The Big Valley

I'm in Prague on vacation with my family. We're almost half a world away. Nine hours ahead. Two flights, two surprisingly easy security checks, and two tedious gate delays from home. We're starting a tour that will take us down the Danube to Vienna and Budapest, though history and the Old World.

Last night we had dinner in a castle on the outskirts of Prague, filled with art hundreds of years old, including an original Mozart manuscript of "Don Giovanni."

We ate in a great room with views of the lush countryside at dusk. Our dinner companions were two couples in their late 60's who mostly spoke a language we couldn't understand.

Then, in perfect, accented English, one of the wives asked my wife, "Where are you from?"

"Los Angeles," she said.

"Yes. And where in Los Angeles?"

"Tarzana," my wife said, knowing how strange the name usually sounds to foreigners. "Tarzan with an 'a'."

"Hmm," said the woman.

"And you?" my wife asked.

"Encino."

It's the Valley's world. We just live in it.