The Magical Mystery Literary History Tour was aptly named. Beginning the first day and culminating the last one, the Kafka Project's mission in Eastern Europe has been smiled on by the mysterious forces that moved me to undertake it. As I compile the results of the research for a final report, I'd like to tell you about only two of the forty days: the first and the last. Then you tell me if you think magic is afoot! 

We left San Diego on June 15 (see Episode #1 Magical Literary History Tour) and landed in Prague the next day, June 16. When we arrived at our hotel, Judita Matyasova, an impish 29-year old Czech woman with her own Franz Kafka project, was waiting for me with a reporter from a leading Czech newspaper. Lucie Bartosova, pictured at center below, an editor at Lidove Noviny, was the first of three sets of journalists and photographers we met with that afternoon.

Following our interview, Lucie told me that she read my book in a library a few years ago, but always wanted her own copy, which she had just received from England a few days earlier. As she leafed through it again, she thought: "I'd love to meet the author." The next day, she learned I was coming to town and got the assignment to interview me.

The first objective of the SDSU Kafka Project's Eastern European project was to spread the word, to alert the public and the archival community that 1) Kafka's writings and letters from the last year of his life are missing, and 2) We are looking for them.

Within the first three hours of arriving in Prague, I was interviewed and photographed for a newspaper, a literary magazine and Czech Radio. In two days, I gave interviews to six media outlets: the two major daily newspapers, two literary magazines as well as two radio stations, including Prague Radio. It happened without any effort on my part: Judita organized, scheduled and coordinated everything. I simply made myself available. The following day I was interviewed for a story in Mlada Fronta, the other leading daily, and this included my own photo shoot in the atmospheric Prague streets! It was too much fun. Judita, who works as a journalist and cultural manager, served as a professional, gracious and energetic publicist and Czech translator, and volunteered her services free of charge.

When Judita learned that Byron and I would be returning to Prague at the end of the research project in Poland to catch our flight home, she made an offer I couldn't refuse: She and her creative partner Jan Jindra, could drive us to Zurau, a tiny picturesque village about 80 km west of Prague, where Kafka had written his aphorisms. We could stay that night in a neighboring town with a small hotel. Judita could make all the arrangements and even get us to the airport on time for our flight home on July 24.   

Kafka's Zurau aphorisms-short, concise statements of principle and truth-and the writings from his Blue Octavo Notebooks, written after his diagnosis of tuberculosis, are among my favorite of his writings. First published as "Reflections on Sin, Suffering, Hope, and the True Way," they appear at the beginning of chapters in my book and are my oft-quoted mottos. Judita's description of Zurau, a tiny pastoral village in the rolling Bohemian countryside where Kafka faced his mortality was irresistible. We decided to change our train tickets to return to Prague a day early. We would spend our last day in one of the quiet places that Kafka loved, deep in the Czech countryside.   

On July 22, Byron and I took the train from Krakow to Prague. As we walked that evening from the station to our clean and well located, relatively inexpensive hotel, The Musketyr, a brilliant rainbow arched over the National Museum at the top of Wenceslas Square. I took it as a special summons back to Prague, as rainbows are one of my favorite things (no music necessary here.)

The next morning, Jan picked us up at the hotel in his car and we drove to Zurau. Judita asked me what I knew about this village where Kafka lived with his favorite sister Ottla in 1917-1918. Not much, I admitted, since he was there pre-Dora. I hadn't realized that Kafka had written the aphorisms here. I had seen several photographs of Zurau from Wagenbach's book of Kafka pictures, and remembered one of them clearly: Kafka and Ottla standing in an open doorway.  

Jan and Judita had visited Zurau a few years ago to photograph it. They escorted two German scholars, our friend Dr. Hans Gerd-Koch and Kafka biographer Reiner Stach, and the party had attracted the attention of family who now owns the house where Ottla once lived. Before our visit today, Jan called the owner of the house and had made arrangements to be able to get into the very room where Kafka actually wrote. (He slept in one house, ate in another and wrote in a third dwelling, which also served as the village's Jewish cheder and prayer house.) 

We arrived in Zurau early and walked around on unpaved lanes through the tiny village, with ancient farmhouses mostly untouched since Kafka's day, except by the forces of nature and neglect. A few have been painted and many have gardens or flower filled window boxes.

The large baroque church is abandoned and its yard overgrown, with vines covering the statues of angels and saints.

There is life still in Zurau--two little boys playing near the pond by the church, mothers walking their babies in prams, chatting, an old lady sitting in a chair in the sun. Judita told me only about 100 people live in Zurau, which is now called Sirem.

Jan pointed out the neighboring hills and valleys that Kafka described in his diaries, and the clover and wild-flower filled field where the house in which Kafka slept once stood. Like so many of Kafka's residences, it has been torn down since, while the neighboring structures stand in memory, as references in the old photographs. There is a peaceful, yet stirring feeling in the air.

We walked up a lane to large mysterious granary on the hill, what Judita called "the Castle." Jan explained: some people have theorized that Zurau was Kafka's inspiration for the village in his novel "The Castle." Kafka had arrived in Zurau in winter, when the village  was covered with snow, just as his protagonist, the land surveyor had done, and that this building, by far the largest in Zurau, could have represented the castle in his landscape. 

When Judita was here last time, she told me, a real land surveyor was there, taking measurements. I told her about 108 (see "The View from Kafka's Head") and we laughed at the reassuring but weird coincidences that accompany our respective searches. As we walked up the hill, we noticed a couple of pieces of paper posted on the large wooden doors.  As we approached, the white pages came into focus. I couldn't believe it. There was a picture of Kafka under the headline "Magic Zurau." Underneath that, I was looking my own picture!   

Someone had posted a copy of one of the newspaper articles, which had been published six weeks earlier, underneath a flyer for a concert and theatrical event in celebration of the 125^th anniversary of Kafka's birth on July 3. The event was titled "Magic Zurau."  

"Why Magic?" I asked.

"Zurau has always been considered magical, I don't know why," Judita answered.  We left Zurau to check in to our darling 13th century hotel, U Hada, on the main square in the enchanting town of Zatec, perhaps the most delightful place in our entire journey.

