Licensed is da bomb and will make millions

The Frieberg Sprint

It was only my second weekend in Prague. I had already spent a fair share of my time in the city. You see, Celakovice - the city where I'm studying, is quite rough during the winter. Staying here one hour longer than necessary can be quite painful...at least in the winter (which is probably the case in a lot of towns in Eastern Europe). We're only about 20 kilometers outside of Prague, but that's not as close as you would think.
So we spent Friday chillin at Staropramen Beer Factory, where we got to see the inner-workings of what is said to be the best beer in the world - I guess I wouldn't really know. We followed that visit with our weekly outing to the Cinemas in Prague, which, as a side note, is incredible. Cinema here is a pretty new phenomenon, so most of the big hollywood hits are still in English with Czech subtitles, and the theatres are extremely nice. Thus, we go as often as we can.
Then it was back to bed early, we had an early morning ahead of us. In order to make the full trip to Dresden, go through the temple and come back for the Operah (yes, I'll explain later), we would have to leave on the 4:20 a.m. train into Prague. I can proudly admit to making that train, albeit with a pounding head ache from lack of sleep. Plus, 4:20 feels early in the kind of cold we have here in the siberian desert.
Because were new, and maybe more that we're American, we ended up taking a series of wrong trains on our way. The good news is that it was cheaper, because they were all regional trains and we made it not much slower than we would have on Eurorail. The temple is located in a city named Freiberg, about 45 kilometers outside of Dresden. It was a rad little town. We were thruilled that we actually made it when we got there. We arrived around 11 am, and at that point, we thought we would just be able to see a golden Moroni floating atop the city that would direct us to our destination. No such luck. We walked a couple circles, but we were losing valuable time, so we hailed a cab. Of course, he immediately understood the words "mormon temple". And we were off. Apparently we arrived at a slow time, because we got all the attention in the world from the temple staff - that, or they really were the nicest people I've ever met. We had a couple of hours until the next session, we chilled,chatted and read a little BOM...it was probably the most relaxing moments I've had in weeks.
We were beginning to face an interesting new problem - the departure of our only train back. We had been thinking a full session was in order, but we began to see our math wasn't working how it should have been. But, we thought, if there's anywhere to take a chance like that, it's gotta be the temple. So we went for it. And like clockwork, it all worked out. A cute little couple from Salt Lake, who was due to return home in 2 weeks, told us they could drive us to Dresden, and hopefully catch up to the train we already missed departing from Frieberg. So we went for it.
When a person is running late, and running the risk of having to buy new Eurorail tickets for $100, and this person is a student with no money, this person begins to feel a rapid heartbeat. Bless the lil couple who was driving, but speed was not a familiar movement, and my eyes watched every minute tick off my watch. As we approached Dresden, we new we were cutting it close. After only a couple wrong turns, which is actually remarkable for any American in Europe, we had the Dresden Banhof in site. What seemed to be the last remaining problem was pulling up to it. We came pretty close, and that very moment marked the 3 minute mark to departure.
"This is good!" I yelled, and as the car began to slow, I began to open the rear door in an effort to promote a full 'stop'. I got it, and with a quick - albeit sincere- thanks, Casey and I were off at full speed into the Banhof. We have it everything, which is a lot in church shoes on the icy grounds of Dresden. But we made it...and with a couple minutes to spare...just enough time to grab a brautwurst from the stand around the corner. We had made it.
All of the same hurried feelings mentioned above returned as the 3 hour train neared Prague. We were racing to meet the rest of the class at the Don Giovani Operah - which would have been easy to skip if we hadn't already bought tickets. So when the train reach the final stop, we were flying again. And agian, our church shoes met the icy ground. We ran the streets of Prague, darting from one theatre to the next. We arrived at the theatre just as the curtain was raised. Unfortunately, we missed the last light to get into our seats by just seconds. So we watched the first have hunched in the upper corners of the 5-story, beautifully preserved Operah Hall.
The Operah was awesome. And Don Giovani is a pimp. Finally, we headed to catch the last train back to Celakovice. The whole reminiscing about a day that literally "sprinted" by.

