Mary and I left on our long awaited trip to Europe on November 26. We flew to Reykjavik and enjoyed a 9 hour layover there.

Our destination was The Blue Lagoon. Mary rented a car (a very nice Peugeot) and we drove the short 10 miles through dark and empty roads to our destination. By 8 am the parking lot was filling up, so we walked through the dark up a lighted path to a large modern building and checked in. Showered, and shedding our bathrobes, we inched down a sloped chute into the steamy water. The lagoon is huge! Once a natural sort of lake, it’s now cemented in, rimmed with large volcanic boulders. Silica made the footing a bit slick as we decided to walk around the pool. It was about 4 feet deep, some areas hotter than others, a milky aqua color. This took a couple of hours: we enjoyed the sunrise, various mud packs for our faces and a visit to the poolside bar for a cider.

What a great way to break up the long flight from Seattle to Europe! On our way back to the airport we got a taste of the landscape: rolling hills, lots of mossy lava rocks, and plain but nicely designed low buildings. The temperature was above freezing but the wind made it very cold.

A word about Iceland Air. We were very comfortable and especially enjoyed an amenity called the”Gin Library.” We sampled many during the 10 hours of flying.

I am so used to flying on Alaska Airlines. I know every routine, every announcement, every amenity, every uniform. So an international flight on British Air is an adventure, especially when flying Business Class courtesy Alaska air miles that Mike has been saving up.

Check-in, customs and security clearance were easy with no lines. They told us the Prague airport was small, but the duty free area was enormous and opulent. Gift stores with high end Czech souvenirs competed for your remaining Czech korunas with a grocery store and individual name brand luxury shops. Mike and I had noticed a store in Amsterdam called Fjall Raven that sold beautiful travel gear, and found this same shop in the airport. I circled around a red zippered bag that cleverly converted to a backpack. When we came back Mike kindly bought it for me. I spent my last karunas on a wool pullover with elbow patches and a Scandinavian design for him. I found an advent sausage in the grocery store that made me laugh out loud. It fit nicely in the red bag.

In Europe, boarding a plane in groups is so calm compared to how it goes in the U.S. You are placed in groups and told to stay seated. A group of attendants check your passports and you calmly enter. Our first flight between Prague and London was on a smaller jet. We had seats in row 2. Seats were configured six across but the middle seats were blocked out with a permanent tray. After take off, we climbed above the clouds and sunshine streamed in. The cute English attendant offered us a choice of ploughman’s lunch or afternoon tea. We both chose the tea; sandwiches, apricot cake and a hot scone with clotted cream. And tea of course. We loved it.

Our big flight from London to Vancouver was on a 747. Do you remember when the 747 was introduced and we saw ads for a bar in the hump up front? That’s where we were situated; up the stairs, in the business class cabin. The seats are really pods, or modules. Mike sat by the window facing backwards. Separated by a little curved wall, I was next to him facing forwards. We could look romantically at each other or a screen could be pulled up to separate us completely. The seat could recline flat, or be set sort of like a recliner. It was so complicated that a trifold brochure was provided with instructions.

We were greeted with champagne, and enjoyed a very nice three course meal after cocktails. I did not want to miss any of this luxurious flight so I just set my watch eight hours back and stayed up. I finished a book and watched a movie using the fancy noise cancelling headphones. I enjoyed the giant pillow and one of the three blankets provided, as well as the little amenity kit with lotions, socks and air freshener. The one weird thing was that, when the footrests were down, the people in the window seats had to climb over the sleeping folks in the aisle seats to go to the loo.

I took a walk around the plane. The nice attendant (who addressed me as “luv”) took me to see the new Premium Economy Section (like the premium section in Alaska), and then to the First Class cabin, with bigger, more luxurious and more spread out pods. He had me sit in one, and yes, it was pretty comfortable.

The flight was nine hours. The upgraded seating sure made a difference. I think it’s 6 am in Prague and I’m hitting the hay at last, glad to be back in North America, and hoping for a great night’s sleep.

Our last day! We’ve been in Prague long enough the we can get around pretty much without a map. We’ve “done” the big sights, heard jazz, and street and classical music, and eaten our fill of Czech bread, pork and marinated cheese. Today we wound up our trip by going back to some places we loved; the elegant Bella Vida coffee shop where the waiter remembered us, the old square to look at the clock, the Wenceslas Square and nearby art nouveau buildings. I finally stopped in at a souvenir shop to buy an enamel mug I’ve been admiring, and found a store selling porcelain like my beloved Czech coffee pot that broke in the earthquake. Mike bought some books at Shakespeare and Sons, the English bookstore. We walked by the river through a favorite park and made our final crossing over the Charles Bridge.