We got room 112, with the best view overlooking the square (Judita's was room number 108, of course.) We had lunch, and returned to Zurau to meet the owner of the house where Kafka wrote, where we met the family who owns both houses. The son, David, who lives and works in the city of Most, made arrangments with his mother and grandmother, who live in Ottla's old home, and his aged aunt, who has lived for more than sixty years in the house where Kafka wrote his aphorisms. These three women opened their doors and homes to us. That afternoon I stood in the same doorway where Kafka stood with Ottla. I looked out his window. The same window where he wrote "This is a place where I never was before. Here breathing is different, and more dazzling than the sun is the radiance of a star beside it." And "Beyond a certain point, there is no return. This point has to be reached." Afterwards we had Czech cookies and coffee, served by David's mother and grandmother, in the house where Ottla had lived.

The next morning after breakfast, Jan and Judita drove us to the airport. Our flight left Prague at one in the afternoon. We cleared customs in Atlanta and caught the quick connection to San Diego. Sixteen hours later, at eight that evening, my suitcase was the first off the conveyer belt at baggage check. We were home by 8:30 pm.

So what do you think? Magic? 

Up next: Kafka Project Wrap Up: What we learned, what we still have to do. Stay tuned!

The search for Kafka's lost papers in the expansive region of Silesia has always relied on determination, luck, coincidence and the kindness of strangers. There was no definite plan when we arrived in Krakow, only a general idea to find some archives and pass out the Kafka Project Alert so that the archivists could recognize the missing Kafka treasure. And Kathi's belief that we needed to be here in order for "Something to Happen." A month ago we arrived in Krakow. There happened to be a Jewish Cultural Festival going on, beginning the day we arrived. As a part of the festival we decided to take Yiddish lessons at the Galicia Jewish Museum.

For an article she is writing, Kathi interviews the museum's director, Kate Craddy. As the interview concludes, Kate mentions, as an afterthought, that the US Embassy is throwing a Fourth of July party that very evening. She gives us the name of Susan Parker-Burns, Consul for Press and Culture at the US Consulate in Krakow as a contact. So we show up, get in the receiving line at the entrance to the party at the Sheraton, mention the name of Susan Parker-Burns, and, even though we admit that we don't know her and she doesn't know us, we know she is leaving on vacation and we need to speak to her tonight. We're a little bit dressed up and have our American passports and the next thing we know we're shaking hands with the US Ambassador to Poland. 

Having successfully infiltrated the party, Kathi finds Susan Parker-Burns and US Consul General Anne Hall. They exchange cards and Kathi obtains the names of a couple of librarians to contact at the American Information Resource Center (AIRC) at the US Consulate. A few days later we go the Consulate on Stolarska Street, just off the main square, and meet with the librarians. They are both excited after listening to Kathi and understand the purpose of our search. Both agree that the person we need to contact is a professor at the University of Silesia in Sosnowiec, Dr. Pawel Jedrzejko. They telephone Pawel, who seems very enthusiastic. Pawel is quite taken by Kathi's phone voice and by their second email exchange is signing off with "Hugs, Pawel."

So, the top half of the Kafka Project's hourglass is full. We've travelled to Poland, we have rented a car, we have the information ready to be distributed, and our only solid lead is, "Hugs, Pawel." Great.

After a brief weekend sojourn in Zakopane in the Tatra Mountains (see previous post: "The View From Kafka's Head") we drive to Sosnowiec and I won't mention the half-completed roads, confusing maps, even more-confusing signs, unpronounceable names of the towns and somewhat barfy trip to the University of Silesia. We contact Pawel (pronounced Pah-vel) after finally reaching Sosnowiec. By cell phone, he guides us to the university parking lot and comes out to meet us.

It turns out that Professor Pawel Jedrzejko (Yen-JAY-ko) is like, the nicest guy in the world. He greets Kathi by bending down and kissing her hand--as he does with every woman he meets. He takes us to a popular hangout around the corner called Stonehenge.

Over coffee and pizza and many cigarettes, we discover that he has two full-time academic jobs to make ends meet and also is a musician, singing traditional sea shanties on weekends with a group called Banana Boat. He has many ideas for the distribution of the Kafka Project materials. Unfortunately many of the key people may be away for the summer but he will do what he can. He has to drive to Warsaw in the morning but does not abandon us until he sees us safely to a hotel in Bedzin.

While awaiting Pawel's return we tour the town where Dora Diamant grew up and as a result get the Bedzin blues. (See previous post.) The next day, we meet Pawel again at Stonehenge. He is obviously exhausted from his overnight roundtrip to Warsaw and also from counseling three students who are failing his classes. Nevertheless, that evening, Kathi and I take Pawel and his lovely wife, Zuzia, who is also an academic with three jobs, to an early dinner at an Indian restaurant. We agree to meet in the next morning for the day of reckoning.

In the morning, Pawel drives us to the Library of Silesia in Katowice, which is spacious and modern.

We are met in the lobby by Pawel's friend, the Library's Director of Promotions, Aneta Satlawa, who leads us to Maria Gutowska, the Deputy Director of the Library of Silesia. (More hand kissing.)  

After a brief meeting with Pawel translating, Maria takes us downstairs to run an electronic search of the Library's archives for key words in our search. While the search is being run, we are joined by Dr. Teresa Roszkowska, the Director of Special Collections.

A conference ensues which determines the fate of the Kafka Project. As Pawel translates, Kathi explains again the purpose of the search and passes out the Polish versions of the Kafka Project Alert. We get actual confirmation from real archivists that Nazi documents were indeed shipped out of Berlin and deposited throughout Poland. Some have been gathered here in Katowice, and may have been moved to Warsaw, some may be in Wroclaw, (formerly Breslau) and some may have been sent as far away as Lublin, even further to the east.

Pawel asked us later what it is like to listen to Polish. My best explanation was listening to Scooby Doo ("rrte row") talking through a zipper.

As the conference progressed, Kathi noted that Maria Gutowska's face was flushing with excitement. They were into it!

