Castle Louka Moravia, Czech Republic

   They turned off of the main road onto a long lane forested on either side by massive oak trees, the thick branches forming a sheltering arch and casting dark, leafy shadows across the lane. The first of the grounds keeper's sheds appeared two hundred yards up ahead, one of several on either side of the gravel pathway leading to the main gate. Once at the arched entry the castle could be seen in full. It was an imposing, rough hewn stone structure with sloped, red tiled roofs, turrets and towers.

   Ivan parked the car and they walked the pathway, passing a row of ancient workshops and finally what remained of the damaged storehouse. The blackened brick exterior still stood but the tiled roof and interior timbers had collapsed, exposing the building to the cobalt blue sky above. As they passed through the guard tower, the walls of the five-story palace loomed above them. This was not like the Renaissance Zamek Castle, with it's pristine white plaster exterior carved with geometric scraffiti. This was a Gothic structure, domineering and festooned with small windows on every level. Castle Louka was a fortress.

   It was only until the great carved wooden doors to the palace were opened that the real glory of Castle Louka was revealed. The ceremonial hall was as big as a playing field and its' alabaster white, alveolar vaulted ceiling rose three stories high. There was a fireplace one could stand upright in and the stone floors showed the centuries wear of noblemen and women, warriors, servants and now tourists that had trod them. Along the walls of the chamber were carved oak paneling and at the end of the hall was a leaded glass window two-stories high. On either side of the chamber were two wide staircases leading to the upper floors. There were no furnishings within the hall with the exception of a huge globe of the ancient world before the window. Diane had been in many European castles but this one felt different. It felt familiar.

   As they climbed the staircase and passed from one wing to another, Ivan spoke of the Vindrich clan, the Moravian family that had owned the castle through the centuries and the changes they had made to the original structure as their fortunes grew. In 1948 the last descendant who had supported the Nazis was forced out of Czechoslovakia and had sold the castle to Mr. Paul de Meyer for a desperately low price. Now there were tours all year long with the exception of mid December when the younger Mr. de Meyer spent his holidays there.

   Diane and Ivan crossed a covered wooden bridge connecting the palace with the tower, four stories above the main courtyard with a wonderful view of the river below. A small ferryboat was slowly shuttling tourist from the nearby village and depositing them at a dock from which they could climb the steep, wooded path that led up to the castle entrance. A group of ten or so people was gathered in the courtyard waiting for the next tour.

   As they entered the tower Ivan said, "This wing is off limits to the tours so you won't be disturbed. It now houses guest quarters and Mr. de Meyer's private apartments. The light is good most of the day. You will be sharing the large studio with Maria but you each have your own bedroom. We men are in the other wing."  Ivan opened the door to the studio which was a large converted sitting room flooded with light from windows on three sides. Maria Varias was in one corner working on a life size, Gothic marble sculpture of Christ on Mount Olive.

Excerpt from The Singing Fountain

   I wrote my first novel The Singing Fountain after returning from Prague. It is the contemporary story of a San Francisco painting conservator, Diane Nolan, who travels to Moravia, Czech Republic to restore fire damaged paintings at Castle Louka, 13th century ancestral home of the Vindrich clan. The castle is now privately owned by a Belgian billionaire, Stephen de Meyer. He has assigned Ivan Sudek the task of hiring a team of international conservators to restore the castle's valuable art collection.

   A love affair with de Meyer's enigmatic assistant, Willem Verhoeven, dramatically alters the course of Diane's life and the discovery of a hidden castle room reveals an 18th century Vindrich family secret that mirrors Diane's life in the 21st.  

   Summer in San Francisco, autumn in Vienna, New Years Eve in Prague, Spring in the Hampton's and a happy ending in Moravia.

Sometimes Little Things

   There's a tunnel across from the National Theater in Prague; an underground pedestrian walkway that connects one side of the busy Narodni trida with the Stare Mesto. We used it almost everyday as a short cut to our favorite cafe when we lived on Pstrossova Street. There's nothing particularly remarkable about the tunnel, in fact it's funky. It's damp, covered in graffiti and smells of urine. Nevertheless, it's one of my favorite places in Prague. I loved stepping down into the darkness and hearing the sound of my footsteps echo off the walls, then resurfacing again, squinting my eyes for a moment against the sun.

   I'm not sure why, of all the beautiful places in Prague, that funky tunnel is one of my favorites. I can't explain it.

Living In The Old West

   It's different here in Colorado from anywhere I've ever lived. This is the old west with the military thrown in. There are cowboys, good old boys, suits and soldiers. We have Fort Carson army base, NORAD and the Airforce academy. We have ranches, housing subdivisions as far as the eye can see and magnificent mountain ranges that stretch like a backbone down the state. The first thing I noticed when I moved here was how polite most people are. It's a shock to the system having just returned from Prague where, in general, many people are bordering on rude.

