November 6 Prague

When I did my DNA testing, my closest match was Czech Republic. No wonder: my dad’s mother was Czech. Her parents, Josef Polansky and Anna Dvorak, emigrated from Bohemia to a US Czech town, Clarkson, Nebraska.

We said auf wiedersehen this morning to Berlin and boarded on older train on Platform 1. It was late “because of a police investigation.” After rolling through Dresden and some pretty countryside, I got a text message in Czech telling me, I assumed, the we were in the Czech Republic. A new conductor came by to examine the tickets and the announcements came in Czech, German and charmingly Russian accented English.

The landscape changed dramatically. We followed a calm river through a tree filled valley with very rugged cliffs (with an occasional castle) to the left. As we neared Prague, the landscape flattened, ugly architecture and factories appeared among the older picturesque houses.

Prague is big! Over a million people. We finally arrived at the older station, disembarked and made our way to the Burger King where our driver waited for us. He was a roundish guy in his fifties who picked up my bag and led us to his small Mercedes. As I followed him I noticed his nose. It was my nose and my dad’s nose. A little sob welled up but I pulled it together so I could be on full alert for the ride. As we chatted, the driver complained about the traffic and all the tourists, and we shared stories about global warming.

A pair of police stopped us on the road to our B&B. “Not to worry,” said the driver. “They do this all the time.” After looking under the hood, they waved us on.

I believe the police stop was because our place is across the street from the German embassy. Yes, The House at the Big Boot is in a great neighborhood. Once we were settled in to a lovely room in the 500 year old house, we walked to dinner (beer, goulash, dumplings and marinated cheese). I found a bank cash machine to get some Czech korunas (about 4 cents). The machine spit out a 1000 and a 2000.

We walked across the Charles Bridge sharing a “chimney cake,” and admiring the illuminated medieval buildings. What a romantic place to spend the last week of our journey.