As a side note, the next day (Sunday) we found ourselves sprinting to catch the metro on our way to church. My shoes, already worn down from the previous days activities, had reached their limit. As I rounded the pillar, on my way to the closing metro doors, they gave. On shoe went one way and the other went about 150 degrees the other way. As I began falling, the pain set in immediately. Luckily, few people watching from the metro understand english, because I wasn't very proud of what came out. The injury didn't recede for about 2 weeks, fair punishment for explitives. And now, I can boast a much better from physical stature from a weekend of running in church shoes.

Brandy's anyone?

When class get's out at 10 am, and my mind is worked over from trying to understand Int'l Econ in a Swiss Accent, I needed the bike. I needed it so bad, I didn't even stick around to hear the end of the lecture. When the clocked hit 10, I had come for what I payed for, and I wanted out. Spring had officially set in, and everything seemed in order for a perfect quick jont on the bikes before Managerial Accouting at 1:30.
I was out the door, spandex clad and determined to not let anything get on my way. On my way to the major road out of town I swung by the local bike shop to snag a new computer - thanks to the rigorous riding in "Tour de Czech Rupblic" a few days before. With the computer in hand, I stepped out of the shop to droplets of rain. I mumbled a few words that I'm not too proud of and probably louder than I would have if I had been in a country where those words could be understood. I saddled up and decided to work of the frustration on the bike. Furious at the chance of rain, I stormed out of town - and by the time that the pain overode the frustration, I was hit with a more serious problem. There's a certain smell I've only experienced in the poorest areas of South America. I came to associate this smell with something called a "matadora". A place where animals are killed for a variety of reasons. Who knows if there was one in the area, but the smell was so intense right outside Celakovice, that I forced a '180' right back towards the city. As the smell faded into the background, I decided on a new route.
Within a few minutes I was off and pumping. Things were great! I had gotten what I came for. Once I was outside of the normal jog route and into new territory, things were getting by the minute. It became a game of "how early do I want to get back" Of course, as temptations go, I would continue riding through the next 3 towns. The second sign I saw was "Lysa Nad Labem". I had heard it was a cool town, and 7 kilometers didn't seem like too much. I was there in no time, and the next sign popped up, "Brandy's N.L" (Nad Labem - or by the river). I was off. But this one wouldn't be so easy. I stopped to ask a few people which way to go, as the signs were all contradictory. I went a total of 5 different directions (possbile only in the Czech Republic). Each time, I ended up in the wrong direction. And after the second attempt, the rain began. I thought I would be OK, as I was sure to find the right direction soon. The rain picked up, as did the gravity of my mistakes.
My original plans of returning within 1.5 hours faded quickly. But, as a male, I was determined to find Brandy's. Each mistake was larger than the last. On the last attempt, I headed 12 kilometers, down a hill, in the wrong direction - which meant a long, wet ride back up.
The worst part was the puddles accumulating in the middle of the road. Not much shoulder room in the CZ, so any car that passed was sure to send something my way - but in defense of these crazy peeps, they are courteious to bikers. Runners are a different story, but bikers are good just about anywhere. I would love to teach the Americans a little about this, but then again, I would hate to give up the courtesy to runners...so we'll call it a draw.
So I'm soaked and worried about being late...adrenaline starting to pump. I want to finish with a miraculous story about finding a beautiful road, sunny and dry, to Brandy's. Unfortunately, I pedaled the same damn course I had followed to get there. Frustration, water and andrenaline combined to get me back pretty quick. Soaked and hurried, I lumbered back into the CMC and up to the 5th floor. I had 10 minutes to spare - grabbed some food and a shower and I was off to class. Heart still pumping.

If I could claim that this was my only run-in with the male ego and the Czech road system, I would be proud. Although it's the first on the bike...I have now had virtually the same thing happen 4 times. All the previous involved running through the mud, snow, government safe guards and forests. I'm getting all to used to hustling back for class from the nooks and cranies of north-east Prague. Either way, there is nothing more satisfying that getting back in one piece and feeling like you've survived something you weren't supposed to.

