Here’s how you install an Apple OS (which I’ve done a few times now, always legitimately):

1) Spend $29.99 on the App Store.
2) Download the upgrade, which might take about an hour or two.
3) Let it install for about 20 minutes.

That’s it.

The Windows process, however, is a little rougher. Because I’m upgrading from Windows XP, I have to do a clean install — completely wipe my hard drive, erasing everything I’ve got on there, and install the OS anew. Fortunately I have most of my stuff saved in the cloud, and almost everything I run on the PC can simply be re-downloaded and reinstalled.

But the instructions for installing Windows 7 look like a pain. And so, to share that pain with you, I’m going to liveblog the installation. Here goes.

1:28pm Apparently, before I install Windows 7, I need to make sure my computer can run Windows 7, as per Microsoft’s instructions. So I have to download a Windows 7 upgrade advisor from their website, and then run that so it can tell me if I’m good to go or not.

When I download it, I’m also recommended some other “useful software,” including Internet Explorer and the Office Compatibility pack. Keep in mind that I’m already wiping this hard drive, because I have to do a clean install. So thanks Microsoft, but no — even if I wanted to install that stuff, I’d be deleting it right away anyway.

1:30pm The Upgrade Advisor program is actually an installer, so I’m now installing an app that will let me know if I can install Windows.

1:37pm Good news, my computer is compatible! Can’t say I’m that surprised. Windows also tells me that most of my programs are compatible, but there are quite a few that won’t work directly with Windows 7. Not that it matters much, because, you know, I’m wiping the hard drive, but whatever.

The one thing that the Upgrade Advisor doesn’t seem to tell me is what I would like to know: Should I install the 32 or the 64-bit version? It says both will work, so I’m guessing 64 bit is better. I will try that, I guess. Putting the disk in now!

1:49pm Took me a while to get my BIOS to figure out how to boot from DVD. It kept rebooting back into the XP install. “Windows is loading files” now.

1:52pm I have a screen of some kind! There’s just a cursor there now, though. I presume we’ll get a window with install options at some point. Right?

1:54pm Whew! There it is. Yes Windows, I would like English please. There’s an Install Now button, and I just hit it. “Setup is starting…”

2:00pm My DVD drive is spinning and stopping occasionally, so that’s probably the bottleneck here. At any rate, Windows finally asked me whether I wanted an auto or a custom install, so I picked custom. I pulled up my HD partitions, chose the one with XP on it, hit Delete, and boom, there goes all of my files and programs from the past few years. Thank goodness for cloud saves, right?

Suddenly I have about 300 gigabytes of free space on that HD partition, so I choose to install Windows 7 on there, and Windows tells me “That’s all the information we need right now. Your computer will restart several times during installation.” I decide to let it go — back to playing Diablo on my Mac.

2:10pm Restart number one. I haven’t touched it at all, just letting Windows setup do its thing. I’m kind of impressed that it restarted on to the hard drive directly without me having to mess with the BIOS again. There’s a meter at the bottom of the screen, and it’s about at 75%. Keep on rolling, Windows!

Oh hey — it finally picked up on my screen’s actual resolution (1920×1200, I think?). Nice job!

2:14pm: Another restart. This time, I’m pulling up the BIOS myself just to make sure it’s set to boot back on to the hard drive rather than the DVD again. Hopefully, Windows can handle it. I guess we’ll find out.

2:16pm: I ignored a prompt to press a key to boot to DVD… And yes, “Setup is preparing your computer for first use”! Windows has almost won me over just in the last few minutes here — once Setup actually started rolling, it was surprisingly painless.

2:17pm Inputting a user name, a password, and a product key. This is the first time I’ve owned a legit copy of Windows! I guess this means I’ll be able to get upgrades and real support now, right?

I even set it to “Activate when online.” Because I have nothing to hide now!

2:21pm My desktop is being prepared…

2:23pm And that’s it — I have installed Windows 7! I guess other updates are being installed right now as well. Those may take a while, and probably require more restarts. But I am impressed — only about an hour, and despite all that nonsense at the beginning, surprisingly smooth.

In fact yup, it just asked me for a restart due to the updates. Not a problem.

Now begins the long process of reinstalling all of my stuff — browser first (I was thinking of switching to chrome full time, but I will probably install Firefox just for the heck of it, because all of my bookmarks and settings are already saved there), and then drivers, then Diablo 3, and then everything else. Priorities!

So there you go. Relatively painless — not quite as easy as Apple’s process, but what is, really? And from what I’ve seen of Windows 7, it actually runs well — even without my video and sound card drivers in, everything seems to be working. I believe with my last Windows XP install, I actually had to put Ethernet card drivers on a USB just to get on the Internet. So far, so good.

Thanks for reading!

This coming week, Diablo 3 comes out, and I probably don’t have to tell you that I’ll be disappearing into work for a few days after that happens. I’m reviewing it for Joystiq after covering it for years, so stay tuned for that.

On May 20th, I’ll be running the Santa Monica Classic 10k. I’ve been slacking on working out lately, first because I hurt my back earlier this year, and then because I was in Europe, so I don’t know how I’ll do. But I’ve done the SMC for three years now, so I figured I’d have to do it again no matter what.

Later that week, I’m heading up to Cambria, CA for Improv Utopia, a really great camp event over Memorial Day weekend all about improv and comedy. I like it for the improv stuff, but I am also just going for the retreat — it’s a really nice place up there, with great cabins, a nice lodge, and a lot of fun people. I’ll be there through Memorial Day.

The week after that is of course E3, so I’ll be in downtown LA, covering games for TUAW and Joystiq. Always fun — this is my, sheesh, fifth year at E3? Sixth? Can’t remember.

The next week I’ll be driving up to San Francisco for WWDC. I’m not going to the conference (though I am a developer — Antithesis out now in the App Store, iPad update soon!), but I will be in town having meetings for TUAW coverage. If you are going and want to meet, let me know.

Then, a week after that is Nerdtacular, up in Salt Lake City. I haven’t bought a plane ticket yet, and I don’t have any place to stay, but I am told I’ll be going. We’ll see. I would love to go, but obviously I’ll be busy.

The next weekend (ugh, I already feel tired), I have just learned I’ll be in New York City for the Del Close Marathon at the UCB theater up there. Not one but two of my teams are performing, and I’ll be seeing other shows and taking some workshops up there I’m sure. If you’re in New York, I would like to meet up with you. One of my shows will be on Sunday, July 1, at 4pm, I know, but I’m not sure when the other show is, or where else I’ll be performing. But I haven’t been to New York in like ten years, so I do want to hit up Shake Shack, and do some sightseeing and all of that fun stuff.

That week is Independence Day, and the week after that, it’s off to San Diego for Comic-Con — it’ll be my third year down there. Craziness, all the way around.

So yes, that’s my summer. Pretty nuts. I also have improv shows scheduled every week here in LA (obviously I’ll have to miss a few of those), and I have a few other projects to work on, most notably Antithesis and this other app/game I’m trying to put together. I love being busy, though, and clearly that’s exactly what I’m going to be.

It’s been kind of a strange few weeks back. Jet lag did hit me pretty hard — for a while there, I was falling asleep around 10pm, and waking up at around 7 every day, which actually wasn’t too bad (except that I’m usually a night person, and often have to meet people or go out after 10). But the most surprising thing about returning home after a month away was how quickly everything kind of fell back into place. The day I got back, I sat down at my computer here at home to do some work, and I was surprised at how everything felt. It was almost like I hadn’t gone away at all.

