I'm spending a week among the barbaric Franks, in Prague. (Yes, Franks. The yzantines and Crusader-era Arabs refered to Europeans as "Franks" long after the days of Charlemagne.)
Unsurprisingly, things are still pretty much the same here. No profound moments of clarity, although I was surprised to find that I had actually starting imaging things in the Czech Republic to be somehow nicer -- prettier, cleaner, more advanced -- than they actually are. Instead, you will be shocked to know that I feel like I'm in a post-communist country.
This just in: Turns out one of the faked cartoons of Mohammed - that is, the ones circulated in the Middle East by the Danish imam to stir up anti-Western hatred, the ones that were never even published - is actually a picture of the French pig-squealing champ.
And - what a nice surprise it was today to go to Andrew Sullivan's blog
and find a link to Steve's lament
about the archbishop of Prague. As I wrote in the comments, it's like going to a different city and overhearing a total stranger talking up your neighborhood bar.