Wahooooooo! I
just wrapped up midterms week (though I have another one on Tuesday, I’ll try
not to think about it for a few days) and I’m currently en route to Munich.
Midterms went
exceptionally well considering the level of preparedness I felt going in.
Admittedly, school has not been my top priority this semester. Not that I have
neglected all of my work, and I still think it is true that I work considerably
more than my classmates, only that the amount of time I am actually working is
less than I have in the past.
One thing I
really love about CIEE is how many classes they offer and in various
institutions. As a student in CIEE, I am able to take classes at our own little
school house at Vysehrad, but also Charles University and at FAMU. When I
started looking at the program, I thought for sure that I would take classes at
FAMU, since when else would I have the opportunity to take classes at a film
school? Though I didn’t end up taking a photography class as I had originally
planned, I found Cinema Dance, which I already talked about here
and am quite excited about still. I ultimately
decided against a class at Charles University because I didn’t want to deal
with the commute (probably wasn’t my smartest decision, but oh well).
So why am I
rehashing all of this? I don’t know. It seems like midterms are a good time to
evaluate where you are and how it’s going so far. As I mentioned, I may do less
work here, but I am learning a surprising amount. I find myself speaking
intelligently (or at least I think I sound intelligent) on a variety of
subjects related to the history of the Czech lands, the EU and the economies in
Europe. It is almost as if I’m absorbing the information rather than learning
it. Bombarded constantly, I am unable to do anything but internalize it, as if
learning is a subconscious activity. I’m sure there are plenty of psychological
studies on the subject, but the first thing that comes to my mind is A Brave New World and the conditioning
of the children while they sleep (it is in A
Brave New World where this occurs right? I’m not mixing up stories am I?).
Of course,
knowledge constituted of internalized information may have gaps in it and may
lack some necessary details, but I suppose I’ll find out if those gaps were
noticeable when I am returned my midterms next week (A- on my Czech seems to
indicate I’m doing okay).
Ramble, ramble,
ramble.
Where I was
trying to go with my comments about how I love CIEE and the fact that I didn’t
end up enrolling in any courses at Charles University is that while I thought I
may have limited my interaction with foreigners (which is probably true), CIEE
tried to compensate by allowing a few Erasmus students to enroll in our
classes. So, I now have three foreign students in my classes, two in economics
and one in transatlantic relations.
It’s a funny
thing, when you live in a foreign culture, cultural differences that you might
not otherwise have time to see, are made visible, whether it’s simply a function
of time or that as time goes on, you are in more situations in which
differences can arise. On Monday, I got a first hand look at how schooling is
different on both sides of the pond. We all have our stereotypes of education
for: Americans, Europeans, Chinese, Russians, and Indians, just to name a few.
They vary from motivated to distracted, hardworking to lazy, math and science
orientated to humanities types, etc. Well, one that never crossed my mind was
ambivalence toward ownership of work. I live in one of the most individualistic
societies in the world, without a doubt, but while that is often said with
scorn or disdain, it has some interesting consequences. When you have
independent people, it seems they are more likely to take ownership of their
own work and not to share with others – probably why we have a bagel company
and pizzeria in Florida suing and counter-suing over brooklynized
water. Anyway, things are a little different over here in the Czech
Republic. With communal sentiments still running high, “collaboration” on all
manners of work are seen as relatively normal, even exams. This was the case on
Monday when our professor had to remind our Erasmus students three times to “try
not to cooperate” on the exam. After the test, our professor even passed around
a sheet detailing cultural differences and one of them was the difference in
how cheating is perceived as an egregious offense in America and not so in the
Czech Republic.
I think the fact
that they didn’t seem phased by the professor’s multiple warnings was the most
jarring component of the entire episode. Every American in the room was amazed
that they kept discussing after the first warning and even more so after the
second, though to our credit, we kept our focus for the most part and I didn’t
see anyone else trying to collaborate with their neighbors.
Moving on… This
weekend is our fall break (though really, the only reason I don’t have school
is because tomorrow, Oct. 28, is the Czech Republic’s independence day and we
never have school on Friday) so I’m travelling. As mentioned above, I’m going
to Munich this weekend (and at this point am sitting in my hostel typing
this).
I’ve only been
in town for three hours, and really only seen my hostel and gone out to dinner,
but I’m loving it already. I’m traveling all alone, so I’m a little intimidated
and don’t know how to engage people in conversations so I asked the
receptionist where I could go to dinner and not stick out as all alone. Pointed
in the direction of a traditional Bavarian beer hall, I started walking. I took
a few photos on the way, but pretty much just focused finding food, something which
I had too little of throughout the day to this point.
