felipe IV, who is mostly associated with the decline of the Spanish Empire. The statue is impressive not only for its size and power, but also for the fact that Galileo was successfully able to make it balance on the horse’s two hind legs.

View from the hotel roof

Before our last dinner we decided to go for a drink in Plaza Mayor. Expecting a typical “Main Square” experience of extremely overpriced drinks and rude wait staff, we were pleasantly surprised by our €3 glasses of decent Rioja, it left enough for us to tip the accordion playing duo who serenaded us with same repertoire they probably suffer through every night of the year. Dinner a Casa Lucio was a good one. The build up to the churros con chocolate from San Gines near Calle Arenal were probably set a little to high, but the experience was fun. There must have been 30 people in line (mostly study abroad students and their visiting families) for the same thing. That churros machine earns its keep.

Rowing in El Retiro

We started the last day of our bank-holiday extended weekend desperately trying to catch some rays on the roof of our hotel, but alas the clouds rolled in. Once we got moving, however, the sun came out and the call of the row-boats on the pond in El Retiro proved irresistible. We rowed ourselves around in circles in the perfect sunshine for about 45 minutes. On the way there we had picked up some incredible manchego at a deli and we devoured it in the middle of the Estanque pond despite the “no food” rules. That’s right, we’re rebels. Gonzalo’s last recommendation took us to a Sushi restaurant up to the business district, past Plaza de Colón (Columbus). It was a bit businessy considering we were in shorts, t-shirts, and sandals, but whatever. The sushi was really good. Eric liked it so much that he “accidentally” ate most of the stuff I ordered. Formal sushi was an odd finish to an otherwise great weekend excursion to Madrid.

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Amman, Jordan, May 18, 2009

I've walked with Jesus.

Well, that's a lie, and Jesus doesn't care for liars so here's the real story.

Two business meetings brought me to Amman, Jordan for three days this spring. I wasn't sure what to expect, but it turned out to be awesome! Our British Midlands flight arrived late on a Sunday night. Two colleagues (let's call them Carmine and Jay) and I shared a taxi to our hotel, the Grand Hyatt Amman. We had a drink at the hotel bar with two of Carine's friends who happened to be there for a wedding...random. Then it was off to bed to rest up before our morning meetings.

Breakfast at nice hotels in the Middle East rocks. No matter where in the world you're from, they'd have something for you. I didn't know what half the stuff was so I stuck with a veggie omelette. Boring, yes, but good (and familiar) fortification for the day ahead. One meeting was better than the other, but the bad one was definitely more interesting. It was a lot like any other business meetings in London, except instead of landscaping or a Christopher Wren facade, camouflage wearing, machine-gun wielding guards patrolled the perimeter of the building. Not to worry, they weren't aiming at us.

Carmine was the only woman we saw inside the labyrinthine building and to add to the effect she had forgotten to pack her suit jacket - the bare shoulders did not go unnoticed. The clients were extremely cordial and professional and the sweet tea they offered was delicious. Unfortunately we had a teeny bit of trouble communicating. Their English only went so far and my Arabic consisted of the five words Carmine had taught me in the taxi on the way over; marhaba, shoukran, naam, laa, hammam. Unfortunately, the purpose of the meeting was not to record the first two minutes of a "Learn Jordanian Arabic!" DVD. Explaining the financial crisis and reassuring them that we would do our best not to lose any of their money turned out to be slightly more challenging.

Anyway, sitting by the pool with a beer (Carlsberg) was a great way to unwind and it was soon time to explore Amman. Carmine had been to Amman before and knew of a great restaurant called Fakher Al-Deen, but alas all booked up (on a Monday!?) So we asked the hotel concierge to recommend a good "authentic" Jordanian restaurant. They sent us to a place across town called Jabri.

Carmine: What kind of food do they have?

Concierge: Mensif is their specialty!

Carmine: What's mensif?

Concierge: Lamb in a yogurt sauce served over rice.

Carmine: Hmm. What else do they have?

Concierge: You should really try the mensif.

Carmine (to Concierge #2): If someone was allergic to lamb, what else could they eat at Jabri?

Concierge #2: No one is allergic to mensif.

Not mensif.  One of the other delicacies

We figured this place and this dish were worth trying so we got in a taxi and made our way there. (Travelers tip: the price of 15 minute taxi ride if picked up at the hotel was 10 dinar ($15). The same journey, but from a taxi hailed at the corner cost 1 dinar.)

When the taxi stopped in front of Jabri, we were, uh, tentative. It was a buffet style fast food joint. I didn't know what any of the food was nor how to order or where to sit. As the only three people in western dress, we stuck out, big time. We went back outside to check the name of the place - sure enough, Jabri. Finally, a nice local gent pointed us around to the side of the building, which included a door to what looked like a hotel. We walked in a felt slightly more comfortable, but it still didn't feel quite right. Carmine exchanged a few words with the receptionist and we were directed into a large buffet hall, minus the food. "No food until 8,"

Carmine learned. No worries, a nice aperitif would be perfect about now. However, this being and authentic Middle East, it's no booze allowed. Clearly I've been living in England too long when the thought of waiting 30 minutes for dinner without the comfort of a drink gives me the willies.

As expected, the buffet food started marching out and other diners started marching in around 8:00. We started with some appetizers which were really good. In consisted of lots of different types of cold salads, hummus, dilly yogurt, tebouleh, baba ganoush, etc. Then, it was time for the main attraction. Ah, how to describe mensif?? Whitish lamb soaking in a soupy yogurt, served over rice. I wanted to like it. I love local stuff. This one was a stretch. I definitely preferred the meat-ball things. I can't remember what they're called, but "Kafka" seems to keep popping in my head so I think it was something like that. The dessert section looked intimidating, again filled with sweets unknown to me. Like the apps, they all turned out to e really good. Having tried the local cuisine, we returned to the hotel lounge for something more familiar...wine.

Carmine had to fly out the next morning, but Jay and I had another meeting the following day. There was only one flight (well, one affordable flight - we had to book last-minute) per day between Amman and London which left at 9:00am so once we finished our late-morning meeting we would have the rest of the day to ourselves. In the middle of breakfast (about 9am) Jay got a call - meeting cancelled. The whole day was ours!

We arranged to have a driver take us to some nearby historical sites. Omar, the driver, picked us up from the hotel around 11:30am. He is a Palestinian and lived southern California for about 10 years in the 90s and early 2000s. At first he was pretty quiet, focused mostly on

pointing out the sights and planning out the day. Later on, however, he loosened up and shared his thoughts on his country, the King and other Jordanian Royals, America, Obama, and even Israel (or "the Israelis in Palestine" as he referred to them.) It is interesting to hear about the Israeli/Palestinian conflict from the other side of the table. Needless to say, the West tends to get a relatively one sided view on things. A few interesting observations:

- There are more Palestinians in Jordan than in Palestine (Gaza & West Bank) and about one third of all Jordanians are of Palestinian descent

- No one in Jordan refers to Israel, but rather they call it Palestine

- People of Palestinian descent who were born in Jordan don't consider themselves Jordanian

It was probably cleaner looking when Jesus was here

Anyhow, after a quick stop at a souvenir shop shop to pick up some goodies for Erin (miracle creams from the Dead Sea) we drove toward the location along the River Jordan where Jesus was baptized. I assumed such a place would be teeming with tourists and religious pilgrims, but I was way off. The dusty parking lot where we would get the bus to the river was nearly empty when we pulled in. We bought our 7 dinar tickets and boarded the "bus" which was actually a pick-up truck with a shoddy canopy and some seats installed into the truck bed. There were probably about 10 people in our group, all Westerners. The Jordanian guide was very friendly and knowledgeable and seemed very proud to be giving us the tour. He was a Muslim but he said 90% of the visitors to the site were Christian. Since the river creates the official boarder between Israel and Jordan we had to go through border control before we got there (border control wouldn't be on the actual river would. The armed guards had a cursory glance in the back of the truck and we were off again.

