When it rains, we're pouring

Hmm, what do people do on a rainy day in Berlin?

Good answer.

We woke up yesterday (2 p.m.—our new standard wakeup time) to the sound of our two French roommates making out, so we headed to the old markt and bought a few six-packs.  We ended up having an American’s dream day: sitting on a couch; using the computer; drinking beer; playing FIFA (Ken beat a Brit—Who said Americans are bad at soccer/football?); playing Super Mario in the hostel bar; and drinking bier.  Actually, that all sounds too ambitious for an American.

Biers and blogging.

Bier and Brat: Dinner of champions.

Adam thought he could beat Frandrew in pounding a litre of bier. Adam thought wrong.

Last night, we went to the Berlin Absinth bar, Druide. (We don’t know how to make a letter with those two dot thingies above it.)

Drinking a bier on the way to the Absinth Bar...while leaning on a Polizei car. The cop then chased Kendrew down the street.

'Nuff said.

90% Absinth. After a few 60%'ers.

It was difficult for Frandrew to determine which restroom was the men's room, because the symbols are so much different in Germany.

After that, we went to another bar down the street and met a bunch of new friends.

Kendrew swore the absinth was weak, until he woke up half in the bag and then saw these photos.

Now, we’re on the train to Praha (Prague, for all you unworldly-types) and working on our pronunciation of “Danke” as we hand each other beers.  Oh, and we’re making sure that nobody else comes into “our booth” (Kendrew’s term).