The beer hall
was packed! I ended up asking a half full table if they would mind if I joined
them. They didn’t understand me at first, but acquiesced in the end, though at
least initially, they kind of left me to myself. I think they thought I had a
friend coming. When it became clear that I didn’t and I finally built up enough
courage to talk to them, they proved very friendly (what a relief!). A couple
of them were native to Munich and so I asked them where I should absolutely go
and see. It’s a difficult question, but they performed admirably and offered
tons suggestions, many of which I intend to follow up on during my few days
here.
After I got a
little more comfortable and some of my German started to return to me (after
escaping me in the train station only to be replaced by Czech – talk about
frustrating!), we talked about all sorts of things. It turns out I had stumbled
upon a group of police officers who were relaxing after a long day. How awesome
is that? I felt like I was intruding on a scene from The Wire, only instead of
Irish cops, I had German ones. I even asked to see badge of the officer across –
disappointing to say the least, as they are simply green identification cards.
Interestingly though, Ulrich is only a year older than my brother. Crazy.
The food at the
beer hall was exactly what I needed.
In all, I had hall of a chicken, potatoes, traditional apple strudel with a
warm vanilla dressing, and two beers. The beers were good, the chicken great,
but the apple strudel was freaking amazing. In Hungary, my tour guide, Adam,
had tried to tell me that Hungarians made better strudel because it had more
fruit than the German variant. I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that
Adam was sorely mistaken. More fruit or not, the vanilla dressing was
practically cheating. I’m salivating just thinking about it. I’m definitely
going to have to compare it to other apple strudels all weekend to try and
build a consensus. I’d feel foolish if I left Munich talking about how
wonderful the strudel is if it is only at this one beer hall! I have a sneaking
suspicion though that this will not be the case.
I’ll be updating
this post as I go (hopefully) so check back. But for now, bed. Zzzzzz.
Almost every weekend I find myself hopping on a train or bus
and seeing different parts of the Czech Republic and Europe. I’m not going to
lie and say it’s not awesome, but sometimes, it’s nice to just sit back and
explore the city in which you live. For me, for these four months, that city is
Prague and there’s not another like it. With that in mind, deciding not to
travel this weekend has been a really nice and welcomed change of pace.
So what have I done with my time in Prague? Gone to the
bars? Hit up the clubs? Generally wildin’ out? Nope. Thursday night I walked
around Prague with my camera after class getting a few photos of the Castle and
Mala Strana before the sun dipped down behind the hills of the city. When my
light disappeared I was just over the river near Karlovo Namesti and took a few
more photos with long exposures before meeting up with Tanya who I had not seen
in weeks. Afterwards, I went to dinner with Rachel, who I hadn’t seen in weeks.
We went to an Italian restaurant near us and spent a few hours talking and
catching up before calling it a night. It’s always fun to talk with Rachel
because we have so many friends in common, so even though we hadn’t met before
Prague, it feels like we’re old friends. After dinner, I called it an early
night and was asleep before midnight. It was great.
Friday was an exercise in the laziness, and I’m pleased to
report I received exemplary marks. I woke up too early with a sore throat, so I
didn’t exactly spring out of bed. In fact, I would have preferred to fall back
asleep, but my throat precluded that possibility. So, I finished up my
blogging, watched Schindler’s List (a movie I had never seen before and felt
that I really needed to see especially after Poland), listened to some music,
and baked brownies.
Unbaked.
Baked.
Okay, so at some point, I’m going to need to learn how to
actually bake, but for now, mix will do. Still, I wanted to add my own touch to
the brownies so I crushed and diced some almonds and walnuts and heated up the
jar of Nutella I keep in my backpack. Here are some before and after pictures,
but take my word for it, they’re good.
Finally, at eight o’clock, I got out of bed, showered, and
met up with Devin and his friend Eric for dinner. Eric is Devin’s friend from
Georgetown spending the semester in Edinburgh, Scotland. He’s also a rarity
these days – a soft-spoken New Yorker from Long Island. We had a nice little
dinner at Sorento before I shared my brownies with them for dessert.
After an up-and-down night where I got to get a quick chat in
with some of my friends from home before having a momentary bout of anxiety related
to all things in my future.
By the time I woke up though, life was much brighter. The
sun was shining and I had a date (the platonic scheduling type) with Tessa to
go to the flea market and shoot pictures.
I made it to our meeting point first and walked around a
little. First of all, the Vltavska stop is just cool to begin with (it has some
of the coolest graffiti murals in the city) but was made even cooler when I saw
some kids gathering to do some parkour and free-running. We didn’t stick around
too long to watch, but we would come back and watch after the flea market.
