Without Lifting A Finger

We spent the night in Wurzburg. I picked Wurzburg (any town would do re our goal: Poland) for the Residenz and Tiepolo, which we couldn't see until the following morning. I'll do a separate post on R & T. That night we walked down to the old bridge on the Main (reminiscent of Charles Bridge in Prague), got lost a bit due to our map-reader (she usually does a fantastic job), experienced the joy of a bunch of fussball fans (all flagwavers), and had a wonderfully aesthetic dinner (local wurst and wine) near the dipping-into-dusk bridge. *                                                                               

Wasn't going to post any more today, but then I watched the exciting endgame to the World Cup match between Holland and Mexico. I don't really care who wins, though we did just get back from Amsterdam and I told the Sixt man (orange shirt, orange hair) I was rooting for his team. So, I'll just start (the drip-drop of Netherlands--Germany--Poland will continue over the next week or so) with a little bit of Dutch: