On to Prague!

Budapest to Prague

No matter how early I get up, it's always light.

We are docked on the east side of the Danube, the Pest side; downtown Budapest.  Across the river are ranks and ranks of late 19th century buildings along the river, and above them, large classical and medieval style government buildings, and Our Lady of Buda.  None of them are lit up any more, except that their windows glow silver, reflecting the dawn behind me.  Some big wispy clouds float above it all, pink in the sunrise.  The Chain Bridge, unlit, looks plain and sleepy.  A black and white river tour boat sails by, silently, upstream.  Downstream float the ghosts of those who left their shoes on the shore, just a few dozen yards upstream.

No birds; the street traffic on our side hisses softly behind the riverside buildings, which look back across the river stolidly.  More wispy clouds appear in the west; more pink.  The river is as calm, probably, as it ever gets.  Deceptively calm.  There is just a breath of a breeze.

This will be my last memory of the river trip, sitting on the roof, watching and listening, in the midst of a city that is kind of holding its breath, waiting for dawn.

Why didn't I take any pictures?

Later on...

From the sublime to the ridiculous.  A little sublime, but mostly ridiculous.

Bus ride to Prague today (actually, Praha (Ha Ha - 'He goes off to Europe with his nose in the air, and comes back saying 'Praha')).  It's almost the same exact mileage as our trip to the Cape from Oneonta (top of page), but it took longer, mostly because of traffic at both ends.  Also because of one break and one lunch stop, 30 min and 45 mins respectively, required by law for the driver, and if he doesn't, according to the guide, “Big brother is watching.”  Our guide spent a fair amount of time telling us about the countryside, and countries, we were going through, and she was informative and interesting.  However, I detected a twinge of right-wing politics here and there; she's Hungarian, and in Hungary, you're either with Viktor Orban and his theocratic, anti-European rhetoric, or you're against him.  Europeans are to Orban as immigrants are to our current administration.  Also, she also made sure to tell me all the disadvantages of electric vehicles when I asked about charging stations.

We returned to Bratislava.  Remember coasting through Bratislava on the Danube in the dusk two nights ago?  Today we went over one of the bridges – the first one, Most Lanfranconi – that we sailed under that evening.  We had missed a lot in the dark; Bratislava, the capital of Slovakia, is pretty big and sprawling, and modern in parts.  The castle is a really beautiful Renaissance palace/castle, visible from almost anywhere (the guide said it was medieval.  It was, but isn't any more.)  Fun fact:  The castle, in the form it was in then, was one of the only defensive positions to ever hold out against the Mongols.

At the point we entered Slovakia (the pre-EU tollgates and custom station are still there, abandoned or re-used), we could see Hungary behind us, Slovakia ahead of us, and Austria about five miles to our left (west).  We could see hundreds of wind turbines (hundreds!) and they were all in Austria, as was the little village with the quaint church.  So – four countries in one drive.

Where Sarah met Mickey

Another fun fact: we passed the VW Slovakia plant where Sarah met Mickey (circled)!  

Almost the whole trip, the land was either forested or in agriculture, maybe a little more of the latter than the former.  Big fields, factory farming – this is a European breadbasket.  Many of the fields were sunflowers:  green, green, brown, green, YELLOW!  It woke us up.

There has been a pretty serious drought in Europe in general, apparently, which we have benefited from because drought weather for farmers is great weather for traveling.  The fields we passed looked pretty good, but I'm no judge; the effects of the drought might come later.

There are just an unbelievable number of trucks on the road – I never thought I'd hear myself say this, but probably more than on the Mass Pike on a weekday.  We often passed miles of trucks in the right lane, stopped, or stop-and-go, while the middle and left lanes were clear enough to drive the speed limit.  Are they required to travel in the right lane?  Maybe Sarah and/or Micky know.  Regardless, the bus sailed on past the trucks and we arrived earlier than predicted.  

We got to Prague, got off the bus and kind of collapsed in the hotel lobby.  Actually, it wasn't the hotel lobby – it was a whole floor of reception and administration below the main lobby, occupied completely by Viking.  Which was great, because they were there to answer our questions – except questions about the room, which we only found out later are answered by someone else.

