Sleeping Arrangements

I am the only hope for the group. Without me, they are lost. I am the link that holds the chain together. If I break, the slack will become unbearable.

Ooo, that's uncomfortable. Maybe if I twist my head just so...there we go, a natural pillow.

I am the cornerstone. In my absence the tunnel will collapse. The rubble will be epic, the death toll staggering. I am the cornerstone.

Ah, legs are a bit cramped now, let's see I can just about stretch them under the seat - ah, there.

I am the foundation. The weight of the journey rests upon my surface - relies on my solidarity. One crack and the whole building begins to shift.

It's a little cold in here, better put on that hoodie. Mmm, nice and warm, nuzzle up with my book. Maybe I'll finish it before we get there. Keep me up.

I am Atlas. Upon my shoulders rests the World. Doomed and Blessed am I to carry this burden. If my legs falter, the world as we know it will end.

My are eyes are now strained, dry. I'll just close them for a second, relief is due. It's not like I'll fall asleep. I'm not even tired.

-shit-

"Shit. Guys, we're here."

And with that we make our train with 6 minutes to spare.

---------------------------

We've left Prague, and we visited a small town in the south of the Czech Republic called Drnholec. This was the small village that my Great Grandfather apparently used to live in.

The train there and back was great, you could actually hang half of your body out of the train car's window (which Pat and I experimented with quite a bit). The Czech countryside is actually very familiar looking in a strange way. It sort of reminds me of both East Texas, the Northeast USA, and Frontierland all at the same time.

We arrived exhausted and slept early and long, and the second day there, our only full day, we rented road bikes and rode a total of 34.42 km to a nearby lake and back. It's mostly farm and wine country down there, and I kid you not, it looks prettier than Italy's Tuscan region.

At the lake, Pat and I rowed, Frost and Calley windsurfed. The water was somewhat to mostly nastier than I had expected so Pat and I didn't get in (the four floating dead fish later supported our decision). This may or may not have led to my feeling a bit sick after rowing. The feeling quickly subsided (only to return later) once we got back on the bikes.

The ride back into town was an interesting one. My blistering pace allowed me some time to stop on the side of the road and take some photos. It was enjoyable having the time to myself to reflect upon the land in which my relatives may or may not have lived.

Since my pace set me so far ahead of Pat, he slowly caught up with me while I took an extended water break.

As he pulled up to me (panting from exhaustion):

"I thought you wanted to take it easy?"
"I'm sorry, but I can't seem to contain my superhuman strength and stamina."

I kept rehydrating and snapping some more photos when Pat surprisingly caught his breath and asserted,

"So it looks like we have some marijuana."

Huh? I thought.
"Huh?"

He hopped off his bike and walked to the edge of the road, near the end of the cropline and bent over to pick a couple buds of what appeared to be little marijuana plants.

Strange. I thought.
"Strange." I said (I tend to speak my mind).

As it turns out, the people of the small towns in the Czech Republic just grow their own weed. And it's totally fine. As we continued back into town, the tiny plants seemed to guide us back to the hotel.

weird.

In the end, I never found my Great Grandfather's house. It's sad I suppose. Maybe it was never in that town. Sorry Joseph.

So Denmark, or more specifically Copenhagen, for the next couple of days.