On the afternoon when Ben left Paris, I set off on a final day in Paris, this time by myself. I wanted to be alone so that I could wallow in missing Ben without boring anybody else. There was a definite feeling of Fall to the air; not much sun, and a lot cooler. I got my hair cut by a silent French boy in the Marais, and then had my worst ever meal in Paris, along with bad service (which is unusual, as far as I've seen: we've had nothing but good, friendly service in Paris apart from this one meal).

I found a great pair of jeans, finally, and felt quite happy with myself. But the afternoon was not yet over. First it started to rain, heavily. I searched and searched for a store which sold umbrellas, but found none. Mystified, I tried to figure out what to do next. In the end, I jumped on the first bus that passed, just to escape the rain. I figured it would take me past a Metro station, which it shortly did. I hopped onto the Metro and took it over to the Opera so that I could visit the huge Galleries Lafayette men's store.

I wandered the underwear section, amazed at the flimsy, in some cases kind of tacky undershirts they had for sale. I tried a few things on, once I figured out the system: in the States somebody will offer to "start" a changing room for you; in Paris they'll come up to you but only to make sure you take the merchandise of the hangar, for some reason. Anyway, I found a great long-sleeved t-shirt by Dolce & Gabana, but then panic, as I realized the bag containing my new (very expensive) jeans wasn't with me. I searched the whole section, being stared at amusedly by all the female sales clerks, and being cruised (now was definitely not the right time) by a very cute, black male sales clerk. Agony: I'd lost the darned jeans. I sunk into one of the worst depressions I've experienced in a long time; the combination of missing Ben, getting caught in the rain, and now feeling like an absolute fool.

My tail between my legs, I went back to Jean-Marc's apartment to pack for our train to Berlin the day after. Jean-Marc was there, and just having him around while I packed lifted me a little bit out of my depression. But the next day, getting to Orly for our flight to Berlin before dawn, the depression returned. Sitting in the terminal, everybody was completely silent and watchful: no music or announcements like in an American terminal. Oh, and to cap it all I felt a cold coming on.

On the plane to Berlin, I finally read my guide book, and assembled a long list of things I wanted to do. Berlin sounded like an exciting, creative place, and I actually began to look forward to it. Once out of the terminal, it was with some difficulty that we got ourselves onto the subway system. The ticket machines were hard to use, and none of my credit cards worked; and the subways themselves involved us lugging our heavy luggage up and down long flights of stairs. My cold was getting worse, I was tired, and my vaunted German language skills were completely failing me.

We somehow made it to our hotel, which wasn't too far from Nollendorf Platz, one of the four or five Berlin gay districts. It seemed like a very nice hotel until we discovered that there was no air-conditioning, something I found amazing in such a nice hotel. My cold was coming on strong now. I had time to check my email in the free Internet station in the hotel lobby, and received one of the most beautiful emails Ben has ever sent me, which caused me to completely tear up, and miss him even more. Still, here we were finally in a city I'd always wanted to visit. We set off walking towards Nollendorf Platz to get a feel for the place, and stopped off in a little cafe for a very late breakfast. I found that my languages were all beginning to climb on top of each other. Admittedly, I was very tired: I think I'd slept just 10 hours total in four days. And speaking French to Jean-Marc was confusing things further. But I'd start off talking to the waiter in German, then helplessly switch to French mid-sentence before thanking her with the Italian "grazi" instead of the German "danke". Several times I found myself spouting complete German sentences to Jean-Marc, who speaks no German.

After our meal, we walked to Potsdamer Platz along a completely undistinguished route; my impression of Berlin so far was that it was the ugliest big city I'd ever seen. The new Potsdamer Platz is a huge set of constructions in an area that bordered the wall; it mostly consists of two super-centers, the Sony Center, and DaimlerCity. It's rather sad that one of the symbols of new Berlin should be made up of two megacomplexes bearing corporate names, however adventurous the architecture.

