Foodstuff – Page 2 – paralyzedbynotcaring

Black balsaming my way through life

Today the bus tour must have been rerouted because we ended up disembarking precisely where we had begun, and that can’t possibly be due to all the black balsam we’ve imbibed, right? We saw the Nativity Cathedral, an Orthodox Russian church, which is even more impressive in person.

I really do think it might be bigger on the inside.

I didn’t get much farther than this because a large sign advised that all women should be appropriately dressed in skirts and head coverings, neither of which I was wearing or even packed. Dad said a lot of women were in street clothes past this point, but I am trying to put off being escorted out of a church for as long as possible. I waited outside.

We decided then to walk to the KGB house, and along the way we ate burgers and pink soup. The KGB house turned out to be closed on Tuesdays, so we went to the Riga National Museum instead. There is a lot of modern (20th c) art here, and probably my favorite thing was watching dad read the painting’s title, step back and look, and then step in to read the title again, this time with his glasses, then step back and shake his head in a sort of ehhh-is-this-a-first-draft? sort of way.

There were some winning pieces though, notably the Madonna with a Machine Gun:

Vodka:

and this somewhat confounding painting of Moses, Aaron, and Hur:

Admittedly, I don’t know who is who, but I can’t get past the sparkler headband in center stage. What is this supposed to represent? It is not near the traditional aureole that signposts divinity. Maybe this is an after party I was never invited to.

We made our way to the city center to again admire the House of the Blackheads–one of the most beautiful buildings I’ve ever seen.

That’s it on the right. It catches you by the lungs when you see it for the first time as you come around a corner.

I found a bakery and enjoyed some Latvian dessert, but dad said it was too fancy for him as my mint leaves uncurled in my tea.

Guess what I ordered.

Anyway we found a shop where dad was more comfortable.

See that bag? Yes, he BOUGHT things today. Here you have it, the eighth wonder.

After a cafe dinner that included herring that I am too polite to describe (dad loved it) & a black balsam cocktail better than Christmas, we walked back to the hotel by way of the Opera house.

Notice no one is about. The streets are very low key and the crowds haven’t been close to overwhelming (Prague had throngs of people pushing through narrow streets). Riga is the largest city in the Baltics, but it is still small enough to walk comfortably (cobblestones aside). The city buses share the road with trams and city vans, just smaller versions of the bus. There are fewer bicyclists here, much to my relief. And there are a normal amount of cars*. I have been impressed with everyone’s ability to speak English, the quality of the food, and the beauty and accessibility of everything. Riga has more than delivered.

Tomorrow, KGB house or bust.

Miles walked: 7.02

*The car tax in Denmark is 180%; noticeably fewer cars are there. Loads of parking, though.

Another day another country

Yesterday we travelled from Hamburg to Riga, Latvia, by plane (I was able to talk Dad down from he We Have To Take a Ferry insanity), but our flight wasn’t until after 7pm (19:00) so we had time in Hamburg to continue to enjoy the LGBTQ Pride street fair, which included hamburgers and a lot of really upbeat music. Every other street vendor was selling cocktails before noon. I had to pry dad away from this scene so we could see a few more sights, including city hall. I particularly liked city hall because there were plenty of benches.

We then walked down to the warehouse district, which is is prettier than it sounds.

The warehouses are made of brick and are separated by canals, as you can see.

It was an excellent day (barely a threat of rain), so walking so far from our hotel wasn’t as much of a gamble as usual.

We walked down to the Maritime Museum, where the largest collection of model boats is housed. Yes, one is made completely of legos. Also included are many beautiful paintings of nautical scenes. They basically look either like this

or like something seriously nasty is about to happen (not pictured). I particularly enjoyed the harpoons and knots.

Doesn’t the knot on the lower left look like a sea scorpion?

We also paid our respects to Leif, who sort of discovered America.

Not to be outdone, Columbus motions to the sun to settle down.

