I am in love with Prague. I was warned, but I didn't think it would happen so quickly. In the very first evening in this city, I managed to take the wrong tram, walk through a homemade puppet store, see signs for (and eat) the best goulash in Prague, see signs for "live gipsy music," wander into a cathedral courtyard where I could hear an organ playing inside, see signs for countless free concerts, take a brochure from a guy on stilts, eat trdelnik, a traditional sugary dough, and gaze at the Prague Castle from the Charles Bridge. By the time I got to the Charles Bridge and looked across the river Vltava at the perfectly lit castle, I began to laugh. Here was a lone American, standing on the Charles Bridge, laughing to herself. It somehow struck me as being funny that I get to look at this for the next four months. I get to wander through the streets, meet the people, and figure out how to survive without being able to read anything. This is my city. But how did I land somewhere so gorgeous? It doesn't even matter that I still don't know how to pronounce "Thank you" in Czech. Or anything else for that matter. I will learn. Right now, all I am concerned about is getting on the number 3 tram this morning instead of the number 17. That's what I call progress.