16 April 2009, En Route to Czechoslovakia

We spent yesterday in Bamberg, the prettiest little city since Busch Gardens Virginia. I did sort of expect Aunt Mag to pop out of the gorgeously painted 17th century Rathaus, perched on a pair of manmade islands in the river. Camped along the river just outside of town; crucial factor here was that the shower was amazing. I believe I may be sadder to leave it behind than I was to leave London in general. There's a massive cathedral looming rather catholicly over the city, and every other street is named for one religious order or another. Shades of elementary school. David had the local specialty--smoked beer and an onion stuffed with beef, then roasted. Mmm.

Long day today in the truck, but we've bagged the front seats which means good legroom and a view through the front windshield. The truck is built with loads of windows so everyone really has a view all the time, though we were facing backwards yesterday, so could only see where we had already been. There's also two tables with four seats at each, and a set of games to play as we go.

Camping again tonight outside Prague; this is the first new country for me, David's been here for work. I've heard such good things about Prague for so long that I suspect it can't possibly live up to my expectations. But the weather has been absolutely gorgeous thus far, must have been 17 C yesterday and bright sunshine, and every place looks good like that. As we're driving the trees are getting more coniferous-y and the road hillier, the land looks different from the parts of Germany I've been to before. My crap German has come in handy, though, vielen danke, Mutti und Herr Godfrey. (Ooh, we went in a shop yesterday which appeared to be waiting on your arrival, Ingrid—Seasonal Cushions Galore. They even had Christmas ornaments out, with a metal one of a bloke selling bratwurst in a festive stall. Unnecessary in so many ways.)

We did have a night out in Bamberg as we knew we could sleep in yesterday. About 10 of us went into the city, to a little beer garden. Which was great fun and very wholesome etc. Then we ended in a Turkish men's club (and I use club loosely): a room with some tables and some middle aged Turks. Also beer and raki. We were there for a few hours, and in a cowardly fashion escaped with a few others in the first wave of deserters at 2am. The iron-livered stayed on until 5am, playing Texas Hold-em with our new Ottoman mates.

Stopped for lunch along the Czechoslovakian motorway. A bus full of Germans was just finishing eating at their bus, and waddled over to offer us their lunch and good wishes. This big blue truck certainly does make friends easily. Anyway, in admirable Teutonic style, this pack of sturdy hausfraus promptly provided enough “leftovers” to more than feed all 24 of us, with ham on the bone, potato salad, sauerkraut, coleslaw, and American (or German, I guess) style pudding—in two flavours. And now we have leftovers too. It seems fully possible that our Aryan friends are some sort of modern-day messiah-figures and potato salad is the loaves and fishes of the noughties.