"So, uh, is this the bordello?"
Maybe I should have said it louder. But, you know, one tries to be discreet. It's a little awkward, standing in the middle of a World Heritage site, in the unsparing light of a spring afternoon, trying to sweet-talk a lady of the night. I had been knocking for 30 seconds, and there was still no response from the tiny brick house.
"That's grad student housing," said a leery passerby. Oh, I see. Is that what they call them these days?
As it turns out, he was right. The, er, courtesans are long gone, if ever they occupied this odd bit of architecture. The Crackerbox
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