Since we knocked out the two biggest sites in Prague the previous day (Jewish Quarter & Prague Castle), we used the next day to familiarize ourselves with some of the finer offerings of the tourist bureau. We began the day with a driving tour of the city and castle - in a cream-colored, eighty-year-old  car with a Czech driver named Lenny. As far as touristy activities go, this one is at the top of my list for best ideas ever (on par with a gondola ride in Venice). Though some of Lenny's historical facts became hard to hear over the sound of the engine, we thoroughly enjoyed rambling along the cobblestones and being the subject of lots of photographs taken by impressed men of all ages. (We're pretty sure they were more impressed by the car than its three foxy female passengers, though.) 

For lunch, we took another of the Frenchman's suggestions and went to a pub off of Wenceslas Square for a hearty Czech meal. My mother had been lamenting the fact that all we had done since being in Prague was eat "foo-foo French meals," and had yet to try anything resembling Eastern European fare. Despite her initial excitement at the prospect of some goulash and a cold Czech beer, her mild dislike of both meat and heavy dishes won out in the end. We each ordered a different take on  the traditional stewed pork, potato dumplings, and cabbage, and let's just say we think we figured out why Czech food hasn't yet joined the ranks of international culinary overlords (think Thai, Indian, Mexican). After lunch, we strolled back into the main part of town and checked out a few of the garnet shops Prague is so famous for. In fact, I'm the proud new owner of a small garnet ring, and Natalie of a garnet necklace. As we stepped out of the shop and into the main square, we practically bumped into a team of seven-foot-tall Chinese basketball players, all wearing matching red jumpsuits and taking pictures of themselves in front of the big clock. In Chinese, I asked one of them if he would be in a picture with me. He answered in Chinese, and then did a double-take before gesturing to all of his friends that I was speaking to him in Chinese (as if I couldn't understand him). We all had a good laugh, and then went on our separate ways. Sigh.

City tour in 1930s automobile? Check. Czech meal (complete with Czech beer)? Check. Garnet shopping? Check. Nap time? Czech. Uh, check. After we put our feet up for a bit, we headed back down into the Old Town Square for a good, old-fashioned Italian meal. Having sampled the local cuisine, we felt entitled to a greek salad, a thin crust pizza, and a bowl of homemade pasta at Pizza U Minuty, a restaurant just off the main square. Normally I try to avoid the places catering specifically to tourists, but we were in need of simplicity and a familiar meal (that wouldn't cost us an arm and a leg). This place really did the trick. After dinner (which ended with my all-time favorite dessert, Tiramisu), we walked back across the Charles Bridge one last time and were stalked by a crazy man wearing headphones (who, as it turns out, was not at all opposed to public urination). We turned in for an early night, resting up for our six hour journey back to Munich.

...on the city of Prague. Or the feast of Stephen. But I like my version. It's more applicable to my own experience, anyway.

If I were to recommend one set of travel books to you, it would be the Frommer's Day by Day guides (you can check them out here). So far, I've used them in London, Paris, Florence/Tuscany, and Prague, and I'm sure I'll buy them in the future for other cities as well. The books come with both a fold-out map on the front cover and a full-sized map in a nifty little pocket at the back, and provide more than enough information about how to see a city (including self-guided tours, where to stay, dining advice, key phrases, and historical 101s) in a book small enough to slip into a purse (or a large coat pocket) without having it weigh you down. We referred to the Prague Day by Day guide... daily. And it really came in handy on our first morning, as we were able to follow along in the book and walk the entire Jewish Quarter, reading about each stop along the way. I particularly enjoyed seeing the Old Jewish Cemetery and the Spanish Synagogue.

After a refreshing lunch at a nice French bistro (complete with snooty waiters) we headed down to Old Town Square and the Charles Bridge, where Natalie bought a lovely painting of the Prague cityscape. We then made our way by foot to the castle (which involves quite a bit of uphill meandering and some 200 stairs - well worth it for the view). By this time it was 4:00, so we decided to buy the reduced-fare tickets that would get us into the Royal Palace (seriously impressive), St. George's Basilica (built in the 10th century!), and Golden Lane (tourist trap). The interior of the castle complex (which is the largest of its kind in the world) is certainly breathtaking, if only for its sheer immensity. But I have to admit that I prefer the castle seen from afar - from the Charles Bridge, perhaps, lit up by a sunset and gazing regally down upon the city like its rulers must have done long ago. (Wenceslas?)

We had dinner at Kampa Park, a very nice restaurant right at the foot of the Charles Bridge (we saw it from up there earlier in the day and decided we had to check it out). The pumpkin soup with walnut ravioli was a winner among all three of us, but after two fancy dinners in a row, we were ready for a change of pace on day three.

Last Monday, my mom and her friend Natalie came to visit me in Regensburg. We had a lovely three days there together before heading off to visit Prague, a long-time travel dream of my mother's.

The four and a half hour train ride from Regensburg to Prague was, well, not exactly what we had bargained for. Having lived in Germany for the past few months and knowing what I do about regional (not ICE) trains, I knew that our transportation wouldn't be quite top-notch. We did splurge for the first-class tickets, which got us a whopping five seats to a compartment (instead of the usual six) and a skinny rectangle of aged carpeting (instead of the usual cracked linoleum). Our direct line to Prague was destined for adventure, however. About two hours into the ride, our train came to a screeching halt in a small Czech town just across the border from Germany. A bellowing female (I think) member of the train staff knocked loudly on our compartment door, gesturing for us to get out. In very broken German (English was a no-go) she said that a truck had overturned on ze tracks and vee vould haff to take zee bus to anahzer station. Zhen vee could get on anahzer train und go to Praha. So the three of us lugged all of our suitcases off that train with the other passengers and clambered up an unpaved road in the rain to board large buses in an unfamiliar land, heading toward an unknown destination with people who didn't speak our language. We were sure, of course, that we were being sold into the Eastern European sex trade.

After twenty-five minutes of driving along twisting back roads, listening to Linkin Park blasting out of the bus's Communist-era radio and laughing nervously at our predicament, we arrived at the promised "next station" and boarded the train. The train left immediately (what if we had stopped to go to the bathroom? There was no process to make sure all passengers were safely transferred from the first train to the bus to the second train). 

We arrived in Prague about an hour later than expected, and set off to find a taxi that would take us to the Prague Castle Hotel. The first cab driver we talked to assured us he had good prices and a meter, and after we schlepped everything down into his car and buckled up, he held up a laminated card (his 'meter') that said he would charge us 980 Czech crowns to get to our hotel. That is just under $50. Luckily we knew better, because Natalie's guidebook had warned us of cab scams and told us that a cab shouldn't cost any more than 200 crowns inside the city. We had better luck with the next guy, and arrived at the hotel around 4pm for just 186 crowns. Not too shabby.

That night we had dinner at Alchymist, an upscale restaurant recommended to us by our French compartment-mate from the train (who lives in Prague). The decor was certainly impressive (think candelabras, mirrored mosaics, lots of velvet) but the Mediterranean fusion food didn't wow me. Maybe I've just been spoiled by my mom's saffron rice. :)