My favorite graffiti of the trip comes courtesy Big Black's Bad Houses.

The graffiti and some of David Cerny's babies were on the castle side of the river, far away from the crowds but easy enough to find.

Crossing back over the river, we arrived in busy Old Town Square just in time to see the Orloj (Astronomical Clock) ring the top of the hour.

From across the square, 12x zoom captured the Apostles' appearance. When the bells stop ringing, Apostles stop moving and the doors shut.

Not a bad looking place, Prague.

But one David Remnick could differ. This was the shop of the wannabe whores, Kristin said. She admitted to shopping there only sometimes.

Over the river yet again, back to the castle's side, we approached the metronome representing freedom where a Stalin memorial once stood.

Further along that hilltop were men playing marbles, families kicking soccer balls, couples napping in the grass, and flowers everywhere.

The statue whispered, "Drink Gambrinus…"

We sat in the beer garden at the end, drank beer and talked for hours before heading to dinner with Kristin's boyfriend and their RFE friends.

Took a train the next morning to Salzburg, resumed the academic life.

Everyone touched this Charles Bridge plaque for luck. But what kind of luck? Faithful, financial, fertile? Eek. Googled later: To return to Prague.

What to eat after a huge breakfast? Ah — rolled dough, cooked on a spit and dipped into cinnamon and sugar. Perfect for walking up a hill.

Atop the hill was Prague Castle, the largest ancient castle in the world, office to kings, emperors and now presidents. A crowd had gathered.

No idea what hour it was, we'd met the changing of the castle guard, and at noontime it brought with the only change fanfare of the day.

There at primetime, we circled St. Vitus cathedral but didn't try the line. We did have a good conversation about what nationalities cut in lines.

Thought Kristin was going over the side here. And a random girl came up to me and said she liked my Threadless T-shirt. (Go Threadless!)

Fun Explosive followed us everywhere. More writers need wild design.

Just outside the castle gates: absinthe ice cream. I passed on tiramisu gelato for it. It was great. (Potential slogan: "Go crazy for ice cream!")

Not done on the ice cream: Wonderfully light with the cream flavor just above the spirit. Also, may have made me fall back in love with cones.

Our train arrived in Prague late at night. and fireworks from the city center mixed with flashes of dove flocks over the National Theater.

Kristin lived in the neighborhood, and opened skylights in her spare bedroom let me wake up with birds, horses, trams, and church bells.

Breakfast at Cafe Milena, a Kafka spot now run by the Friends of Kafka. Named for the journalist Milena Jesenka, Kafka's great lost love.

Outside, whether this moment was lost love or not, it was hard to say.

Near the river, a wine bar advertising everywhere promised new love.

Also everywhere. Every-where. Possibly every single store in the entire end-to-end Czech Republic. Toy for people or pets? I still have no idea.

But who needed wine, toys or even new love when you had this view?

We crossed the Charles Bridge, rumored for centuries to have eggs in the mortar, making it stronger, and headed for the castle on the hill.

Things not to tell me when traveling in cities where I don't speak the language: You know that tram we were on earlier? The one we hopped on and off repeatedly? Where you were so impressed the city ran it all over as a free public service? Well, it's not free. Plainclothes inspectors can come up to you, flash a badge and demand to see your transit pass. If you don't have one, they fine you on the spot, and if you can't pay the fine, they take you to jail. Except if they're not real transit inspectors and are just trying to get your money. If so, argue with them. But just to be safe, sit in the last tram car and keep an eye out. They're never going to expect you, with the Expos T-shirt and duffel bag, are not a commuter.

Keeping an eye out in Prague after apparently greatly overestimating Vienna's municipal love (but escaping inspector-free), Son of WMATA.