Don’t cry over spilt-reservations

We had booked car-ferries to take us from the land of tea and crumpets to that of souffle’s and the Eiffel tower, and happily set off for the ferries, comfortable in midst of the easiest part of the trip. Reality quickly set in when one of the cars didn’t get on the ferry due to a reservation mis-hap, forcing Annie, Zoya and Paul to befriend the Dover police force and pitch their tent in the arrivals hall, while the rest of us sailed slowly to Calais, France. Their car (Crateski) had also started steaming in the ferry line, so times were looking tough for a bit.

After reassembling the next morning and fixing the radiator fan we were off to Bonn, to stay the night with Konstantine, an old friend Zoya’s, who graciously offered us the use of his panoramic roof for sleeping. We split early the next morning, after blanketing another town with pistachios and general nut-glee.

That day Emily arrived to complete the fearless octuplet Airag Addicts, just in time for the CzechOut party (a 24-hour Czech-bonanza in a castle complete with beer tents, tea parlours and Isreali ska dancers, where all 500 teams assembled before setting off on their respective routes towards Mongolia). Emily had miraculously caught all three of her on-time flights from Jamaica to Prague and even did a bag-switch to exchange bikini’s and wedding glitz for needle-nose pliers and mechanical bits with her dad in the Newark airport (thanks Mr. Friedberg!). She arrived safely in time for CzechOut where we danced the night away.


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