The Two Germans

Destination had been set by default. Because I had a bike, and Casey needed a bike, he had sent for one from home. Luckilly, his uncle would be flying into Frankfurt on military duty. And because Germany was right next door, we made a trip out of going to pick up the bike. I had heard that Frankfurt was nothing but a banking sector and there wasn't much to see. Nothing could have been further from the truth. Of all the European cities I've seen, I would rank Frankfurt among the most beautiful. Granted, this could be derived from the amount of westernization that has taken place their due to the financial wealth. I certainly felt more at home in Frankfurt than the Czech Republic. And as a side note, the Germans win my own personal award for the MVP of Europe. The people have been the nicest, the country is the most well kept and I have yet to have a serious problem with theft in the country.
In talking with the Heid family (Danny, Andrea and Conner) we figured it would be fun to take them along for a wekend of fun and games. So we opted out of the train ride, and hence reduced our risk of getting robbed, and rented a small mini van. So mini, in fact, that we would have trouble fitting 5 people + two bikes and additional luggage. We landed a marriott hotel through the family connection and we were set for a nice weekend.
Thursday night, the night before we would depart, Casey and I made the trip out the airport where we would rent the car. We made a trip out of it and went to a late movie at the Andel station, which we had to do after renting the car because of the rental agency limited hours, even at the airport, which ironically enough would charge us an airport convenienc fee? Nothing compares to primitive customer service. So we were to find a metro stop in a car, a dask that we would be up to. Given that Casey and I have navigated through Prague, not an easy job, a couple of times, we were able to drive right to it. Parking was another issue, though. Eventually we found a spot and when we entered the theatre, the first thing we asked was "when will the parking structure close?" The response was not in english, but the gesture of waving the hands like missed field goal seemed to indicate to both of us that we would be ok. We saw Casanova with Heith Ledger...and yes, two guys going to see Casanova did feel a little wierd, given our sexual orientation, but we managed. We tried to talk about hot girls the whole time. And luckily, the movie was filled with hotties.
We were now in a hurry to get home and to bed. Of course, the parking garage was sealed off from every possible entrance. We walked all the way around the outside of the mall, panicking that we would be camping on a bench in the freezing weather for another 7 hours until it opened. Finally, we found an exit ramp and ran for it. We made it into the garage and hunted down the car. We managed to escape through the same exit ramp and made it back to Celakovice.
Early the next morning we began the trip by first stopping with the rest of the class, who took the bus, at a Czech glass company. It took us about 3 hours, 1 to get there, and another two to find the place in the middle of nowhere. The one thing I have learned is that if you pretend like you know what your doing, often times Americans are allowed to do things seem above the norm. We must have seemed like we owned the place because the gate keeper let us right into the plant and we drove all around it...which I'm doubting even the executives of this company can do. I doubt anyone has driven in the parts of the plant that we did....and it was a blast. We met up with the class and hit the tour of the plant. We were given free beer glasses at the end (not to be confused with beer goggles) and we were off to Frankfurt. The only stop was McDonalds, and by 10pm we had found Frankfurt and a little drama later, we found the hotel. Scratch that, we did have one more stop. We passed a large western looking mall and saw the name "Latinas" and a word that appeared to read "restaurant". We thought we had for sure found our first Mexican restaurant in Europe...alas...it was Italian. I can only admit to having been the excited a few times in my life. And perhaps never that dissapointed.
The next day was all about the bike...as Lance might say. We met Casey's uncle at the airport, and headed straight to the Rhine River where the Heids dropped us in the car and headed to Heidleberg. We planned, without knowing anything about the local geography, that we would meet at a the Knights Hotel in Heidleberg...the hotel on the only pamphlet we had. The Rhine ride was spectacular...worth every penny of my new Italian Viner (the bike). We followed the river until we saw the signs of a setting sun. Luckily, just then a couple of Germans passed us at a water stop. We chased them down and asked which way to Frankfurt. Uly and Tossin told us to follow them...uh...follow German cyclists? We were about to get killed. As it turned out, we held our own and we all helped each other with what turned into a 70-80kilometer ride back to Frankfurt. I can count on one hand how many rides I've done that have been so spectacular. We rode in and out small german villages and back around to the Center of Frankfurt. It was great getting to know our two German friends.
By the time we got to the center of Frankfurt, we stumbled accross the metro station and decided to hop a metro out to the hotel, which took some brain power to find. That combined with the two spandex clad men (one 6'8'' and the other almost a foot shorter) both pulling bikes through the station created a pretty funny picture that turned many a german head.
But we made it back and I immeadiately hit the hot tub and completed an incredible day of much anticipated riding.
The next morning, I would venture off alone through the suburbs of Frankfut to the Maine River. Twice I got lost and twice I had germans help me find my way in perfect english...it was amazing. They are seriously great! The ride was uneventful, gorgeous and cold. I got back to the hotel, showered and we all hit the road. First stop, church at the English speaking branch. Second, Frankfurt temple in Friedrichsdorf and finally the Frieberg temple outside of Dresden. We didn't even come close to arriving on time to turn in the car, so we had to keep it an extra day.
It was a great trip, and I think I'm still trying to recover from the biking. Two three hour rides, Two germans and two temples...not bad at all...

