I’m taking advantage of a lull to check mail and relax while my fellow beercyclers explore the wonders of Prague, the Czech capital city that lives up to its reputation for beauty. Two of my friends have not been here previously, and are understandably excited about seeing the castle, the Charles Bridge, and the interior of the U Fleku beer hall for the very first time.
Our lodging here is in a campground lovingly and efficiently maintained by a family that lost its ancestral homestead during the nationalizations of the Communist era, but was awarded it back after a restitution process that followed the Velvet Revolution. Half the barn houses horses, while the other half contains the family quarters, a restaurant operated by the son, and the guest rooms that we are inhabiting.
It’s worth remembering that our very presence at Camp Drusus testifies to the Czech Republic’s admirable success — rocky indeed at times, but steadily progressive — in moving beyond the many ghosts of its past and redefining itself for a future within the European Union.
I’m impressed and humbled by Bluegill’s eloquence in my absence. More later … perhaps next week.
