With just a little bit of doubt, both my bike and I have arrived in Prague. Actually, I wasn’t too worried when my bike didn’t show up at baggage because I figured one of two things would happen:
- It would never turn up, and Caitlin would be powerless to prevent me getting a new bike, hopefully supported by the largesse of British Air and/or our homeowner’s insurance.
- British Airways would solve my problem of getting the bike box from the airport to the hotel by delivering it there directly since it was late.
The latter is what turned out. This was good, as none of the taxis at the stand could have taken it and shepherding that and everything else through public transit would have been beastly.
Riding in downtown Prague looks… interesting. One first observation, of some concern: It seems like the painted lane lines have ambiguous meaning. There’s no yellow-line, white-line differentiation, everything’s just white lines. I haven’t figured out yet how you would really know how many lanes are going in which direction…
Also, my hotel—which definitely feels like a hostel that got fancy and expensive—has a lot of awesome Euro sort-of-classy, sort-of-trashy going on.
Looking at this, I can’t help but feel a bit like I’ve fallen into some sort of torrid vampire romance novel. Which, you know, I completely support.