That next morning, I was in bed trying to get some extra sleep so I wouldn’t pass out at dinner, and I found myself forcefully trying to go through my memories, to keep in mind what I’d seen and what I thought about it. And this blog has been very helpful — it hasn’t been a chore to remember the fun I had, but I do want to try and learn as much as I can from it, keep it all in my mind as best I can.

A few people have told me that they really liked the blog, but just in case you haven’t seen it, I wanted to quickly round up what I did on the 30 days I was gone, from April 1 to May 1. I blogged every day (without exception, though Internet issues caused me to post some things a little late), and here’s what I saw and wrote about:

Day 1: I flew across the Atlantic Ocean, and saw the sun rise over Greenland. I pondered just how big this world is, and how, on this trip, I was traveling farther away from my life than I’d ever been before.

Day 2: I passed through the UK Border (had to explain myself to the guard, when I personally didn’t even know exactly what I was doing), found my hostel, and couldn’t help myself: Had to go out and have a beer at a London pub, just because I could.

Day 3: I set out into London, visited Parliament and Westminster Abbey, 10 Downing Street and Tralfalgar Square. I didn’t write about it, but this was also the first day that I went into a London supermarket, and was amazed at how both alien and familiar everything was at the same time.

Day 4: I visited Sherlock Holmes’ famous lodging at 221B Baker Street, walked through Regent Park, had lunch with a Tipoaa listener (fish and chips), and then went out for a terrific Indian dinner with a friend and his wife. We saw Bates from Downton Abbey drinking in a West End bar!

Day 5: I woke up early, took the train out to a very large mall in the English countryside, and rode with Tipoaa listener Harvey out to Oxford. We toured a few universities there, and then went back to his country house to have Moroccan lamb with his mother.

Day 6: We walked through Harvey’s town in the morning, visiting an old church and looking at houses that had stood there for hundreds of years. Then, it was back to London, and the Tipoaa meetup — we met at Oxford Circus, and did some bar-hopping, eventually ending up eating some very great teriyaki chicken just as they were closing the place down.

Day 7: In the morning (staying at my new hotel), I went out to meet new friends at Camden Market, eat incredible foods from stands representing the entire world, and then have beers with some of the UK’s best games journalists. In the evening, I took the train down a theater by myself, where I had a really excellent burger and chips, and saw a (slightly disappointing, unfortunately) version of Oscar Wilde’s An Ideal Husband.

Day 8: My plan for this day (Easter, I believe) was to relax, and for that reason I didn’t go to St. Paul’s in the morning, probably one of the only choices during the trip I regret, though not too much. But the afternoon was one of my favorite parts of the trip: I took the train all the way out to Greenwich, and toured the town there and the Royal Observatory, where both time and space have been studied and measured for hundreds of years.

Day 9: Finally, on Monday morning, I got to meet up with my friend Turpster, and we toured the Tower of London together. In the afternoon, we meet up with some more listeners for drinks, and I stayed until everyone had left, then grabbed pizza with Harvey and headed home.

Day 10: I took the train down to Brighton, on England’s coast, and was surprised by how much it reminded me of Santa Monica, in Los Angeles. After visiting the beach, I spent the day shopping, and then had bangers and mash at a pub, one of my favorite dishes on the entire trip, before riding the train back up into town.

Day 11: I woke early and took the train down to King’s Cross, where I had an excellent ham sandwich that costed way too much, and then took the train to Paris. I got into my hotel there early, so decided to go into the city — and promptly fell in love. I had an excellent dinner at a little cafe there, and though I was exhausted from traveling all day, I couldn’t get enough of this city’s streets.

Day 12: This is really the day that made my Paris trip — I must have walked twelve miles, from the Eiffel Tower to the Invalides, up to and through the Musee D’Orsay, across to the Louvre and into the Palace Garden, and then to the Opera House, where I had one of the best steaks I’ve ever had. Quite a day.

Day 13: Another walking day, full of fantastic sights. I took the train into Paris in the morning, walked across the “New Bridge” (actually the oldest bridge in town), and then did two walking tours: One across the two islands in the middle of Paris, where Notre Dame, the Martyrs’ Memorial, and St. Louis’ church are, and then a walk through the artistic and beautiful Odeon neighborhood, where artists and writers worked and ate and partied. I ate so many good things, had such a great time.

Day 14: I saw the Paris Catacombs, where millions of humans’ bones sit in a dank passage underneath the city. I visited my first Paris graveyard as well, and then went north, to join up with a podcaster meetup and my friend Patrick.

Day 15: It was Sunday, so I went strolling along the Champs Elysees, past a rally for a French election, through international retail stores and past French fast food places, all the way up to the Arc de Triomphe. I stayed there a few hours, just so the sun could go down and I could get pictures at night, even as I froze in just a tshirt and my hoodie. And then, after a quick dinner of pizza (not cut!), I walked back home.

Day 16: This is the first day that I really stayed in on the trip — I did a lot of work, only took one short walk over to a mall to see if I could find something to keep me a little warmer. I did buy a sweater in France, but actually have never worn it, not even yet here in America.

Day 17: This day was also cold and rainy — I climbed the tower of the Sacred Heart Basilica, then walked down through the Pere Lachaise cemetary, full of famous graves. In the evening, I went home and tried cooking dinner with food found at a nearby supermarket. Let’s just say the bread I bought was the best thing I ate that night.

Day 18: This was the Louvre, which went from a sight I wasn’t sure I wanted to see, to one of my favorite visits of the whole trip. There was just so much there. I remember falling asleep sitting up in the middle of Near East Antiquities, just surrounded by art and history and culture.

Day 19: This was my last full day in Paris — for most of it, I worked in my hotel room. But in the evening, I went to the best restaurant I could afford, and ate wonderful food. That chicken! That souffle! One of the best meals I’ve ever had, and Paris, I will be back.

Day 20: I traveled to Berlin. This was the first day I entered somewhere that I really didn’t know the language — in France, at least, I knew enough Spanish to help me out with the romance languages. But entering that train station in Frankfurt, seeing the food and having no idea what it was, and reading the signs and not knowing which train I was supposed to be on, was a pretty phenomenal experience.

Day 21: This was the Free Tour, my first introduction to the tourist side of Berlin. I walked with strangers to the Brandenberg Tor, and then saw the famous sights: The Holocaust Memorial, Hitler’s bunker, Checkpoint Charlie, Museum Island. Afterwards, I walked through formerly communist Germany, and came to the realization that because of everything Berlin has been through, the city is almost younger than my own LA.

Day 22: I studied the Holocaust. I learned what it was and what it meant for its victims at the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe, and then went south to the Topography of Terror display to learn who the Nazis were and how they did what they did. It was a lot to take in on a sometimes tough day, but very important stuff.

Day 23: I visited Ku’damm, as they call it in Berlin, a shopping district with lots of pricey shops and interesting sights. I ate dinner at a Chinese buffet (my second on the trip — weird?), and had to have the proceedings of a mongolian BBQ grill explained to me in two different languages. Also, I ate Kangaroo meat! It was stringy.

Day 24: I took a train out to Wittenberg, to visit the hometown, house, and church of the founder of my family’s religion, Martin Luther. This was a quiet day in a relatively small town, but I walked in the footsteps of someone who’s shaped me and my life from across the centuries.

Day 25: I spent the afternoon visiting the Tranenpalast, the palace of tears, where Berlin has set up a memorial to The Berlin Wall and what it meant for citizens there. Then, on the recommendation of a tour guide, I went to a bar where they had 300 different beers available to buy, and I took a long, proper survey of the best beers Berlin and Germany had to offer. I don’t remember much of the rest of the night, obviously.