We drove through the desert for about 15 minutes before arriving and "the end of the road." From this point, we continued on foot. The landscape was barren - the only thing in sight were a few crosses and churches and the rest was dusty foothills. As we approached the river on foot, the vegetation increased slightly and suddenly we were there. We didn't think we were there yet (you'll understand when you see the pictures) but we had arrived. Our guide explained some history about the sight. Obviously there weren't TV cameras or even newspaper reporters there to document the event so needless to say there's something of a debate about where the actual baptism took place. The first semi-permanent structure was added by Greeks in about the 5th century. Since 500 years had already passed since John did the deed, it is easy to imagine that it would be tough to find the exact spot. Well, the rationale he used was good enough for me. I was convinced.

So what does the baptism site look like? I had expected the sight to be quite humble, but after spending the last two years visiting churches and cathedrals throughout Europe, I guess I expected something at least somewhat remarkable. You'll have to see the pics to understand my surprise, but needless to say, the site itself does not do justice to arguably the most influential man/God in history. As it turns out, the water at the exact site is actually spring water. It used to appear to be a part of the Jordan, but over time as the River's water level has lowered it is no longer connected. We were about 2 days behind the Pope's visit to the same place and he evidently bathed or at least touched the water where Jesus swam. I hope the guy has a strong immune system because the stagnant green water looked pretty unappealing.

To think of all that His church has become over the last 2000+ years, it's easy to forget that the Man himself was just a humble carpenter (or fisherman, I forget). Anyway, despite its simplicity, it's hard not to feel a little moved to stand in a place where such an historic event took place.

We continued down to another part of the River. At this place, you can actually touch the water. If you're important enough (we weren't) you can be baptized there. On the Jordan side, there was a wooden platform that led down to the water. There were about 10 or 15 tourists including our group loitering and looking, trying to take in our surroundings. On the Israeli side there was an enormous concrete and marble structure. It looked intimidating, impressive, and expensive. Clearly the skinny river (about 10-15 feet across) separates two very different worlds. Machine-gun armed Israeli guards kept their eye on us, albeit from a distance. No one was disturbing anyone else and if you didn't know the history it could easily be seem almost amicable.

Feeling humbled and a little bit holy, our next stop was the Dead Sea itself. We had bought some swim suits at the hotel and we found one of the few public beaches on the Jordanian side of the Dead Sea coast. A number of new hotels and a new road were under construction, but aside from that it was pretty quiet. The construction was clearly there for the benefit of tourists more than locals. We paid our 12 dinar, changed into our suits and walked down to the lowest land on Earth, nearly 1000 feet below sea-level. (Coincidentally, Chris Grubb would later that week summit Mount Everest to arrive at the highest point on Earth. Congrats Chris! Clearly our mountain climbing careers took very different paths after our overnight expedition on Mt. Hood when we were 15.)

Once I waded in, I immediately understood the need for "how to swim" signs along the entrance to the beach. The water is incredibly salty; 9 times saltier than the ocean. It is so buoyant that it's hard to stay upright. It's not quite as hard as standing on a submerged kick-board, but that's the idea. It's better to just lie on your back and float. I think even my dad could float in this water. One drip of the salty water made it into my mouth and another into my eye. Neither was pleasant. We lasted about 15 minutes - a short, but very cool experience.

Next stop: Mt Nebo. This is where Moses turned to take his last look at the Promised Land after leaving Jerusalem, Jericho and Moab. If you like barren deserts, it's a breathtaking view. Next stop was a Catholic Church in Madaba. The floor of the church is 5th century Greek mosaic map of the region. Very cool. During the 45 minute drive back to Amman, we covered some fascinating topics with Omar ranging from the fiscal reform efforts of King Abdulluh II to the San Fernando Porn industry (a Jewish effort to portray all non-Jews as sex addicts.) Jay and I arrived back in time for dinner. This time the recommendation from the hotel was spot on. The name of the place escapes me, but it was a great Lebanese dinner.

At the hotel in Amman

So is Jesus my Homeboy? Well, I may have walked where He once did and that is good enough for now.

Prague, Czech Republic, May 1st - 4th, 2009

Chuck and Bonnie were in the house again this spring which provided more than enough incentive for another voyage to the continent. This time we chose Prague - partly because we had already purchased plane tickets for the bank holiday weekend and partly because Prague was one of my favorite stops during my backpacking trip in 2002.

