From what I can see from the airport, Zurich looks an awful lot like Brussels: blank and white. They tell me there are Alps out there somewhere, but I'll have to take it on faith since the only thing I can see is fog. Everywhere I go in Europe, fog follows.
In Prague we had a day and a half of bright sunshine, which fortunately coincided with my walking-around-the-city time. I walked so much that my right shoe began to fall apart, and I ended up with blisters and sore joints. I'm thankful that today I'll mostly be sitting.
Photos will come later: I'm using a borrowed camera and I don't have a way to transfer the photos to the computer right now. Meanwhile, I'm carrying mental images: the view from the castle; the teetering tombstones in the old Jewish cemetery; the accordion-playing man singing Russian folk songs on Charles Bridge. Yesterday when I was just about ready to fall over from walking all morning, I restored my tissues with a meal I won't soon forget: smoked pork with creamy horseradish sauce and dumplings. I've got to find the recipe!
Today I'll while away the travel time by reading Orhan Pamuk's Snow, jumping from the fogbank into the blizzard. I just hope this fog doesn't follow me home.
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