Day 26: On my final day in Berlin, I ate at a great restaurant called Max and Moritz, named after an old German folktale. I tried to take in as much as I could of local German culture, and that came with a whole lot of calories as well.

Day 27: I made my way to Prague, checked into the hostel there, and was very confused by the currency. The city was beautiful, however, and super warm, which at first was a nice change from the cold in Paris.

Day 28: This was probably my least favorite day of the trip — Prague was hotter than I expected, and more crowded, and either due to my bad planning or just the vibe of the place, I didn’t find nearly as much history as I expected. I did have a great dinner this evening — potato pancakes and dumplings with some really incredible pork — but the day itself didn’t win any points with me.

Day 29: This was my last full day before I headed home, and Prague was much nicer to me on the second day. I went to visit a castle and a cathedral in the middle of it, walked Prague’s streets and saw Frank Gehry’s Dancing House. I ate dinner over Wenceslas Square, and thought a lot about my trip and what I had learned from it.

Day 30: This was the first of two travel days — I first woke up in Prague, took the train to the airport, and then flew out of the airport on a tiny little plane back over to London. I stayed there in a hotel that was also an Indian restaurant, full of old grubby English guys, all watching a soccer match on the TV and grumbling into their beers.

Day 31: On the final day of my trip, I flew from England back to LA — I saw three movies on the way over (Mission Impossible, Chronicle, and Haywire), and played a whole lot of Junk Jack. I met my friend Rob at the airport, and we had In and Out before I headed back to my apartment at home.

Whew! I’ve been telling people that I haven’t found a good way to really compress my trip into just a few minutes of small talk, but I think that’s about as small as it’s going to get — obviously, I did a lot, and experienced a ton of things. It was certainly worth it. I definitely do want to go back to Europe, to visit Paris, and Greece, and Rome, and probably somewhere up in Sweden and the Netherlands as well — I didn’t get to make it to Amsterdam, unfortunately. But as I’ve said, I think my next big trip will be to Asia, to visit Japan and China and Hong Kong. I will have to save up money, so that might be in another year or two here.

And in the meantime, well, stay tuned. I have quite a bit more to do, even just this summer.

At this exact moment, I’m sitting in the Prague airport terminal, about an hour or so before the flight is set to go. And it’s completely empty for some reason — just a few workers occasionally wandering through.

At any rate, I figured that since today will probably be somewhat boring (just heading back to London, going to stay one night there in a hotel, and then take the train to Heathrow tomorrow to leave Europe), I would revisit some of my bests and worsts from the trip while they’re still pretty fresh.

Best Place I Stayed: Dillion’s Hotel off of the Belsize Park London Underground stop was pretty amazing. I had my own room there, a nice desk, relatively strong Internet, and though it was a shared bathroom, everything was clean and well-maintained. It was nice and close to a train stop, and there was a great little window by the desk that I could look out of while working. Add in the free continental breakfast in the morning and the excellent staff (they let me borrow a power adapter for free), and it was definitely the best place I put my head on a pillow.

Staying for a night with my friend and Tipoaa listener Harvey in Oxford was excellent as well — he and his mother were great and kind hosts, and their house, in an old stable on an old English manor, was beautiful.

And I stayed in about three hostels total on this trip, but the best one by far was the St. Christopher’s Inn in Berlin. I had a private room there, and the whole building was very comfy. They had a bar downstairs with cheap drinks and food, a “chill out zone” with quality chairs and Internet, and all of the staff were very friendly and helpful, all for an astoundingly cheap price. I liked it so much that after one night, I booked a place with the same franchise in Prague. That place wasn’t quite as good, but it was also really excellent as hostels go.

Worst Place I Stayed: I’d been recommended Airbnb.com by a few friends (which is an Ebay like site where people can post and buy rooms), but the one room I booked there was sketchy as all get out. It was in the worst part of London that I had been, on the top floor of a dirty and scary projects-like building. When I got there (after having to call the guy a few times, which I’m sure cost me a fortune), the guy running the place told me he’d just moved in, and introduced me to another guy who he said was the former tenant, moving out that day. He apologized for not having any sheets on the bed yet — he just had to run to Ikea that afternoon and get some for me. I almost left my stuff there, then I felt like that was a bad idea and turned around in the hallway to take my bags with me to dinner that night.

I was exhausted when I got back to the place, but the guy wasn’t around yet, so I sat on a bed without sheets for a little bit, and then just passed out on it. The guy finally showed up later on that evening, with another friend in tow, and said they were going to drink together and I was welcome, but I just couldn’t do it — he put the sheets down and I closed the door and passed out in my clothes. The next morning, I picked my stuff up, said thanks as I walked out the door, and did not use Airbnb again this trip.

Best Sight to See: The Paris Catacombs, the Royal Observatory, Westminster Abbey, and 221B Baker Street in London, the Topography of Terror museum in Berlin, and the Lutherhaus in Wittenberg were all spectacular, and those sights were the main reasons I went on this trip, to see and learn things that I’ve never had the chance to in America.

But the Louvre has to top the overall list. I was skeptical about going there at all, but it is just so full of history and art and inspiration that I believe it’s the center, as much as there can be one, of Western culture. You could argue that Greece and Rome are more foundational in terms of place, yes, but the Louvre has most of Greek and Rome’s most famous works anyway. For the money and the time, it was the best thing I saw in the past month.

Worst Sites: The trip to Brighton was worth it, and I don’t regret it, but there wasn’t much down there that I really had to see. The Tower of London was kind of jokey, but I got to hang out and make a video with Turpster, so I’ll call that a win.

I’ll say the Prague Castle was probably the worst — it was beautiful to look at, but it was such a pain getting up there, and everything was closed when I got there. On a different day at a different time, it would have been much better. But my personal trip there wasn’t very good.

Best Thing I Ate: Oh man, I ate so many good things on this trip: The bangers and mash I had at a pub in Brighton, England, the pain au fromage I bought from a bakery in Paris, the crepe with nutella from a stand near the Odeon, the homemade moroccan lamb in Oxford, the venison pasty I had in a North London pub, the multiple currywursts I had in Berlin. But I have to say, maybe it’s just because it’s so recent, but the potato dumplings with pork I had near the Prague Castle were life-changing. They just soaked up that creme sauce so incredibly well. I want to get home and try to make some. They were so simple and so incredibly good.

Worst Thing I Ate: I apologize to Harvey and his mother, and I thank them again for their hospitality, but the blood pudding they excitedly served me did not appeal to me at all. I at least gave it a shot.

I also had a terrible chicken sandwich from a Pakistanian place in Paris. And I thought I’d really enjoy a kielbasa from a food stand in the middle of Prague, but I did not. I think it was undercooked, and honestly I have no idea what kind of meat it was.

Best Thing I Drank: I drank a lot, but no question, the Dopplebock I had at the 300 beer bar in Berlin was the best. The best. Such a beautiful dark beer — it’s no wonder monks would live off of that stuff.

I also had a lot of good hefeweizens in Berlin, which are my favorite kind of beer. And in London, I became a fan of an ale called Doombar. It’s a little unfashionable to like, I guess, because it’s sort of a commercial beer rather than a hip microbrew, but it was everywhere and I liked it. The Guinness there, too, is just as good as everyone says, but I’ll have to go to Ireland to get the real thing some day.

Worst Thing I Drank: I don’t really like tea, and when I told a bartender one day that I was extremely thirsty, and I was American, and could I just have like a bucket of soda because I missed 7-11, he told me the best he could do was a big glass of iced tea. It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t what I wanted at all.

