Day Two (Evening) and Day Three, in Which the Candle is Burned at Every Conceivable End

My clothes have become a metaphor for my existence. Rumpled, prematurely careworn, covered with a slick patina of cigarette smoke, heavy beer, perspiration, Czech crowns, street slush and myriad other substances attendant to days and nights in Prague.

I haven't stopped moving since the moment I arrived four days ago except to briefly crash on my USSR bed (about two inches of padding) to chase few hours of elusive sleep. The experience thus far has been some combination of affecting, bewildering, challenging, and amazing. I'm searching for a word that refers to the process of internalizing a staggering amount of experiences and input all at once, constantly. There's probably a Czech word for it. The learning curve for this city and language is nearly vertical but I'm scaling it feverishly. Czech is inscrutable but fragments nevertheless stick on occasion. Especially when those fragments mean the difference between making it home and wandering in Vinohrady for three hours.

More later. Promise.

Vocabulary: děkuji (thank you), ze (from), do (to), prosím (please), pivo (beer)