The flea market was pretty awesome. There are multiple types
of flea markets, there are flea markets with homemade crafts, artwork of locals
and the like, there are flea markets with clothes and food, and then there are
flea markets with cheap junk. This was a combination of the latter two options,
but that doesn’t mean it’s not fun to shop around.
First of all, they sell some ridiculous things. The very
first stall we saw upon entering the market was a perfume stand, which had
cologne bottles in the shape of hand grenades which was a little bit awkward in
my opinion. The typical stand had graphic t-shirts with images that are
inappropriate in all but the crudest environments, lighters, and weapons. Yes
weapons. They had everything: small pocket-, hunting and butterfly knives (Jeff
you need a new one?), tazers, and police
batons. I honestly don’t know which caused me the most anxiety when I
realized that anyone could buy one of these. I think the police baton might
take the cake though, just because they were 17” steel rods used to beat people
into a bloody pulp. Inside the warehouse they had some local farmers’ produce
on sale which Tessa took advantage of finding some nice avocado and mushrooms. After
food shopping, we kept walking and found a nice little shoe store.
Up until this point I have been quite good about restraining
myself from frivolous purchases, but shoes hold a special place in me and
suddenly all of my inhibitions were fleeing before their sensory onslaught. I have
been looking for some shoes that are not quite as big and bulky as my typical
Nikes for a while and I found so many variations in this shoe store that I was
dumbfounded. I ended up settling on one pair in particular – low black flats,
white sole, five or six eyelets, simple stitching, classy - so I picked them up and went to the
clerk and asked, in broken Czech, two questions 1) how much were the shoes and
2) if they had a size 45 (stupid European sizes – luckily Tessa worked at a
shoe store and knew my equivalent). I was pretty proud that I could muster that
and the clerk even complimented me on my Czech, so that was cool! Turns out the
shoes are under $20 (score!), but they didn’t have my size in black. She
pointed out some other options and I tried them on. They were pretty sweet too,
but in the end, I restrained myself and said I would come back when they had my
size.
I did spend a few dollars at the flea market though when I
found a nice scarf for only $6 and a statue of Buddha for another $4. The
Buddha statue was actually fun to shop for. I like finding Buddhas because I
collect them and now have 21 figurines I believe, but initially the gentlemen
tried to sell the Buddha for 100 Kc. I didn’t think he was worth nearly $6, so
I offered half. This led to a little bit of a bartering battle in which I came
out $2 ahead. The fun part about this was that he was adamant, putting the
Buddha in my hand as I tried to walk away, and then we commenced our
conversation in Czech. I know the Czech I was using is pretty elementary, but
even if I was taking a little longer and speaking with an accent, I felt pretty
good that I could communicate and avoid being taken advantage of as a tourist.
When we finally wrapped up at the flea market, Tessa and I
spent another two hours wandering around Prague 7, exploring, talking and
taking photos. We found a scrap yard, a hidden beach and some cool deserted
spaces. Hopefully I’ll get to editing some of these photos soon (in fact some
of them are already up on Shutters
and Sounds) for you all to look at.
As time ticked by and my stomach started rumbling, we made
our way back to the metro station to call it a day. When we reached the
Vltavska stop though, the few free-runners that we had seen in the morning had
multiplied so that now there were at least twenty running around the metro
stop. After a little prodding from Tessa (thanks!) and a quick conversation
with them (apparently they were Slovaks who came to Prague for the day to
Parkour), I asked them if they would allow me to take a few photos of them.
They obliged and what follows are the results from that cultural exchange.
Damn I wish I
didn’t take so long off in between posts! Too much has happened for me to even
attempt to write everything down, but I’ll do my best to get the highlights.
First and
foremost in those highlights – my weekend trip to Poland! CIEE, the program I’m
on, has three big out of the country trips that they help to organize (in
addition to all of these cool trips within the Czech Republic) to Berlin,
Vienna and Krakow. This past weekend was Krakow (Vienna is in a few weeks and
I’m really excited)! Eva, our guide, organized the entire trip for us, so we
didn’t have to worry about anything except where to eat. Eva is awesome by the
way! She’s a professor and a tour guide in her spare time so she’s really knowledgeable,
which is always fun, but she sprinkles in healthy dose of good humor, laughter
and a spry sense of humor to brighten everything up.
The biggest
reason I signed up for the school version of Krakow instead of trying to see
the city on my own dime was because their trip went to Auschwitz. Going to
Auschwitz on my own would have eaten an entire day on my own but only took a
few hours of the first morning with the program because we had our own bus.