At my first meal in Paris, too, I didn’t know where to go or what to do, so when I finally found a restaurant and sat down and finally deciphered the menu enough to know that I was ordering some pork, the waiter asked me what I wanted to drink. I was in France, so I knew I had to drink some wine, but I didn’t have a lot of money on me and I didn’t know if they took credit cards. So I told him to bring me something red and cheap, and that’s what I got: Wine that was red and really cheap. Tasted like it, too.

Best Women: Maybe it’s just because I was away from home for longer and longer as I moved across the continent, but the women got more beautiful the more I went west: London, Paris, Berlin, and then Czechoslovakia. Czech women are gorgeous, but they’re also annoying: One of the bartenders at my hostel bar, when I told her that I was staying in a room there, said sarcastically, with a Czech accent, “Okay? That’s nice, thank you for telling me that. But it’s still the same price.” Chill out, lady.

I have to say, French women were the nicest to me. They’re all beautiful, and whenever I talked to them, they chatted back with me in that beautiful accent.

Not the Best Women: Sorry, London. You’ve got some good looking women but you’re bringing the average down. The nicest girl I met in London was from Boston.

Coolest Dudes: Berlin. German dudes are awesome. When I was on the train from Paris to Berlin, there was a guy in front of me who looked like he could have been a spy who’d left the trade to join private industry. He was dressed in a great suit and glasses, an older guy, and most of the trip, he chatted across the aisle very animatedly with another guy he’d just met in German. There was a woman behind me talking in Spanish who had an argument with the train conductor, and this guy stood up, walked over to them, and translated and mediated between the two, in perfect Spanish and German, solving the argument. Later, behind him, there was a old couple from Texas riding the train, and he chatted with them, too, in German-accented English, completely charming when he didn’t have to be. I thought he was a superman of some kind — if I grow up to be that guy, life accomplished.

The male bartenders in Berlin bars were awesome as well, always ready with a drink recommendation or change for the train when I needed it.

Least Coolest Dudes: I didn’t meet a cool bartender in England. It’s a shame, because I did meet some cool Tipoaa listeners. But English gents didn’t get along with me very well. I met a nice lady with a great Zelda hearts tattoo, but she shut me down pretty harshly when I complimented her on it.

Best Thing I Got Right: Bringing my iPad was the right decision. I went back and forth on it, because I worried it would be too heavy, it would break, it would get stolen. But I took very good care of all my stuff on this trip, and the iPad was super helpful when I had wifi and just wanted to sit and relax, or when I wanted to play games or read. I would certainly have regretted leaving it in LA.

Worst Thing I Got Right: Yup, it was expensive, like I expected. Really expensive. I don’t really want to share how much this trip costed me, but one dream I had for a little while was that my freelancing gig would basically pay for me to just tour around the world, writing from wherever I happened to be, and this trip would be a test balloon for a life like that. But it’s just not sustainable, either in cost, or in my own sanity. I need to have a local life, with friends and a little regularity. And I need to save back up all of that money I just spent.

Best Thing I Got Wrong: I actually didn’t get this too wrong: I am glad that I didn’t buy a $2000 camera. For one thing, it would have painted me as a tourist way more than I wanted, and for another thing, it would probably have been awkward and heavy to carry. But I thought for a while that I would just need my iPhone for a camera, and eventually my friend told me to take his Panasonic Lumix. This little Lumix has been my favorite piece of tech on this trip — it takes great pictures at a moment’s notice, and has put together an excellent photo collection for me to share, both here on the blog and when I get back in person. I am glad I took my friend Dan’s advice and stole his camera for this month. There were a few days there when the battery on it wasn’t charged, and I had to use the iPhone, and I can tell from those days that just using my iPhone would have been a big mistake.

Worst Thing I Got Wrong: I hate to say Tom Bihn, because they so kindly provided me a bag, and it is a really awesome bag. It’s a solid backpack with plenty of great pockets, and I’m amazed at how much it fits in there — if you need a backpack at all, Tom Bihn is the way to go. But the problem is that I thought I needed a backpack for this trip, and honestly, I didn’t. There were no actual times when I had to tour around with all of my clothes on my back — there was always a locker, or a locked room, or some secure place for me to put my stuff when I went out. The few times I had to transport all of my clothes from one place to another, my rolling suitcase would have worked fine, and actually would have let me fit more in it.

I don’t want to say anything bad about Tom Bihn, as those folks are great. But if I could do it again, I would have just brought my usual rolling suitcase, and saved the backpack for people actually backpacking.

Books Read: The Art of Fielding, by Chad Harbach, Madam Bovary by Gustave Flaubert, Reamde by Neal Stephenson, The Unincorporated Man by Dani Kollin and Eytan Kollin (the only one I didn’t like), and House of Chains and Midnight Tides by Steven Erickson. I did so much reading on this trip — iBooks is the best thing to ever happen to traveling, as far as I’m concerned.

Most Played iOS Games: Fairway Solitaire, Triple Town, Spellsword, Hookshot Escape, and just on the last couple of flights, I am totally addicted to Junk Jack.

iOS Games Made: None, unfortunately. I was really looking forward to this trip as a chance to work on my coding, and I got a few hours of the Antithesis update done on the train to Berlin, but other than that, I didn’t really see it as a very meaningful use of my time. Every time I opened up Xcode and started working, I figured that there was probably something better for me to do. Oh well — once I get home, the Antithesis update is my main goal.

Miles Walked: I have no idea, unfortunately. I know that on my biggest days, walking around London and Paris, I was easily doing ten or twelve miles a day, including three or four hours a day standing in place at museums and in queues. And I’m glad to say that in all my travels, I never took a taxi or a bus — it was all trains or walking. While I can definitely tell my walking has physically improved, I unfortunately ate way too many calories, just because I couldn’t pass up some incredible local delicacies. My legs are super muscular, but I think my midsection has gained a few pounds. Oh well — it was worth it.

Miles Traveled: Over 12,000. Flight to London from LA, lots of riding on the Underground, travels out to Oxford by car and Brighton by train, then down to Paris by train, lots of traveling on the Paris Metro, then over to Berlin by train. Out to Wittenberg and back by train, then to Prague by train. Finally, flight back to London Luton from Prague, to Heathrow by bus, and then to Los Angeles by air again.

Pictures taken: Over 1600. I don’t know the best way to share them — I’ve put quite a few on Facebook, but it didn’t seem like people were seeing them there. Maybe I’ll just put them on my iPad and show them when people want to see them.

Words Written: 62,000 here on the blog. Also worked on Joystiq and TUAW posts over the last two weeks, so I stayed pretty productive.

Best City: This is a tough one. I think I’ve told this story before, but when I was in college, I traveled out to LA, and about two weeks after I got there, I knew it was where I wanted to live. I was sort of thinking that might happen with this trip: That I’d find someplace so awesome that I would have to make it my dream to live there. That didn’t happen — I think I’ll still be more happy in LA than actually living in any of the cities I visited.

But while each city definitely had its charms, and there wasn’t really one I didn’t like (Prague has its issues, but I think it’s mostly because I visited on a busy weekend — if it was quieter and I had more time, I would have liked it much better, I think). Overall, my favorite city was Paris — it’s such an amazing place, just filled with art and beauty and history. The buildings are so long there — block after block of huge windows, long boulevards, and so many incredible cafes and restaurants. The Louvre, I think, is probably the most important single place in Western culture so far. And while everyone warned me about the French, I had no problems at all — they were very gracious hosts, and very nice to me even when we didn’t share a language. I don’t know if I’d want to live in Paris — it’s still a little too far away from the culture and the community that I really love. But of all these cities, that’s the one I most need to go back to: I want to visit a Michelin-starred restaurant, I want to tour a vineyard, and I want to just soak more and more of that amazing, legendary city in.

