The Moldau, the river that runs through the composer Smetana's tone poem "Ma Vlast", flows wide and gentle under the many charming bridges of Prague.

It is different from the Seine, not as bubbly or insistent. It has a quiet flow and it is deep and interrupted by locks and weirs. I stood on Charles Bridge one day listening silently to Smetana's rushing arpeggios accompany the river's course.

It was the Kitchener/Waterloo Community Orchestra that brought me to Prague. I signed on as part of the viola section. The Orchestra performed two concerts, one in the city and one in a small town called Slovenica, about an hour away. Our programme was challenging: the magnificent Dvorak Symphony No. 8, Mozart's Magic Flute Overture, and above mentioned Smetana and his "Bartered Bride" Suite.

Included in the trip were a number of day tours. On one of our excursions we visited Dvorak's home village, an hour or so north of Prague. A friend and I walked down the hill from the Lobkovitz Palace, at the heart of the village, through a grove of cherry trees. We met up with young silver-costumed majorettes looking strangely out of place. Labradors and hound dogs barked as we passed by. There she was, the Moldau, lapping at shrub-laden banks. It was a hot sultry day. I wished that I could just hop in and float to Praha.

On another tour, we explored the grand Prague Castle with its numerous courtyard and stately Gothic St Vita Cathedral. At various viewpoints we could breathe in the sight of what must be one of the prettiest cities in the world. I decided Praha was the city of my dreams and yet I had never dreamt of it. Romanesque architecture with touches of Rococco.

From the castle, most roofs were red and cheerful. The streets rarely followed a straight path, but curved playfully, lined with picturesque homes and large apartment buildings.

I could not get enough of the City. My favorite thing was to hop on Tram number 9 and simply do a circle of the city, through its suburbs, past the great concert halls, over the bridge to Mala Strana, whose huge edifices with ornate balconies looked unreal, on past the funicular that takes one up to what they called The Little Eiffel Tower, past the Krematorium and back to our hotel again.

I am sure Gepetto must have had his little shop in the Old Town Square, but of course that was Italy. Praha is kind of like Italy, say Rome with its piazzas and cathedrals and cobblestone streets, but much smaller, much more accessible.

We were two bus loads full of some sixty people, forty of whom were musicians. Our first concert was in the Museum of Music in Mala Strana, the place with the handsome apartment buildings and the Eiffel Tower. It looked like a church but inside all was white and modern with balconies all around. We settled in with a quick rehearsal and soon discovered the acoustics were overwhelming. When we finished a movement, it sounded like another orchestra had joined in a few beats behind. Oh well, nothing we could do so we tried to keep our notes short and accurate.

About two hundred attended, with some thirty standing on the balconies. Much fierce applause when we finished. And that too rebounded and echoed throughout the Hall. In Prague, and in Europe, it's OK to stand and listen to a concert. It's de rigeur to stand. Praha audiences I have found must be very fit. When I myself attended an Opera later that week, I walked up seven flights of stairs to my seat. I could not imagine standing as well.

So all these people listened and watched and after the concert, lo and behold, a lady from Kitchener/Waterloo came up to introduce herself. She was so delighted to hear us play. She lived in both places, preferring Prague for most of the year. It's a small world after all.

Our second concert, which was on the following day, required us to ride out into the country in the two big buses. The orange and white church that was to be our concert venue was somewhat disheveled but adequate for our purposes. This was a real church with a real altar, so ornate that there was barely space for this formidable orchestra. Somehow we squeezed in and put on another bravura performance well received by the one hundred or so audience members.

Where did they come from we wondered? The town seemed somehow too small and rather backward to have musically sophisticated enthusiasts. Yet they came and they filled the seats and stood behind the seats. Obviously there was a great appreciation for beautiful music there as there is everywhere in Prague.

We could attend a different Opera every night if we wanted to. We could go to three concerts a day, perhaps two in the evening. String Quartets, choir concerts, organ concerts, and more. Everything beautiful, professional, and cheap. Some were free, some were just $5. My opera ticket was $12.

I am tempted to say that after seeing a Czeck production of an Opera once need see no other. They are superb singers, actors, and creative in the stage settings. I saw Don Giovanni put on by a Czech troupe in Salzburg last year and indeed it was an outstanding performance. I think that I am truly spoiled now. Who needs the Met?

Before and after our "work", our guides took us here and there. One big morning was spent strolling from courtyard to courtyard in Prague Castle, which is quite the fortress overlooking the Moldau and city on the other side of the river. Prague Castle houses the government.

Walking around there all I could think of was Hans Christian Andersen. I think I keep getting my countries mixed up but there is such an air of fairy tales and fancifulness all about Prague. I would bet my last cent that someone wrote a lot of fairy tales in Prague. If not, they should.

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