travel writing – Page 3

May 20, 2018July 30, 2018

Austria: Family Business

What a frenzy in the air! With flying colors, the gregarious bee-eaters have returned from their Southern African winter domiciles and are busy setting up shop in Austria. Using their beaks for digging and legs for kicking, they carve tunnels of up to two meter length in the soft sandstone near lake Neusiedl.

A bee-eater leaving home for the hunt. The bigger holes are bird’s nesting chambers, the smaller ones bees’. What neighborhood…

Bee-eaters are fast flyers. Spotting their insect prey from a distance of up to 60m they shoot like bullets through the air for the kill. Bees might be their preferred diet, but bee-eaters will do with any flying insect. They will however never eat from the floor. They have manners after all. They are social creatures.

The divorce rate among bee-eaters is low. Once a bee-eater found their mate, they will most likely stay together for years to come. Traditionally courtship ends with the presentation of a gift – not surprisingly a bee, or even a dragonfly – and then the bride leaves her family to move in with her in-laws. This is when all the trouble begins.

Prey is presented as a gift – or robbed- some individuals speialize in kleptoparasitism.

In-laws rarely have an interest in grandchildren. Rather, they want to have more children themselves and – since hunting is so demanding a business – they are in need of baby sitters, not grandkids. The in-laws will harass the newly weds and keep them from procreating mainly by blocking them access to their nesting chamber. To keep the peace, the young couple often obeys, delaying their own egg-laying for a few years.

The bride however, will feel short-changed. She left her own family for the groom after all. So she comes up with a scheme: She sneaks in with a completely different family, trespassing territory lines, and demands intercourse with a male. Upon return, she secretly lays her own eggs into her mother-in-law’s nesting chamber. She’s not scrupulous – without a flinch she will discard of already laid eggs. Yet, she must time her actions well – if her off-spring hatches too early or too late, they are doomed as well. The mother in law will know no mercy. Family – can’t choose them.

March 23, 2018March 23, 2018

Namibia: Two Leaves, Cannot Die

In 1859, the Austrian physician and passionate botanic Friedrich Welwitsch travelled to the then Portuguese colony Angola, where he came across a large, marvelous plant he had never seen before. He was amazed.

“I could do nothing but kneel down and gaze at it, half in fear lest a touch should prove it a figment of the imagination,” he wrote to Joseph Dalton Hooker of the Botanic Garden in Kew, England, in a letter accompanying a specimen. Hooker, upon seeing the plant, said the following:

“It is undoubtedly the most wonderful plant ever brought to this country, and one of the ugliest.”

And, since he was in a position to name things, he named it after its discoverer: Welwetschia Mirabilis.

For all we know, the Welwetschia itself could not care less about any names. Before Hooker, the locals called it n’tumbo, just “stump”. The Hereros in neighboring Namibia called it onyanga, “the desert onion”, then baked and ate it. So Weletschia Mirabilis is not the worst of all names. In Afrikaans the plant is called Tweeblaarkanniedood, which is the least inspired but most descriptive name of all: Two leaves, cannot die. For a Welwetschia really grows only two leaves, and lives up to 2000 years. From a human point of view, it is practically immortal.

Welwetschias were around 65 million years ago already. They survived ice age. They outlived fires and pests, they watched insects come and go, and viruses, parasites, animals, humans, roads and wars. If you ever come across a Welwetschia, honor the moment. You are looking into eternity.

A male Welwetschia somewhere in Damaraland, Namibia

Other than the rare specimen sent to England, the Welwetschia is endemic to Angola and Namibia, to most arid land. Welwetschias make ends meet with as little water as possible by sprouting deep taproots into the sand below. They grow slowly, with both leaves pushing out like dark green tentacles up to four meters long, their ends curled up and frizzled out. Like human hair, uncut and uncombed. Indeed, the Welwetschia Mirabilis is not a beauty. It is, however, a tree. Its very short trunk also likes to split into several lobes, which makes the Welwetschia look like flotsam, a giant starfish stranded on the beach. Only the beach is not a beach, but the dry Namib desert.