   The pace of life is slower, the air is cleaner and the traffic on the roads and highways is thinner. Whereas the Bay Area where I lived for thirty some years was one of the most liberal places in America, Colorado Springs is one of the most conservative. A lot of the people I meet here are overtly cheerful, think Colorado is heaven on earth, and resent the influx of Californians. We are a subject of ridicule here which frankly amuses me. Whenever I see those 'come to California' commercials I get a little weepy and if I see a picture of the Golden Gate Bridge I practically fall apart. I miss the Bay Area with all it's faults. That aside, it is wonderful to be with family here. I was raised by a single mother and my only sibling, my older brother, had gone off to college by the time I was eight. As a child of the Leave It To Beaver and Father Knows Best generation, I always longed for a traditional family.  I must be careful not to expect a TV show version of family life. I'm prone to fantasy and have a natural aversion to reality.

Brzy Nashledanou Goodbye Prague

January 24 - 29, 2007

•January 24, 2007•

   We were worried about what penalty we would have to pay to break our six month lease with Sylvia. Turns out she was very understanding. We are packing and cleaning the apartment today. Decided to fly out of Vienna for Colorado to stay with family. Paul's sister and brother, niece and nephew live there and we haven't seen them in quite a while. If we had really wanted to stay in the Czech Republic I'm sure we would have tried harder to solve the problem. The reality is we're both ready to go home, home in the broader sense of the word. That icy wind off of the Vltava was the harbinger of our departure. Even the Rocky Mountains couldn't be that cold.

•January 25, 2007•

   Today is my birthday so we went into old town to shop for presents to take home. We bought art deco and art nouveau jewelry, Czech glass from the 1930's, books and pashmina scarves. It was a great way to spend my 58th. I'm very happy to be going back but I know that when I'm in the U.S. I will miss Prague. I'm never satisfied to be where I am and always wanting to be on the go again. Paul doesn't know how to explain our decision to cut our trip short to friends and family. For my part, in the words of Rhett Butler, I say, 'Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn.'

   On January 29, 2007 we flew from Vienna to Denver. We spent a few weeks with Paul's sister in the small town of Manitou Springs on the eastern slope of the Rocky Mountains. The house next door to hers was for sale; a big, rambling, split level 60's house with a fireplace, great views of the Garden of the Gods park and Pikes Peak. The neighborhood is quiet, the neighbors are friendly and mule deer forage in the backyard. One morning Paul and I looked at each other and said, "Why not?" and made an offer on the house. A month later we moved in and , for the present, Manitou Springs, Colorado is home. But knowing us, that could change at any moment.

Trip To Vienna

•January 15, 2007•

We just got back to Prague from a four day trip to Vienna. It's a scenic train ride from Prague through the dense forests of Vysocina province, miles of dormant farmland and snow covered hillsides under a bright blue sky. Imagine the sight of a small village, every cottage with a plume of smoke rising from the chimney and kids bundled up and playing by the tracks, waving as the train speeds by. The countryside is so dreamlike in white. Four hours later the train pulls into Sudbahnhof station and the stately, Baroque splendor of Vienna greets you.

We stayed in a small hotel near the Museums Quarter and spent every day in one museum or another. The Leopold had a magnificent exhibit of German Expressionists. Explosive, bold color and thought provoking content infuse the works of Emil Nolde, Max Pechstein, Ernst Kirchner, Otto Mueller, Lyonel Feininger and Kathe Kolowitz. I love Impressionism, Modernism, Cubism and Symbolism but at this stage of my life, none of them speak to me with as much volume as Expressionism. There is so much raw power and psychological intensity in the work of these artists from the 20's and 30's that you can't help but be moved. One of my favorite painters is Egon Schiele who died in 1918 before the full force of Expressionism was felt in Austria.

We spent one whole day in the Kunsthistorisches Museum. I would be willing to live in a broom closet just to spend everyday with the magnificent works of art there. Monumental works by Rubens, country village scenes by Brueghel the elder and his incredibly detailed Tower of Babel, portraits by Holbein that are so realistic you expect them to speak. Cranach, Vermeer, Canaletto, Caravaggio, a spirit elevating feast of beauty. When it comes to art I'm a real gusher.

With some exceptions the Viennese speak English. Although I can say a few things in German, I'm always embarrassed that I'm unable to communicate in the language of the countries I visit. I speak some French but I have a terrible time remembering gender. I don't know why inanimate things have to be assigned a sex. Why is a pen feminine? Doesn't make any sense. Maybe that's why I can't remember.

I bought six, delicate  19th century French pencil drawings in a shop in an alleyway, all signed with the name Marie Alexandre Dumas. What a moniker!

•January 20, 2007•

We went to the Czech  and American Embassies today for information about my visa extension. Got two different stories as to what I should do. A little disconcerting. At the moment so many people are coming to the Czech Republic and overstaying their visas that when they're caught the government is expelling them and not allowing them to return. Many laws and rules here change so rapidly that web information is not always current. At the American Embassy we asked if another trip for a few days to Vienna would suffice and they were pessimistic. They gave us the address of the foreign police station and suggested I file for an extension there. We arrived and found the office vacant and stood there with a Korean couple trying to read a note on the door in Czech. We're talking about the place that is supposed to service foreigners here!

Overnight the weather has gone from balmy to bitterly cold. Paul and I stood shivering and  I asked him, "Are you ready to leave yet?" and without hesitation he said yes. Three months is up on the 27th and on that day we will be on a train out of Prague for somewhere as yet unknown.