Prague, or The Prettiest City You Ever Did See

Prague was golden, beautiful, picturesque. It was also unbearably cold, which certainly put a damper on my sight-seeing abilities. But it's small; it's manageable; its subway system is so easy to use that it's almost child-like.


The thing about Prague that you realize soon after arriving is that it's One of Those Cities Where You Can't Find the Things You Want.

Let me explain. Since eliminating words from my vocabulary like "developed/developing" and "Third world country", I've had to find a new way to explain things. And it's all come down to questions like "Can I find the biscuits I want in your grocery stores?", "Is there a chance I might get sick if I eat in your restaurants?" and "Do you have authentic Indian food?" (Note: In India, the answer to the last question is a resounding yes, but don't be fooled -- it's still One of Those Places).

In Prague, the answers to these questions were "No", "Yes", and "Well, there's one place."

One thing you can find in abundance is coin-slot-faced babies. That's right. They're everywhere. Crawling up the TV tower, lounging in Kampa Park -- these sculptures by Czech artist David Černý were my favorite part of Prague.

Berlin, or The Search for the Perfect Christmas Market

Five Christmas markets. Four days. Three sausages. Two indefatigable travelers. And one creepy, creepy tower.


Our adventures began at Potsdamer Platz, where the Christmas market was laid out in one long row, 2.5 magical kilometers, making it easy to navigate and appreciate. This was the perfect introduction. Highlights included seeing pretzels in their natural habitat, some tasty little donuts, and a lone little boy riding a carousel to the strains of "It Must Have Been Love."

The next afternoon, Rachel and I trekked through the Heart of Darkness into the depths of West Berlin to visit the market at Schloss Charlottenburg. I bought some delicious organic nougat, Rachel bought some lebkuchen, and we took the U-bahn back to Alexanderplatz due to sub-zero temperatures.

But we hadn't had enough Christmas market for one day. The advantage of the Alexanderplatz market is the feeling of being constantly watched by the TV Tower, arguably my favorite public monument of all time. I can't really explain why I love it so much, except for the fact that it's always there. Watching. Waiting.



Gendarmenmarkt was probably the best. Even though they charged 1 Euro admission, they more than made up for the cost with all of the free samples. Foods and crafts were fancier here, but they were missing traditional Christmas market staples like wurst and gluhwein.

On our way home, we swung by the Opernpalais Christmas market for a last hurrah. I ate a Langos, the ordering of which allowed me to speak my longest German sentence to date: "Ein langos mit zucker und zimt, bitte." I was so proud.

The thing about German Christmas markets that makes them infinitely more bearable than American craft shows isn't just the Christmas spirit, the fairy lights, or the novelty I experience as a foreigner -- it's the lack of repetition. Sure, each Christmas market has the same stalls. But there's only one of each stall at each market. You see the wood crafts, the lace doilies, and the scented candles -- and then it's over. Kitsch is kept to a strict minimum in order to concentrate on what's really important: Food.