You ever have that feeling where you're not sure if you're awake or still dreaming?

PRAGUE

It's 7.45 and dawn is breaking over Berlin. German grain toast with peanut butter and pineapple juice is a last meal in a great city. Franchised coffee from the haufbahnhof and we're riding the Euro Carriage with our bags and fond memories in tow; heavy on our arms and hearts.

However, Prague is 5 hours calling and the excitement of a new adventure in an old city lies before us.

A fortunately uneventful trip is only disrupted by the minor sounds of 20ish men drinking. No one has told them how early it is. Standard world rule #1: Drunk men in groups are obnoxious (how quickly I have forgotten times of my own youth).

The scenic trip is relaxing and a tonic for weary feet that have left impressions on Berlin pavements. 'Beethoven's 9th', Beatles' 'Revolver' and The Dandy's 'Come Down' ease me through the passage of time.

The rail tracks grip the sides of mountains or stream through the countryside as they trace the Elbe river that flows into the Vltava river, bringing life into Prague.

We hit the platform at 12:40, catch a taxi through a car clogged city of narrow cobbled streets and arrive at the reception. Collect keys for the back up room as our originally conveniently located apartment is inconveniently out of hot water.

A nightmare trip to the apartment is punctuated by heavy bags, a struggle for tram ticket change and poor directions. However, the worst part is entering a room where the windows don't lock, the bins are filled with bottles, the blinds don't close and opening the fridge thickens the air with the stench of rotting food. I'm not leaving my soul here, let alone our passports. Hang the expense, The Kampa Best Western - here we come.

Time to prove Prague can put on a show equal to any great city. A good performance requires a captivating beginning, so I open the curtain on Charle's Bridge. Littered by artists selling their own interpretations of Prague through painting, sketch, photo or song, Happy Snappy gives his applause to the city's wonderful architectural beauty.

Capturing his excitement through his digital eye, the city turns on its charms with the brilliant night lights illuminating the shapes, curves, spires, towers and domes of the classical Prague buildings.

The bridge leads us into the tight streets and alleys and we meander through the merchants shops, inspecting some of the wares whilst avoiding others. The town is breathing with people, sucking them through its streets and pumping them into the Old Town Square.

The square's Christmas Tree centre-piece is lit up with blinking, pure white lights that surround large gold and silver bobbles that reflect all that glows. The market stalls circle the tree selling wooden toys, sausages, spiced doughnuts and various forms of heated alcohol.

Our hunger leads us to a small restaurant that provides the delights of gluhwien, goulash and duck. Weariness replaces excitement, as it usually does around this time, we return to our beds and sleep on the mixed blessings of the day.

DAY 2: Prague

Breakfast:
Knights' armour and gothic arches.
Tutor setting with sandstone fresco ceiling.
Wooden horses and stain glass windows.
Time to leave before the morning rush.
Pounding Pavement:
A Charle's bridge walk on an overcast morning.
Winding on paths that lead us to the astrological clock.
An 11.00 glockenspiel greeting by 12 apostles.
Our walking tour and a quartet of senior English citizens (cricket anyone?).
Cobblestone mazes through splendid churches and synagogues.
Catholic infiltration on Protestant people.
A chandelier gift from an appreciative Russian orthodoxy.
Modern day atheism dominates the populace.
Tortured Jewish history of persecution and oppression.
Segregation and separation by different denominations.
Layered cemeteries from confined spaces.
Butchers and bakers arise from a merchant past.
C15th frescos sketched on gothic walls.
Statues from corners hang out in the street.
Acting as guides for the illiterate of another age.
Modern day free education to the age of 26.
A Parisian street of the Champs Elysees.
Twin towers for Adam and Eve.
Marionettes and Russian dolls.
Downstairs and under the bridge for our boat ride.
Soft rain on cloudy water.
Logs and ice that broke the bridge.
A torturous death for an honourable man.
A controversial water-wheel to turn back time.
An errant shark from a dignitaries party.
A secret society that spreads through Europe.
A cavern to collect ice for spring and summer ale.
Back on shore and into the rain.
Across the bridge and the statute of good fortune.
Through the alleys and down the stairs.
A pint of beer and a goulash to satisfy.
Back to the rain (who cares, I'm in Prague!).
Catch the tram up the winding slope,
To a grand castle sparkling in the rain.
Carefully down the stairs for a shimmering view,
Of a city that continues to impress.
Soaked and sodden hair, thank goodness for the coats.
Too wet to walk the streets of ghosts.
A relaxing evening from a wondrous walk.
I will miss being in Prague again.

The wooksta