Thank You

Ken, Supriya and I want to say THANK YOU to all the wonderful people who touched our lives along our journey around the world.

To our families who we visited and gave us a taste of home away from home, the friends who took time out to meet us in random cities, the strangers who generously gave us a helping hand when we needed it...
Thank you for the stories, the laughter and the memories.

And to those we had left behind these past few months - family, friends, workmates...
Thank you for your support and well wishes. You were all sorely missed.

Because of you all, we had the trip of a lifetime.

After exactly 100 days of travel, we are home.

Love, Kim

Last Stop, Manila

With 2.5 days to go before heading back to Canberra, we found ourselves in Manila with free time on our hands. We checked into our hotel and immediately headed out to the one thing you have to do when in the Philippines - go to a mall.

Malls here are no ordinary malls. No, they are super malls. Mega malls. Malls that include ice skating rinks, Imax theaters, hundreds of brand-name stores, food courts that never end, music streaming from every corner, variety shows held to entertain crowds. Shopping could very well be the last thing you could do there! So you can understand how this is where everyone gathers - as a day out with the family, to meet with friends after school or work, to go out on dates... In a country with so little space and so many people, malls have become the obvious place to hang out.

The king of all malls, the "Mall of Asia" now existed at the very end of the road where our hotel was situated. Right at the end of Edsa road, where the land had been reclaimed from the sea, a huge shopping complex glittered in the sun and boasted the best spot to watch the famous sunset on Manila Bay. Less than a year old, the "Mall of Asia" became our regular haunt for the next 2 days.

I introduced Ken to more traditional Filipino food - sisig (fried pigs ear), dinuguan (pork cooked in blood)... He loved it, although Soups refused to try it. We watched Pirates of the Carribbean 2 again, and found that the gory parts of the movie had been censored. And then we shopped, shopped and shopped.

On Sunday, I decided that I needed more time with my parents, so I called them up and invited them to spend a day with me. They immediately hopped onto a bus and were knocking at my hotel door before I had even properly woken up! So Soups and Ken got the day off to shop some more, and I spent the rest of the day spending quality time with the parents, telling stories, buying knick-knacks...

Mom and Pa took me to the area of Baclaran where a large cathedral for the Lady of Perpetual Help was situated in the midst of street markets. Both were main attractions, as the Lady of Perpetual Help was reknowned for granting healing miracles, and the markets were dirt cheap.

We then headed off to the cool air-conditioned comfort of the Mall of Asia where we strolled around and frequently got lost. My parents then headed back to Los Banos that afternoon, and the next day we caught our flight to Singapore, then to Melbourne, and finally to Canberra.

Cheers,
Kim

The Beaches of Boracay

Boracay is a tropical resort island in the Philippines, renowned for its white beaches and blue waters - a favourite of the tourists. Having classified ourselves in this category, we decided to discover its delights.

The flight there was easily the worst in history. It was a one-hour flight from Manila to Caticlan - the closest airport on a nearby island. Not only did we find out that we had paid an exorbitant amount (as all the other passengers bragged about how they had found discounts), but the plane was tiny, they didn't turn the aircon on until we had reached altitude, the plane bounced on every air pocket, and a little girl in front of me spent half of the hot hour-long flight screaming. So we were all literally hot and incredibly bothered.

As soon as we landed in Boracay, our disbelief increased as we started getting charged all sorts of fees. Environmental tax, registration fees, ferry fees, docking fees... while we didn't mind contributing to the maintenance of what we heard was a beautiful island, we had thought it would be more logical and less aggravating to just pay one fee up front.

A tricycle driver with a death wish drove us at breakneck speeds through hilly and busy roads to our hotel. Soups and I spent that time praying, while Ken concentrated on not getting his head bashed against the top of the tiny tricycle as we bounced around.

But as soon as we got to the beach and found our hotel, we collectively breathed a sigh of relief. The place was beyond our expectations.

The hotels, restaurants and shops formed a strip that ran parallel to the beach, and was screened from the strong sea winds by bamboo windbreakers, so one could get the sense of a beautiful well-lit white-sand road with shops on one side. On the other side of this strip, past the windbreakers, was a miracle of a beach with its incredible view of mountains and open sea. The beach was the cerulean blue we had only ever seen in postcards, our hotel room was a native styled bungalow complete with mosquito nets on the beds and moss-covered statues in the gardens.

