Charles Bridge, Prague, Czech Republic

Ladies and gentlemen, we have officially hit halfway.

Monday I left Salzburg for Vienna, eager to get to Prague by Wednesday for an important Euro Cup match. Vienna was nice, especially with a hometown friend to serve as tour guide. The Austrian capital reminds me a bit of D.C… palatial gardens, wide, rounded boulevards, big buildings and a lot of people walking around in nice suits and driving big, expensive cars.

Vienna’s café culture impressed me. My friend Augustin and I had cake and coffee at Café Diglas, opulent enough for a king yet still affordable enough for two smelly backpackers. My slice of raspberry and poppyseed cake was delicious and Viennese coffee hit the spot after a long walk in the summer sun.

Vienna’s Café Diglas, where my friend Augustin and I spent a few hours drinking coffee and reading the paper. Photo stolen from their website.

The modern art museum in the sprawling Museum Quarter was also a worthwhile stop… a strong dose of sophisticated cranial stimulation with enough of the “contemporary-art, what-the-hell?!?” factor to keep me going. Out front there was an exhibit of aerial photographs from all over the world, showing seascapes, landscapes and cityscapes from the Phillipines to Nigeria to Yankee Stadium. Wandering around, looking at the photos in a light drizzle for about an hour was a great escape.

I also visited Sigmund Freud’s Vienna apartment, where I sifted through his book collection, dusted his furniture, and verified his circumcision with a certificate hanging in his study. The museum was a bit underwhelming but the otherwise-unlikely trip across town was a good way to see some less-touristed parts of Vienna.

On the reading front, I finished The Beach on the train from Vienna to Prague, and enjoyed it. Better than the movie, the book did a good job tricking me into quasi-planning a backpacking trip to Asia: perhaps Thailand, Taiwan, Singapore, the Phillipines, Malaysia; all over. You are all invited. I think. Now I’ll be reading either Hey Nostradamus!, which Canada Matt let me borrow, or One Hundred Years of Solitude, which I was supposed to read in high school but never actually finished.

I arrived in Prague Wednesday afternoon, eager for a little relaxation after a grueling week of hiking and drinking across rainy Austria. Yeah, right — Taylor, one of my college roommates, works here as an English teacher and was gracious enough to meet me at the train station in the early afternoon with a large can of Czech beer — a sign of things to come.

As I learned at the Kronenbourg Brewery tour a few weeks ago in Strasbourg, the Czechs (not Jacques Chirac) drink the most beer per capita of any European country (40 gallons per person per year)… and they do so for a reason: the local suds are unbeatable. I couldn’t have asked for a better greeting.

Dinner at Příčný Řež, “The Unpronounceable Place.” Photo stolen from their website.

Taylor and I dined at one of his favorite neighborhood restaurants, Příčný Řež, lovingly dubbed “The Unpronounceable Place” after its cryptic, easy-on-the-vowels name. My meal was a juicy slice of pork loin, topped with a fantastic mushroom and onion cream sauce, alongside an order of perfectly seasoned, roasted potatoes and a chopped salad covered in Feta-like crumbles. A few pints of Staropramen later, I was stuffed (for only a few bucks) and ready for some serious soccer hooliganism.

We headed over to a hilltop beer garden across town to watch the Czech Republic vs. Germany Euro Cup match, complete with a 30-foot projection screen, concert sound system and a half-assed attempt at a rain tarp. You probably won’t find this place in Let’s Go… the majority of the spectators were speaking Czech, drinking 75-cent pints in plastic cups and eating large, grilled sausages — the delicious kind with fat chunks too big to swallow. As we arrived, the rain did too… by gametime I was drenched. Twice, cascades of about 15 gallons of water landed directly on my back, courtesy of the perfectly-rigged tarp above our table. Pools would collect silently overhead for about an hour while I guzzled and cheered — and then boom! Soaked.

Though the Czechs didn’t even have to win the game to advance in the tournament, their victory over Germany was symbolic and the streets and subways filled with cheering fans. Britain also lost, its butt kicked soundly by Portugal, which makes me happy for no good reason. For the next week or so I’ll be wandering around one of the most beautiful cities in Europe with very little on my docket. More soon. Ahoj!