There was a pause in the conversation, Pawel smiled and translated. "They think it would be a good idea if the Kafka Project materials could be distributed to every library and archive in Poland."

"Could they?" asks Kathi.

"Yes," says Pawel.

"Will they?"

Maria Gutowska and Teresa Roszkowska smile at Kathi.

"Of course!"

The results of the Library's search of its own files comes back with no results at this branch. But the bottom half of the Kafka Project Hour glass has opened up with the distribution of the search materials to every library throughout Poland. Every library.

Thanks to the kindness of strangers, the Kafka Project has achieved a major goal by getting the message out in Poland that these papers are missing. Of course, they are strangers no longer. By far the best part of the Kafka Project is the people we meet along the way who become our friends.

Pawel is trying to set up a meeting with a history professor at the university who is THE expert on the distribution of Nazi archives. Kathi is working with the US Consulate to help. Of course this professor is leaving on Tuesday, the day we begin our return to America.

Kathi was frantically searching the internet for ways to change our train to the Czech Republic. She called Pawel for advice. "How are my favorite Americans?" was the way he answered the phone. Kathi explained he problem. "Don't worry about it" says Pawel. "There are plenty of trains out of Katowice, and, if worst comes to worst, we'll drive you to Prague." What a guy.

Next Up: The Kafka Project Scores in Silesia with New Leads

It is a coincidence that we are here since we weren't planning to come back after the Magical Mystery Literary Tour made a quick stop on our journey between Prague and Krakow. But maybe it's not such a coincidence. On our first morning, when I looked out the window, a van with the number 108 was parked outside.

Dora Diamant grew up in Bedzin, on Modrzejowska Street, right off the main road of Kollataya Street.

It was a thriving town back then. According to JewishGen.org, Bedzin (pronounced BEN-jeen) was a predominately Jewish city for many years. In 1897, 80 percent of the population was Jewish, and Bedzin was one of the most important trading cities in Poland.  Jewish life was rich and varied, and a large synagogue stood near the castle by the river. 

But then the German army occupied this area in 1939. In September of that year, the Great Synagogue was torched, killing hundreds of people who had sought sanctuary inside. Some of the first transports to Auschwitz, only twenty miles away, came from Bedzin. Today, there is almost no trace of the vibrant Jewish life that once flourished here. The ethnographic museum has only a half dozen etchings of Jewish scenes on the first floor. The entire second floor is devoted entirely to ladies underwear, bras, girdles and lingerie from the 20^th century.  Interesting and fun, but in light of what could have been presented, worse than frivolous. Across the river, the castle's museum is interesting, too, largely given over to armaments, swords, armor, and other implements of battle. The one stirring exception is a Torah scroll, and the piece of a Jewish gravestone. Behind the castle, in stark contrast to the be-flowered, lovingly tended Christian cemetery across the street, the broken stones and vandalized graves of the Jewish cemetery in Bedzin are shrouded in darkness from the overgrown forest that covers them.

Bedzin today is a dreary place, filled with pawn shops and crumbling buildings.

Byron and I were warned not to walk around at night, even the five minute walk from our hotel to the castle. The town seems to have disintegrated. The collapse of the coal mining industry certainly is a factor, but there is a deeper reason, I think, for the high unemployment and pervasive sadness I feel all around me.

NEXT UP: Kafka Project keeps climbing in Silesia. As Kafka said, "As long as you keep climbing there will be steps; they will magically appear under your climbing feet."

By Byron LaDue: We had given up on finding the sanatorium where Franz Kafka spent several months attempting to recover from tuberulosis. We didn't have much to go on. All we had was that Kafka had stayed at a sanatorium at Matliary in the Tatra mountains in Czechoslovakia. Kathi googled Matliary, but only a few references came up, nothing specific to the name or place today. There were Kafka references that related to Dora's story (this was the place Kafka met Klopstock, whose words "Who knows Dora knows what love means" are on Dora's tombstone.) There was also a picture of Kafka at Matliary. We have been staying on the Polish side of the Tatra mountains. Matliary would be on the Slovakian side. Ever since she saw them in the distance on our first trip to Poland in 2001, to research Dora's life in Bedzin for her book, Kathi's wanted to go to the Tatra Mountains. We are now at the base of the Tatras, about a three hour drive from Krakow, just outside the main town of Zakopane at a lovely hotel called Redyk in the village of Zab, the highest village in Poland, where you can see outside our window a lovely view of Polish farmland backed by mountains. Friday we visited the main village of Zakopane and found it to be a very popular tourist location for Polish families. There was a long line of traffic leading into the village offering a water park, river rafting, mountain trams, biking and a huge outdoor pedestrian alpine mall, Krupowki Street, several blocks long full of pedestrian traffic. There was a multitude of shops, street entertainers (including an actual dog-and-pony show) and a waffle and fruit treat which I couldn't resist.

We took a tram up into the foothills in the direction of our village, Zab, and then walked along an extensive row of vendors and rode back down the mountain on a chairlift.  It was a lot of sightseeing, a lot of walking and a lot of tourists. Having done Zakopane on Friday we decided that on Saturday we would just "drive around." We took off around noon in our rented Hyundai Getz with a hazy destination of another mountain tram located on our tourist map.

Before we knew it we were driving from Poland into Slovakia, which is now a separate country from the Czech Republic. We found the small village where the tram was located, a place called Tatranska Lominca. I changed some Polish Zloty into Slovakian Crowns (different from Czech Crowns) and we had lunch at a roadside hotel to get our bearings.

The Tatranska Lomnica cable car and tram is longer and higher than the tram in Zakopane. As we looked up the mountain we could see the tram had two sections, a cable car leading a good distance up the mountain and a tram which went to the very top. The tram was located within a drive-around park, consisting of several hotels including the massive Grand Hotel Praha. We bought tickets for the tram and discovered that only the first leg was available. The smaller tram to the top of the mountain only took ten passengers at a time and had sold out around 11 am. The cable car dropped us off at a small Alpine lake featuring panoramic views of the Slovakian valleys below.

We noticed that even though the tram was sold out, there was a chair lift which would take up almost to the top of the mountain.