Coming soon....

Paris to Prague
Italian Giro
Olympic Road Trip
Smuggling Grapes Through Liberec
Tour De Czech Republic

Probable drama:
First Garmicsh
Second Garmisch
enter: Prague
Austrian Finale
Que Espana!
Euro Banking Club does Lunch

Kitzbuhel

Here are the gruesome details of the trip to Austria, complete with all the fireworks:

The trip started before it even started. I was done with the accounting project early, so I had about 4 hours to run and pack. So I hit the river run with plenty of time to go exploring on new trails. I had a good pace, so I passed the first bridge and went on to the second (highway overpass). All was going well, and I was feeling great, so I decided to get crazy and double back a different way...the other side of the river. It was a little bit unchartered, but nothing too sketchy. As I approached the first bridge, I realized that there was a fork in the river, and it was sending me to left without any means of crossing back over unless I back tracked the whole way. So I trudged on. Through weeds and hanging branches I hung on the bank of the river for atleast an hour before I started to get frustrated. Finally, I came to a little town that I was able to wander through until I saw some familiar grounds. By the time I made it back, it had been a 3 hour "jog". I was exhausted, but I was able to pack quick and throw some food down before the 4:30 train.

So all the guys who had said they were in bailed, and I was stuck going by myself. We had an accounting project due on Friday, by noon. I barreled through it, but I was by myself. Plan was: even if I'm solo, I'm goin. Luckily, last second a friend (who I actually only new electronically) came up from Florence and we met in Kitzbuhel. She invited a third friend from Germany, and three of us were in for quite an adventure.

I had planned to get on the 5:45pm train out of Hvlani Nadrazi. This meant rush hour, and I was traveling with a bag, backpack and skis. I lumbered from Celakovice to Masarykovo and through the Metro to Hvlani Nadrazi. I had a couple extra minutes, and I had run a little further than planned that afternoon, so I decided to get myself a good ole braut and some chocolate. Dumb idea to stop and buy crap when you're traveling as fully loaded as I was. Regardless, I made the purchases on headed off to the train. Once inside, and situated a visitor entered with who was obviously begging for money. I was in a good mood, and all had worked out pretty well, so I gave her all the coins I had. She turned and left, and I looked down to realize that my backpack was unzipped. My heart stopped, and when it started, it said "WALLET". I reached for it and it was gone. I checked and rechecked each pocket...but it was gone. With 2 minutes til the train was gone I made a sprint back to the braut stand to see if I had left it. The ladey pretended to not speak english, making me wonder if she new something and was hiding some info for her theif countryman. But either way, I had to hussle back to not lose everything else. Back in the train, I had nothing to do but travel to Kitzbuhel and hope for the best.

After 15 minutes, I had succeeded in calming myself and trying to forget about the disaster that was certainly waiting with all sorts of effects. The train-ticket-checker-guy came by and booted me out of first class and back to the other end of the train. So yanking all three bags through several crap doors, I found a new seat. Which was totally ironic, because 2nd class wasn't much worse than 1st class if at all. 1st class is certainly different on the Czech trains than anywhere else in the word.....whatever.

