The city is roaring.

the germans are doing something right

a public gathering, police, and beer.

come on now, that's how it should be.

worldcupworldcupworldcup

In about half an hour the world cup final starts and I don't really care who wins...is that bad? It's exciting though. I opted NOT to go downtown to the fan mile; I think it would be unpleasantly, unpleasant. However, the street outside the hostel is blocked off, there's a giant screen and tonnes of people milling about... much more my scene. Plus the people who run the hostel are having a big bbq, and their kids are running around and I've been told that must eat a sausage, so I'm happy.

Tomorrow, at 5:20 in the morning, I leave for Berlin. Nuts, you say. Yes, I agree, but it's Berlin.
Wish me luck in the World Cup insanity. ( It's just soccer.)

I'm going to miss sitting by the Vlatva river, sipping warm spiced mead.

And on Wednesday, I fly home. How weird is that?

Today

Today I went biking through the hills and forests and towns surrounding Cesky Krumlov. And then I ate ice cream. What a great day.

This evening I will make pasta and drink some beer. And probably nerd out with a game of Settlers.

I love this place.

It's not my fault internet is expensive

All right. I'm back in Cesky Krumlov now, hanging out, hiking, biking, playing Settlers of Katan...? (Actually mostly I sit there perplexed while the boys, who get WAY too into it, try to get me to trade stuff and tell me where I should and shouldn't build my roads. But I'm getting better...I came second last night.)

I've been to Sarajevo, Mostar, Dubrovnik, Zagreb again, Lake Bled, and Vienna for a second time.

It's been very, very hot until three days ago when it started to rain. But it's hot again now.

In Sarajevo I heard the call to prayer echo out over the red-tile roofs of the Turkish Quarter. I stared at bullet scarred buildings and walked over pock-marked sidewalks. I stood in the Jewish cemetery where the Serbian Army launched their attack on the city and looked across to the white crosses in the green hills above Sarajevo. I danced with the Bosnian kids to turbo-folk and listened to a former Bosnian soldier explain why he can't stand tourists who come to his city only to ask about the war. And I watched a lot of soccer.

In Mostar I walked along the former front line and sucommed to the voyeuristic urge to photograph the mottled half-buildings that remain. I drank coffee on the Muslim side of the bridge and ate dinner on the Croat side, amazed that a few days before this peaceful little town, divided by its famous bridge, had exploded into riots following a Croatian soccer game.

In Dubrovnik I fried in the heat and shunned the hordes and hordes of cruise ship passengers that clogged the alleys of the walled old city. I sat in the main square and watched the Croatia vs Australia game with hundreds of Croatian fans, and a few Australian fans, feeling the energy go from ecstatic to non-existent as the game ended in a draw. And I marveled at the lack of evidence that this over-priced and over-touristed, but beautiful, city was ever bombed.

In Zagreb I slept.

In Lake Bled I hiked and swam and got kicked off the grass by a very polite policeman as I was trying to read my book and enjoy my picnic.

In Vienna I looked at art.