Rain fell pretty seriously today and fewer people crowded even the most touristy areas. We made a few new discoveries, but mainly enjoyed the familiarity of our neighborhood and our route to the center of town. As we walked, we had the conversation we’ve had upon leaving Venice, Florence and Amsterdam: what would it be like to live here for a while? I calculate the cost of an apartment and think about the part of town I like best. I think of taking language classes or teaching ESL, local shopping and cooking, doing a “ museum a day” plan. Mike talked about the music clubs he’d like to go to, studying and drawing buildings, walking all the neighborhoods.

I’d noticed that once we left the cruise tour, we are on the old end of the tourist age spectrum. How much longer could we do this? We talked about our walking. We keep track of our step count and average 7-10 miles on our independent days. The walking tires me out especially on cobbled streets. Some nights I’ve had leg cramps or aches, and I’ve had three major blisters. I’ve been sleeping very well! I can’t imagine how we could we possibly keep up this level of activity at home, but we have to stay in shape if we want to return to Europe. Of course we won’t be eating chimney cakes or dumplings at home either.

Tomorrow we head home, over ten time zones; two continents and an ocean. I’ll be glad to get home but I’m already thinking about what the next trip to Europe will be.

Today we walked for hours, nosing around Prague in the cold and fog. My mood ranged from anxiety about getting home, to euphoria about the beauty of this city, to sadness that we don’t have time to see everything. I think Mike and I are both in better shape than we were six weeks ago, but walking in the crowds and keeping balance on the cobblestones is exhausting. So, when we’re tired, we stop for a coffee.

Our first stop was at a Costa Coffee at the train station. I nudged into a tiny table between two other tiny tables while Mike got in line at the counter. He brought over two large cappuccinos in lidded paper cups decorated for Christmas. The familiar feel of a to-go cup warming my cold hands was comforting and the coffee was delicious. Soon we were rested and ready to go.

A couple hours and several miles later, we found ourselves across the bridge and on the home stretch. My knee started to hurt and I was dragging. Time for a coffee! And there on the left we saw a cafe sign for Bella Vida Cafe. We stepped through an unobtrusive door into another world. I felt transported to the 19th century. The low lighted room, trimmed in dark wood, had a variety of tables and old fashioned chintz covered chairs. A wood paneled bar took up one wall. We selected a table by the window. Soon the waiter, formally dressed in white shirt, tie and apron, brought over a little silver tray for each of us: a coffee for Mike in a china cup and saucer. For me, a glass of hot, spiced wine with almonds and raisins.

As we drank and warmed up, I looked past our room to an adjoining salon lined with shelves of old books. Small groups of nicely dressed people filled five or six other tables, leisurely chatting over afternoon refreshments. I felt refined and unhurried.

A stop for coffee also means use of a free, clean W.C. Often these require a descent down dark or winding stairs. But this lovely cafe restroom was on the main floor, behind a heavy wooden door with an old fashioned handle. I smiled at the Gibson Girl door sign for the ladies’.

Refreshed and warmed up, we made our way home, talking about our favorite coffee stops on this trip. Just last night we’d had decafs in the lovely, high ceilinged tea room at the Philharmonic. The coffee shops in museums were always so tasteful and welcome. I recalled a candy store in Amsterdam with an over the top coffee service.

Mike talked about the ubiquitous outdoor cafes in Italy (where it felt like summer.) I appreciated the serve-yourself espresso machines on the cruise ship, and recalled the little cookies served along with any coffee in Germany.

At home, we drink our mugs of coffee at breakfast and then fill up the car cups or drive to the take out window. I drink my coffee mindlessly while doing other things. I hope I can take a hint from the Europeans, to sit down, to use a cup and saucer, to slow down and be a little more ceremonious, and really have my coffee.

From sobering to exhilarating, we explored more corners of Prague today. We started small by walking around the block.

I wanted to look closely at a little house viewed from our window.

We also found a little public garden and several small restaurants. I noticed house signs, which I’d learned were used before the houses were numbered.