Detail of the Sony Center

Part of the complex of DaimlerCity

We did find a Starbucks, though, in the "Quartier Daimler-Chrysler" (as they're apparently calling it). But even that pick-up failed to give me any energy for more exploration, and we retired back to the hotel, where I intended to sleep for the rest of the afternoon. I must have dozed off, I guess, although it felt like I got no sleep, because when I got up around five-thirty Jean-Marc had gone of wandering on his own. So after a wash-up, I did the same thing. It was the first time, really, exploring a new place on my own on this whole trip, and despite my intense fatigue and my steadily worsening cold, there was an agreeable sense of adventure. I also observed that if I'd been single, Berlin would be a very easy place for meeting people: I was cruised unashamedly several times, and every time I looked lost for a second, some cute gay boy would offer to help. I stopped in Bruno's, the biggest gay media store I've ever seen, and bought a couple of gifts. I tried on several pairs of jeans in an empty clothing store (the rain had cleared the streets of shoppers). The store owner wanted to check out how each pair of jeans fitted, so he persuaded me to come out of the fitting room without my shirt, so he could assess the "club-going" fit. Just then five gay men walked in in a group, and there was much fussing and "oh-la-la"s before I beat a hasty retreat to the fitting room.

Jean-Marc and I met up again in the evening for dinner in a nice nearby restaurant, ending with drinks: I had a banana colada for the first time. Also for the first time, Jean-Marc and I had a really good intimate chat, with both of us opening up to each other more than we had done in the past.

On Wednesday morning, I woke up after a good night's sleep feeling rather wretched from my cold. For the first time on the trip, I wished I was back home. We packed and headed out to breakfast at the same place as yesterday. Jean-Marc then wanted us to try to squeeze in the Bauhaus in between checking out of the hotel and catching the 1.50 p.m. train to Dresden. Much as I wanted to see the Bauhaus, I didn't want to be rushing around in my current condition, so we arranged to meet at the hotel at 12.45. It felt good to let go of the pressure to see things, and, instead, I just slowed down and did some writing in a cafe, watching Berlin life flow past. The weather was dramatically cooler: I wore my sweat-shirt for the first time on the trip.

Waiting in Berlin for the train to Dresden

Soon we were at the Berlin train station. Upon boarding, there was the usual chaos I've experienced on trains in Europe. We ended up boarding at exactly the wrong end of the carriage for our reserved seats. We had to push gradually through a narrow coridoor, with me negotiating in German our passage past a woman with a baby stroller, and a couple of old woman with lots of baggage (the only way through was for me to hoist all their luggage onto their luggage racks). Once in our cabin, more chaos as I tried to clear space for my big bag, then heave it up to the rack, while the small, genial German family sharing our cabin cleared out of our window seats.

The countryside along the Elbe

The two-hour journey to Dresden was disappointingly nondescript, but once we'd changed trains (with much less chaos than before), the final part of the journey, the three hours into Prague, was much prettier, with perfect little hamlets situated beneath low mountains on one side, and the Elbe flowing underneath dramatic, high cliffs on the other side.

We got into Prague around dusk, and had a new subway system to master (this is the fifth country in which I've taken the subway on this trip). The station looked stuck in the communist era, and everywhere you turned there were ugly advertising signs, or people trying to waylay you to offer you cheap accomodation. We had to get change for the subway system, then found the antiquated machines wouldn't accept my ten-krona coin. Then, of course, we had several staircases to get through with our heavy bags. But we finally made it to Wenceslas Square, and to our hotel, the Ramada Grand Symphony. Our room turned out to be very comfortable, and modern, and with air-conditioning, wonder of wonders.

I was too tired, and sick with my cold to do any wandering that night, so we just contented ourselves with walking about a hundred yards to a wildly overpriced Asian/European fusion restaurant for dinner. Prague would live to be discovered on another day.

In the morning, I finally felt as if my cold was under control, and I was determined to get back to working out, before I felt like a complete slug. Right next door to our hotel there was a fairly decent (if quaintly decorated - I think the Czech people have lost the art of appropriate decoration) gym, and I had a reasonably good workout given the amount of nervous jitters I had from the coffee I'd consumed at the hotel's buffet breakfast. Once we were out on the streets, we decided to stop by the Down Town Cafe, a very nice gay cafe just off Wenceslas Square, for lunch and also to pick up our tickets for Mr Circuit. By pure coincidence, the largest circuit party ever held in Europe was taking place this weekend, and we'd bought tickets for the Friday night party in advance, online. Now Ben, I think, thought I'd planned this trip to Prague just to coincide with the party; but actually, I'd have never known about the party if Ben hadn't told me.