That first evening, we swam in the sunset as it dipped into the warm sea, and then utterly content, we sat on the beach with cool pinacoladas and watched the moon as it cast its silver light on the waves. We were incredibly lucky - it had been pouring with monsoon rains for the whole week until the day we had arrived!

The next day was sheer bliss. We found a guide to take us around the islands, and between a warm sun and incredibly clear blue waters, we sat in a small bangka (a boat with bamboo balances on each side, like tiny catamarans) and were taken to the best spots to go snorkelling. The underwater world left us speechless with wonder, with its display of corals and tropical fish, all brightly coloured and curious of their observers. The three of us spent hours in the water, pointing at the different varieties of fish, marine plants, corals and just stalking fish in their own world.

We then were taken to an island that gleamed white in the sun - its sand was actually crushed shell and coral. We drank coconut juice in the shade of the trees and dove into the waters which were as blue and clear as if we were in a swimming pool.

Back in our hotel, we spent our hours napping, reading, or just sitting out on our veranda. Ken continued his foray into the world of Filipino food, and was immensely pleased with everything he tried - halo-halos (ice kuchangs), cornsilog (a meal with corned beef, egg and fried rice), sweet barbeque, hotdogs...

But what impressed us the most was that we actually got him to eat "balot" - pickled duck egg with a half-formed duck inside! The locals showed him how to eat it with salt and vinegar, but I had to buy him a drink after that in way of apology.

To cap our experience, our flight back to Manila was nothing short of hilarious. First of all, Soups and I watched in disbelief as our plane taxied to the airport where we waiting to board, and its wings passed OVER our roof as it parked! As we boarded, we all hoped that this time they would turn the airconditioning on. You know what they say about being careful what you wish for? Well, sure enough, they turned it on, and the ensuing condensation in the plane caused it to be filled with fog so thick we couldn't even see the air hostesses do their safety demonstrations! We were giggling the entire way to Manila.

We would spend 2 days in Manila before heading home to Canberra.

Cheers,
A rather darker-skinned Kim

La Vida Loca in Los Baños

Our last country on the list - the wonderful archipaelago of the Philippines. We arrived late in the evening, where my cher pere was waiting to take us home to my hometown of Los Baños (a little university town 2 hours from Manila). Los Baños is known for its hot springs and the University of the Philippines where Supriya and I had studied together. As my father started grilling me about my French (he speaks it fluently), Soups immediately started pointing out places, traditions, norms and recounting the way of life to Ken.

Ken says he has never seen food advertised so much. It's true - Filipinos love their food, and it set the theme for our crazy 2 days in Los Baños.

My parents had prepared a feast for us - fried bananas for breakfast, then later my mom's world-famous spaghetti, my dad's mutton biryani and chops, desserts, fruits galore...

We are also now well stocked with skin-whitening soap after Mom read my blog on how dark we had become.

We squeezed Ken into a tricycle (a motorbike with a passenger carriage on the side) and took him to our university, where we first stopped at our old Development Communication college building. To our amazement, the staff still remembered us, and immediately beckoned to a group of young'uns who turned out to be the latest members of our old academic club, and who greeted us enthusiastically and all knew of our exploits during our days at uni! It was incredibly bizzare.

We took our leave and proceeded to take Ken on an "essential food" tour of the town, stopping at our old haunts, and introducing him to our memories. We hired a jeepney for a joy ride around the large campus, and revisited Supriya's old home at the foot of the mountain Maria Makiling, visited the International Rice Research Institute where both our fathers and my brother later worked. We walked around the university buildings, pointing out that this was the lab where Soups cried quietly as we learned how to dissect toads, that was the building where we spent hours boiling in the summer heat studying physics and maths, there was where we filmed our movies for our media requirements, that was the farm where I got ankle-deep in cow manure while taking bovine rectal temperatures - all part of a day's studies!

In the evenings I sat out on the porch with my parents, talking, laughing, exchanging travel stories and catching up. There really is nothing like home, is there?

On a Thursday morning, we hired a van and a driver to take us to Manila, where we caught a tiny plane which would take us to the island paradise of Boracay.