All that said, however, I’m going to tour Asia before I do that.

Best Moment: That is a tough one. Honestly, overall, I have been happier in the past month than I can remember being so often and so long. I’m not super sad all the time, but my life is busy and complicated, and sometimes all of the things I do drag me down a bit. Life in general can get heavier than I like, sometimes. But this past month, I almost never felt that — usually I was just excited, thinking about what I’d seen that day and what I was planning for the next. That was really nice — to have my goals every day be mostly my own, not dependent on something I needed to do or some commitment I’d made.

If I have to pick one, there was that moment in Berlin, when I was walking around the streets on my second day, looking for the square that honored artist Kathe Kollowitz. I made the decision to travel around in early Spring, and all of a sudden, out of nowhere, a rainstorm appeared. I had of course not brought my umbrella, and so I ducked underneath an awning and decided to wait it out.

It was so beautiful — the sun was still shining through the clouds, the rain came down crisp and clear, and various people from Berlin ran this way and that, trying to get out of the rain. And while I stood there, surveying the scene, it hit 6pm on the dot, and I heard not one but two churches ring their bells at the same time.

The sound and smell of the rain, combined with the gorgeous church bells ringing, and people bustling back and forth occasionally, and me just sitting on this little closed off porch early on an April evening in Berlin? That would rank as one of the best moments I had, on a trip full of them.

For one thing, I waited to go out until the sun was mostly down. It was actually a hotter day than my first day in the city, but I had a lot of writing and catching up to do anyway, so I just sat down in the hostel bar and relaxed for most of the day, cleaning up my Internet feeds and making plans for heading back home. I finally booked my last hotel night in London, wrote a few posts and put up some pictures.

I had a late lunch in the bar as well, just some chicken fingers and fries. I get a 10% discount on food and drink here, because I’m staying up in a room, but I haven’t really made much use of that, obviously — there’s better and more local food elsewhere in the city. Maybe I should mention the room, just for posterity’s sake: This is one of the only times during this trip that I’ve had to stay in a shared room, because the private rooms at the hostel were already booked up for the weekend. The first night I was in Prague, I actually had a four bed room to myself, but I still wasn’t able to sleep well: I wasn’t sure, minute to minute, if a group of frat dudes would kick in the door and settle in to the room with me. So as a result, it wasn’t very restful anyway, unfortunately.

Yesterday, when I was clumping around the city angry at tourists, it occurred to me that maybe my lack of sleep had something to do with my mood, so I decided when I got back to the hostel that I would probably have to lay down and grab a nap. But as soon as I got back to the room, I discovered my roommates: Three girls, all speaking something that I would eventually figure out was Hungarian. They were in the room and unpacking, but when I entered, they all sort of clammed up and sat there awkwardly, waiting for me to leave, I guess. I obviously couldn’t nap in a situation like that, so I just dropped my things off, and headed back down to the lobby to read. So yes, maybe some of my crabbiness yesterday can be attributed to exhaustion.

Then, when I finally went up to the room to sleep later that evening, it was still pretty early, so I expected the girls to be out, partying or enjoying the city. Instead, they were fast asleep in their beds already, so I quietly undressed, said sorry a few times (but still didn’t get any English out of them), and jumped into bed. About an hour after I did that, I woke back up again: The girls, all three of them, got up one at a time, showered and dressed, and headed out of the room. This was about 1:30 in the morning. After they left, I sat there confused for a while, wondering what was going on — they hadn’t spoken a single word of English, just chatted and laughed quietly in Hungarian.

At 5am that night, they returned to the room, and I assume they went straight to bed — that’s where I left them when I woke and showered at about 8. When I returned to the room in the afternoon, after I was done writing at about 2, they were gone, so I finally got a nap in, and rested up a bit. I have no idea what happened that night with those women.

I didn’t want to spend the whole day inside, though, so late in the afternoon on Sunday, I headed back out into the city, but this time went south, away from the main crowd of tourists. I walked down and saw Frank Gehry’s Dancing House (it is gorgeous, sitting right on the main Vitava river through town), stopped by the Emauzy Monastery, an old monastery which I believe has now been turned into a school.

Finally, I arrived at another old castle, this one called Vysehrad. This was a serious castle — there were walls maybe 50 feet high around it, and I had to hike up a hill (in the heat again) to reach a get and get inside. Once inside, I found a little fortress of a village, with thankfully only a few tourists and locals sprinkling the grounds.

There was an old cemetery there, with graves dating back a few centuries or so. And there was a church, an old Gothic cathedral that I’d seen coming up the hill. I went inside and paid 30 crowns (maybe a $1.50 or so) to go check it out.

The tourists weren’t swarming in here, but the few inside didn’t help their reputation with me anyway — the poor woman at the door told everyone “No flash” as clearly as she could, and there was a sign at the door that clearly asked for silence, but no one listened. These idiots were all running around the little sanctuary flashing away and chatting with full voices. I didn’t get any pictures of the chumps who took pictures of themselves flexing in front of the altar, but I did get a picture of the guy who ignored all of the art around him to take a picture of his wife in the pew. I also didn’t get a picture of the guy who was carrying a full iPad around, and taking pictures with that. Ugh again.

A few people told me I was harsh yesterday, and like I said, I was going on probably too little sleep. But I do really detest this kind of hit-and-run tourism, where nothing matters but the pictures and the checkbox on whatever list they’re using. There’s so much history in these places — in the back of this church, in a little room full of heritage objects from the church’s history (which people routinely stepped inside, looked around, and stepped right back out again in the 20 minutes or so that I spent in there), there were paintings that dated back to the 1700s, and one bone comb that dated to the 1300s. That’s nearly eight centuries of history, and people were giving it a glance, and then going back out to the gold-leafed paintings. Maybe is wrong for me to judge these people based on a few seconds of our lives, but man, have a little respect, especially for someplace that you yourself have paid to come and visit.

I did take a few pictures, but I never once used a flash in that church, and I did try to sit for a few minutes, thinking about how long that church had been there, and what it must have been like hanging all of those beautiful paintings by candlelight. The priest probably stood there with the artist himself at some point, thanked him again for painting this beautiful work to hang in God’s house, and the artist nervously left it there, left it for God and history to see. That’s the kind of stuff that fascinates me about this places, and if nothing else, those idiots who take a flash picture and then move on sure don’t seem like they’re thinking about things like that. Maybe it’s none of my business, but that’s what I think.

Afterwards, I walked across the fortress walls and back down through the gate down into the city again.

Because it was my last day on this trip (tomorrow, I board a flight to London, and from there it’s back to LA and my usual life again), I tried to think a little bit as I walked about why I did it, and what I got out of it. I’ve always said I wanted to visit London and Paris, so if nothing else, that goal’s been accomplished. But of course there was more to this trip than that. I wanted to go outside of my usual boundaries, try going to a place where I didn’t know the language, and see if I could find my feet and figure things out. I wanted to see what was different in the rest of the world, what I took for granted every day that people in other countries didn’t even know about, or maybe had even come up with something better.

And I did learn some of those things: The English, for example, have red, yellow, and green traffic lights just like we do in America, but while ours go directly from red to green when it’s time to go, in England, they go from red, to red and yellow, and then to green. That way, you get a little heads-up when it’s about time to move again. I don’t know — that probably wouldn’t work in America, as we’d have people revving their engines to go as soon as that yellow light came on. But it’s different things like that I was looking for and found. Things like how bathrooms are called WC here, and how there’s a different word for “Exit” in every country.