We took the train from our hotel to the main train station (our hotel was just outside the train station and it was very easy), but from the main train station the right train to the airport was a little confusing. The platform said airport, the train display said airport, but some displays said “first three cars.” Well, we weren’t sure if it was the first three cars from the engine or the first three cars from the platform and you better bet we guessed wrong. After several stops, the train paused for an unusually long time at the stop just before the airport. Another passenger, probably noticing our luggage and English, asked if we were going to the airport because if so the first three cars just left us. We jumped off the train to watch the first three cars scuttle off as though they’d just pulled the funniest prank on Earth. I should have known and I guess this makes Dad and me even for our trip through rural Sweden.

We got on the first car of the next train.

The main train station was much, much more bustling than the airport, which seems so strange to me. At any rate we checked our bags and had plenty of time before we boarded the bus to board the tiny plane to Riga. Many of the other passengers were men my age with long hair and rock band tee shirts. We guessed they were coming from a show (they were all pretty drained). Customs through Riga was a breeze as it was just walking by a lady leaning against a desk that had a “Customs” sign. Our taxi driver to the hotel was at least 7 feet tall. Dad fell asleep immediately.

Total miles walked: 6.7

Today was our first day in Riga, which is a small, flat (read: walkable) city. We found a post office and a bus tour without having to ask anyone, much to our mutual relief.

Here we are on the bus before I Hulk Broke the headphones.

We got off at the canal stop and then got on a boat with a five-year-old girl named Megan who objected to her life vest by protesting that she promised she wouldn’t get in the water anyway because she didn’t want to get her hair wet. The boat took us through the canal and into Daugava River. From here is a great view of their wedge-shaped library.

Here we are on the boat.

On a side note dad only looks happy when he doesn’t know I’m taking a picture. As in above, when I ask first, he gives this are-you-serious face. Candids from now on when possible.

After the canal tour we walked around old town and came across a few sights I’d read about on the fountain of information that is Pinterest.

We looked inside the Riga Cathedral.

Much stained glass and ornate molding, of course.

While I was taking photos like this one, Dad was busy documenting the retrofitting on the load-bearing columns.

We were also able to pretty easily find the Freedom Monument.

Latvia became a free country in 1991.

This small memorial is from the Baltic Way, when people from Estonia through Latvia to Lithuania joined hands for freedom in 1989.

We also came across this statue of a donkey, pig, cat, and rooster. It is supposed to be good luck if you can touch all four. The statue is tall though and I could reach only the donkey and pig. Half luck for me, half something else I guess.

I also serendipitously spotted the house of the black cat, which I think is just like every other house except that way back when the owner was trying to join the city’s guild, he was denied, so he put a black cat sculpture on top of his house and faced the cat’s rear end at the guild’s office. The guild relented, the home owner was admitted, and the cat’s ass now faces a different way.

As far as lore goes, this story seems watered down. I bet there is a REAL version out there somewhere.

Anyway, I remembered from the tour bus narration something about the house of the three brothers, so I was trying to guide us by it as we made our way back to the hotel. The streets here are anything but a symmetrical grid, so it is easy to trapezoid yourself out of orientation. Dad and I walked up a block, around it, looked at the map, but neither of us could see anything noteworthy or any signage. We didn’t notice the gaggle of tourists across the street aiming their cameras at us. We didn’t notice when a tour tram came up, stopped, unload a bunch of people who also took our picture, load up again, and then trammed off. We held the map upside down. We looked up and down the street. We tried to remember what the house of the three brothers even was and why it was mentioned on the tour. I noticed finally that a) the people across the street weren’t moving b) they seemed pissed at us, and I put together that we were right at the house of the three brothers. I took a picture of what everyone else seemed to be photographing:

As far as houses in Riga go, this one seemed pretty plain, but who am I to judge? I think things built before 1950 are old.