This would be the last beach trip - for a while.
Kim

United in Yangon

You cannot imagine our surprise as we sat at the Bangkok airport waiting for our plane, when Ken's parents Nak and Amara Perera casually strolled up to us and picked our jaws off the floor. We had been expecting to meet up with them in Yangon, but they had cleverly caught a flight out of Australia that connected with ours! So a full 5 hours before we had expected to see them, we were busy catching up on their news, explaining our overly deep suntans and Ken's knee. But after 90 days of having been away from them and home, the extra time with them was glorious. It was as though home had found us.

Together we followed the rains to Yangon, where another family reunion took place as Soups raced to hug her dad where he stood waiting to greet her, his future inlaws, and me.

We piled into a chauffered van and took our first good look at Yangon. Wet and green with the monsoon, it is a small city on the verge of being overrun by the jungle. Wide roads, little traffic, well-fed stray dogs. Locals dressed in lungis (like long sarongs), faces smeared with the yellow paste of the root tanaka (they use it as a sunblock and face cream), and chewing pan. Buddhist monks making their morning rounds collecting alms in their big bowls. The city had a quiet and softly-paced air about it.

Everyone drives right-hand vehicles on the right side of the road. Let me try to make that clearer. Car like in Australia. Drive on side like in America. Passengers freak out. This is the result of a high profile fortune teller's advice. Apparently this also accounts for why the political capital was moved to a different city.

The locals are polite and courteous to a fault - they don't even have a word for "no"! We learned that although Myanmar has vast resources in gemstones and precious metals, there is a crime rate of nearly 0%. We started to wonder why. Then we passed by a large government slogan that included the following creed: "Crush all internal and external destructive elements as the common enemy." With such strong language as that, we asked no further questions.

We suffered terribly from too much food. We nearly swooned with rapture over the variety, tastes and sheer quantity of the food, and then nearly swooned for real from the pain of overindulgence. Our host at the inn, a kind Mr. Manocha, took it as his personal duty to keep our plates topped up with every delicacy he could think of.

We walked through the Swedagon temple and marvelled at the sheer flamboyance, luxury and multitude of gold-painted, gilded, carved and decorated images of Buddha, with 20 tonnes of real gold crowning the dome of the central pagoda.
We studied the natural and processed forms of the nation's mined riches at the Gem Museum which is housed on the top floor of a 4-storey building. The remaining 3 stories were dedicated to jewellery stalls where we could buy anything from everyday accessories to the 'let's-rent-an-armoured-car' variety. We immediately set to the task of shopping in earnest for particular items for Supriya, to prepare for the upcoming wedding. After 2 days of intense searching, studying, criticizing, (occassionaly capturing and dragging Ken and myself back into stores as we tried to escape), comparing, and in general obtaining a very good education in precious stones, the wedding shopping was done.

The first night of our stay, we went to a grand buffet dinner held at a magnificent golden restaurant designed as an oriental boat floating on the lake. Amazed at our surroundings, we were further stunned at the guestlist which included half the diplomatic corps and UN FAO personnel with whom Dr. Chaudary worked! Practically all conversations at our dinner tables started with "your excellency"!

The Australian ambassador turned out to be a fellow Canberran, and he invited us to his home for a barbeque. We accepted, and spent a wonderful evening with good food and great company, learning as much as we could about life as a diplomat in Myanmar.

Now, Manila. Ken thinks he isn't capable of eating another bite. We'll see if the Philippines has anything to do about that.

But for now, dear friends, home is only a few sleeps away.

Cheers,
Kim

Tanned in Thailand

There is no way any of you will recognise us now - we three have turned a wonderful shade of charcoal after all the sun, sand and lots and lots of beaches!

We are in Thailand, where everyone in Thailand is currently wearing yellow to celebrate the King's coronation anniversary. As per our predictions, we are in shopping and food heaven! Our first few days here were spent exploring the amazing markets of Bangkok. We have had to buy another suitcase just to accommodate the amount of shopping we have done. Ken had his first Coca-Cola served to him in a plastic bag with a straw, and later came face to face with the same shirt he was wearing which he had proudly bought on sale in France. Naturally, it was cheaper here.

I have learned that Supriya is a natural at haggling. I however still need lessons.

I have also learned that Ken is a huge fan of durian. Oh yeah - the stinky stuff. He has managed to sneak the lethal fruit into all the hotels we have stayed at, ignoring signs that clearly say "NO DURIAN". We in turn have learned to hold our breath for very long periods of time.