So we rode up to a windy rocky plateau. A short walk took us to an overlook of the other side of the mountains where I almost fell off.

Just kidding.

Kathi loved it up here.

We completed our hike and took the chair lift and then the cable car back down the mountain which took a good half hour. At the bottom, Kathi wanted a beer so we spent the last of the Slovakian crowns on a beer for Kathi and an ice cream for me (65 SK, about $4). I sat at a table while Kathi stood examining a large map of the area. She called my attention to a spot on the map designated by the figure of a hiker with the designation Tatranske Matliare. The reference on the map seemed to refer to a three-hour hiking trail near our present location.  Walking back the car, Kathi called out, "108," pointing to a light pole with the number 108 on it. (Actually 1084 but we could only see the 108 part.) 108 is Kathi's lucky number and appears at significant moments in her life. (Twilight Zone music here.) We drove around the park trying to find this trail without success. We decided to head back to Poland. We hadn't driven very far until we saw a small road sign saying. "Vysoke Tatry, Tatre. Matliare."  I stopped the car to take a picture of Kathi by this sign as it was obviously as close as we were going to get to finding Kafka's sanitorium.

While taking the photo I looked across the street to a little offshoot road. There was a small sign partially obscured by bushes. I couldn't make out the whole thing but the first word was Franz and the second word started with a K. (Twilight Zone Music here.) We drove onto the road to investigate.

This sign said "Pamatnik Franza Kafku." We drove along the road for a hundred yards or so and then, off the right side of the road we found it: a small cairn of rocks bearing a bronze memorial of Kafka's head with an inscription noting that this was the site of the sanitorium where Kafka stayed from 1920-1921. Up the road, beyond the memorial, a sanatorium of sorts still exists there now.

The mountain where we had spent our afternoon would have been the view that Kafka would have seen from his sanatorium window. On the left you can see the tram station where we had been an hour before with no idea what we would later discover. Now, that's weird.

The view of Lomnica peak from the site of Kafka's sanatorium in Matliare, Slovakia.

Text and photos respectfully submitted by Byron LaDue, a founding member of the Magical Mystery Literary History Tour.

We are waiting to learn the locations of Nazi-era archives in Silesia, where Franz Kafka's missing papers were last traced. In Berlin ten years ago, I had to wait in some cases for months. I don't have that kind of time now. Byron and I leave Poland on the 24th of July, so there is pressure to move quickly. Time is running out to find these papers before they are lost forever. Locating these archives before they are opened, and providing information on what is missing is vital to discovering it. Even to people I meet on the street, who express even the slightest interest, I hand a copy of the Kafka Project ALERT, which identifies what exactly is lost and describes it in detail so that it can be recognized. The ALERT also establishes who owns these 35 love letters and 20 notebooks--the Kafka Estate of London, England. I have had the ALERT translated into Czech, Polish, Slovak and German. These are the languages spoken in the area which encompass Silesia. 

Connections have been made, phone calls placed and emails sent. Now we wait for responses and answers. The connections have been remarkable. Last week, at a Fourth of July celebration held by the US Consulate in Krakow, I met the US Ambassador to Poland, Victor Ashe, and more importantly for the Kafka Project, the US Consul General Anne Hall, who offered the resources of the US Embassy.  A graduate student at the oldest university in Eastern Europe, Jagiellonian University, Magda Kozlowska, is helping with contacts and translations. She is writing about the Kafka Project for Jagiellonian's Jewish Studies Department. A couple of responses from my queries have arrived, but are fairly disheartening, indicating that Silesia is too big and our search too vague. But we already knew that. This search is the first step to getting the word out that these papers are missing.

But while we wait, we have made excellent use of our time.

We've visited the famous Salt Mine at Wieliczka (pronounced: Velly EEch Ka) saving money by taking the train and getting there on our own, instead of the organized tour advertised at 100 PLN (about $50) we did it for more like $35 each. The Salt Mine, like Kazimierz, also listed on the UNESCO World Heritage List, dates back to the 13th century and is quite the experience, though not recommended for claustrophobics. A highlight is the cavernous underground Chapel of St Kinga. The salt sculptures, made by the miners themselves, include famous Polish heros, saints and even gnomes. If you are a single woman, and want to be married, you are supposed to kiss the gnome on the left, with his arms outstretched. (Yeah, right. Where have I heard that before?) Actually, so many women have kissed him over the centuries that his mustache melted away, and it's no longer allowed. Here's one of Byron's photos, which he had to pay 10 PLN (about $5) for the privilege of taking:

I am also fascinated by the darkly atmospheric pubs and clubs of Krakow, most of which are located underground, in labyrinthine caverns. Andrzej Gibek, age 26, whose family owns the lovely studio flat we are renting (which we found on Craigs List), took us last night to Ministerstwo. I thought it was wild, but it was still early. Action doesn't start here until at least 10pm. According to Andrzej, there are more pubs and clubs located around the Old Town Market Square than there are in all of Warsaw! Andrzej's favorites include Midgard on ul. Szitolna, Cien on ul. Sw. Jana, Prozak on pl. Dominikanski, and Bledne Kolo, which is not in a basement--for that club, you go upstairs.  But for most of the best pubs and clubs, Andrzej says always go downstairs--and don't be afraid! 

This weekend, we are heading south, to the Tatra Mountains, where Kafka once stayed in a sanatorium. More on that soon.  

"End of a Kafkaesque nightmare: writer's papers finally come to light
Documents hoarded for 40 years in Tel Aviv flat by executor's secretary"

These are not the same papers the Kafka Project is looking for in Eastern Europe, although I think it a lovely omen that this is the second Kafka discovery since the Magical Mystery Literary History tour began last month. The first discovery was in Prague in mid-June of a previously unknown, unpublished letter Kafka wrote to another lover, Julie Wohyrzek, in 1919. The papers which are about to be uncovered in Israel are extremely important to Dora's version of events. When they are made available, a second edition of my book, Kafka's Last Love: The Mystery of Dora Diamant, will no doubt be necessary. These papers, which belonged to Max Brod, contain dozens of letters that Dora Diamant wrote to Brod after Kafka's death in 1924 until her own death in 1952. They also contain Dora's last will, which no one but Max Brod (and Ester Hoffe) has seen. It's an extremely important discovery, and the Kafka world is indeed "holding its breath."