Erin and I left after work (well, let’s just say late in the day) on Friday, sprinting to Paddington Station to catch the Heathrow Express to the airport. Only by divine intervention did Erin hop into the train just as it was pulling out of the station. It’s one thing to miss a flight. It’s quite another thing to miss your flight when you’ve already sent your in-laws ahead on Wizz Air with no phone, no email, no hotel reservation, and no back-up plan….yikes. Anyway, we made it so disaster averted.

The four of us arrived at the Angel Aparthotel at Karla Englise 2 in Praha 5 at about 11:30pm. The “hotel” seemed like an apartment building that hadn’t been able to rent out all the units so proceeded to hire the remaining flats out on a nightly basis. It was good enough for sleeping so it was more than sufficient. Night one: straight to bed.

A long walk before breakfast

We got a slow start on Saturday morning. C&B hadn’t eaten since lunch the day before so they were starving. Regardless, we had them walking in search of a suitable bread-roll for about 2 hours. We were about 30 seconds from giving into the call of the Golden Arches, but finally found an Albert supermarket at the top of Wenceslas Square by the Museum. We dipped in for a few croissants and a sausage roll and scarfed it all down amidst throngs of tourists on the main strip.

We then follow Fodor’s recommended “Day 1 of 2” walks to hit all the main sights, saving the castle for the last day. The city was packed! Every street was bursting at the seems and it was only the first week of May! It was incredible how crowded it was. For better or worse most of the other visitors seemed to be locals from various parts of the Czech Republic. We didn’t hear too many languages we recognized so figured most were at least Eastern European. Besides the language, the fashion was also a clue. Needless to say, Paris chic has yet to make it’s way East, at least to the tourist classes…ourselves included. It was actually kind of nice. In places like Paris and Rome one can feel like quite an outsider wielding a camera in comfortable walking shoes and rain gear because everyone else is decked to the nines in Louis V or Prada.

We arrived first at the Powder Tower, so named because it is strikingly white with two red stained-glass windows near the top. Actually that's a lie. It used to be part of the city's fortification system and held the gunpowder. This blackened Gothic structure provides strong contrast against the whimsical, art-nouveau Municipal House next door. The architectural juxtaposition continues throughout Prague and must be one of the reasons it has become such a popular destination for travelers - one of the perks of surviving two World Wars without being on the receiving end of bombing runs.

We made it to Staromak (old town square) by high noon to catch the crowd-pleasing medieval astronomical clock. As hundreds of onlookers gazed upward, the "morality play" which unfolded on the hour was, uh, underwhelming. In our day of computer graphics, TV, and movies, a few garden gnomes representing the 12 apostles gliding past a window just doesn't quite carry the weight it must have done in the 15th century. In fact, the clock's designer was blinded by the municipal council after the clock's completion in order to prevent him from replicating his masterpiece elsewhere. "A simple 'thanks' would have been just fine," he said.

After a sausage and starch-filled lunch in the basement of a pub called Kolkovna, we moved on to the Charles Bridge. Completely packed. Clearly Erin and I have lived in London too long because to us it seemed these heathens could have learned a thing or two about the rules of queuing. Twenty minutes later we had shuffled our way through the masses to the west side of the bridge. Once across we sought a break from the crowds and needed to fortify. We stopped into the Starbucks for the most expensive coffee we'd ever had. The four cups of joe were more than half the price of our lunch which had included huge meals and beers. Kudos American business!

We then visited some well-manicured gardens in Mala Strana, the neighborhood between the Charles Bridge and Prague Castle. Each was in a different stage of bloom. The Wallenstein Gardens were well-manicured and spacious and the melting limestone grotto was unique, but the Vrtba Gardens were out favorite. The views they provided within the courtyard and of the city were spectacular. After the gardens we visited some very quiet streets within Mala Strana and saw the John Lennon Peace Wall before strolling through Kamba Park along the Vltava River on the way back to our hotel.