And there were problems with the room.  First, we got up to the room on the fifth floor of this massive hotel, and soon after we unpacked we heard a grating, vibrating sound, like a loose fan or a tool on the wall, a little ways away.  Ten or fifteen seconds on and then off, repeated at random intervals.  We wandered around the room, trying to find the source, waiting for the next occurrence.  This went on for quite a while; I went out into the hall, and it was louder.  I went down the hall a few rooms, and it was louder still.

Turns out it was construction going on in one of the rooms.  It's from noon to 6PM, and the hotel, of course, knows about it.  So it was down to the lobby again, figure out who's in charge of construction next door, and get our room changed.  Pack up everything again, including my CPAP machine, which I had already unpacked, assembled, and hooked up.  Up to the eighth floor – and about a mile-and-a-half walk from the elevator to our room, lugging all our luggage three quarters of the way around the perimeter of this very large hotel.  [UPDATE:  Abbey says it's 160 steps from the elevator to our room.]

We got into the new room, and Abbey found a card on the table, welcoming someone - who was not us - to the room, valid through tomorrow.  On the phone again, for a long time; they called us back, said the mystery guy had moved rooms; Abbey asked why, the answer was they didn't know but – even though they didn't know – they assured us it wasn't a problem.

In the meantime, we had gone for dinner, walking to a small restaurant nearby, recommended by the Viking staff.  They had tables outside on the sidewalk, which we shared with the pretty extensive foot traffic.  It was a working class neighborhood; buildings were nice but not elaborate.  Electric trams, powered by catenary systems above the road, went by an average of maybe once or twice a minute; they were full during the first part of the meal, but as time went on the passengership thinned out.  We had a great time – when in Europe, sitting outdoors, eating or drinking (or both) and watching the world go by is something we both love.  The food was really good, and so was the Pilsner Urquell.

While we were eating, we saw two Apple Maps cars (or maybe the same car twice) and another car with a camera on the roof.  Also saw two different cars with “Bolt” on the side (we were told this is kind of a low-budget Uber) almost cause an accident.  Exciting dinner!

We brought back leftovers, and tried to get them in the room refrigerator.  It was locked; no way we could figure to open it.  Called the front desk again (do you see a pattern?).  Turns out it's a mini-bar, and you need to leave a credit card – in person – at the front desk.  So another trip down the ridiculous elevators (did I mention the elevators?  Networked, and way too high-tech for their own good). When I got there, I needed to run my credit card, provide my full name and birthdate, and sign a form.  Just to put our leftovers in a fridge, which we could do in ten seconds in any cheap hotel in America.

And finally, cash money.  We're going on a five hour tour of Prague tomorrow, mostly walking, with a lunch break.  We, and others of our elderly group, asked in many ways about the rest rooms on the way, and we were told, “Oh, just buy something at a cafe and you can use for free.”  That's about as far as we got.  How I am going to stop at a cafe while the walking tour walks on, buy a beer, use the facilities, and catch up with the group, was not described.  If there are public rest rooms in Prague no one has mentioned them.

So – not knowing what to expect, I tried to get some Czech currency at the ATM.  Long story short – it won't work unless you provide a PIN for your credit card.  I don't have a PIN for my credit card.  I've got a PIN for my debit card, which I did not bring because we never use it and no one thought to mention that I would need a PIN in, at least, the Czech Republic.  [UPDATE:  Talked to the Viking rep the next morning; she said she wouldn't have believed that credit cards don't need PINS in the US, but had run into that with Americans before.  She said we'd have to call our credit card company and they'd give us a PIN.  Regardless of the fact that we've turned off our phones for the duration ($10/day charge to turn them on) – I mean really, what in the world?!]

The Atrium

So here I am, sitting in the very nice eight story atrium of this classy hotel, writing the journal, wondering if I'm going to get to pee tomorrow; wondering whether we'll be able to chill our leftovers, wondering whether Mr. What's-His-Name is going to come back in the middle of the night looking for the box of nougats he left in the room, right on the table, which hadn't been found when the housekeeping staff cleaned the room – if they did.

Actually, we're very glad that our room is bigger than my tent at Boy Scout camp, and that the bathroom is much bigger than an airplane bathroom.  There's always that.