Near the river, we found the Kafka Museum, an in-depth focus on his life and his writing. I confess I’ve not read Kafka and I don’t think I ever will, but I get it now what kafkaesque means. Kafka spent his working life in an insurance company and hated how it interfered with his true vocation, writing. The exhibit was dark and basically depressing, but a sculpture in the courtyard lightened the tone.

We walked across the river to the The Jewish Quarter, a small area dating from the 13th century. Our entry point was the Pinkas Synagogue, a plain building with a gabled roof. Inside, all wall space is covered by the names and birth/death dates of the 77,297 Bohemian and Moravian Jews who were murdered in the Holocaust. Even though in Czech, I could read the names. I thought it was a lovely way to memorialize. Upstairs, an exhibit of children’s drawings from concentration camps broke my heart.

The visitors hushed as we walked next door through the old Jewish Cemetery, crowded with layers of those buried in this cramped space over hundreds of years. I was comforted to see violet plants among the crooked stones.

The Jewish Quarter does not look like a ghetto to me. In the 19th century most of it was torn down, leaving just the small old synagogues. Wide streets of art nouveau buildings, now housing apartments and high end stores, were built. A guide said that Hitler had planned to turn the area into a “museum of an extinct race.”

As banal as it sounds, I thought the Jewish Quarter was perfect: while unmeasurably sad, it was dignified and deeply human, and left me feeling strangely peaceful.

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We ended our day at the Rudolfinum, the home of the Czech Philharmonic Orchestra. Dvorak inaugurated the symphony hall in 1896. After a genteel coffee in a high ceilinged gallery, we watched a piano quartet play fiery chamber music in an elegant small concert hall. I was thankful to lose myself in the music.

We walked home across the Charles Bridge. As I looked at the beautiful illuminated churches and statues, I remarked to Mike that I hadn’t realized that Bohemia was such an old and great country. The Czech people have suffered so much and contributed so much too. I thought about the human scale of this great bridge that people have been crossing for almost eight hundred years, and I felt proud to have a little Bohemian blood in me.

This morning, we bundled up in all our layers and took off up the hill to the Castle. A B&B host advised us to take the route by the monastery. This proved to be a wide path through a lovely park, some vineyards and an orchard. Drizzles made the way a little muddy. We saw just a few other walkers as we made our way up the hill, enjoying the solitude, mild incline and fall foliage. As promised, a panoramic view of Prague unfolded. I liked looking beyond the orchard at the spires and red tiled roofs.

We examined the monastery. ( I have to say that I love it that the monks brew beer and serve it in their own beer garden.). We walked along a thick medieval wall, encountering waves of tourists, and a police security checkpoint, and arrived at “the Castle” which proved to be a large complex of ancient (900s), very old (1300s) and old (1700s) churches, palaces, government offices and homes.

Our first stop was Saint Vitus Cathedral, home to the grave of Saint Wenceslas (the good king) and soaring stained glass windows including one by Mucha, 1931. Daylight flooded the enormous cathedral, even on this dreary day.

We wandered through the other attractions on our ticket, then made our way via long stairways and busy streets back to our favorite neighborhood restaurant for beer, cheese, bread and a sausage. I was tired and ready for a break.

Back in our room, I climbed in to the luxurious bed intending to look over the richly illustrated guide we’d bought and start my blog. The book, 160+ detailed pages, overwhelmed me; we could not possibly begin to see all there is in Prague on this trip. My eyes got heavy. I had the deepest nap I can remember.

It’s only 7:30. I just ate an apple and a little packet of Nutella I’ve been carrying around since Italy for supper. Mike is out wandering around, and I was just too tired to go with him. I’m contented to stay in for the night, and a little embarrassed to admit that the nap was my favorite part of the day.

We rounded a corner and Mike spotted a group of festive little outdoor houses. Hoping it was a Christmas market, we headed over.

About twenty matching huts formed a large circle around the square. Evergreen branches and orange flowers decorated the rooflines of each wooden hut selling something delicious to eat. We bought our lunch from a woman who had five huge pots of potato dishes: we chose a spaetzle with sausage and a dish with cabbage and beef, both orange from paprika and perfectly spicy.

Another hut sold hot spiced wine, red or white. A charming young man said it’s a winter drink; I was surprised at the generous size of the servings he poured me.

We seemed to be eating with locals. The meal for two cost about $12. We stood at round tables and ate with plastic forks. The wine was delicious and fortifying.

