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Budapest, Prague |
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Some of you may have heard of my interesting adventure with the border police.� Since anything I write may be used against me in a court of law, I'll just say that I had some difficulty crossing the Romanian border due to a small matter of a visa renewal.� Part of this experience involved waiting around a municipal police station at 5:00 in the morning while a drunk man smashed cellular phones on the floor and shouted abuse at the officers.� While I never reached the phone-breaking stage, my levels of frustration were running pretty high (come back two days from now, when the office is open, and we'll give you back your confiscated passport and train ticket, you can sign some more forms, pay a fine, and leave the country) but luckily my creative problem solving skills showed me through. |
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Anapest is a term used to describe a rhythmical unit in poetry involving two unstressed and one stressed syllable.� Budapest, however, is a city in Hungary.� Stones and subways and green rusted sculpture.� Found the hostel I was staying at, saw the Parliament, Heroe's Square, the Citadel.� History Museum, Art Museum (Cezanne, Gaugin), and a Monochrome Exhibit in the Palace of Fine Arts--paintings that were nothing but a solid color painted evenly on canvas, but not as boring to look at as you might suppose.� Second evening I went to a Jazz Garden with two Americans and a British girl. Traveling alone impressions are softer, lighter, silence filtered.� |
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In Prague I formulated my personal definition of traveling: the search for interesting places to sit and read.� Learned some of the history from a hostel tour, then wandered around on my own through old town, over Charles bridge, up the radio tower. (from notebook) |
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