And how Prague’s currency actually helps bring tourist money in: 99.- here means 99 crowns, which to us Americans sounds like 99 cents. If you see a hot dog for 99 cents, you’re like yes indeed, that’s a good deal. But 99 crowns is actually almost $5, and it occurred to me that while Prague probably could just scale their money down and make it more even with euros and dollars, that “99.-” is actually a powerful selling tool. And since most of their money is now from tourism, it probably all works out for them just fine.

I would never have known that story, or had that thought, if I’d never left LA. I’m sure there’s lots more thinking I’ll do about this trip — I almost feel like I need to be back in my old life for a day or two just to realize how different things really are.

But I’ve also learned that lots of things are the same. Here, almost buried by loneliness while in Berlin (I haven’t actually had a conversation with anyone I know for a good two weeks now, unfortunately), I just sat myself at the bar and started talking to anyone I could. And while yes, some people just smiled and nodded at the crazy American, most people talked back — they were nice, they chatted, we talked about where we were from and what we thought of Berlin, and what our lives were like and what we wanted to do. It was in a hostel, so people were there from all over: From Germany, Spain, Italy, America, Canada, Australia, and a host of other countries. A couple of other times too, on this trip, I’ve just been bored and started chatting with people around me, which is something I don’t do very much in America at all. And without exception, everyone’s been very nice, been talkative, and we’ve found something in common, something to talk about.

I am looking forward to seeing how that affects me back in America — if I can share this much halfway around the world, how much will I share with people who already have a common language with me, and a common city, and probably common thoughts and goals and ideas? We’ve all got to push to be better people, and hopefully that will help me do just that.

It was about 7 when I finally got back to the hostel, but I didn’t just want to sit in that bar for my last night in town, so I headed out once more into the cool evening to do a little more walking. I went back up to the tourist part of town, and thankfully it was not quite as crowded on a Sunday evening as on a Saturday afternoon. I didn’t concern myself with local cuisine for dinner — I just figured I’d sit down in a place that looked good, and that happened to be an Italian place, which I’ve seen a lot of in all of the countries I’ve stayed in, but hadn’t eaten at just yet.

I sat down, ordered a Kozel, and a plate of gnocchi with chicken and some foccacia bread. My window looked out on to Wenceslas Square, and I watched the tourists going by, people from all over the world, looking up at me with wonder and awe (well, they were looking at the architecture around me, but I was there too). I sat there, read a little bit, ate my pasta and drank my beer.

Eight months ago, last October, I was driving home from my improv theater in LA (Improv! I just realized I haven’t done any improv in a month now), and I decided my life needed a shakeup, that I needed to do something a little crazy. And before I got home, I knew: I would finally take the Europe trip. In fact, I would take a full month, and not only would I see London and Paris, finally, but I’d head off into the continent, see all of the art, the old churches, the historical sites and monuments that I’d always read about but had never seen in person. And now, eight months and way too much money later, I sat, finished my dinner, and sipped the rest of my local Czech beer, looking out onto a busy public square as the sun set over Prague.

—

Oh, that was such an elegant ending, but I forgot to explain the mystery of the girls Or at least as much (or as little) of it as I uncovered.

Later that night, after a few more beers in the bar, I went back up to my room, and discovered them all asleep in their beds. At least, I thought they were asleep — after I fumbled around in the dark a little bit, one of them spoke out to me, in plain English, “It’s ok — you can turn on the light. We’re all awake anyway.” Another one laughed.

So apparently they did speak English. I said sorry again, and I asked them where they were from. “Hungary,” they said (not all together, but given how dark it was, they might well have just been one person). Are you just visiting? I asked. They glanced at each other. “Yes,” they said, “visiting.”

“And you?” they asked. I said I was from Los Angeles, that I was heading home the next day.

“And you,” they asked, “visiting?” I thought for a second. Yes, I said. Just visiting, too.

I asked them if they were going out again that night, and they didn’t understand my English. Going out, I said more clearly and slowly, tonight, again? “No,” one of them said. “Sorry about last night.” It’s fine, I replied. I just didn’t know what was going on. I don’t know if they understood that last part.

Well, I said, I am going to sleep. Good to meet you, hope you have a good trip. Good night, I said.

“Good night,” one of them said back to me. And with that, I went to bed. They were still sleeping when I woke up at 8 the next morning, showered, and headed out to the Prague airport to fly to London.

Well, that’s not completely true. I do like getting away from things, having time to relax a bit. But I don’t like doing nothing at all. I like moving, I like working, I like having a purpose and going to it. Whenever I go back to the open country in the middle of the US to visit family or stay for a while, I’m just done with it after a few days. There’s nothing to do.

And to a certain extent, I’ve approached this trip as a sort of work. A very enjoyable sort of work, to be true, but when I’ve visited these different places, I’ve approached them with the best writer’s eye I’ve got (my right, of course), and tried to really pull some meaning out of them, something I could take away and share, both with you here and with my future self. When people on this trip have asked me how long I plan to be on vacation, I usually have to blink and think about what they’ve said for a second or two: I’m not really on vacation here. I don’t really like vacation.

Prague, on the other hand, is definitely a vacation town. It’s probably a combination of a few different factors (including that the weather is much hotter here, 81 degrees today, and that it’s a weekend), but the streets here are just flooded with tourists. I’ve seen tourists on the rest of my trip, of course, but those have always been manageable. Only once, in Berlin, when I wanted to use a sports bar for writing and a bunch of hooligans wanted to use it for watching a soccer game, was I really frustrated by crowds. All the rest of this past month, I’ve basically wandered the streets and museums in rapt awe, just enjoying the exploration, the discovery, and seeing the occasional group of people with cameras and backpacks was more of a cute distraction that reminded me of LA than anything else.

Until today. Here in Prague, the heat has been stifling to me, and the crowds have been so frustrating. The guy with the way-too-expensive for what he’s doing with it camera who stops in the middle of the street for no reason at all, taking a picture of a building he knows nothing about. The old grandmothers from New York City, who thought they’d come to Prague for fun, and spend their time shopping in the exact same retail stores they do back in America, where only the price numbers are different (and actually more expensive). The idiots who tour down an old Prague street, see a TGI Friday’s and decide to eat there for the night. And the bros — from all countries — who are about nothing at all but dude dude dude fuck dude, where we drinkin’ tonight dawg?

Ugh. Ugh to all of it. And the worst part is that from what I’ve seen, there’s nothing here to make all of this heat and all of these crowds worth it. The architecture is gorgeous, for sure, but unlike the main corridor of Europe, where I’ve been so far, relatively nothing has happened here over the centuries. I saw the sights: I walked through Wencelas Square, where I saw the elegant National Museum — but couldn’t go in due to construction. Then down to St. Henry’s Tower and the Powder Gate, so named because it was used to store gunpowder in the 17th century. I continued down the king’s coronation road, saw multiple really beautiful cathedrals and the Astronomical clock. At noon the sun just became too much for me — I had to head back to the hostel, sit in the cool bar and read for a bit.

And then I headed back out in the evening, and even at 5pm, the sun still burned down, not a cloud in the sky. Across the St. Charles Bridge, the heat was too scorching and the crowds were just too dense to enjoy the statues on either side. And going up the hill to the old Prague castle, supposed to be the crown jewel of the region (not least of which because the crown jewels are themselves held there), was torture. I couldn’t even run to get out of the sun because of the indolent tourists in the way, idiots stumbling along covered in fanny packs and designer backpacks and chattering in various foreign languages.