Dinner was at Pivovarsky Dum (loosely translated as "Brewery House") a 10 year-old micro brewery. It was a popular place, but probably not for the locals. Strangely for a brew house, it was not possible to order beer at the bar which made the 45 minute wait for a table a little more painful than it had to be. I ordered the pig's knee or "knuckle," which turned out to be fantastic despite the presentation making me feel a bit caveman-ish. 18 years later, I now understand what my Dad was raving about at the gasthaus beer garden outside Frankfurt. Delicious. Chuck and I also went for the beer sampler, which included one each of light, dark, wheat, coffee, banana, cherry, and nettle beers.

Karlstejn Castle

On Sunday we woke up early to catch a train to Karlstejn Castle which is about 40 minutes from Prague. Stupidly, I had us schlep for an hour all the way into the central train station (Hlavni Nadrazi) only to get on a train that would backtrack our steps and stop right outside our hotel. Oh well. Sights along the 30-minute hike up to the castle from the train station was very picturesque. Although the main route to the top is now lined mostly with tourist shops, it is very easy to see the quaint town hiding just one crystal shop or sausage-stand layer beneath the surface. The unspoiled surrounding countryside also makes for lots of nice views. Per our guide-book's recommendation, we skipped the inner castle tour and just had a look around the outside. The pictures can do the talking. The lunch we had on the way back to the Karlstejn train station was unmemorable, save for the beer and the friendly waitstaff, both of which were pretty constant throughout our trip.

It's always important to sample a local drink.

Prague's tram system offers a great way to get around without disappearing underground for the metro. We used it to put ourselves within walking distance of dinner. We crossed St. Charles Bridge again, this time at dusk and without the crowds, which reminded me why this sight is so popular in the first place. I can only image how spectacular it must have looked when it first opened 600 years ago. Bonnie had the opportunity to rub the relief of St. John of Nepomuk which sits below a statue of the same guy. He was allegedly tossed off the bridge to drown, but for some reason touching him offers good luck. Seems like it might be better luck to rub the statues of the guys who DIDN'T get thrown off the bridge, but who am I to judge.

Dinner at Novomestsky Pivovar put us over the top on Czech food. It was decent, but nothing memorable. I suppose it's easy to forget that such a beautiful city has only had 20 years of culinary progress since the departure of the Soviets. Using that as a starting point, my goulash and potato dumplings were probably pretty good. After dinner we wandered back to Staromestske namesti to have a drink by the famous clock. The cool intrigue of absinth called for Chuck and me. Erin tied my hands to my sides so I didn't try to cut my own ear off or anything. To my disappointment, there were no 'special effects' other than the ridiculous cotton mouth I had the next morning thanks to the green grain alcohol. Even lacking a boost from hallucinogens, the main square is certainly something special at night. The Kostel Matky Bozi pred Tynem (Big Scary Gothic church) becomes even more foreboding in floodlights. It was once more across the Charles Bridge, then a short tram ride back to the hotel.

After two days of beautiful sunshine, the weather took a turn for the worse on Monday. None of us had packed properly to walk around in mid 40s temperatures so our jaunt around Prague Castle and the royal gardens was brief. We then headed toward the Jewish Quarter to finish off the trip. Before visiting any sights we visited a Jewish deli which, according to the guidebook, served New York style deli sandwiches. It might have been a good place, but they were out of three of the things we tried to order and they didn't take credit cards. The latter constraint would not normally be an issue but we were short on cash so Chuck left to find and ATM and half an hour later we were worried that he would never return.

The Castle from St. Charles Bridge

I had visited a number of the Jewish temples and the Old Cemetery during my last visit so I skipped them this time around. According to Erin they were still well worth the visit, especially the one displaying pictures drawn by children in a WWII concentration camp. The images captured the horrors of some of the darkest hours of European history. The tightly packed grave stones in the cemetery added to the somber experience, even if most of their owners died of natural causes.

Eric's best of Prague: architecture, beers, friendly/accommodating locals

Erin's best of Prague: Karlstejn and the night cap in Staromestske Namesti

Link to Photos: http://www.kodakgallery.com/ShareLanding.action?c=hj0zhyv.8omc75ev&x=0&y=wi9eax&localeid=en_US