It’s not that I wanted to see
Auschwitz, it’s not a sight you look forward to, but I felt like I almost
needed to see it in order to understand. I can assure you however, that after
seeing it, I do not understand the Holocaust any more than I did before and
actually cannot say that I understand any of it anymore.
I went to a
Jewish day school until the third grade and by the time I left and transferred
to a secular school I knew more about WWII and the deaths of six million Jews
than I did about the American Revolution and George Washington. That number, 6,000,000,
is repeated so often that I became desensitized to it. No, I never lost sight
of the fact that it’s a big number; even after 1,000 iterations, I would never
say it’s small. Still, it is a number and that’s how it’s presented. A digit,
large though it may be, stripped of the lives it represents. How then are
children supposed to understand what the Holocaust actually meant, what it was
and how it came to be?
I still don’t
know the answers to these questions and I would be surprised if anyone really
did. As with many calamities befalling a religious group it was once claimed
that it was god’s punishment for some sins committed in the past, but I don’t
believe that. There is no rational explanation for the Holocaust, the
systematic, state-sponsored, murder of six million Jews and hundreds of
thousands gypsies, homosexuals and mentally disabled. When talking about
numbers like that though, it’s easy to lose the trees in the forest. The
numbers are staggering enough on their own – six million Jews is about three
times the current population of Paris or twice that of Berlin – but even one
murder would have been too many.
Now back to the
trip and how I got back to the micro situation. We started our tour of
Auschwitz at eight in the morning and were walking through the Auschwitz I as
the dew was lifting. Some of the barracks have been converted into museum
exhibits to commemorate the events that took place there. The exhibits walk you
through the daily life of the prisoners in the camp (many of the initial
prisoners in Auschwitz I were Polish POWs) but where it really excels (if you
can even say that) is the paraphernalia that has survived. Warehouses of
suitcases, glasses and tins remained in Auschwitz after the Nazis burned the
camp during their exit – evidently they didn’t find them valuable enough to
bring with them in their hurried escape in front of the Allied forces. The two
that carried the greatest weight though were the shoes and the hair. Thousands
upon thousands of shoes piled into miniature mountains stood as a memorial to
those whose feet no longer wore them. The shoes came in all sizes from adult to
infant. And then there was the hair. The Nazis shaved the prisoners’ heads and
burned or recycled it, but they didn’t have time to use it all and some of it
remains. That makes it sound like there wasn’t a lot, but there is more hair in
this exhibit than I ever want to see again in one place. This hair, which
belonged to, someone just hours before they were killed and some of which
remained in braids. The braided hair was what set me off. That’s when I saw the
trees in the forest. That’s when I realized that six million was not just a
number but it referred to six million individuals, six million people with
families, with their own histories – six million stories.
I wish that was
the end of the tour and from there I could go to the bus and try to think about
a happier subject, but after finishing the tour of Auschwitz I with the
crematorium we went to see Auschwitz I’s big demented sister, Treblinka. Like
Auschwitz I, Treblinka manages to arouse sensations long dormant within;
emotions you wish would remain that way. Treblinka, a death camp, the last stop
for millions of souls, raises questions I didn’t want to face. Questions that I
wish I never had had to ask.
The tour of
Treblinka ended in front of the destroyed crematorium and gas chambers and we
were given thirty minutes before we had to return to the bus. I walked around
the rubble to see the other side where a memorial had been erected “to the
memory of the men, women and children who had fallen victim to the Nazi
genocide.” The memorial was in front of two small ponds in which the remaining
ashes left in the crematorium had been gathered and deposited.
The only “nice”
part of the experience came at the very end. In front of the destroyed gas
chambers and crematorium a tour group of Israeli teens gathered and led by a
young girl sang a beautiful prayer in Hebrew, while some of them waved and
others draped themselves in Israeli flags. In the desolate landscape that is
Treblinka the sweet notes of the prayer stood in stark contrast to their
surrounding and provided me with a brief respite from hours of dark thoughts
about how the Nazis had dedicated themselves to the eradication of a foreign people.
65 years ago, the murder of millions of Jews had taken place on those very
grounds. 65 years later, Jews had returned, this time freely, to remember. May
we never forget.
I don’t know how
to transition from Auschwitz and Treblinka. I don’t think there really is a
smooth transition. So I’m thankful to Eva for giving me a few hours between
Auschwitz and Krakow to process and orient myself before trying to put on a
happy face and explore the city of Krakow. Unfortunately, I don’t have that
capability with the blog, so I hope you can bear with me.
