As I researched my latest time-slip novel, The Curator’s Daughter, I spent almost a week immersed in the culture and history of Nuremberg, Germany. While I learned an enormous amount during this trip, here are my top five takeaways from my time in this old Imperial City: 1) Hitler chose to launch his Third Reich in Nuremberg because this city was once central to the First Reich, also known as the Holy Roman Empire. After the immense Nazi Party rallies held in Nuremberg, Allied forces selected its courthouse for their postwar International Military Tribunal. The justice served there symbolized justice for everyone hurt by Nazism. 2) Below the medieval streets of Nuremberg is a network of tunnels used long ago as beer cellars. Because the city housed treasured artwork and crown jewels, locals created a secret art bunker in these tunnels during World War II. Even though 90 percent of the city was destroyed during the bombings, the artifacts from the German National Museum and the Imperial Castle were recovered safely from these tunnels. 3) Nuremberg is famous for its seasoned link sausages, but I’m a much bigger fan of the soft pretzel sandwiches! My new favorite is the bretzel…

Damp air settled between the marlstone walls, its chill creeping into my bones as our group wandered reverently through the ancient mines. We stopped to read the old inscriptions, listen to the stories, and remember all that happened in these tunnels along the southern tip of The Netherlands. During World War II, these passages were used to hide artwork from the Dutch masters and as an escape route for Allied pilots and those escaping the Nazi occupiers. What would it have been like to be a Jewish woman down here, I wondered, trying to navigate the thousands of tunnels as she fled from a Nazi officer intent on finding her? What if, in order to save her life, she had to leave behind the boy she loved? My mind began to follow my feet in the wandering. Each of my novels builds block-upon-block on the foundation of an experience like this one. In those tunnels last year, I could feel the wetness of the marlstone walls on my hands and the coldness in my lungs. I could breathe the moist air and fight the weight of darkness as the walls pressed in. In the wandering of my mind, the breadth…