Like humans, Welwetschias are dioecious, with separate male and female plants. Fertilization is up to insects, flies and bugs. But the real specialist in Welwetschia Sex Life is the Odontopus sexpunctatus. Nomen es omen, you might think, but the bug was really named for the six dots on its back. (Not by Hooker, though).

Dandago, a Damara, showed me his homeland.

Dandago led me through his native land, Damaraland in North Western Namibia. The Damara people has lived in the Namib desert for thousands of years, long before the Hereros, the Portuguese, or the Germans came. They call the Welwetschia Nyanka. But don’t even try to say that loud. The language of the Damaras knows four different click sounds – unpronounceable for anyone not born a Damara – twisting the tongue like Welwetschia leaves.

Damaraland is of captivating beauty. A vast, ragged land, where wild animals like elephants, giraffes, rhinos and zebras still roam freely. It hasn’t rained in four years, however, and the animals, and the Damaras themselves face hard living conditions. The Welwetschias will live on. For unlike us humans, they cannot die.

October 28, 2017October 29, 2017

Rome On Ecstasy

This month 500 years ago, the Augustinian monk Martin Luther published his 95 theses and thereby started the Protestant Reformation. He called for purification of the church, who in the run of the centuries had turned into a self-serving system of greed, nepotism and decadence. Christians should have faith in God and the Bible alone, Luther declared, and not in the army of angels and Saints, nor “immaculate” Mother Mary and least of all the Pope.

An angel fighting off vice – or killing a Protestant. Interior Chiesa San Luigi Dei Francesi, Rome

The Catholic Church stroke back: in arms (the bloodthirsty Thirty Year War broke loose) and arts. In a meticulously planned propaganda campaign (conspired at the Council of Trent 1543-63) they called for artists to flock to the eternal city and create buildings, paintings and sculptures that were so formidable and awe-inspiring they’d resurrect faith in Angels and Saints and Mother Mary, and most of all the Pope. But above all, they should instill fear of hell and punishment into an illiterate people. And so Baroque was born. Mesmerizing to this day.

Ceiling Fresco inside Villa Borghese, built around 1600 for Cardinal Scipione Borghese, an admirer, collector and protector of Caravaggio

The world’s biggest church was built, St. Peter’s Basilica, in honor of the first Pope. Michelango was bullied into adorning the ceiling with formidable depictions of God’s grandezza. Michelangelo grumbled – he was a sculptor, not a painter, after all – but gave in.

Caravaggio self portrait as decapitated Goliath. ( David and Goliath Vienna KHM)

By the end of the 16th century, the Church found another Michelangelo, whose realistic and detailed depictions of beheadings and other pains very much satisfied their need for intimidation. On the downside, the guy was unpredictable and prone to outbursts of violence. Worse, he was a murderer. His name was Michelangelo Merisi, but he went by the name of Caravaggio.

St. John the Baptist hugs a ram. Caravaggio 1602, at Pinacoteca Capitolina, Rome

Caravaggio first rose to fame through extremely realistic depictions of delicious fruit baskets and boys. The Cardinals, whose predilection for youth was well known and documented (The insider account Il puttanismo Romano was published anonymously) went crazy for both the painter and his canvases. Caravaggio himself, however, was also leaning towards women. While he complied with the church’s demand to glorify Mother Mary, he did so by using full-busted, sensual courtesans as models, and not thin pale nuns. It was a problem with him – women in the Catholic Church of course had to be chaste. Raped, if anything, but not lascivious. Finally, they had him paint old men as dying Saints, paintings they could display in their chapels. The martyrs of St. Mathew and St. Peter were immediate block busters: The contrasts of light and dark, the depth of field, the intensity, the drama were breathtaking, and still are, 400 years later.

A busted Mother Mary steps on a snake – the model was a well known courtesan, the painting, despite commissioned by the Vatican, was finally not accepted.

The council of Trent had outlawed any worldly pleasure. Dances and carnivals were forbidden, books banned and priests were asked to spy on their parishioners. (Easy, they had to confess anyway.)