There is also a fascinating review by Zadie Smith in The New York Review of Books (July 17, 2008) of a new book about Kafka. Definitely worthwhile reading. Zadie Smith is a London-based best-selling, award-winning novelist who made headlines herself last year with the announcement she was writing a musical about Kafka. One can only hope.

(Thanks to Ehud Gelb, Dale Estey, Steve Schlesinger and Miriam Shekter for keeping me informed while I'm on the road!) 

Byron and I took a week-long free, but intensive Yiddish class this week taught by wonderful Anna Gulinska at the Galicia Jewish Museum, and participated in a Yiddish singing workshops taught by Jeff Warschauer in the afternoons. We attended free Klezmer concerts held on tiny cobbled squares, surrounded by people from all over the world. 

One of our favorite groups we heard perform at the daily evening free "Concert between Two Synagogues." Konsonans Retro is a group of family members from the Ukraine.

When Byron and I were here in 2001, Kazimierz was a bit depressing, with little life left in the narrow lanes. Only old photographs, like this one below, showed the Jewish life on the ancient streets.

At least this week, Jewish life has come back to Kazimierz, and its a great pleasure to be a part of it.  Art is all around us, and students are everywhere, taking advantage of the picturesque views, like this archway seen in the film, "Schindler's List" by Steven Spielberg.

There are informal classes, too, like juggling, taught by an Orthodox Jew to passersby. 

The Chief Rabbi of Galicia, Edgar Gluck on Ciemna Street in Kazimierz.

It was a delight to experience so much Jewish life, art and culture in this place where it had been silent since the Holocaust.

Next up: The Kafka Project practices patience in Poland

Getting around via BVG:  If you are moderately fit, the best way to navigate is to use the public transportation system, BVG, which is nothing less than brilliant. Our last Friday in Berlin, Byron and I went from our incredibly bizarre dinner experience at Unsicht-Bar Restaurant in the center of Mitte to our sleepy southern suburb in Kleinmachnow in about 45 minutes. Just before midnight, we left the dark restaurant (review to come) and traveled by tram to the U-bahn, changed to the S-bahn, where we'd left our bikes earlier that day, and then biked the two kilometers home from the Zelendorf Station. A taxi ride from roughly the same location took about the same time, but cost $60, six times as much. 

If you are staying more than a few days, go ahead, spring for a week-long pass. You can go anywhere and everywhere, and not worry about buying a ticket. It's a public transportation theme park with unlimited rides on buses, trams, streetcars, S-bahn and U-bahn trains. It's easy and fun even if you have absolutely no German language skills. Just ask Vernetta, my tap dance teacher and one of the Magical Mystery travelers. She was thrilled with her proficiency getting back from a shopping excursion at KaDeWe. 

You can't get lost in Berlin. Not really, not for very long. 

All bus stops list all the S and U station connections. Every station has public transport and local street maps. To figure out which platform to choose, look for the end point on your train line based on where you are and where you want to go, and then you know what platform to choose. For example, the S-1 runs from Wannsee in the south to Oranienburg in the north. So if you are heading in the direction of Wannsee, look for the platform that says Wannsee.

Bikes are Best: Berlin is extraordinarily bike-friendly, especially in the suburbs. The city is flat, built on a marshy plain, and specially designated bicycle paths are everywhere. This time we rented bicycles from Zweirad Taberski on Machnower Strasse. These sturdy bicycles, designed specially for Berlin, were simply magnificent, and cost less than eight euros a day. Lightweight with comfortable seats, our rides offered outstanding shock absorbers and wide tires for bumpy cobbled streets and unpaved paths through woodlands and parks.

Since our last stay here, a small additional cost now is required to take bicycles on the S-bahn, but the convenience is worth it. From our home on Clara Zetkin Strasse we rode to the Zehlendorf station, where we boarded with our bicycles destinations throughout Berlin, from the fresh water lakes in the south to the marvelous Honigmond Garden Hotel, the Magical Mystery Literary Tour's home in Berlin.

Speaking of which, I promised you my sister Trudi's final report from the Tour. Trudi joined the first Kafka Project in Berlin in 1998, spending two months as my research assistant and helping me with German translations. Born in Germany, Trudi earned her degree in German Studies from the University of Alabama-Hunstsville, where she studied under Kafka scholar Rolf Goebel. She is not only my sister, but also one of my best friends, who shares in the new family connections that the search for Dora has created. For example, the connection to Dora's in-laws, the Lask family of Berlin: 

From Trudi Diamant:  My last night in Berlin was happily spent in the home of Ruth Lask-Kessentini and her husband Sami, along with their two children, five-year old Elias, and Nadja, age two. The dinner party consisted of Dr. Ulrike Eisenberg, a neurosurgeon, her husband Christof, and their nineteen month old daughter, Katarina, my cousin Karen Willis and her husband Bob, and of course, Kathi and Byron.  It was Ulrike who put Kathi in touch with Ruth Lask, ten years ago. Ulrike was conducting research on the ground-breaking work of Dr. Louis Jacobsohn-Lask (Dora's father-in-law) at the same time and in the same archive as Kathi was conducting her research on Dora in Berlin in 1998.  Ulrike noticed that a person by the name of Kathi Diamant had checked out all the same documents she herself was reviewing.   She left a note for Kathi at the archive and the two later met.  Ulrike had met and become friends with Ruth Lask earlier through her own research, and offered to introduce Kathi to Ruth. Ruth, who is a librarian for the Max Planck Institute, had carefully catalogued pictures of Dora Diamant and her family, photographs which were immensely helpful to Kathi in putting together the pieces of Dora's story.

