To Prague – 19/04/08

It is a wet morning that greeted us in Bamburg. The rain had caught up with us, and now that it had, was making good work of dappling our faces in a fine mist. We hid ourselves under a tarp on the side of the truck and dragged ourselves back to consciousness with tea and toast.

Last night stutters trough my memory: efficient fumblings with my thermals; dumping a drunken irishman in the shower to wake him up; conversations about footballl and girls with a group of bored turkish boys; 74% rum and smoked dark beer. Certainly the alcohol must be blamed for taking over the jukebox and playing MC Hammer. (It was a good night.)

Bamburg is a beautiful town, sloping roofs, cobbled streets, statues staring benevolently down n the poulace from the corners of crossroads. Affluence seeps ou of the stonework, money shnes from the immacuate window displays. This is a rich town, so pristine and manicured it is almst suffocating. Whereas Cologne had an organic and lively feel Bamburg has been dipped in some kind of cultural formaldehyde for preseveation. I am glad to be out of here and heading for Prague.

3 nights and 2 days we will spend in the Czech capittal. Each day I promise myself that my money will be saved for cheaper places, then fail miserably when the beers come out. Tonight will be different I hope: must stay away from Absinthe. However there is lots to see in this city – my previous visit with Mum and brother was exceptionally cultural. Perhaps this time should be sent searching out existence on the streets.

Dire Straits is on the radio as rain drips down the cab windows. (I've stoppered a leaky window with a tssue.) C continues to read her day-old guardian as I chew on her pen. My jumper smells like booze and i am very happy indeed!