Art became a surrogate for bodily desires and should channel them into spirituality. Saints and martyrs were shown in the moment of rapture, in the throngs of ecstasy. Ex Stasis meant the experience of being taken outside of oneself, to where one catches a preview of heaven, the moment when one is united with the beloved, with God. A little Death, as it was later called. Or: orgasm.

The church enlisted architects to turn the city into the shape of a star and sculptors Gianlorenzo Bernini, Francesco Borromini and Pietro da Cortona to beautify it with sculptures, fountains and staricases.

Pope Innocent X commissioned Bernini, whose sculptures were ummatched in expression and elegance, to design the famous Fountain of the four Rivers at Piazza Navona. The four rivers represented Rome also a colonial world power. Innocent X himself went down in history for his greediness – and for his even greedier sister-in-law and lover Pimpaccia. Pimpaccia was said to pull the strings behind Innocent. Their residence, Palazzo Doria Pamhilj, by coincidence at the Piazza Navona, is a vestige of their insatiable greed.

Detail of Fountain 4 Fiumini at Piazza Navona, Rome

The fountain was of course constructed on public expense – during the great famine of 1646-48 – and not surprisingly it was not met with much enthusiasm by the starving people. Riots lay in the air. Under cover of the night, protesters stuck posters on the stone blocks, so called Pasquinades:
“We do not want obelisks and fountains. It is bread that we want. Bread, Bread, Bread!”
In a spirit of Christian compassion, Pope Innocent X had the protesters spied out and arrested.
The fountain was built, but Pope Innocent X met a terrible end. While he lay on his death bed in Palazzo Dori Pamphilj, Pimpaccia robbed all his money and fled the city. His agony lasted three days, three days of ecstasy for Innocent X, 200 years for Rome. Then, the era of Baroque was over.

Splendor and Passion: Bernini’s sculptures attract tourists from around the world. At Galleria Borghese

October 10, 2017

Rome: Watching the Sky

In ancient Rome, augury was the major kind of divination. This included watching the sky, thunder and lightning, but most importantly the auspices, watching the birds. Eagles and vultures were Jupiter’s most important messengers.

Nothing was decided without consulting an augur, a priest who could interpret the flight, the song and dance of birds. Most notoriously, Romulus and Remus settled their dispute on where to found the city of Rome by an augury. Romulus, of course, had the better auspices. He spotted more vultures than his brother Remus, which also granted the former the right to fratricide.

The she-wolf that raised Remus and Romulus against a purple, thunderous Roman sky on the Capitoline Hill, where Romulus founded Rome.

The auspices was restricted to certain species, which are hard to come across in the busy city nowadays. Like in any other coastal city, giant gulls and pigeons seem to outnumber the rest of Rome’s avian population.

A giant gull over-looking his city from the Palletino, the power center of ancient Rome.

Since the Roman Empire extended over a vast part of Northern Africa, tropical birds were imported as sought-after pets. Emperor Nero famously owned an African Gray parrot, Pontius Pilatus’ wife, Claudia, kept lovebirds in a cage, who looked not unlike the Monaco Parakeet.

A Parrocco Monaco sneaking from behind a tree in the beautiful Borghese gardens.

Today’s most flamboyant Roman bird, the gregarious Monaco Parakeet, only arrived in Rome in the early 1970ies. The striking, green parrots have since seamlessly integrated into Italian lifestyle, not causing any harm to local Wildlife, according to the Italian Wildlife Fund. These bright flying jewels color the ancient buildings, which, when built, where not as marble-white, but painted in manifold colors.

Pigeons at the Tiber at sunset, Ponte Vittorio Emanuele in the back.

September 21, 2017September 21, 2017

Vienna: The Caged Birds Fly

Opened in 1752, the zoo of Vienna is the oldest in the world. Mary Theresa of Austria had the zoo installed into the baroque gardens of her imperial summer residence of Schönbrunn, back then still in the outskirts of Vienna. Until 1778 only members of the royal family could wander among the cages to marvel at the elephants, giraffes, camels, bears, wolfs and exotic birds.