When I finally arrived at the tower, sweaty and angry, I at last saw a museum that was supposed to be interesting, was supposed to tell the “Story of the Prague Castle.” But of course, on a weekend at 5 in the evening, the woman closing the doors in front told me it was closed. I made my way to the St. Vitus Basilica, and it was so impressive to see from outside — I couldn’t wait to get inside and see what it was like. But no — closed for an organ concert. Fine, I said, how much is the organ concert? 800 crowns — over 40 bucks. I’d seen Notre Dame for free. I’d seen the whole of the Louvre for 8 euros. I passed.

There was a tower to climb for just a few crowns less, and I considered it, but then I saw the sign outside the door. Go ahead and guess the most interesting feature of this tower, the number one thing that they advertise outside the door? You can’t, I bet. Because the most interesting feature of the tower was that it had a bell, put in the tower in the 1800s, that predicted a flood … in 2002. This cathedral was built back in the 1300s, and the most interesting thing that’s happened to it was 10 years ago? I tried to at least see the crown jewels (since I’d already seen the crown jewels of both Britain and France this month), but nope, they’re only shown to the public once every eight years. Makes complete sense to me. Because you know, there’s so many other interesting things to see around. I was livid.

I sat down on a bench in the shade and calmed down. Prague was obviously a disappointment. My sister had warned me away from it, to Vienna, but I figured there was too much to do there in just a few days, and Prague would be much simpler. I don’t know what Amsterdam would have been like, but I thought that I’d probably made a mistake by coming here. This just wasn’t my kind of town.

The last thing I wanted to do during the day was, as I had promised, find some real Czech cuisine to eat. Looking online, I found two targets that I thought would be pretty easy to find. One was called bramboráky, which were some potato pancakes that were supposed to be good. The other was utopenci, which was pickled sausage of some kind. Both, I learned, were supposed to be pretty common in bars, and pretty cheap, so I figured I had a good chance to find them. There were other specialties, including roast pork, potato dumplings, and something called smažený sýr, which was breaded and fried cheese that I’d actually had the day before, when I ate that fried cheese sandwich. But I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to find these at a price I wanted, with all of the tourists hanging around.

The first restaurant I tried wasn’t bad — it was higher up on the hill, near the castle itself. But when I sat down to eat there, the place was completely empty. And checking the menu, they had some czech dishes, but nothing I was looking for. It just didn’t feel right to have this meal represent my time here, so I got up, returned the menu, and went looking for another place.

I tried another restaurant — the menu outside was in czech only, but I definitely spotted my bramboráky on there, and figured I could at least get that. I went in and sat down — and had to wave away a cloud of fruit flies. Well fine, I thought — maybe that will just make this place more “authentic.” But after a few minutes of waving away and swatting at fruit flies, I decided that wouldn’t work, authentic as the place might be.

So not only had I had a terrible day of fighting crowds in the sun, but now I couldn’t find a single decent restaurant. Coming down the hill from the castle, I found one more restaurant. This one had bramboráky on the menu, and it didn’t have my sausages, but it did have some relatively cheap pork on it, in a special local cream sauce I’d read about called knedlíky. I figured with the pancakes and the pork, I could make a meal.

And, as it turned out, the meal was terrific. I got a house pilsner to go with it, and both the beer and the basket of bread I got were quite good (the butter had chopped up peppers in it, which I really liked). The potato pancakes were fantastic — they were served with a salad on a bed of sauerkraut, and the ‘kraut was the best I’ve had on this whole trip, even without any meat on it.

The server recommended that I try potato dumplings, another czech specialty, with the pork, and so I assented — they were a little bit more, but I went for them anyway. Turns out he was exactly right. The pork was amazing, and the sauce was just brilliant; sweet and creamy, a perfect companion to the tender meat. But those dumplings! They were almost like a steamed potato bread, and they just soaked up that wonderful sauce.

This could have been the best thing I’ve eaten on this whole trip. I wanted to call out to the water as I soaked up that sauce with the dumplings. “You have redeemed your city, your country, with this meal, my good man!” I wanted to say. Instead I just ate the last of the sauce, and when he came by, thanked him for recommending the dumplings to me.

Heading back to the hostel, full of that food, I actually felt better — the sun had gone down, things were a little cooler, and I was relaxing. Maybe I do like vacation, I thought. I sat on a bench, read some more, and tried to enjoy myself a little bit.

Unfortunately, the walk back home proved all of that wrong — I ran into crowds yet again, and at night they were even worse, blocking my path and teeming right in front of where I wanted to go. I passed a Burger King and saw it packed with people wearing backpacks and cameras, shook my head and cursed my own kind. I saw drunk guys pushing and shoving each other, bumping into me and others around. I saw people taking pictures mindlessly, and every time I had to walk in front of those inconsiderate morons I threw an angry glance into their camera.

It’s kind of a shame — I had hoped this little stay here would be quiet and simple, a nice buffer between everything I’ve seen, and the big flight and then returning to my usual rhythms back home. But at this point, if I want to get any of that done, I may just spend my day tomorrow here in the hostel bar, writing and reading by myself.

When I first entered France and then Germany, and stepped off the train, I had this weird moment of something like panic that came up. It wasn’t a panic attack or anything nearly that bad, but it was a few minutes of just disorientation — consciously, I knew I was going to enter a brand new country where I didn’t know the language, but unconsciously, I looked at the signs expecting to pick up meaning, and then was a little shocked when I didn’t.

In France, and then in Germany, I was surprised, after even just a week there and exactly zero actual training, at how quickly I picked up the language. Once you know what a few things in each of those languages mean, it isn’t hard to figure out what a lot of the rest means, just from context alone. But sure enough, when I entered the train station here in the Czech Republic, I had that same weird little moment of panic.

The biggest bit of confusion I’ve had here today has been the currency. Euros and dollars and pounds are all pretty close together — they’re only within one or two actual numbers, so I got along pretty well just by adding two or three to whatever I was buying. But one US dollar equates to 18.74 Czech koruny at the moment, so the prices here are all things like 23, 75, or 240 ck, not $1.20, $3.50, or $12.70 (which is what each of those approximately is). So I’ve been doing calculus in my head all day, trying to realize just how much things are worth around here. This beer I’m drinking right now, for example, cost me 50 ck, which sounds super cheap. It was just one coin, and I got change back! But it’s actually $2.70, and for the value and the quality of the beer I’m drinking, that’s not such a great deal.

As for the city itself, once I checked into the hostel (it’s the same franchise as the place I stayed in Berlin, because I really liked it and they had lots of fast Internet and a bar on the ground floor), I just decided to go walking and see what I could find. In the next few days I’m sure I’ll do a few tours and seek out a few sights, but tonight I just decided to dive in. I grabbed a free map from the hostel and started looking around.

I know next to nothing about Prague at all — originally, as you might remember, I was going to go to Amsterdam, and while I didn’t know much about Berlin, I at least knew it was the Nazi capital and the site of the Berlin Wall. Prague, I have no idea. I think there were communists around here somewhere? But I don’t know what happened to them? And just walking around the streets, I could see there was a lot of money in the architecture, so there must have been some sort of king or emperor or kaiser around here somewhere.

The architecture is probably the most phenomenal thing about the city — this truly is Old Europe. Berlin is also old Europe, but it’s been so ravaged by war that most of the buildings are actually pretty new. A lot of the buildings I saw there seemed built around 1950 or 60, which puts it on the same scale as Los Angeles, surprisingly. But Prague seems to have survived the centuries well — everywhere you look, there’s some sort of crazy fascinating old building, that was probably owned by a monarch at some point.