We agreed that lunch was our favorite experience today. But we also shopped at an outdoor market,

visited the Mucha Museum,

enjoyed coffee shops,

looked at more architecture and sculptures,

visited a weird underground “Kafka experience,”

watched a French choir sing at St Nicholas Church,

took a nap, ate a vegetarian dinner at a fancy restaurant, and finished the evening at an underground jazz club.

Fitbit logged in at about nine miles. We’re in our huge, soft bed under the duvet, ready to call it a day!

We took our first walk around Prague today. The sun shone, making it a perfect, crispy fall day. “The Moldau” and “Slavonic Dances” provided my mental soundtrack as we happily made our way through Prague.

Prague is overwhelmingly beautiful. Unlike the cities we visited in Germany, WWII bombing was limited here, so a thousand years of architecture remain. As I thought about what I was seeing, the word “decorated” kept coming to mind.

In the Old Town, and our neighborhood across the river too, each building is beautiful and different from the next. Here is on Art Nouveau building I studied; I loved the doorway detail, the iron balconies and the mosaics.

Prague is called the city of hundreds of spires, but I’m calling it the city with thousands of statues. On building and bridges, in parks and squares.

I noticed dragons holding up a humble bench we were sitting on.

The Astronomical Clock is a central attraction. On the hour, the Twelve Apostles appear in the blue windows above the clock. But what I liked was the skeleton ringing a little bell, one ring for each hour.

Mike was especially moved by a wall that has been decorated by the people since the early 1980s in memory of John Lennon and his messages. Under the Communists, tribute to John was not permitted, so the authorities would paint over the graffiti. Then it would appear again, over and over again. The thirty year celebration of the end of Communist rule is coming up November 17 and is the focus of inscriptions people were painting today.

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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.

We said goodbye to our tour group yesterday so today we were once more on our own. We bought an all day tram pass, hopped on and rode to the train station. I had copied seven pages of instructions for printing our train ticket so I was nervous about it. Well, I followed the instructions and it took about 45 seconds. Errand completed, we had a full day in Berlin ahead of us.

So we walked around! We exchanged seeing monuments from a bus to observing Berlin on foot and on a human scale. I’d been asking myself why people love this city and today I found some answers.

Excellent public transportation. The train station is large, sleek and surprisingly mellow, with very efficient ticket machines.

The trams run every ten minutes or so. A sign at the stop tells you when it will arrive; a sign inside tells you where you are. There’s an entrance for strollers and bikes. The ride is quiet, smooth and clean.

Parks. We walked through lovely parks and a wide path along the Spree River.

We peeked into a school playground where kindergarten sized children were playing in the woods and climbing trees. (I’d read about this movement to let kids get dirty and maybe even fall down!)

Food: People are still eating in outdoor cafes in November. I ate the best cookie, perhaps of my life, in the train station. Decorated with a dusted cocoa star, I thought it was a sort of flat Russian tea cake. But inside the slightly crispy crust I bit into gooey Nutella.

We had lunch in a sophisticated Asian fusion place. To atone for the cookie I had a thin beet soup that I believe was flavored with miso. The restaurant did not serve bread, nor sugar with the strong coffee.

For dinner, we dined at a Turkish restaurant in our neighborhood. Mike and I shared the lamb platter with rice, roasted vegetables and secret sauces. My dessert, translated as “sesame paste” tasted like halvah with the consistency of thick crunchy peanut butter. Sublime.

Art. We have not been into a museum for several days but we found plenty of art out and about.

We participated in an art installation “Handshape.” Here’s how it worked: a purple haired guy introduced us each to a stranger. Our task was to chat and find something we had in common. I met Billie from England. We discovered we had both lived in East Anglia. Mike met Pete, a Berliner who loves the outdoors. Once we had made our connection, the purple guy gave us a lump of clay that we grasped together so our fingers imprinted. The handshapes were added to the sculpture. Eventually there will be a shape for each day since November 9, 1989. You can find out more at http://www.handshape.berlin.

Humanizing the Wall. We visited the Berlin Wall Memorial. Here is a swath of the wall, about 100 meters wide, turned into a park and visitors’ center.

Along with an intact guard tower and fragments of the wall, we encountered memorials to victims, restoration of a cemetery and a parklike setting used by tourists, students, bicyclists and parents pushing strollers. Rather than sad, the memorial space left me feeling more knowledgeable and hopeful.

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On foot, Berlin appeared alive, youthful, hopeful and vibrant; a beautiful city reinventing itself. I didn’t expect that we’d wish we had several more days to spend in Berlin.