Kafkaesque

Our weekend in Prague started on Saturday morning with a train and a bus. Long term readers of this blog will recall that I have serious doubts about public transport, due to many disturbing and sometimes unpleasant experiences in the past. As we sauntered from Glasgow Central to Buchanan Street bus station with our little wheeled cases in tow, a seagull shat upon BOTH of us from a great height. It splattered right down the front of James’ jacket, and also hit me right on the forehead and down my nose. I believe that this can be regarded as good luck! We nipped into a wee city supermarket and bought a packet of baby wipes to clean ourselves up a bit. So there we were, standing in the middle of Buchanan Street, wiping each other down with the wipes!
The bus station was bustling but James bought me a wee coffee and we found the bus to Edinburgh Airport with no difficulty. The passengers were a strange looking bunch. Some had backpacks, some were scarily elderly, one poor lady was just sitting there crying her eyes out as she waved goodbye to a very cheerful looking man. The bus driver engaged in a loud and lively argument through the window with his supervisor about when he was supposed to set off, and used some distinctly non politically correct language. Ah, public transport! It’s never dull.
As we walked across the tarmac at Edinburgh airport to our aeroplane we were assailed by a heady odour of manure from the nearby field mixed with the smell of kerosene. James suggested that we market it as a perfume for “the rural aviation enthusiast” which I thought was very funny.
During our flight I listened to the ninety minute BBC Radio Scotland Outdoors podcast about John Muir. Originally recorded in 2016, it has been put back onto the website since the recent 180th anniversary of his birth. It was both fascinating and informative and has inspired me (even more!) for our visit to Yosemite. What a great person John Muir was.
When we arrived in Prague our taxi driver took us into the old town through picturesque and twisty streets until he finally stopped and pointed us towards a narrow passageway. Within it we found the tiny office for our apartment which is situated in a large old building. We followed the receptionist’s directions as best we could, but found ourselves searching up and down sinister staircases and labyrinthine corridors with strangely numbered doors for what felt like ages. As James pointed out, the situation was positively Kafkaesque - which I suppose is appropriate for Prague.
We did thankfully find our apartment which was surprisingly airy and spacious compared to its surroundings, and soon it was time to negotiate the metro to our concert. It was such a warm evening - no need for jackets - and we joined the crowds at the O2 arena to see Roger Waters. The tickets were my Christmas present to James, and Roger Waters is his taste rather than mine. However I enjoyed the concert too; I knew most of the music and I was impressed by the truly gigantic model of Battersea Power Station which descended from the roof during the second set and on which were projected some amazing images. The light show was great and ended with a Pink Floyd prism made out of beams of white light, with rainbow colours added in.