With a spring in my step

Drunk, Agressive Tourist (American): ...or you could just ignore me

The humble Groll: [with Hana, leaving Lucerna Passage] What?

DATA: 'sthere anything good in here?

ThuG: What's good?

DATA: Aaare there any pubs, clubs ...

ThuG: No, there's absolutely nothing in there except an upside down horse

DATA: [...]

DATA 2: Like, nothing?

ThuG: Only an upside down horse
Exeunt ThuG and Hana, pursued by bear

Everything anyone said about Prague is true: it is incredibly beautiful and full of tourists. Apparently we were lucky and normally you can't move for the crowds, but we also had a guide who could keep us off the least passable paths.

The famous astrological clock

A wise Oli once said that nice buildings look nicer next to other nice buildings, and Prague shows this the best I've seen - the remarkable thing isn't that the buildings (though generally easy on the eye and occasionally breathtaking) are especially unique, but almost the opposite, that they are completely the norm as far as you walk for miles around. This kind of architectural consistency (combined with a concern perhaps for keeping them clean? they all seemed pretty well taken care of, anyway) is a big part of the beauty sum here. Another is the relative lack of garish advertising so rampant most places and especially in former socialist cities, where gangs of philistine extremists on town planning boards (or not) seem to have made it their mission to bring as much of the horrible superficiality of capitalism into their towns as possible (see, oh, Bratislava, for example).

All this said, and while the attractiveness did periodically surprise me all over again, there are many types of urban beauty. I think Sarajevo lovely, with its utterly heterogeneous appearance, for example. The urban thing, the sense of being in a city, is perhaps the key - Sarajevo, Prague, Genoa all have a sense that you are in a city and can more or less sense its edges. From the right vantage point you can squint distance into nothingness, run your fingers around the edges and wrap yourself up; the closest London offers is perhaps Primrose Hill or something, and it's impossible. Size is the main reason, but flatness doesn't help.

I won't insult you by telling you what this is

This is the first cheese on toast I have seen in six weeks. And the first Marmite (parents: bring Marmite). Moreover, it's the first Hana for two years, which was the best thing about Prague by a wide margin.

This was erected in Spring 2004.

In other news, I have lost William to the lures of ABN-AMRO, from where he will change the world. I have until Friday to find a new place to live, but I'm not stressed. Not at all. It's enough to push me into a mortgage and kids, to give me some sort of cement. But yes, I went away and when I came back, William was gone, which is sad since he's the most chilled-out flatmate I have ever had. Knowing you're only going to be somewhere for a month does good things to stress levels, if not to cleanliness.

William managed to beat me at the game he taught me, so I sulked:

~