I loved living in Prague. She unlocked the imagination, time opened up; she became a threshold. I knew my book could and would be – I loved living in Prague.
We were living in Amsterdam and apparently it was time to move to Prague. My guy had started a company in the oil industry based out of Bucharest and Kazakhstan of all places. I tell you, our nomadic life has been a trip .
Here’s a slice of life from my odyssey:
“I too considered Prague romantic and could hear her whispering sweet things into my ear, like a subliminal mantra, daring me to let go of my bourgeoisie past.
Prague offered a stage on which I could chase my Bohemian ideals because they weren’t restricted to painters and poets. Our nomadic lifestyle had become unconventional so it wasn’t that much of a stretch.
Why not be a poser or at least sit across from one in a deep purple velvet jacket drinking absinthe at the Cafe Royal? I was comfortable doing this at Cafe Flore on boulevard Saint-Germain in Paris.
Prague elevated this idea and teased that I might find “men in monocles, along with kohl-eyed beauties in chiffon and emeralds,” as Virginia Nicholson suggested. She was probably channeling the Bloomsbury set although this attitude was available to anyone living anywhere; a curiouso just had to create their own if they couldn’t find it downtown.
The more I thought about it the more this fantasy lit up like a wildfire after the practical qualities of Holland. Yes, I agreed, Prague should be our next city”
– A European Odyssey: How A boxer’s daughter found grace