I write from Prague, which if not the most beautiful city in the world, is the most beautiful city I have ever been to. As my trip winds down, I begin to miss home. I forsake goulash for a hamburger, and deliberately stack a local jukebox with the most American sounding rock that it contains (Lynyrd Skynard, Freebird; Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers, American Girl; Creedence Clearwater Revival, Fortunate Son; Tom Waits, Downbound Train; Bruce Springsteen, Devils & Dust; and ZZ Top, La Grange). At the same time, I appreciate where I am and know I may not return for many years. I walk across Charles Bridge, read beneath Our Lady of Tyn Church, and visit Prague Castle, for what I hope, is not the last time. Intended as a writing trip, the vacation has been more of a reading trip. I brought three books. I will be leaving with six, dispensing with several clothing items to fit them in my pack. These acquisitions include two volumes of letters, speeches, and articles by Vaclav Havel, in whose one-time jail-cell I am currently residing. Havel is one of the most amazing human beings still breathing, and I'm a little awed to be reading his essays from a cell in which the Czechoslovakian secret police once confined him. That inmate Havel later became President Havel (and one of his jail cells became sleeping quarters for Western tourists) is one of history's welcome ironies. If you've never been to Prague, put it on your "to do" list. For a third time, I've put "return to Prague" on my "to do" list.

No doubt there is no comparison with Prague's Oklahoma namesake, pronounced PRAYG instead of PRAHG by the locals, who descend from hearty Czech immigrants of the late 19th century. ;)

Beautiful as Prague may be, I'll have to put it on my list after Ireland and Scotland, where my ancestors came from. If I ever get a chance to go to Europe, that's my first stop.

Is it warming up any?