Now that I’m back at the hotel I did a quick search and realized that my map and/or memory was a poor translation. It isn’t house of the three brothers, but rather the Three Brothers, three consecutive houses that are the oldest in Riga and represent the three major architectural themes. So as it happens i took a picture of the One Brother. And the homeliest one at that.

Finally we had dinner at B-Bar, a place we chose because of its Black Balsam drinks. Black Balsam is a Latvian liquor made from, among many other things, wormwood. So either it was all a bit of hype and we made it back to the hotel ok OR this is the most G-rated trip ever and I am face down in a beautiful cobblestone ally waiting to be awakened by the street cleaner.

Hamburg

First I have to say that we have taken some pretty epic naps in Hamburg. Today we went to the top of St. Michael’s cathedral, the first of such things that I’ve encountered that had an elevator. Needless to say, I took the lift. Dad opted for the stairs, which probably lead to today’s siesta.

Here is the church.

Here is Michael taking out the trash.

Here I am at the top looking fresh after the elevator ride. Dad didn’t want to get that close to the edge.

Here’s the other view from the top, including the Elbe.

We’ve sampled some excellent local cuisine. Here is a pork knuckle.

We’ve taken in the sights. Here is Dad taking a picture of the post office.

We got on the tour bus, though the commentary was in excitable German.

The warehouse district was huge and brick and beautiful.

We also did a canal tour where we learned it is illegal to insult the swans.

Why would you want to?

The view from the boat was beautiful.

Hamburg is a lot bigger than I anticipated. I was picturing kind of a Bruges-like city, but Hamburg is huge and mostly modern. It has more bridges than Amsterdam, London, and Venice combined. There’s that old Venice envy again.

The rain has for the most part threatened but turned out to be sound and fury signifying nothing. I am glad I picked up that jacket in Copenhagen though. It’s windy here. Especially at the top of towers.

Don’t think I’ve escaped the Demon. Look at this.

Always stay vigilant, sir.

Tomorrow evening we fly to Riga, Latvia.

I am reading Good Behavior by Molly Keane and Cleopatra by Stacy Schiff. Dad is reading Band of Brothers by Stephen Ambrose.

Choo choo

Today we bought our train tickets to Hamburg and then went to Sweden to have lunch. Dad was very impressed with the train system. In Malmo, we split two sandwiches: duck and lamb. Can you guess which wich is which?

Then we walked around and looked around. This is just outside the main train station.

We looked at the fountains and brick buildings like good little tourists.The tourists look like this.

The buildings look like this.

We came across St. Peter’s, which listed many recognizable names on the priest list (Pederson, Hansen, Christensen).

A stone fountain had this irresistible carving.

We found a canal/small river and walked along it until the misty rain teamed up with some wind.

Another beautiful summer day!

On our meander back to the train station, I spied the Demon in a different disguise. I should have known then to be on my guard.

Back at the station we lined up for the return train; this train stops at the Copenhagen airport and then we must transfer to another train to get to the main station. Dad looked at the display on another train and decided it was better because it didn’t seem to require a transfer. The train came and I didn’t examine the board thoroughly before we were heading out.

I knew things were fishy when we didn’t get back on the bridge in short order.

Figuring this train was actually coming from Denmark, which is what Dad may have seen, we got off at a tiny outdoor station called Svedala before we ended up at the north pole with only a bottle of Arizona tea and a Kex Choklad to sustain us.

Luckily this station was not completely remote and soon other passengers arrived to wait for the train back to Malmo, though at first we were all alone on the misty platform. That Demon, I swear.

That was all a bit much for both of us and so we had to take a nap after returning to the hotel. We are now debating whether to pick up 7eleven sandos for dinner and call it a day. I am holding out for room service, but honestly it doesn’t look good.

Birthday boy

Today is Dad’s birthday so I woke up before God and we spend all day out and about. We rode the tour bus to the tour boat, where it promptly started pouring. The boat was uncovered, so we dashed across the street to the Christiansborg Palace. Right outside is this horseman and a statue of a slain polar bear that doesn’t need to be mentioned ever again.

