My childhood room was painted baby blue; the same shade as the august church here. Every place of worship I've visited has triggered the same set of thoughts around how many hopes this place must guard; how many unspoken desires were shared inwardly. I suppose there's a persisting innocence that runs current through both baby blue rooms; just in different forms. My religious views are a weird thing to blog about, even by my line. A more interesting, on brand anecdote: perhaps this is a deception that I continue to enliven, but apparently some of the best food in Bratislava is burgers and pancakes. Given I originate from the continent of burgers and pancakes — and that I will attend school in the country of burgers and pancakes — this was a curious anomaly we simply had to investigate. I can confirm, the burgers are pretty unreal here. If you're ever in Bratislava, go to Bukowski's Bar. They still allow inside smoking, which will make you feel like you're in a *Mad Men* episode (even though you might be with your parents just having a chat) and your lungs like they're in hell (even though you're with your parents having a relaxed chat; the furthest thing from punishment).