Today one of Vienna’s major tourist attractions, Schönbrunn with its zoological, botanical and baroque gardens as well as a lavishly decorated golden interior, was styled after Versaille in Paris. Mary Theresa sought the alliance of the Bourbon Empire to fortify her empire against her archfiend Frederick II of Prussia. On her court, French was spoken. To eternally strengthen the relationship between Austria and France, she further sent her youngest daughter, Maria Antonia, to marry the future king Louis XVI – against the teenager’s wish. However, the French empire did not last as long as the Austro Hungarian monarchy. As Queen Marie Antoinette, Maria Antonia was beheaded during the French Revolution of 1791.

At Schönbrunn castle, six year old Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart played for Mary Theresa. Little Mozart did not have to go to school as other children his age had to: As citizen of the independent state of Salzburg and therefore no Austrian, obligatory schooling did not apply to him.

Mary Theresa, despite her well-groomed image as the warm-hearted mother to the peoples of her multinational empire, was an absolute and strict ruler, and it was only her successor, her son Joseph II, who talked her into a slightly more liberal thinking and therefore reforms, such as opening the zoo to the public. In fact, the citizens of the Austro-Hungarian monarchy might have seen life in catholic, narrow-minded Austria comparable to living in the cages of the zoo. Definitely her own children did.

An ardent catholic – the Roman Catholic Church is still state church in Austria – she believed her power to be god given. Mary Theresa controlled her own children the way she controlled her subjects: with an iron fist. She introduced compulsory schooling for all children between six and twelve. Other faiths than the Roman Catholic were not tolerated in her empire: Jews as well as Christians of protestant faith were dispelled from the country – as long as they did not weigh in when it came to financing her wars against Frederick II. Wars she kept loosing.

Today, 300 years after Mary Theresa, the Zoo attracts two million visitors per year. In its more than 250 years of existence, it has gone a long way from its first exhibitions in baroque cages and adorned follies. Waldrapps, or hermit ibis, a central European bird species that went extinct in the 18th century, was bred anew at Schönbrunn Zoo. A complex re-introduction program which involved glider planes taught the birds, born in captivity, to fly long distance and find their migratory routs to Tuscanny, Italy, where their free ancestors spent their winters. The population of these striking birds is still small – they are among the rarest birds worldwide. Yet they are alive and free again – ironically thanks to Mary Theresa’s Zoo.

Every body is beautiful. A Waldrapp at the zoo, soon to be released.

September 8, 2017September 10, 2017

Vienna: Tu Felix Austria, Nube

When her husband died, Mary Theresa had her bedroom wallpapered in grey silk. She had her jewelry given to her court ladies, dressed in black and wore a black veil for the rest of her life. Often she was found sitting at her late husband’s sarcophagus in Vienna’s capuchin crypt. After her own death, sixteen years later, a piece of paper was found in her prayer book, on which she had noted the duration of her marriage:

29 years, 6 months, 6 days, equals years 29, months 335, weeks 1540, days 10,781, hours 258,744.

Mary Theresa, sovereign of Austria, Hungary, Croatia, Bohemia, Transylvania, Mantua, Milan, Galicia and Lodomeria, the Austrian Netherlands and Parma had been lucky to marry the man she loved.

To her father, Emperor Charles VI, she had been a disappointment. He had wished for a son, a heir to the throne. And while he had her raised to become a lady of the court – Mary Theresa was excluded from education and contemporary erudition, but trained in painting, dancing and the French language, he still did everything to ensure she and the husband he would chose for her would follow on his throne. He chose Francis Stephen of Lorraine, by pure coincidence the man Therese loved.

At the age of 23, after her father’s sudden death from poisoned mushrooms in 1780, Mary Theresa stepped up, literally.

Detail of the Vienna Burgtheater, the most important german speaking theater. It was built under Mary Theresa.

By the time of her coronation, she had been married for four years, pregnant and mother to three. The empire she inherited was run down and bankrupt, the army non-existent. On top, a female reign was considered a liability by the adversary powers. The empire was attacked right away. Yet, Mary Theresa proved herself an astute leader. She charmed other nations into supporting her.