El, the traffic here isn't so bad compared to India- you obviously have never been overtaken in traffic on the wrong side of the road by a guy reading a newspaper over the steering wheel. What is surprising though is the number of taxis that refuse to use the meter.

After a few days in Bangkok, we took a three-hour busride to the town of Rayong which had fabulous beaches, and not many tourists. Well, apart from us and the hundreds of Germans there.

We stayed at a fabulous resort right along the beachfront and spent most of our evenings in the pools, ignoring all the signs that said the pools were closed past 7 pm. We probably offended every rule-abiding German there, but that didn't bother us.

We walked around the local town and bought mountains of fresh fruit from the markets - longan, rambutan, lanzones, santol, atis (none of us know their names in English or Thai so we call them by what we know in Hindi, Singalese and Tagalog).

We looked into the overpriced island excursions the hotel was offering, and decided to make our own way to the Koh Samet island. This turned into an adventure because to get to the boat that would take us there, we had to do a monkey climb over/alongside/through 4 other boats before getting onto the right one.

The island we visited had all the touristy essentials - swimsuit shops, food, internet and a beach. We parked ourselves on beach chairs, and watched the parade of locals offer us food, massages, hair braiding, tattooing, musical instruments, fruit and coconut juice. In front of us, the beach was alive with jet skis, speedboats, paraspeedboats (whatever you call the parachutes being pulled around by speedboats), kayaks, and a handful of people swimming. A point of interest - only the tourists seem to wear sarongs. Hmmm.

While Soups and I tried to survive lunch (it was a life-altering experience, as we came close to death by chilli), Ken joined an impromptu game of beach soccer with the locals, and left exhausted, happy, and with a lot less skin on his knee. We are considering banning him permanently from sport of any kind.

Now several hundred shades darker, refreshed and relaxed, we are back in Bangkok for our last night in Thailand before we head off tomorrow for Yangon in Myanmar.

In 11 days, we will be home.

Til then,
Kim

Indelible Delhi

We flew from the European version of summer straight into the monsoon heat of India. Flying from Budapest, we arrived in New Delhi at midnight where it was 35 degrees celcius.

Within seconds, Ken was in culture shock - from the inefficiency of the baggage handlers at the airport (where one guy worked on the bags and 20 others milled around), the heat, humidity and smells of the monsoon summer nights, and the incredibly bizzare driving habits of the locals. Everything we learned in driving school didn't apply. Vehicles could have complete horn-based conversations with each other, where beeping could mean anything from "watch out, I am behind you", "hurry up" or "look out for that cow/goat/pig/camel/donkey/horse/dog/person"... No one stays in any particular lane while driving, as they all drive between 2 lanes while deciding which one would be better in the long run. It was like watching a school of fish swim together at such close range and still not hit one another.

We stayed with Supriya's sister Priyanka in her new home in Noida, just outside the perimiter of Delhi. She, husband Toshak and daughters Druhi and Savya had moved into a palatial apartment in a massive complex of highrise apartments that were designed like Caesar's Palace in Vegas complete with pool, stream and gardens for the children. Soups' mum had made the trip from her hometown to visit, and Soups was able to spend quality time with her family. Pinky and Toshak gave us access to their car and driver during our stay and we were thankful not to have to catch the public transport which looked rather uncomfortable - most of the buses we saw were crammed to the windows!

After the hostelling and city-hopping of Europe, this was pampered luxury - learning Hindi from Druhi adn Savya, being taken to all the best places to eat and shop, having spiced indian tea in the afternoons, chewing pan in the markets... Okay, fine, it was really Ken and Soups chewing pan in the markets - how was I supposed to know that you weren't supposed to swallow it immediately but chew it for hours?

At a mall, Ken and I watched Pirates of the Carribean 2 at the cinemas, where the security checks were more thorough than at the airports (they didn't let Ken keep his candy), where the movie started as soon as the doors opened to let the audience filter in, the projector died 10 minutes into the show and they had to start all over again, and where there was even ain intermission break which seemed like a practical joke because 2 minutes after the audience filed out for a popcorn refill and bathroom break, they started the movie again without us.

And Pa, if you're reading this, the trick with rolling a Coke bottle down the stairs to heckle the audience wouldn't work anymore - they've carpeted everything. Just so you know, I did consider it.

