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Schloss Weitra

By Billy | June 30, 2011

It wasn’t until I had walked through the entire courtyard, up the stairs, through the iron gate, up the next few stairs, and came upon the courtyard from the second floor did I realize that the courtyard was, indeed, outside. In fact, I hadn’t noticed much about any part of the castle until I took a second look. I suppose the architects would be proud of themselves for this. I suppose if I could tell these builders that in 810 years someone from a part of the world that doesn’t exist yet came to visit their building to watch a play in a language that also doesn’t exist yet, their heads would explode. I would like to think I could compliment them on the longevity and beauty of their construction before that happened.

I didn’t allow myself to contemplate 800 years. I kept it at a cool 400; partially because I wasn’t sure of the age, partially because I can’t imagine 800, but 400 is twice as easy, and partially because 400 is enough. Arches, iron bars, stairs, rooms, balconies, stars, plants. I bet the painting in the corner of that angel playing a lute wasn’t there 400 years ago. I bet that angel doesn’t even know how to play the lute, judging how he’s holding it. But that doesn’t matter, angel music sounds good however they play it.

I felt under and overwhelmed simultaneously in standing in a room which was probably not fulfilling any purpose remotely close to its original or planned purpose. Maybe the builders felt like I did when they made all those rooms for the rich guys… maybe the rooms felt like I did. What the heck is supposed to go on here? How can anything short of the entire 3,000 person village working together with a single purpose possibly fill this castle’s empty corners?

After purchasing our tickets for Much Ado about Nothing, whose name I think I finally understand (it’s because everyone was upset over nothing, you see), that we came across a perfect gentleman. His coat and vest and graph paper shirt, his socks and slacks and shoes and well kept moustache had never for a moment been out of style, and would never go out of style. He, in great contrast to the wild haired man directly between me and the view of the actors, fit snugly in his spot at the bar in the room. He was larger than life, but didn’t take up anyone’s space unless they let him. I do believe he has lived in the castle, as an exact embodiment of the era, since about 1342.

Hm.  I guess this, whatever it was going to be, ran out of gas. Not everything has a plot, OK?



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