Also outside is another building with this spectacular spire–three dragon’s tails winding towards Valhalla.

Once inside the Palace and safe from the rain, we put the required blue footie protectors over our feet and walked through the rooms to admire the artwork, history, and architecture. My favorite room was the Queen’s Library, which had books dating back to the 18th century.

Many of the rooms were large, with artwork depicting Danish history and molding so detailed it told its own story. Each room had a theme (Green Room, Velvet Room, Swedish People on Horses Room, etc.), but the throne room was different. It is oval rather than rectangular, and the floorboard pattern was designed keeping in mind that people had to face the throne as they departed, walking backwards. Stay one the right pattern track and you can back into the hall.

The larger throne is for the queen, naturally.

One room, the largest, had dazzlingly detailed tapestries of Danish history from Vikings to modern day. They were given to the Queen in 200o for her birthday. Though very colorful, I found them to be a bit overwhelming, and had to focus on finding little details or neverland or nemo. Well, look what I discovered.

There she is–the Last Unicorn! You really never know what you are going to find in a tapestry.

After the palace it was still a bit drizzly, so we had lunch and then took the bus to the mall. Dad wanted to find some Danish winter sweaters, but as it’s August this proved to be too much. I, however, did manage to find not only golden bobby pins but also a jacket that fit around my boobs. Wonders never cease.

The sun came out and we were able to make the last boat tour of the day. Dad was very happy to finally be on a boat.

We motored through to the end of Nyhaven, a beautiful canal/street. I was particularly interested in this street because HC Anderson of Little Mermaid fame once resided here. I don’t know exactly which house was his but they all look pretty much like this.

He wrote well over 100 fairy tales, many of which still get play today. I seem to recall there is a good podcast ep about him from Stuff You Missed in History Class where I learned that he was a bit eccentric and poverty stricken. What, a gifted writer, living in poverty? Nooo.

From the boat we got a decent though fleeting view of the Church of Our Savior, in all it’s winding glory.

The tour guide says it’s an easy 400 steps to the top.

Maybe tomorrow.

This boat tour differed from the others I’ve taken in that the bridges are VERY low to the water. Sitting in the boat was safe, but you could easily reach up and touch the bottom of the bridge as we passed under it. I ducked just on principle. Other than that, it was a good boat tour.

It being Dad’s birthday, we went out to dinner to a place with candles and real napkins. On the way, we passed this gem.

That’s right, Tycho Brahe has a planetarium just down the street from our hotel. You may recall I mentioned Brahe in my post about the Kepler Museum in Prague. Brahe is a famous Danish astronomer known for his meticulous data records and larger than life personality. I might be half in love with him.

Once we made it to the restaurant, Dad learned about water coming in a bottle, paying with a card at the table, and that no check will ever come if you don’t ask for one. We had smoked salmon and steak and panna cotta, all of which were excellent.

Tomorrow we are taking the train to Malmo, Sweden (the ferry doesn’t run between Copenhagen and Malmo anymore according to sources*) to see the Swedish sights.

I am still reading The Family Romanov and Good Behavior. Dad is reading** Coyote Blue by Christopher Moore.

*Google

**holding briefly before falling to sleep

Walking around looking around: Copenhagen

Dad is an early riser so today I learned what it’s like to take the first tour bus of the day (Hint: less crowded).

We were driven up and down and all around the city, stopping at the Little Mermaid of course.

Yes, she really is that little.

We were compelled to visit the Carlsburg exbeerience; they no longer brew the beer at the site, but similar to the Heineken experience, there is an interesting history and process to learn about. Here are a few factoids.

This bottle’s label design, from the very early 1900s, didn’t last.

There are hundreds of old bottles to look at.

Our favorite little statue was brought to you by beer!

Skaal!

Of course there were also a few places to sample the product. For science.