We didn't overtax ourselves in the afternoon - we walked the short walk to Old Town Square, and I got my first taste of the architectural and decorative wonders of Prague. I stopped into the Museum of Decorative Arts (a small, idiosncratic collection for a city famed on decorative arts) while Jean-Marc attempted to see the Jewish Cemetary. Then we walked along the river to the famous Charles Bridge. I'm not sure exactly why it's famous: I've seen many more beautiful bridges. It's probably on account of the vivid statues atop each arch; or maybe it's just famous because it's famous - I've never seen a more crowded pedestrian bridge.

The disneyesque towers of the the Church of Our Lady Before Tyn

In Old Town Square

One of an infinite number of ornate roofs in Prague

In front of the Symphony

A cacophany of decoration: view from near the Symphony to the Castle on the horizon

Sitting on Charles Bridge

On the other side of the bridge, there was a shock of tacky tourist stores. These are all over Prague and fairly ruin the city for me; my impression of Prague is that their creative days are behind them. There is no artistry or craftsmanship in any of the stores, and one doesn't get the feeling of a cultural forment, like you do in Berlin, Prague, London or New York. Since Jean-Marc wanted to walk back over the crowded bridge, we agreed to part company so that I could get something to eat (forgettable Chinese food in a restaurant where the woman spent my entire meal screaming at her baby), and then walk to the subway home.

On the other side of Charles Bridge, a view of spires and statues

Throughout my time in Prague here, so far, the highlights of my day have been getting Ben's emails, sad to say. I know it's silly of us to miss each other so much, but there you have it. Those three weeks together so firmly cemented us into each other's hearts, that it seems difficult to be not sharing this with each other.

After a rest, Jean-Marc and I regrouped and had another forgettable meal in an Indian restaurant. We then walked back over to the Down Town Cafe to see if we could switch our party tickets from Friday night to Saturday. To our surprise, we were told there that the entire circuit party had been cancelled: apparently the promoter had absconded with all the money. I'm not too sure I believe this: I think it's more likely they canceled it in embarrassment at the lack of attendance (we'd seen suspiciously few noticeably gay groups in the city). Still, Jean-Marc's first ever experience with a circuit party would have to be delayed.

Today was my best day in Prague so far. We got on the road late again due to Jean-Marc's sleeping in, and my working out again (a much better workout today). I felt great, after a good night's sleep (despite my third night of nightmares in a row). We took the metro over to the other side of the river, and walked up the long stairs to Prague Castle, the huge aggregation of buildings dominating the hill overlooking the city. It's one of the biggest castles in the world, and has an endless succession of beautiful, impressive buildings, churches and courtyards. The weather was fine, if chilly in the shade, and we enjoyed a nice afternoon of wandering the grounds of the castle. I left all the route planning to Jean-Marc; it's so nice to let go of the ropes sometimes. We also bought Absinthe at the castle (it's illegal in most countries around the world): I'm going to try to smuggle it home as gifts.

Jean-Marc and I on the castle grounds

Also on the Castle grounds

We had dinner in a nice restaurant in Old Town Square, where it was fun to watch people try to take flash photos of architectural objects way out of range of their dim flashes. Then we walked over to the Charles Bridge again, to see the castle at night all illuminated on the horizon. We ended our night with drinks at the Down Town Cafe, where we dared to drink absynthe. We also found out the correct way to consume it: you set light to an absynthe-soaked spoon full of sugar, then plunge the fully lit spoon into the glass of absynthe, which burns with a blue flame for a few seconds. It tastes quite delightful, but it's 70% proof: even one swig gives you a bit of a buzz.

Lord, for the very first time on this trip, my journal is up-to-date. Still to come: one more night in Prague (we're probably going dancing tomorrow night), two more nights in Berlin, and one more night in Paris, then home to that sweet, sweet city by the Bay. But only for two nights, because then I'm off to see my hubby in Los Angeles, taking my friend Brett along for the ride. Much to look forward to.