The American Who Went Up a Hill But Came Down a Mountain

Today I climbed a mountain. A very small one, but I am very small. From the top you can see all the way to Austria. There were no bears, so I made it back in one piece, but there was almost no wildlife at all, which was rather disappointing. Not even a squirrel.

After coming back down to town, I floated in an inner tube in the Vltava River for a bit, then visited a gallery which has Egon Schiele's easel and not much else. I feel like half of this trip has been spent stalking an artist who died of Spanish Influenza. I do like him, but not as much as the sheer amount of Schiele on this trip would indicate. Oh well.

Back to Prague tomorrow, where I will do . . . something. If you don't count drinking as something to do, I have done all the fun things in Prague.