The problem I have with Prague so far, however, is that it’s almost completely a tourist-driven city at this point. At least in the places I’ve visited, I’m hearing way more English than anything else. It’s like the Vegas of Europe — everything is really spectacular, and looks terrific, but it’s all pretty fake, designed to just rake in the tourist dollars, not actually represent anything. Indeed, as I walked around, I saw mostly retail stores (a lot of American chains, though mostly higher end retail places), and a lot of familiar brands: Subway, TGI Friday’s, Burger King, even a Hooters. Honestly, I’ve seen all of these (except for the Hooters) elsewhere in Europe, but they’re usually not in the main town square — they’re sequestered in the tourist-only spots, away from the real history. Here in Prague, they’re right in the middle of it all.

That rubs me the wrong way a little bit, but honestly, I didn’t really come to Prague for the history so much. I just knew I had a few extra days here at the end of the month, and I wanted to try doing something really wacky and different with them. We’ll see what I end up doing.

Tomorrow, I think, I will probably do a few walking tours, and then maybe try to find some local Czech cuisine, whatever that is (I saw a few places trumpeting Goulash tonight, so maybe that’s it). I should say I did have a “fried cheese” sandwich this evening, because it was only 30 ck ($1.50) and I was hungry. It was interesting — like a mozzarella stick patty in bread that didn’t even come close to the bread I’ve had in the other countries so far. But that was just a cheap snack from a vendor. I’ll be sure to give the Czech Republic’s food its chance.

And then Sunday, I don’t know what. That’ll be my last day of touring around in this month — the day after, I fly back to London, and then jump on a plane back to LA. So I’ll have to come up with something good to do on Sunday to mark the end of this phenomenal trip.

Max and Moritz, I learned while Googling for the address of the place, are two famous cartoon characters who have quite a history of their own. “Max und Moritz – Eine Bubengeschichte in sieben Streichen” is the title of an old, old German folktale, so old that it has now fallen into the public domain. Parents read it to their children, who read it to their children, who read it to their children a few more times over the years. They’re like Paul Bunyan is in America — nobody really knows where the tale came from, but everyone knows who they are.

Well maybe not quite like Paul Bunyan — Max and Moritz was originally written as a children’s book by a guy named Wilhelm Busch in 1865. He also illustrated it, and both the poem included and the illustrations are quite famous. As you might expect from a German tale, it’s actually quite grim to our modern sensibilities, but of course over here, it’s all in good fun, like the gingerbread lady throwing those kids into her oven.

Max and Moritz are two mischievous kids with distinctive haircuts, who specialize in tormenting the people of a small German town in various creative ways. They pull off a series of seven tricks, which get more and more complicated — first, they tie some ropes to chicken food, and when the chicken eat it, they get all caught up together and killed. The widow whose chickens they were is saddened by this, but she cooks the dead chickens, which are then stolen by fishing down a chimney by Max and Moritz, and the widow’s dog is blamed for the theft.

I started my self-chosen three course dinner at Max und Moritz (the restaurant, not the mischievous kids) with some old German potato soup, complete with both sausage and bacon, and some incredibly tasty bread. I decided that I had given German bread a little too short shrift — it is really good, and it’s only because I had just come from France when I ate most of it that I didn’t really get into it. But their ryes and darker breads are just amazing, and the herbed butter that came with it didn’t hurt that at all.

Given all of the beer I’d had the day before, I really didn’t want to drink beer again — I would rather have had soda. But (and this is probably the thing that’s given me the most issue here in Europe), while soda and water flow freely in the US, Europe for some reason does it all differently. When you buy soda, you get a little bottle, and that’s it. When you order water, it’s bottled only, and that’s all you get. So when I looked at the menu, saw a tiny little bottle of soda for 4 euros, and a huge beer of the day for 3 euros, how could I not order beer? I got the house beer, which was a tasty weiss beer, but honestly, I would rather have had a few glasses of diet coke.

After tormenting the widow, Max and Moritz then turn to the rest of the town’s citizens. To the tailor, they saw cuts in a bridge near his house, and then goad him onto walking on and breaking it, causing him to almost drown. The teacher’s pipe is lit with gunpowder, and it explodes in his face. They put bugs in Uncle Fritz’ bed.

The baker almost catches them — they sneak into his place to steal some bread, but instead, he grabs them and sticks them in the dough, then bakes them in the oven. Max and Moritz escape, however, by eating their way out of the dough.

The main course of the meal was called Konigsburger Klopse, which were German braised meatballs and potatoes in a caper sauce with a side salad. The salad was very interesting — most of the stuff in there was all briny, like sauerkraut. Even the lettuce and tomatoes were brined up a little bit, it seemed. I liked it, but it was very different from a fresh American salad — much more sour. The meatballs were, of course, terrific. The potatoes were boiled, in good German style, and were probably the best part of the meal.

Eventually, given all of the trouble that Max and Moritz are causing, they of course get in trouble of their own. The seventh trick they pull is to cut some slits in grain sacks, so that when they’re carried away, the grain all spills out. But the miller catches them at the prank, and he instead stuffs them in the grain sacks and carries them off to be sold. Max and Moritz are ground up into feed, just punishment for all of their pranks, as far as the townspeople are concerned. And then, in one last indignity, they’re eaten by ducks. The original book shows the grain laid out in the shape of Max and Moritz, being eaten by a couple of very strange-looking ducks.

My last course was dessert. I couldn’t pass up some old fashioned “apfel strudel,” given that I’ve had a lot of really terrible knockoff American strudel over the years.

And when it appeared, it was of course amazing — the creme that was poured over it was basically a very smooth icing, and was incredibly good. At this point, even I was thinking I’d eaten a little much, so I chose not to scoop the creme up with a spoon after I’d finished. But I really wanted to.

As I walked through Berlin back to my hostel room there for the last time, I thought about what folktales like Max and Moritz mean to those who tell and hear them. Obviously, there’s a little morality tale there — kids probably enjoy the pranks as they hear them, but of course at the end, they’re supposed to be scared off by Max and Moritz’ final fate. And of course there’s benefits to reading comprehension as well — Max and Moritz rhymes and it’s easy to read to kids, but it’s also easy for them to start reading themselves once they know the story, and there’s enough variety that they can learn all kinds of important words for a country environment.

Even more than that, stories like this create unity in a people. They create nostalgia, because everyone remembers being told it as a kid, and the sequential nature and the clear identity of the characters and situations makes it easy to remember. It’s also very archetypal, the mischievous pranksters, and so the imagery can be inserted into all sorts of situations. Max and Moritz have existed in all kinds of media around Germany for many years — there are even YouTube videos of a fake Max and Moritz Reloaded trailer, which riffs on the kids’ tale in an adult way.

But most of all, I think, it’s a point of reference for German people who grew up with the story as a kid. It’s home. And the Max und Moritz restaurant certainly felt like home — there were big families at big tables all around me, and lots of little Max and Moritz tchotkes lined the walls, all echoing that feeling that you’re home, you’re safe, you’re in a place where there’s a story that you know and love, where things happen the way you’ve always known them, always remembered them.

I thought about all of this on my walk back to the hostel. And when I got back there, I didn’t go back down to the bar and have a beer, or do any partying. I curled up in bed, just relaxed and read a little bit, and thought about home.

Tomorrow, I take a train to Prague, for a mini-trip of just a few days. And then on Tuesday, I’ll fly back, and I’ll return, finally, to the good old U.S. of A.