This evening we visited Tivoli, which is a carnival/garden/music venue/restaurant hub area place thing. Walt Disney was inspired by it and the result is DL–there is a certain whimsy they share. Tivoli is more old-timey, though you can order a #3 at the hotdog stand and get two dogs and a dark beer, which seems progressive. The rides were of an elevated state fair variety, but after hotdogs and beer we were not up to defying gravity. Fountains, detailed planters, carnival lights, a robot rabbit lawn mower, fun house mirrors, and some rogue peacocks finished the scene.

I think the major difference is that far more adults without children want to come to Tivoli–for dinner, for some music, or just to see all the pretty lights and fountains. It wasn’t a hassle to get to, either. It’s right in the middle of downtown, only a few blocks from our hotel.

Here’s to a no-hassle day tomorrow.

D’Orsay

Today is my last full day in France. I took the train and the metro to Paris proper to visit the D’Orsay Museum, which I have never visited before.

Back on the metro–luckily no one made pee.

On the walk from the metro station to the museum, I caught sight of that famous radio tower.

The museum has sort of a crazy floor plan made even more incomprehensible by a “map,” so I did the thing where you wander. I played my museum games: spot the dogs in the paintings, check the mirrors in the paintings, find the weirdest Jesus. The last game was quite a bit more difficult than it has been because many of the pieces of art glorified landscapes, ordinary objects, and Greek/Roman myths. I took a picture of what I thought was a soul being dragged to heaven by angels and presented to Jesus only to realize it was Zeus and I felt like a bad Christian. This was not my first sin, though. Hell, I’m a fan of all seven. And upon realizing this I found Silent Hill Jesus:

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If this isn’t the creepy crawliest Jesus ever depicted, I don’t want to know.

I saw some familiar faces, including this Monet:

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And I met a few new pieces with particularly beautiful lighting from within the painting:

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I stopped when I came upon this next one, mostly because the crowd was such that I could not pass. You know how you automatically pay more attention to paintings that other people seem to be killing themselves over? I try not to do that because art is so subjective, but the more I looked at this one, the more I was convinced the whole world has gone insane.

What sort of vegan pagan bad facial hair picnic is this? I have so many questions. Where is the real food? Is the guy on the right holding an umbrella? Why is she naked if it’s going to rain? What is that other girl doing–pulling out a splinter? And why is this nakedly nude lady glaring at ME as if I’m the one out of place? This is a very uncomfortable piece and I was not happy to be stuck in a crowd around it. Nuts.

Last but not least I saw this reminder for RS to call Dr. A.

And on the way back to the metro station, I stopped in for the obligatory french pastry.

I had the apricot tart (second from right).

As a subplot update, Dad went to the Wells Fargo in Red Bluff and convinced them to issue another replacement ATM card for me, so when I meet Dad in Copenhagen tomorrow, he will have it with him. It is easy to complain about small towns, but sometimes they are the best thing ever.

I am reading The Robber Bride by Margaret Atwood & rereading the Scandinavia chapter in Rick Steves’ book.

Let’s talk about food

At Disneyland Paris, I expected a lot from the food vendors. After all miss, this is France. The crepes and fantasiambrosia ice cream did not disappoint, and the pineapple juice soft serve was an acceptable variation of Dole Whip. Though, much to my surprise, there was not a churro nor a lemonade stand to be found.

Crepe:

Fantasiambrosia (not what the menu calls it):

The Fantasia cafe won for most adorable decor:

Imposter Dole Whip will do:

I had the catch of the day at the Blue Lagoon (where you can get vodka in your martini), which was a bit too much fish for me. The chips served with the tuna were actually my favorite part of the meal.

Overall the alcohol did not push the experience past that of the BL in CA, where the monte cristo sando will change your life.

The grilled ham and cheese from the deli market on Main Street is very good, but the cristo deserves its own show.

The Hakuna lunch included expertly spiced crisp cut fries, and though there is a ketchup shortage in Europe that no one talks about, these fries didn’t suffer. They were one serving of ranch dressing away from perfection.

