The Capriccioso: Council Square Apartment, Brasov, Romania

The Capriccioso

A quick and flirty peek at places that, at first sight, juice my creativity

Unpredictability with a faint ever so sweet hint of the volatile. To do something with “capriccioso” is to do something capriciously. It is with capriccioso that I choose these writing nooks. Beyond being in my price range and meeting my most basic needs as a solo traveler, these establishments receive minor vetting on my part. They spark, if nothing more, a gut reaction from my writing soul.

Council Square Apartment

Brasov, Romania

It is the view from this holiday rental that struck a Pasternak-ian chord with me. I admit that I’m in the middle of reading Doctor Zhivago, so I confess to having a willing ear for all things… well, you’ll see below. Enjoy!

It was this view from the apartment’s window that won this rental’s place on The Capriccioso list. The Black Church is to the left, the Council House to the right. Stunning, A Romanian kiss to the mouth of this writer’s soul.

Residing in an 1890 building on the old village’s Council Square, Brasov’s huge Christmas tree seems lit just for you. At just over $110 per night, there will be change enough to do wander through the market just outside your window.

Brasov, Romania. Winter. Be still my shivering heart.

...And then there is spring.

The staircase which leads to the apartment’s door. Hypnotic.

“The Fairy,” a bronze sculpture by Veaceslav Jiglitski, sits on the apartment’s balcony and charms passersby.

As always, the images are linked to their sources, which include the apartment’s page on HomeAway: https://www.homeaway.com/vacation-rental/p508957vb

Until our next nook…

Chloe Stowe 

Council Square from above. It hardly seems real

The Swooning Tree

“I frequently tramped eight or ten miles through the deepest snow to keep an appointment with a beech-tree, or a yellow birch, or an old acquaintance among the pines.” ~Henry David Thoreau

...

“You were wooed by the tree.” A look of horror gathers upon the well-chiseled face, passing over the lavender eyes with keen familiarity. “Please tell me you didn’t swoon.”

“I have never swooned in my life, Lulubell, and I don’t plan to first do so over a tree.” I stubbornly refrain from rolling my eyes. It would only encourage her. My cousin’s ravings and extravagances of language are legendary in the family. Most choose to ignore her. I do not. It is a fact that may need reconsidering.

“Well, that’s the problem with swooning, isn’t it? It’s rarely planned out these days. Time was a woman could use a well-timed faint to wring flowers, if not a diamond, out of a man.” 

I have no idea what time period would have suited dear cousin Lulubell. I’m just glad I have missed it.

Before men become the topic du jour once again, I ease her attention back to her phone and the draft of my travel blog. “So, what do you think about the place? Should I house it with The Selcouth or with the general population of Writing Nook?” Some people claim, I and Lulubell are very much alike. I don’t see it myself.

“Neither,” she condemns with a sharp shake of her head. “Come up with another.”

I sigh. “I don’t have time to research another place…”

“No. Not another place, another category.” She taps her fingers upon her chin as she hurriedly sorts through her mind for just the right thought. It is a vast library of what-not and takes her a considerable minute to rifle through. “It should be something quick and flirty. A lust at first sight sort of a thing.”

“It’s not a man, Lulubell.” Everything is a man with Lulubell.

“Certainly doesn’t mean a place can’t sing to your, um, literary libido or whatever you call it. Just because a place can’t have a proper ding-dong doesn’t mean it can’t ring your bell.”

Knowing I can’t touch the ding-dong with so much as a ten foot pole and survive unscandalized, I go for the safer target. “A bell?”

“Your creative juices. Do I really need to spell everything out?”

I nod.

She sighs. “A gut reaction. Don’t tell me you didn’t see this tree…”

“I did not swoon.”

“… and think of Van Gogh or Poe or any of your other artistic fetishes?”

I ignore the ‘fetishes’ completely. There are arenas I refuse to step into with her. Besides she was right in part. Van Gogh and Poe did pop immediately to mind. “Fine. But why would anyone care to read about or see places that…”

“Turn you on?”

“Can we take the penises off the table, please.”

She rolls her eyes at me impatiently. “Fine,” she repeats, “But don’t you think other authors, other creative souls like yourself might also get inspired by a peek at these places?”

She’s right, and I know it.

I will never live this down.

... 

So, with begrudging but heartfelt acknowledgement to dear cousin Lulubell, this week I will add another category of Writing Nook to this travel blog…

The Capriccioso

A quick and flirty peek at places that, at first sight, juice my creativity (if you pardon the Lulubell-ism).

However, I can not leave you without said-peek at the nook and the tree that inspired this new category.

Old Village Townhouse, Skopelos, Greece (66 euros per night)

Cozy and perfect kitchen.