While she negotiated successfully to have her husband crowned Holy Roman Emperor – due to her gender Mary could not be crowned Empress herself – she did not grant Francis I, as he was now called, a say in leading the Empire. On the contrary, Mary Theresa led the country as a matrone, a mother figure. Soon the country prospered under her leadership and Mary Theresa honed her image of a generous, warm mother, who loved her people as much as she loved her own off-spring. She had sixteen children. The fourth was a boy, the later Emperor Joseph II.

Bella Gerant Alii, Tu Felix Austria Nube. – Let others wage wars, thou, happy Austria, marry.

While Mary Theresa did not dispose of a powerful army, she used her 16 children to set up agreements and deals. She wedded them off all over the continent to ensure coalitions, territorial gains or military support. Her children’s feelings or love interests were of no concern to her.

Mary Theresa was an ardent catholic. She believed her power God given, and her life style reflected a puritan and strict view of the world. Yet when it came to marrying off her youngest daughter to French King Louis XVI, she even negotiated the deal with the notorious Madame Pompadour, chief mistress on the French court, of whom she did not approved. Mary Theresa believed in absolute conjugal faith. Sadly, her husband, Francis I, did not.

tourists take in the sun by Mary Therese’s statue in front of the museum of art history, where her portrait in black is at display

To the children of the Habsburg Empire Mary Theresa was as strict a mother as to her own children. She introduced compulsory education to all between six and fifteen. Her relationship to her own sons and daughters was as distant as their geographic location: Mary Christina was married to Saxony, Mary Amalia to Parma, Mary Karolina to Naples, Ferdinand Charles Anthony to Modena, Maximilian Francis became bishop of Cologne, and Maria Antonia was beheaded as Mary Antoinette in Paris in 1793. But this Mary Theresa never learned.

She had died in 1780 already, wearing her beloved husband’s housecoat.

August 24, 2017February 9, 2021

Travnik: I Live to Love You

Today, Travnik is just a little town in central Bosnia. Once, it was a capital city. Once, it was hometown to Ivo Andric, the novelist awarded the Nobel Prize of Literature in 1961, who set his most important novels there.

“Between the fear that something would happen and the hope that still it wouldn’t, there is much more space than one thinks. On that narrow, hard, bare and dark space a lot of us spend their lives.”

Gabon is the forgotten name of the fortress of Travnik, seat of the Grand Vizier

For 400 years, Travnik was the capital city of the Ottoman province of Bosnia. The Grand Vizier, the governer, lived in a fortress overlooking the city, then a lively, multicultural trade hub: different ethnicities and religions lived peacefully under Ottoman rule.

In 1878, fourteen years before Andric was born, in 1892, Bosnia became part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire and Travnik lost its standing as capital city.

Since then, Travnik, like the rest of Bosnia, has lived through a more than turbulent succession of varying regimes and violent conflicts. Ethnic wars seemed to be at the core of each chapter of its blood soaked history – yet it was not an innate adversity against each other that led to some of the most horrible genocides and war crimes in recent history. Ethnicities and religious groups were played against each other, became pawns, fall guys, for the strategic war fares of the great powers. An entanglement that started with the Habsburgian take-over of 1878 and saw its tragic climax during the Balkan Wars of the 1990ies – hopefully the last chapter in this brutal story. The scars are still visible in Travnik, and the rest of the country. But there has been, and still is, hope of reconciliation, of lasting peace.

Nowadays yet, in times of rising nationalism and war mongers, Ivo Andric is claimed as a representative of Croation, Serbian, and Bosnian literature. However, exactly because he was born in Travnik, he belongs to all three equally. His most famous book is called the Bridge over the Drina. Building bridges is key.

Boys arouse the pigeons’ attention while feeding fish at Plava Voda, Blue Water, a gurgling stream flanked by restaurants. In the old times, almost every Travnik household kept pigeons. Today, the city prides itself for its own pigeon breed, the Travnik short-beaked pigeon.

From everything that man erects and builds in his urge for living nothing is in my eyes better and more valuable than bridges. They are more important than houses, more sacred than shrines. Belonging to everyone and being equal to everyone, useful, always built with a sense, on the spot where most human needs are crossing, they are more durable than other buildings and they do not serve for anything secret or bad.