The dinner was fabulous. No more beef and dumplings drowned in gravy for us. As the youngsters developed their social skills at a nearby children's table, the rest of us gathered around the adult's table where we were treated to a feast. Sami prepared a tasty Tunisian dish called Brek, a pastry shell stuffed with spinach, mushroom and cheese, then lightly fried and topped off with a squeeze of lemon juice. That was complemented by humus and bread, tomato and mozzarella salad, and a layered vegetable salad with a yogurt cream dressing.  And that was just the appetizers! We were then served a vegetarian lasagna and sausage cannelloni.  It was scrumptious. After all of that, we made room for Ruth's luscious, moist chocolate cake for dessert.  Schmeckt gut!!! 

A big Danke Schön to Ruth and Sami for welcoming us into their home.  It was the perfect way to end this very special tour.     

Respectfully submitted by Trudi Diamant, a proud member of the first ever Magical Mystery Literary History tour. 

Home. Well, it is, until the end of July. The Kafka Project proceeds apace, which is slow right now. Have a meeting set for Wednesday with a couple of students who want to be involved. In the meanwhile, we sightsee and participate in the 18th Jewish Culture Festival in Kazimierz.  We have begun a week-long free class in Yiddish. Today we learned to write our names. 

I leave you now with a slice of life Byron snapped at Wawel Castle. Stay tuned: Coming up soon, more perpectives and thoughts from Magical Mystery Tour travelers, including my sister Trudi's report on her last night in Berlin. 

A nun checks her PDA during a tour of Wawel Castle in Krakow.

And now the Kafka Project has begun in earnest. The first step in the Kafka Project's Eastern European Research began with a meeting in Kleinmachnow, south of Berlin, in a bird and flower-filled garden on a quiet cobblestone street.

Byron and I are the guests in the home of the family of another of Kafka's loves, Grete Bloch. Eva Bloch Turner, and her husband Jack. The Turners keep a garden apartment in this lovely house built for Eva's grandfather in 1933. Until the reunification of Germany in 1989, this peaceful and quiet street lined with mansions and villas was in East Berlin, and only the best, highest-ranking Communists lived here.

The meeting on this cobblestone street named after Clara Zetkin was attended by two Berlin Kafka Project members, Dr. Maja Rehbein, a retired physican who has written and researched Kafka for almost twenty years. It was through an article that Maja wrote in 1996 in a German newspaper, Der Tagesspiegel, that I learned the existence of Dora's nephew, Zvi Diamant of Israel. Also helping plan the strategy to approach the search for Third Reich-era repositories in Silesia is Johanna Hoornweg, who joined the Kafka Project 1998 as a German to English  translator. Johanna worked in the Institute for Jewish Studies at Berlin's Free University. Born in the territory of Hawaii, she grew up in Ohio, and has lived in Berlin since 1973. Ten years ago, Johanna introduced me to the work of Dr. Hans-Gerd Koch, one of Germany's leading Kafka scholars as editor for the past twenty-five years of the Critical Edition of Kafka's letters at Wuppertal. Both Joanna and Maja have been "deputized" and will be given letters of permission to begin research in German archives on behalf of the Kafka Project. They have agreed that should their efforts yield any Kafka documents, the papers will be turned over to the Kafka estate in London, England. 

On Thurday Byron and I will attended a lecture by Dr. Koch, updated him on the research and enlisted his help. We have begun the climb! As Kafka said, "As long as you keep climbing, there will be steps. They will magically appear under your climbing feet."

They also include members of my family: my husband Byron LaDue, who posted an earlier blog entry (Kafka Project does Prague), my sister, Trudi Diamant, born in Germany and now living in Florida, and my cousin Karen and her husband Bob Willis of Virginia, have also joined the Kafka Project's mission to recover a lost literary treasure.

I have asked our group to contribute to this Kafka Project blog, in order to share with you the varied experiences we are having. While I've been able to participate in several of the city tours and meals--I try not to miss one of the great feasts we've been having--a good part of my time has been laying the groundwork for the upcoming research and getting the word out to the media. In Prague especially, the press coverage has been impressive, and many helpful new contacts have been made as a result. 

Already you have heard from Byron LaDue, from Glenda Winders, Editor of Copley News Service, and Taylor Peterson, a ninth grader at La Costa High School. Now you have the perspective of another of our magical travelers, Bob Willis. Here is his entry for you:

From Bob Willis: Karen and I came to Prague two days ahead of Kathi's group and had a tour of several places in the city. For me, the most memorable visit was at the Old Jewish Cemetery and the museum next to it, where the group did not stop.

Even in ancient times, Jews were persecuted, the scope of their lives limited by laws and regulations. Not only were they confined to a ghetto, they also were not allowed to join any guilds under which tradesmen learned and plied skills. Within their own circle they could serve their people's needs as tailors, pharmacists, rabbis, etc. Outside the ghetto they were allowed to lend money, inasmuch as Christians considered taking usury unlawful. (Yet for centuries, Jews have been stigmatized as preoccupied with money.)

To me, one of the cruelest restrictions imposed on the Jews involved their burial ground. Because in olden times they could not expand their cemetery, bodies had to be crowded in atop one another. Grave markers stand close beside one another, some tilted at crazy angles, others leaning on their neighbors. The effect is that of bodies stacked in random piles, deprived of dignity even in death. 

Fortunately, in 1890 Prague's Jews were able to open a new cemetery, spacious, orderly and well kept. The old one remains as a reminder of the ugly treatment accorded their ancestors by those in power over them.

Respectfully submitted by Bob Willis, proud member of the Kafka Project Magical Mystery Literary History Tour (June 22, 2008)

On our second day in Poland, Taylor and other twelve members of the tour visited the former concentration camp at Auschwitz, only one hour from Krakow. Here is her blog report, which she wanted to write for you:

From Taylor: Yesterday we went to Auschwitz, an experience no textbook can teach you in school. This experience was unforgettable, and very moving.  Looking at the row of brick buildings knowing each one held 1,000 or more people was crazy. Seeing the gas chambers where thousands of Jews were killed was horrifying. When walking through one of the buildings they showed shoes, glasses, pots, pans, suitcases, even hair and artificial limbs of the victims of Auschwitz.  You could see that there was no mercy on the victims at this camp when seeing baby's clothes that were found at the camp after the liberation--the clothes the children wore before they went into the gas chamber. 