The last meal I had was at Buffalo Bill’s Wild West show, which is a BBQ dinner with live entertainment of the lasso and gunslinger variety. The food was pretty good, especially the cornbread and ribs, but the Indians (they don’t bother with saying Native Americans much here) really stole the show. One stood on two horses while guiding two more in a race around the arena. The other shows I saw were very fun, with dazzling special effects, but this one was the most impressive. Probably because I know how hard it is to rope a calf with a lasso (impossible) and to jump onto a galloping horse (even more impossible). It was also the most fragrant.

And I got a hat.

Overall, though, I think the food in DL CA is better purely because of the variety and availability. The food kiosks close very early here (some before 730pm), and some of the restaurants do as well. One evening I had to leave the park so I could buy a sandwich at the train station (really, there was not a casual dining experience to be had in the park). Also, the kiosks serve the same four ice cream options and the same four drink options. There are only two crepe kiosks, and one ran out of crepes before 7pm. This seems decidedly un-disney. The Disney I know will sell you anything and everything anytime.

Let’s have more of that.

And more pink castles.

I am reading The Robber Bride by Margaret Atwood.

Another day another trdlnik

After a wholesome brunch

I made my way to Mala Strana, “Lesser Town,” where the Kafka Museum is. Here you can find glorious buildings such as this.

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Ignoramus that I am, I thought Kafka was German, but he was born in Bohemia, and said of this city “Prague never seems to let go of you.”

The Kafka Museum, in a word, is strange.

I guess I was expecting a glamorized bookstore with some letters and portraits of Franz, but what I got was a sort of maze through a dark attic that began with pictures of Prague during FK’s lifetime, his family tree, and his ferocious letters to his father. Then around the corner is a movie screen, the top half leaning forward, showing imagines of Prague with quotes about FK’s society. To the right are round tables illuminated from within showing books, portraits, and descriptions of the literati FK admired. Around the next corner was a tall file cabinet with certain drawers permanently opened. Some contained FK’s correspondence, some his sketches, which were mostly of a man’s silhouette hunched over a desk. Further on are screens hanging from the ceiling, each one showing a black and white picture of one of FK’s loves. Below the hanging portraits are remembrances of each affair, pictures, quotes, and letters. The museum is very dark and each exhibit is so brightly lit it’s like a star in a night sky. Through the next hallway is a semi circular table with letters asking for a reprieve from insurance writing work due to health. Kafka was educated as a lawyer and spent his working hours writing law stuff for an insurance place. The next hallway is a modern mausoleum, each square with an engraved plate with a FK character engraved on it. Everyone knows that mausoleums are big freaky cereal boxes of death, so I didn’t examine the name plates after I found our dear Mr. Samsa. Now you curve around through a white hallway with a curve such that your shadow and the shadow of the person ahead of you meet and create a totally new shadow that follows your motions but looks nothing like your own silhouette. Next is a sort of movie room with a projection on the far wall and a mirror on the wall to your left. As you sit, the images reflect from the mirror and join your own reflection. First a shadow of a man waking along a path, but getting no closer to the castle in the distance. Then a fence. Then fog and clouds. You are in this movie with this walking man, and before you are stuck forever you leave and find some first editions along with sketches made for The Metamorphosis (In the sketches, Gregor’s body is a dark red with black legs). The proofs of FK’s final work The Castle, which FK worked on as he was slowly starving to death due to cancer of the larynx. Then more letters about his health and finally his obituary. He succumbed to TB, as if throat cancer wasn’t enough.

Overall this was not only a strange experience but also uncomfortable. There was no single exhibit that was repulsive, but finding the way through the darkened museum with other people seemed almost intrusive, as though it is ok if *I* drop in on FK’s subconscious (or regular conscious, as in his letters to his daddio), but with other people there it seemed too public. It’s unlike any museum I’ve ever seen.