August 8, 2017August 8, 2017

The Alps/Les Hautes Alpes: My Heart Leaps Up

My heart leaps up when I behold
A rainbow in the sky.
So was it when my life began;
So is it now I am a man;
So be it when I grow old,
Or let me die!
The Child is father of the Man;
And I could wish my days to be
Bound each to each by natural piety.

In 1790, the English poet William’s Wordsworth visited the Alps, hiking Swiss mountain passes into Italy, and farther into France. He expressed his awe for the spectacular scenery of the Alps in a collection of poems, yet the beauty of the high mountains, and his veneration of the untamed Alpine Nature can be found in the entirety of his works.

So fair, so sweet, withal so sensitive,
Would that the little Flowers were born to live,
Conscious of half the pleasure which they give;

How clear, how keen, how marvellously bright
The effluence from yon distant mountain’s head,
Which, strewn with snow smooth as the sky can shed,
Shines like another sun–on mortal sight

Praised be the Rivers, from their mountain springs
Shouting to Freedom, “Plant thy banners here!”
To harassed Piety, “Dismiss thy fear,
And in our caverns smooth thy ruffled wings!

More than 200 years later, while the world has changed completely, the Alps are still as untamed and aweinspiring.

July 19, 2017July 20, 2017

Fertö/Lake Neusiedl: The Northern Breeding Grounds

There are no mountains in Austria’s most Eastern province, Burgenland. The “Land of Castles”, as its name is literally translated, is surprisingly flat. Here, the Puszta, the great Hungarian plane, spills into alpine Austria from the East. In fact, until 1922, Burgenland was part of Hungary. In exchange, Lake Neusiedl, the shallow lake, spills into Hungary, where it’s called Fertö.

In winter, the Siberian cold drifts into the flat land and turns it grey, cold and numb. In summer though, the Alpine mountains shelter the plane from the Western rains. From May to September it is hot and sunny, and the salty soil vibrant with flowers, with butterflies, dragonflies and bees.

A red-backed shrike blends in with field flowers.

Many migratory birds have chosen this corner of the world as their Northern breeding grounds. Lake Neusiedl is to a great extent a protected national park that features 360 species of birds: in short, a birder’s paradise. Thanks to the EU and the Schengen agreement visitors can drive, hike or cycle around the lake and its pittoresque scenery of reeds, fields and meadows without once flashing their passport.

A lapwing struts through a meadow in Burgenland. Lapwings hatch on the wet soil close to the lake Neusiedl.

By April the first birds arrive from Africa – those lucky ones that made the ten thousand kilometre-long, hazardous passage over the dire Sahara, over the bird-traps of Malta and Cyprus, and finally the Bosphorus. In fact, the number of migratory birds is on a steady decline. Biologists blame climate change, the loss of feeding grounds and the barbaric lime-stick hunting of songbirds that is sadly on the rise in Mediterranean countries. Bee-eaters are regarded delicatessen.

Bee eaters perch on branches, scanning the air for food: they eat any winged insect, not only bees.

The Bee Eaters are colorful, gregarious birds that shoot through the sky like bullets when chasing insects. They are most proficient hunters of not only, but most notoriously bees.

A bee eater shoots like a bullet when hunting.

While the bee-eaters were traditionally killed by bee-keepers and their eggs destroyed, National Park Neusiedlersee even maintains their breeding rocks, soft limestones in which they dig holes up to half a metre deep with their beaks.

The elegant Great White Egret sashays through the shallow water.

With a maximum depth of 1.5m, Lake Neusiedl offers ideal conditions for wading birds like herons, avocets, stilts and egrets. In the 19th century, the elegant Great White Egret was close to extinction as the bird’s flamboyant feathers were used by hatters to adorn ladies’ hats. However, the Audubon Society in the US, which was founded in order to prevent the egrets from vanishing from the planet, led a successful campaign that led to the abolishing of the feather trade. Two of the society’s members even lost their lives in this fight for the egrets. Since the trade of feathers was declared illegal in most of the Western world, their population has recovered, yet herons and egrets are highly susceptible to environmental changes and suffer from loss of habitat.