I learned about the Holocaust, concentration camps, and death camps in eighth grade last year, but what they taught us did not bring the emotions felt when I was at that camp.  I knew they had small beds, little food, and horrible conditions, but to see the beds stacked three high and very close together was even worse than I imagined. When we went into the "bathroom" you saw a long row of "toilets" that were just holes one next to another on a cement slab about one and half feet off of the ground. To see this was appalling and to try to imagine what it was like to be there with them was dreadful. Schools can try to teach you this but unless you see it, unless you are there, you cannot get a feeling of how they lived. 

Yesterday I discovered that after people were gassed and burned, their ashes were used as a fertilizer. 

Imagine being Jewish at a concentration camp, and imagine you had the upsetting job of taking the Jews that were gassed out to be burned.  Imagine taking your mother, father, sister, brother, best friend, and other relatives to be burned. Taking their dead body to be cremated would be dreadful, but you had no choice.  You were a prisoner inside the barb wire fences, the guard tower with the heartless people watching you making sure you did not escape. Yesterday I tried to imagine these things and even though I tried to feel what they felt I know it must have been even worse.  They had little food, scarce water, and terrible conditions. They were put through selection to see whether you would or would not die immediately. 

Yesterday I saw something I will never forget. Yes, it was hard to know a heartless people walked the grounds I walked that day. Yes, it was hard to be somewhere where thousands of innocent people were killed for no reason, but I needed to be there. We all need to be there at some point in our lives to see what they suffered through, to see what they had go through. This experience did make me angry, sad, and so many other emotions. Why would someone do that to these poor people?  How did some of these people survive like this for all that time? No one will ever no the answer to questions like these. You can say they survived by doing what was demanded of them and not being "selected", but the emotional pain must have been overwhelming, yet some still survived. So yesterday I left the textbook behind, because a book cannot show you the pain of Auschwitz like being there. 

I would like to say one more thing: in a small way I felt proud to be there. In a small way I felt somewhat honored, because I was walking the grounds where the survivors of this horrific camp once walked. I was walking the grounds where true heroes walked.  

Respectfully submitted by Taylor Peterson, a proud member of the Kafka Project's Magical Mystery Literary History Tour.

We are now in Krakow, Poland, having arrived late yesterday evening. Our hotel, the Pod Wawelem, is in a perfect location, just minutes from the Old Town Square, and at the foot of Wawel Castle. This next entry has been written for you by Glenda Winders, editor of Copley News Service in San Diego. Glenda has been a friend and editor for many years, and I am honored to have her as a member of the Kafka Project and our Magical Mystery Literary History Tour to Eastern Europe. Here is her report:

From Glenda: One of my favorite ways to organize a travel experience is to follow in the footsteps of a favorite literary or historical figure. I've tracked Boudicca through England, Keats through Rome and Robert Louis Stevenson through the Napa Valley, but I've never had the privilege of traveling with a scholar and writer who is an expert on the subject at hand. Seeing the places that were important to Franz Kafka and Dora Diamant and hearing stories about them from Kathi Diamant have absolutely brought this couple to life. Today, with Kathi pointing out significant places from our coach and reading passages from her book as we rolled through the Czech Republic on our way to Poland, I sometimes had the feeling that if I turned around and checked out the seats behind me, I just might catch a glimpse of Franz and Dora, holding hands tightly and listening intently to what she had to say.

Yesterday in Prague we saw the buildings where Kafka lived, went to school and worked. One high point for me was visiting the New Jewish Cemetery in the suburb of Strasnice. In this damp, green, wooded place Kathi stood with one arm around Kafka's tombstone and told us how Dora collapsed on his grave the day of his funeral, June 11, 1924. In a solemn procession, my friend Martin and I followed our other travel companions in laying stones on the grave for remembrance, as is the custom there.

But then Kathi livened up the moment by demonstrating how she had climbed over the locked cemetery gate during her first visit in 1985, when the Czech Republic was still under communist rule and the consequences for her research could have been grim. This gate is probably 10 feet tall, made of iron and equipped with spikes to guard against just exactly what she was doing. When she jumped back down, we laughed and cheered. I think Kafka would have been delighted.

Another favorite stop was the Kafka Museum, where the creators have presented the exhibits in surreal ways as if they had seen right into the mind of this enigmatic author. We looked down on some photographs through water; others balanced on piles of rock. Some documents lay behind screens. One projection display put our shadows into the action. Aisle after aisle of glass filing cabinets re-created Joseph K's "endless office." A glass case filled with photos of Dora credited Kathi's research, and her book was for sale in the museum shop. We all felt as if we were traveling with a rock star.

Today's experiences have been more sobering. On the daylong trip by motor coach from Prague to Krakow we stopped in Bedzin to see the castle in whose shadow Dora had grown up. Along the way Kathi pointed out the street where Dora lived in the same building with her father's suspender factory -- now just a grassy empty lot. As we rode on, Kathi read to us from her book, Kafka's Last Love, about how Dora's father had taken her to Krakow to attend a Jewish school, out of reach of Polish feminists, and about how instead Dora became an independent, politically aware young woman who eventually broke with her father altogether.

Kathi also read a passage about Dora's half-sister, Sara, who survived the concentration camps only to find that most of her family was dead and their home had been confiscated by new owners who slammed the door in her face. Not 10 minutes after Kathi stopped reading and closed the book the bus rolled through Olkusz and past a wall on which the words "Anty Jude" had been spray-painted. Next to that ugly phrase was the picture of a Star of David dangling from a hangman's noose. In this part of the world that is filled with reminders of man's inhumanity to man, here was evidence that the nightmare still isn't over.

Tomorrow's activity is a trip to Auschwitz. Originally I hadn't planned to take part. I've read enough books and seen enough movies to know exactly what happened there. But with all that I've learned in the past few days and in the desperate hope that this particular chapter of history never repeats itself, I feel drawn to make the pilgrimage. Besides, Taylor Peterson, at 14 the youngest member of our traveling party, has been studying the events of World War II in school and feels compelled to make the visit. I figure if she can be brave enough to go, then I can, too.

Respectfully submitted by Glenda Winders, a proud member of the Kafka Project's Magical Mystery Literary History Tour.