I crossed the bridge in the sun with everyone else ever born.

I visited a second museum today, a tiny one dedicated to Johannes Kepler, astronomer. I have a special interest in Kepler because of his relationship with Tycho Brahe, a Danish astronomer and notorious party animal (Google how he died). Kepler is pretty famous among science types, and to those people I would like to point out that the horoscopes Kepler wrote were just as respected as those “laws” he’s so well known for. Kepler and Brahe had a sort of difficult work relationship due to Brahe’s larger than life ideas and personality and Kepler’s quiet insistence on being treated as an equal, not an assistant.

Here’s a statue of these two scallywags.

This is a sketch of a pavilion-like structure showing that Kepler’s ideas were based on those who came before him, such as Copernicus and our dear Mr. Brahe.

There’s the Dane.

Though the museum was small, it had charm and I’m glad I happened upon it.

No sign of the demon since yesterday when I was locked in the basement.

Though I did find this.

Sweet dreams.

Locked in the basement

My airbnb is a basement studio in a normal Prague apartment building. I have the external key, the mail key, and the studio key. There is however a door from lobby to the staircase to the basement that I was told is rarely locked, but my external key should open it if it happens to be locked.

It was locked this morning as I ascended out of the cave. The light in the staircase is motion detected, so it kept flicking off as I turned the key first clockwise, then counter clockwise, then half clockwise and full counter, then flip it and reverse it, then pull the door shut more tightly and try again, then jiggle everything, then start sweating, then continue sweating, then keep sweating so that a decent grip on the keys is impossible, then imagine being locked in a basement in Prague and going feral, then jiggling the keys more until someone happens by and opens the door from the lobby.

After that episode of Fear Factor, I went back to try the strudel version of the trdelnik, which was tasty but even more of a challenge to eat. It wasn’t even noon and I was already through two challenges.

The Old Town Square was as picturesque as ever.

I went to the Prague Castle, which is the largest castle complex in Europe. It really is a complex–many different types of buildings in a sort of ye olde business park. By far the most beautiful was the St. Vitus Cathedral, which, and I can’t stress this enough, is large.

It’s bigger on the inside.

As you might imagine, there are many beautiful statues and windows of stained glass. My favorite stained glass window is this one.

And wouldn’t you know it, another depiction of the giant holding Jesus’s body on the cross, this time in silver with many embellishments.

At least in this one he looks like he feels guilty for showing up a bit too late.

Also in the complex is St. George’s Basilica, which houses these bones.

When the top three google search results didn’t include whose bones these are, I abandoned the project, making this the shortest episode of CSI ever. You’re welcome.

Part of the castle was built by the Empress Maria Theresa–that’s right, Marie Antoinette’s mom was always hard at work. This was when the Habsburgs of Austria were all over Prussia.

Look what I found there.

Fifty points to Gryffindor!

Also abounding were sharp objects.

And the inspiration for Nimbly from the Never Ending Story II!

Now it is time for my final challenge of the day, which occurred on my bastion of safety, the dear old tour bus. I was sitting in the front of the bus so I could see out the windshield and hear the tour guide easily. The tour guide was joking with the driver about asking out a female tour guide when a car cut in front of us and the bus came to a sudden and jarring halt. I was thrown from the window seat to the aisle seat, where thankfully no one was sitting. The driver of the car that cut into our lane rolled down his window and started yelling and gesturing at the bus. The tour guide and the driver then ran out of the bus and chased the car down. It was a total scene from cops except no cops. The keys to the bus were still in the ignition so I drove the battered tourists to safety JOKE there’s no place safe. Haven’t you learned that from my blog yet? I didn’t have to drive us anywhere because the driver in the car fled the scene to much yelling and fist gesturing of the tour team and honking from nearby cars. It was all very manly.

The narration from the tour guide was more heavily accented from then on.

I went to Sephora to buy some sanity.

Category: Foodstuff