I got some sleep, and met up with the electronic stranger and her friend (Mikel and Eric). We hit the Pension Haus Viktoria. Maria, the owner, was great. She ushered us in to get some breakfast. Then, regretfully informed us that she had not gotten the reservation and only had one room with one bed for the three of us....but we were welcome to try and make it work. We tried not to worry about that or the fact that someone was running around with my credit cards. Before we hit the hill, we found a wireless connection and canceled all the cards. By 10:30, we were on the hill. It may sound like a terrible trip, and it was, but the skiing that day was as good as I've ever skied. Certainly not the type of skiing expected to be found in Europe. No hard snow, but 4 feet of untouched light fluffy stuff. And the Europeans stay "on-piste" meaning that it was all we could handle. It felt equivalent to the best day I've had in Utah. HOLLA!

So after skiing, we hit up a mormon version of Apres Ski (and let Eric get his beer). Virtuallly the whole time I was on the phone with Visa and Wellsfargo trying to figure the $$ mess out. I did as much as I could, and I was determined to get another ski day in. Luckily, the banks of Mikel and Eric had unlimited credit line (that I would later pay back through paypal).

The next day was a little different. The fog was thick, so visibility was off and it was tough to see more than 5 or 10 feet infront of us. At mid-day, I found a run that I knew I had to ski, so the others took a Gondola and I skied to the other half of the mountain. The run was magnifico! But at the end, all I saw was an idling taxi. Without purse, I had to walk about 5 miles in my damn ski boots to the other half of Kitzbuhel. I was spent. But I made it intime to meet the gang. We took another few lifts up, and then, heading down one of the fog-infested runs, I saw another glorious looking run...and 'hit it' we did. The powder turns were 300 meters of pure "Better than sex" as we would assume later. The opening suddenly closed and we were left crawling through branches looking for another opening and a possible way out....our first mistake.

We did find some air, but that air headed straight to a cliff. We went straight at it...I approached first, and upon inspection, slipped and grabbed a hanging branch to catch me from which I swung myself away from the rocks and landed in the soft stuff....one of those moments I'll be thrilled to watch the replay of in heaven.

The other two came down a different angle. Mikel took a dive into a small pond beneath the snow and soaker her right side and entire right boot. We new things were looking hairy at this point. We followed the tracks of a few unfortunate predecessors who had done, not long before, the same thing we were now doing. This tracks suddenly stopped and began to climb an ice wall up and out of a gully we had found ourselves in.

After almost losing Eric to a headfirst slide back towards the gully, and a couple of hours of heaving our skis along, we came out to what we though was the top....and it was...the top of that gully. And the bottom of a much bigger hill. So we warmed up Mikel's phone and tried to call Mountain Rescue...which we got a hold of. But we didn't get any positive response. It was like we were in a foreign country. We decided that if they sent a helicopter, we would have to pay a ton....so we set out on foot (or boot) up this hill.

We made it up in about 2 hours...but by this time it was strating to get dark. We were getting a little worried. Luckily, at the top, we found a hut. We managed to get inside, and Eric found a stash of food and drink, which we enjoyed as we tried to warm up and call Mountain Rescue again. Just as the darkness was settling in, we heard the noise of a snow cat.

The Austrians came to the rescue. They stuck is in shovel on the front of the snow cat and hauled us down to the bottom. It was a riot. And when we got there, they said, "there you go". And we climbed out and went home. Thank heavens for a language barrier...otherwise it could have been dangerously expensive.

So back we headed...and I had a train to catch. Of course, it wasn't that simple. The building where I had left my shoes was locked up....so it appeared as if I would be making the trip back in my trusty Nordica Beasts. For once though, when we got back to the train station, I found an extra pair of running shoes in my bag. Close call.

I thought, what else could go wrong at this point. To my chagrin, I missed every train but one becaue of the inclement weather. Regardless, I made it home, with a story to tell my kids about skiing Kitzbuhel.