Early on a Thursday morning, Ken and I were packed into a car to visit Agra, home city of the Taj Mahal, while Soups would stay in Delhi to spend time with her family. We couldn't have picked a more interesting day - the skies were heavy with the promise of a monsoon storm, and the trip to Agra would be 4 hours each way. Sure enough, as soon as we reached Agra, the heavens let loose and within minutes the roads were flooded! The rickshaw drivers' bicycle pedals were barely above water! But we figured it was better than a blazing hot Indian summer day, so we parked, forged out into the rain, found a rickshaw and an enthusiastic guide and proceeded to get fleeced like the tourists we were. Did you know that tickets to see the Taj Mahal are 20 rupees for locals and 750 for tourists? You read right. *sigh* Times like this we really wished we could speak the language and fake our way through that.

The Taj Mahal was solemn and beautiful in the rain, and we were spared the burnt feet I remembered so clearly from my last visit with my brother and dad. Our guide was very entertaining and informative, showing us all the optical illusions and special features of the incredibly symmetrical palace. He took us to the artisan's quarter where he showed us how the local craftsmen still cut the gemstones and fashioned them in the same manner they did in the 16th century. Ken haggled like a pro and purchased some beautiful pieces of art for a much better deal than I thought he could get away with.

Lessons learned: don't go anywhere without a local, and always always always haggle.

Further lesson learned: After purchasing something, do NOT go into other stores and do comparison checks. Really, no one needs to go through that!


Next up, Bangkok!

Cheers,
Kim

Gatecrashing at Skalice

Hands stained with the juices of wild strawberries and cherries, knees scraped and bruised from tumbling in hills and fields, legs bitten by every type of insect (and some plants), allergies at an alltime high - we had the time of our lives!

While we were studying French in Dijon, we met Josef, a dynamic Czech chemist who is bent on improving the world (the same guy who gave us a tour of the Burgundian surroundings). He told us about a work camp he was arranging in his hometown of Skalice, where he was getting an international group of volunteers together to teach the children English and do some conservation work in the area as well.

We couldn't pass it up, so although Soups, Ken and I are still horribly sick (she's coughing her lungs out, he is dying from hayfever and I have completely lost my voice), we decided to gatecrash.

From Prague, we hopped on a train and 5 hours later we were in Skalice. The team of volunteers consisted of a lovely and lively close-knit bunch of people: Dave from England, Katya from Russia, Brankica from Serbia, Andrea from the US, Adrien from France, Kristin from Belgium/Sweden, Leena from Finland, and Eva (1), Eva (2) and Marketa from Czech Rep who were our translators. And bringing up the Australian gatecrashing contingent we had Supriya, Kim and Ken, representing Nigeria, India, the Philippines and Sri Lanka as well. Josef, Adela, Eva and Olga were the Czech team leaders, arranging all the activities.

We were lodged in an old mill with 5 stories, bats in the loft, and a river outside. The place belongs to Josef's father who runs an ecologically friendly electronics recycling plant on the premises. The village is small and incredibly gorgeous. The children are friendly and down to earth, even as they ride fancy speedbikes and have better mobile phones than we do.

In the mornings we would split up into different groups and head off to the nearby towns and villages to spend the morning with the local kids. We would teach the kids basic English, they would teach us basic Czech, we would play games, and get them used to the idea of a world outside of their country.

Ken became a god as soon as he got the soccer ball out. The local boys immediately took to him, and their soccer skills AND English improved dramatically as they learned words that were of utmost importance to them - PASS! KICK! NOOOO!! WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU??? GOAL!!!! The boys took him to their homes and showed him around the town. Now Ken is seriously considering joining more work camps in the future.

In the afternoons we became the children. The camp organisers Josef and Adela arranged a myriad of activities for us.

We visited Josef's parents' home where we tried our hand at weilding the scythe, took a nature walk through fields and hills that were worthy of being scenes in The Sound of Music, climbed haybales, and skulked through overgrown thornbushes that looked like natural hobbit houses, picking and eating berries as we went along.

We took a tour of the famous brewery in Cerna Hora (Montenegro/Black Mountain) where we learned about the beer making process, and naturally we insisted on testing the beer for quality control. Many bottles later at the pub, the international group of beer testers declared that yes, Czech beer is the best in the world.

We spent an afternoon helping a local with his garden, and in return he gave us free rein on his cherry trees and blackcurrant bushes, and roasted kranskies and sausages on skewers over a smoky woodfire.