NEXT: Taylor Peterson, age 14, the youngest member of the Kafka Project's Magical Mystery Literary History Tour, reports on the concentration camp at Auschwitz.

I've been so occupied that I haven't written the update on the Magical Mystery Literary History Tour-the Dora Group, as they have dubbed themselves. But all is not lost. Byron is here.

Byron LaDue (pictured) is the IT volunteer on this research mission. He spent four months in Berlin with me in 1998, mentoring my 10-year old niece, Annamaria Diamant, for two months while her mother, my sister, Trudi, who was born in Germany and has her degree in German Studies, helped me in the search through the Gestapo and Nazi archives. Byron was able to get six weeks leave of absence in his job for the Navy in order to join this research project again. I cannot tell you how happy I am that he is here, and that he is my husband.

Here is Byron's update for you: 

All travelers have arrived at destination Prague. There were a couple of missteps. Trudi Diamant and Joe and Ro Capozzi had luggage issues which were resolved by the next morning. Our hotel is about seven tram stops from the Wenceslas Square in the center of Prague, and is called the Casa Edith Stein. I had never heard of Edith Stein but was told, "She was born a Jew, turned Christian, and helped people in concentration camps." Then she was made a saint. A play was written about her. 

The complete group (with the exception of Martin Stevens, Glenda Winders' best friend from England, who arrived after well after midnight) got together for the first time over a traditional Czech dish: dumplings (large slices of thick soft white bread, impossible to eat more than two) in a brown sauce over thin slices of beef.

Apple strudel for dessert. We know this is a traditional dish, at least for tourist groups, because at the next day for lunch, the 7 Angels Restaurant in the central Prague square served the dish under a slightly different name.  I mean exactly the same, down to the orange slice, covered in pomegranate seeds topped with a white cream. Good thing I liked it.

Yesterday, we took a tour of the Hradcany Castle on the hill overlooking the city. We rode the bus up to the top, and walked down, through Golden Lane, the old street of the Alchemists, where Kafka wrote every evening after work, during the winter of 1918-19. One of the structures within the castle wall is St. Vitus Cathedral with its immense brilliant stained glass windows.

There were hundreds of just-out-of-school children, ogling crypts of tortured saints, including one made from (literally) a ton of silver.

This elaborate silver sculpture featured a lifelike representation of the saint's tongue on a silver platter.  

Our guide in Prague is a young woman named Edita, arranged for by our travel director Corky Lang. I've known Corky for years and he's giving me some inside tips from a guide's point of view. "This is an ABC," Corky explains. "Something I learned from the British travel guides. Another Bloody Cathedral."

Respectfully submitted by Byron LaDue.

Well, you can be. You can come along with us on the "Magical Mystery Literary History Tour" online and follow our adventures over the next 10 days with 22 intrepid travelers, as we visit ancient castle towns and the cultural and royal capitals of Eastern Europe. Our first destination is Prague, which we will explore over the next three days. Next we will visit Krakow, the cultural capital of Poland for two days, and then we travel on to the capital of Germany, Berlin, where we will stay for three more nights, until the tour ends on June 24.

The Magical Mystery Literary History Tour is the kick-off for the Kafka Project's Eastern European Research Project, which I'm conducting this summer in Germany, Poland, the Czech Republic and Slovakia. The Kafka Project, based at San Diego State University, is the official investigation into the missing papers (consisting of 20 notebooks and 35 letters, all unpublished) of Franz Kafka (pictured), one of the most influential figures in world literature. Confiscated by the Gestapo in Berlin in 1933 from Kafka's last love, Dora Diamant, these papers have been missing for 75 years, but it is possible that they can be found, if we look for them.

I first came to Prague in 1985, when it was under Communist rule. I haven't been back since 1991, shortly after the Velvet Revolution, when it still remained untouched by the modern world. On my first two visits, I fell in love with this strange castle city of a hundred spires and dark, twisted alleys, where Kafka lived and was buried. Even without the perpetual San Diego sunshine I so love, I wanted to move here and live here forever. I admit I'm anxious to see how much it has changed since then. 

Ten years ago I founded the Kafka Project at SDSU, and spent four months in Berlin researching Nazi, Gestapo and SED (East German Communist) files. I discovered many treasures and unknown facts about Franz Kafka and Dora Diamant. That first Kafka Project effort in 1998, led to amazing discoveries, including original Kafka letters and long lost family members, separated by the Holocaust. It also led to the publication of my book, Kafka's Last Love, which has come out (or will soon come out) in the United States, United Kingdom, Spain, France, Brazil, China and Russia.

This picture of Dora, taken in 1928, was one of my discoveries in 1998, when I was searching for proof of the theft of Kafka's papers by the Nazis. I found that proof, along with 60 photographs. The chief purpose of this "Magical Mystery" tour is to raise awareness about the existence of Kafka's missing literary treasure, and to have some fun, too, before the real research kicks off in July.

Already, our tour is a success. I got off the plane, and was met by a series of reporters. I've given interviews to a literary magazine, A2, a cultural magazine, Respekt, a major daily newspaper, Lidove Noviny and the literary section of Czech radio. Tomorrow I have interviews scheduled with another Czech daily newspaper, another radio interview and a segment on Czech TV, which will follow our tour to Kafka's grave. Who knew there would be so much interest in Kafka in Prague?

We are staying for the next three nights at the Casa Edith Stein, an 18th century converted farmhouse on Strakov Hill, with vaulted ceilings and stone floors. Very quiet and peaceful, an oasis outside the city center which is crackling and buzzing with crowds of tourists, I am told. I'll find out tomorrow what Prague is like now, on our first tour. We will be walking from the Castle, down to the Old Town Square.  It's already evening here, and many of our group has headed into town on the tram. I've elected to stay in this quiet garden neighborhood, write to you, and enjoy the flower filled cobblestone streets, lined with villas and mansions.

So our journey has begun. I hope you stay with us and follow our adventures as we retrace one of the world's great love stories and delve into one of the most enduring mysteries in world literature. Stay tuned and keep in touch, if you'd like, by sending us your comments. 'Til next time!