TRAVEL TALES of ranaruby

ALONG THE VLTAVA RIVER – A Photo Essay on journey to Praha   The Berlin Central train station or Berlin Hauptbahnhof. It looks more like an international airport than a railway terminus. There are several tiers of platforms both above and below the main concourse, everything is shiny and spotlessly clean, large shafts send in streams of sunlight, and there’s the smell of coffee in the air. From here, the express train to Prague. The coupes are cozy and comfortable, and we had only one co-passenger—an immaculately dressed elderly person who seemed to have emerged out of the sketches found in nineteenth-century novels like Charles Dickens’s ‘The Pickwick Papers’. He sat quietly like a statue throughout the journey (perhaps because he did not speak English, and we did not speak German) and got off at Dresden, a picturesque border town in Germany famous for farmers’ carnivals, like the melas at Pushkar in Rajasthan and Santiniketan in West Bengal. After Dresden, the journey took