We visited an amazing cave which had an increcible pillar formation that looked like a witch. We took a cablecar ride through the mountains and gazed down into the abyss formed through the mountains.

On a Friday night under an almost full moon, the local firemen threw a party for us near the soccer field where we held our classes, and we danced the night away under the stars.

Our farewells were poignant and heart-felt. Although we had only spent 5 days with the group, they had incorporated us into their group.

Early Sunday morning, we boarded the train to Bratislava, then to Budapest, where the next day we would catch a flight to India, then to Thailand, Myanmar, and the Philippines.

We have started our journey home.

Cheers,
Kim

PS. After gobbling a hundred cherries off the trees, Ken only then noticed that everyone else was inspecting each cherry for holes before eating them. He refuses to think about how many 'inhabitants' he has unwittingly eaten. Now he inspects each cherry for 10 minutes and gets others to confirm his findings. Methinks he's paranoid now.

Prague for a Day

Prague is spectacular - a bizzare mix of the old and ultra modern.

We did not have much opportunity to see this city though, because as soon as we found our hostel, Ken and Supriya conked out for some much needed sleep.

I took a tramride through the city and walked along the river where I found a floating cafe on the docks. I had a cappuccino while watching the sunset over the river.

I returned to the hostel to wake Soups up for a walk. We purchased tickets for a Walking Tour of Prague - this tour specialised in the ghostly haunts of legends and history of Prague. But it was not meant to be (much to Supriya's not-so-secret relief), because as we raced to catch the last tram to the rendezvous point, the tramdriver looked us in the eye - and drove off!

We turned our tickets into a contribution into the Prague economy, and took a stroll instead. We found Prague to be exquisite all lit up at night, that they served really good coffee, and that there are thousands of spiders in the trees and bridges all over the place!

But we are weary of city-hopping, and yearn for the quiet of the countryside. Even back home, a weekend in Sydney would have us recuperating all week! And here we were, cross, out of sorts and exhausted, leaping from one city to another.

The very next day, we headed off to the train station to find out if we could get a ride to Skalice. This in itself was an ordeal. While this may not be a fair statement, we found that the tourism officials we dealt with were all abrupt and not very helpful. They have big signs on their windows saying "We do not speak English". But we found a trick - we talked to them in French. Immediately they tried to compromise, and would speak to us in English instead!

We ended up in Skalice that afternoon, where a fantastic adventure awaited us.

Kim

A Fleeting View of Vienna

We caught the train from Venice to Vienna, and dined in the restaurant car which boasted the best view in the world - the forests and mountains all blurred past us as we dined in style. The food also looked fantastic - until we tried it. The goulash tasted like an undetermined mix of veggies, and the veggies almost killed me with a salt overdose. But ah well - the view was fantastic!

Finding a place to stay in Vienna was another ordeal - we arrived late at night and the initial hostel I had called had not kept our reservations. So they sent us off to another place which was the antithesis of our idea of a hostel - no elevator, kick out times, curfews, and we were all split up into male and female dorms. All of this after 2 hours of dragging our bags around on cobblestoned streets - we were not very happy campers. But I repeat... "ah well."

We took the next day going around and seeing the sights. I surprised myself by being able to interpret a German map, which we used to find Chinese food. I had a Vienna coffee, served at an Italian cafe. The world really is becoming a huge melting pot, huh? Ken met a dog in a clothes store who now owns his soccer ball. We looked at the churches and watched street performers in the city squares. There was an incredibly aggravating act where a man dressed like a white statue made bird or monkey screeches non-stop. He screeched if you didn´t give him money. If you did, he screeched his thanks to you. At one stage we heard a bang (a car had backfired) but we checked anyway to see if the bird man was still alive or if someone had tried to take him out. No luck, he was still screeching.

I would have explored the rest of Vienna except for one little hitch - I got some mysterious flu-like bug and after the first day of sightseeing, I stuck to my bed and tried to sleep it off while Ken and Soups saw more of the city and watched the final match of the world cup.

Ken has officially taken responsibility for France losing the World Cup, since it seems that whichever team he backs ends up losing.

The next day we dragged ourselves out of bed - this time Soups had caught the mysterious flu-like bug (we blame Ken for sharing our water bottles and passing on his sore throat though with us the germs have mutated with bizzare effects), and caught a bus to Prague.

On we went...
Kim