The Moldau

In the spring of 1994, I was twenty seven years old, newly married, and about halfway through my second attempt at college, a six-year, night school odyssey in pursuit of a bachelor’s degree.  I was working 50 - 60 hours a week and could only manage one class per quarter, but I enjoyed my classes in a way that I had never experienced when I was younger. I began to realize that maybe I wasn’t as thick as I had always considered myself.  I took night classes at Central Piedmont Community College for four years, and I liked my professors very much: they were sincere, well-prepared, and engaging, and I found myself enjoying courses like psychology, logic, philosophy, and creative writing.  One of the courses I enjoyed the most was music appreciation, and in the spring of ‘94, I was introduced to compositions that stir my emotions to this day.

I can’t remember my professor’s last name, but her first name was Marylou, and she was passionate about classical music.  She was a tiny lady in her late fifties with short brown hair and huge glasses that covered two thirds of her face.  She wore colorful bohemian style clothing with tall leather boots and always came crashing into the classroom with armloads of CDs, sheet music, and a chunky boom box.  She would spend the first half of class exploring musical periods through history while explaining terms and covering biographies of classical heavy-hitters.  The second half of the class was everyone’s favorite as Marylou would plug in the boom box and excitedly share beautiful music with the group, her anticipation so intense at times that she would fumble the CDs and send them clattering to the floor.

The piece of music that I remember most vividly from that class is "Vltava" which translates as "The Moldau". It is one of a set of six symphonic poems from a work called Ma Vlast (My Homeland) by Czech composer Bedrich Smetana written between 1874 and 1879.  Nationalism was popular in music of that period in history, and Smetana composed "The Moldau" in praise of the river that is the lifeblood of the Czech people and their land.  He described "The Moldau" this way:

“The composition describes the course of the the Moldau, starting from the two small springs, the Cold and Warm Moldau, to the unification of both streams into a single current, the course of the Moldau through woods and meadows, through landscapes where a farmer's wedding is celebrated, the round dance of the mermaids in the night's moonshine: on the nearby rocks loom proud castles, palaces and ruins aloft. The Moldau swirls into the St. Johns Rapids; then it widens and flows toward Prague, past the Vyšehrad, and then majestically vanishes into the distance, ending at the Elbe.”  

Isn’t that great? The melody of "The Moldau" is hauntingly beautiful, and I remember closing my eyes when I first heard it imagining farmlands and old castles on the banks of a river that must be spectacular to behold.  I also remember thinking as I listened that it would be wonderful to see that river and that country, but it would be impossible to do so.  

Well, yesterday, I plunked down fourteen dollars and my driver's license as a security deposit, and in return, my family received an hour of time on a paddleboat in which we paddled all over the Moldau in the shadow of the Prague Castle and the Charles Bridge.  Deena brought the whole thing up, and I was initially leery of the idea considering the river is a daunting third-of-a-mile wide with a current that would surely sweep us into the hinterlands of Poland or the realm of Count Dracula farther into eastern Europe.  My fears were calmed as we easily paddled with and against the river’s gentle current; we spent a relaxing hour taking in the city of Prague from a completely different perspective.  At 5:00 in the afternoon, the setting sun’s rays were in direct line with the buildings on the banks of the river, and the colors of the stucco facades were rich and intense in the light.  The sun was setting behind the cathedral and castle on the hill above the city, and the backlighting made them seem more prominent and imposing.  The water looked like gently undulating glass, and we were accompanied by huge gliding swans and mallard ducks bobbing up and down searching for an evening meal.  Was this paddleboat excursion a blatant touristy activity?  Heck yes it was, and we enjoyed it so much that we might go back and do it again before we leave in a few days.

Deveny on the Moldau

Joseph on the Moldau

We spent the rest of the evening ascending the hill by tram and walking the grounds of the cathedral and the castle, eventually strolling back down for a meal as darkness descended on the town.  We walked back across the Charles Bridge stopping every so often to take in the views of the city and the warm glow of the towers and spires lit from every angle.  The Old Town Square drew us back once again, and it had a completely different look at night with fewer crowds to negotiate, and we enjoyed watching the antics of the fire eaters along with other street performers.  The hour was late when we returned to our flat, and we stayed up a while longer talking about all the fun we had during our evening in the city and how leaving Prague will be difficult in a few days.  I made a trip to a place in this world which I thought to be impossible in my younger days, and now I have some memories of good times with my family in the Czech Republic to go along with the melody of "The Moldau" that’s been with me for so many years.

View from the Castle