Back to Germany

We awoke this morning in Prague and had a lovely breakfast at the very fancy Hotel pAris around the corner from our apartment. When we got home our driver George was waiting to take us to Nuremberg with one stop at the Karlstejn Castle on the way. The castle had been built by Czech’s best king, Charles the fourth who was the head of the Holy Roman Empire when it was centered in Bohemia. The castle was not used as a residence, but as a storage facility for all the Royal jewels that had mostly been stolen while plundering other lands.

George was a great driver and we got to Karlstejn without a problem. We had to park in the car park for tourists at the bottom of the hill and walk 2 kilometers straight up hill to get to the castle. We were practically the only people in town. Yes, it is December, but the fact that not one tourist shop, beer hall or restaurant was open should have tipped us off that something was wrong. It was a little like the town without children in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.

Walking up the hill was a fabulous butt workout. Russ phone told us it was equivalent to 17 flights of stairs. As we reached the top and turned the corner to get to the entrance George made a little gasp at the giant closed door. He knew that meant the place was closed.

At least the down hill was not as hard.

We arrived at our Airbnb to meet our host a darling Girl named Lui who showed us around our flat inside the wall of the old town. It was after two and we wanted lunch so she escorted us to a lovely Italian restaurant. From there we walked around and returned to the flat to unpack. While Carter napped Russ and I went out to do a little grocery shopping.

The first giant store we went in was the worst grocery store I have ever been in. The freezer and refrigerator sections were completely empty with green screens covering them and a sign in German which I was too lazy to translate. So Russ and I walked across the street to a smaller Turkish market where we could hardly find anything we wanted, unless we changed our minds and decided we wanted giant cans of goats milk. We didn’t.

So we continued back to the walled old town where there were lots of stalls set up for Christmas Markets. If we wanted sweet things, or sweet hot wine, or giant bratwurst we wold have been fine, but we didn’t. Eventually we walked far enough that we found a cheese stall. At last, cheese not in a can. We bought some. Then I discovered I had lost my debit card in all this food hunting. Thank you Morgan Stanley for putting a hold on my account so quickly.

Back at the flat I am too exhausted to go out again. My watch reports almost nine miles walked today. Feels like double that. Discovering Nuremberg will have to wait for the morning.



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