A perfect place to spin a yarn.

Sweet dreams could be had here, indeed.

The view from the townhouse.

The townhouse is located right here on Skopelos.

As always, all images are linked to their sources, which include: https://www.ownerdirect.com/skopelos/vacation-rentals/211804

So, until the next nook…

Chloe Stowe

The Selcouth: Neumarkt Loft, Meissen, Germany

I am enraptured, I think.

The Selcouth have bewildered my senses and drawn me in search of each and every one of lairs. So, you will have to pardon me for a spell and let this entrancement with “the unfamiliar, the rare, the strange but marvelous” run its due course.

Oh, I will no doubt return to my “regular” writing nook fare in a few days’ time, but allow me one or a dozen indiscretions more. It is devilish fun searching out places where a tale lives and breathes in the walls.

Remember, it is atmosphere, -a haunting cast to the shadows, a melancholy crinkle to the sunlight, a laugh trapped in a neglected corner- which deems a writing nook as belonging to The Selcouth.

Now, are you ready for your next peek?

Neumarkt Loft

Meissen, Germany

I haven’t the faintest idea of the history of this nook. Years of the building, a dating of the room is far beyond my meager German translation skills. I only know it feels… well, something.

A chilled beauty, perhaps? Like that of a diamond tossed out in the snow?

Or is it the emptiness of a forgotten memory, instead? Would the ghosts here wear frowns with their fur coats and jewels? Or would sly smiles be tucked into the feigned warmth of their stoles?

Aloofness? Certainly. But is the aloofness that of a spoiled cat, a hiss ready on its tongue? Or is the distance that of spun glass, sorrowfully trapped on a high shelf, a victim of its own fragility? 

I do hope you are snickering. At least a bit. I admit these are rather folly-heavy thoughts.

It is just a room, of course. A black and white room with sparse furnishings, crisp lines and a frosting of mirrors. What in the world is special about that?

I don’t know, but it is… well, something.

I choose to call it The Selcouth.

Meissen, Germany... Ahh! The glorious colors!

As always, the images are linked to their sources. For further information on this bedazzling loft look here:

Home Away: https://www.homeaway.com/vacation-rental/p2429029

Booking.com http://www.booking.com/hotel/de/fewo-meissen.html

Until our next encounter with The Selcouth...

Chloe Stowe

Post Note: There is a bit of beautiful color in the hallways of the loft's building. Gorgeous!

The Selcouth: Clos de Jeanne, Honfleur, France

The Selcouth… the unfamiliar, the rare, the strange but marvelous.

Atmosphere trumps creature comforts in these writing nooks.

Stories lurk in corners, characters of vile repute hide in shadows, and angels waltz with the dust mites in these places… at least in a writer’s eyes they do.

Here is the first nook to find its way into The Selcouth…

“Clos de Jeanne” Studio

Honfleur, France

https://www.homeaway.com/vacation-rental/p1281325a

https://www.flipkey.com/honfleur-condo-rentals/p1203241/

What more does a writer need other than a bed, some wine and atmosphere.

The ground floor Master’s study. Plum and gold highlight the Baroque-style woodwork in this 30 square meters studio complete with bathroom and kitchenette. Originally, the ground floor Master’s study, the price is certainly right for this hideaway at only $55 per night. Note: Bedlinen is included but not the towels.

Honfleur was a favorite for the impressionist painters who adored the light of this French fishing port...

Only 50 yards from the studio is the 15^th century St. Catherine Church... 

St. Catherine Church, Honfleur, France

All images are linked to their sources, a delightful variety of fun sites to visit. 

And, so, here closes The Selcouth collection for the night. Fare thee well, my travelers. 

Until the next writing nook...

Chloe Stowe

The Selcouth

“The soul should always stand ajar, ready to welcome the ecstatic experience.” –Emily Dickinson

The Selcouth

(the unfamiliar, rare, strange but marvelous)

These nooks will be a breed of their own, a specialty for the most discerning of authorian tastes. 

Certain genres, particular styles, discriminating literary forms linger and twiddle their diaphanous thumbs in these spots like restless ghosts. Only a writer may find them. Only a writer’s words may free them.

“Poppycock,” you claim?

“Twaddle, tripe, or tommyrot,” you chortle?  

Take a peek at these nooks and tell me your dramatist heart doesn’t flutter in the least.

Come on. I dare you.

Unlike the Writing Nooks, The Selcouth will be brief glances at holiday rentals, bed and breakfasts, or little inns which call to my poetic heart. Why each destination made into The Selcouth will be explained, of course, but often the reason will need few words.

Ready for your first peek?

Find me here tomorrow then...

Chloe Stowe