Songbirds are tiny, but their kaleidoscopic feathers color the Eastern skies and meadows like paint boxes. The Yellow Wagtail, thanks to its bright, warm color, has traditionally been associated with the sun. The little bird is said to have inspired the Ancient Greeks to their idea of the Phoenix, the bird that burns to ash and resurrects. True or not, the Yellow Wagtail, just like the storks, the geese and the rest of the migratory birds, abandons this land in September, and leaves it to die the cold death of winter, just to return in Spring, and kiss the still land awake with color and birdsong.

Geese crossing the evening sky on their celestial high way.

July 7, 2017July 12, 2017

Prague: Mother Tongue

For the short period of 55 years, from 1884 when the city was part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, to 1939 when the Nazis invaded, Prague was a home to a flourishing coffee shop literature, that brought about writers of lasting literary significance.

Café Slavia was the setting of Rainer Maria Rilke’s first stories, published in Prague in 1899. It was also there that Franz Kafka famously could not stop laughing when he read the first draft of his Trial to his literary friends. At Café Arko Kafka crossed plumes with the likes of Franz Werfel and Max Brod. They and many other coffee shop literates had little in common as writers, were it not for the fact that they all wrote in German. Prague German, to be precise.

vestige of the Belle Epoque style of the turn of the century under the Habsurg Monarchy

It is largely forgotten that until 1945, German and Czech were equally spoken in Prague, albeit in two distinct parallel societies. Czech was the language of the working class. Prague German was spoken by the Upper class, the wealthy, intellectuals, the writers and actors. While the German-speaking literates nursed their coffees in the pompous inner-cities coffee shops, Jaroslav Hasek, who wrote the “Good Soldier Svejk” in his native Czech, downed his beers in the pubs of working class neighborhoods like Žižkov.

A beergarden in the working class neighborhood Žižkov

The Good Soldier Švejk, a down-to earth Czech, had to join the unloved Austro-Hungarian Army in WWI. A job he famously failed at, and a war the Austro-Hungarian Monarchy lost.

The book in its Czech original version at display in a Prague bookstore.

Rilke, himself born into a wealthy German speaking family, made the jarring gap and adversity between the German upper class and Czech working class the subject of his Prague Stories, written in Prague German of course. He also seemed to have been inspired to his later transcendental poetry by La Fée verte at Café Slavia. That’s what the highly alcoholic, and back then legal, green beverage Absinth was dubbed.

Café Slavia offered a view of the Vlatava and servings of Absinthe to the literates.

German was also the language of the Jews of Prague, or at least of the progressive liberals wanting to emancipate from the rigid orthodoxy of the Shtetl. In the Habsburg Empire, Jewish schools were forced by law teach in German, a means to suppress Jewish culture and language, the Eastern European Yiddish. Eventually German became the mother tongue of the educated. Most, but not all of the coffee shop literates were Jewish. Kafka was.

“What do I have in common with the Jews?” he asked, “I don’t even have anything in common with myself.”

Besides Prague German, it was a feeling of alienation the coffee shop literates shared.

“We are not born into our home. Rather it seems to me as if everything great is born in the desire to find a home somewhere, an open-armed home, waiting for our return,”

Rilke wrote before he left the city at 22.

Kafkaesque or unbearably light? A Czech street scene.

Kafka obviously did not feel too homely in Prague either, even though he never left.
“Prague won’t let you go, the little mother has claws,” he said.

“His own forehead obstructs his way.” (Kafka) Czech artist David Cerny built this revolving sculpture of Franz Kafka, It de- and reconstructs itself by whirling, an eternal search. The installation is set in front of a commercial restaurant in the city center.

Things were different for Franz Werfel. Born to progressive, German speaking Jews, he was raised and emotionally most attached to his Czech speaking, catholic Nanny Barbara. First drafted into WWI, like Švejk, then driven into exile by the Nazis, he died in the USA a successful and acclaimed writer. He outlived Kafka, Rilke and Hasek by over twenty years. But Prague never let go of him either. At the end of his life, in the 1940ies, he still wrote lovingly of Barbara, and of his native city in his “Ballad to Prague.”