Bascomb's Regrets

It was hard to say goodbye to Arne and Berlin. And getting the ticket to Krakow was no piece of cake either. After 30 minutes of intense negotiation I did leave the counter with passage booked, but somewhere in the middle the conversation (translated from the German) went something like this:

- I’d like to stay overnight in Prague if possible.
- Of course. That will be 58 euros. Would you prefer sleeping or sitting?
- Sleeping, please.
- Okay. But I can’t sell you a ticket. We are locked out of that part of the system.
- Okay. Sitting, then.
- Sure. With the summer promotion and the in-person discount minus the Wednesday tax, that will be 210 euros.
- Is there anything cheaper?
- Yes, but you’ll have to stay overnight in Prague.
- Fine.
- Here’s your ticket, and your change.
- But I didn’t pay yet.
- It’s okay.
- This ticket expired yesterday.
- Shall I search for a fare for you on a future train to Krakow?
- Can you give me directions to the airport?

Now on the train, it’s so relaxing. It’s like people used to behave in libraries when I was little: people whispering quietly and making tiny excuse-me noises when they brush past one another. Even the border patrol checking passports: although there are three of them, heavily armed and decked out with high-tech gps shortwave hausaufgabekontrollgetriebe, they’re quiet as a mouse and you don’t hear them until their retina scanners have turned your eyeballs into barcodes.

…even a loss in the quarter finals at Berlin’s Beach Mitte.

Germans are friendly even when they’re kicking your ass.

…so put on a happy face.

The ’stimme’ at the Jewish Museum was dark. The building is the highlight, designed by an architect born in 1945.

…and you’re in Berlin.

Launched my little ‘project’ last night; finished at about 5am. Before going off to Berlin, I wanted to test that I’ll be able to blog from my cameraphone via MMS.