By the time we
got into Krakow we were all exhausted and Eva hadn’t put anything on our
itinerary in anticipation though she did offer to take us on a short walking
tour to orient us in the city. Most people went and took a nap (remember, the
bus departed Prague at midnight and we were awoken to breakfast at 6:30, so the
only sleep we had was that which were able to grab on the bus) but I wanted to
try and normalize my sleep schedule after my late night prepping for my Charles
IV presentation last week.
Krakow is a really interesting city and one of my features is the divide
between the old and newer parts of the city. If you look at Krakow from a
bird’s eye view you see a “green line” that surrounds the city. That line,
which is really a park, is built on the land where the castle walls had stood.
The park is both very pretty, especially in fall (can I get a hooray for fall?)
but also functional historically as it preserves the old borders without
dividing the city.
Eva took us to
the main square in Krakow’s old town and started pointing in various directions
and telling us what we could find if we walked that way. She also mentioned
that using your Czech could be a little dangerous as there were instances of
innocuous Polish verbs that were spelled identically to one of those
four-letter verbs not used in civilized conversation in Czech. And with that
warning, we were set loose.
I stuck with
Devin who seemed to have an idea of what he wanted to see and where he was
going (always a good thing for a directionally challenged individual like
myself). Together with Harison and Andy we ventured into the unknown and
discovered little pieces of Krakow. We started in the cloth market – one of the
oldest markets in Krakow historically traders traded, you guessed it, cloth.
Today it’s a bit more of a bizarre with small knickknacks, some furs and
artwork for sale. Though I was enamored with some very colorful boxes, I
survived the market without opening my wallet.
As we were
exiting the square we noticed some wooden pianos that were painted. For my
fellow Minnesotans, the pianos reminded me of the Peanuts gang that sprang up
around the Twin Cities following the death of Mr. Schultz at the beginning of
the millennium, but instead of Snoopy and Charlie though, they were pianos. It
was only later that I learned the pianos were in memory of Chopin who died 200
years ago and had visited Krakow on several occasions and was Polish (another
fact that I learned later).
The four of us
walked around for a little over an hour, making a quick circuit of the old town
while wetting our appetite – for the city and for some Polish pirogi. We found
some pirogi for dinner, and they were good.
We went to a
posh little restaurant not far from the hotel for dinner called The Baroque.
The restaurant was recommended to us by the hotel as having good pirogis (they
weren’t lying) and because they could offer us a discount – 5% off the bill?
I’ll take that, thank you. Andy didn’t make it to dinner, but Martha filled the
vacancy and the four of us had a really fun dinner talking about everything,
from Movies to Cosmo to Major League Baseball (can you guess my least favorite
topic?). After dinner we stopped by a bar called Dog in the Fog (Will Always
Find His Way Home), but since I hadn’t napped and was barely functioning on my
few hours of sleep over the previous three days, I didn’t even stay for the
first beer and went to bed. Call me lame, but I prefer to wake up in the
morning alert and ready to go instead of weary eyed and exhausted.
Saturday morning
was our big touring day of Krakow and Eva organized a tour of the Jewish
Quarter, the Jewish Ghetto, the Castle and Old Town. Interestingly, the Jewish
quarter, not the Jewish ghetto was in greater disrepair in the early nineties
when Steven Spielberg began shooting Schindler’s List, and as a result, the
movie, which depicted the ghetto, was actually shot in the Jewish quarter
instead of the ghetto. Schindler and the movie would remain focal points of the
tour, coming up again and again as we walked the streets of the Jewish quarter
and ghetto.
I think the most
interesting point that our tour guide made in relation to Schindler and the
subsequent biopic was how the movie could be considered responsible for the
revitalization of the Jewish quarter, which today was one of the nicest
neighborhoods in the city.
Our tour
included visits to the oldest synagogue in Krakow, Ghetto Heroes’ Square, the
castle, palace, cathedral, and basilica among others. Due to time constraints,
the tour kind of rushed us through the Jewish ghetto, so Devin, Martha,
Harrison and I returned afterward to explore it more on our own.
Before returning
to explore on our own though, we took a break in touring for lunch and ice
cream. The tour concluded at the cloth market, so we were very centrally
located, but the directions Eva gave us for a traditional Polish restaurant
were lost in translation. Fortunately, Martha was prepared with her Lonely
Planet guidebook and found a little restaurant a short walk away for us to try.
The restaurant, completely vacant other than one other patron, was quaint to
say the least. The walls were painted a rich green and each table was set as if
to host a banquet reminding me of a scene from a book describing a royal feast.
Even though lunch was quite filling, we felt obliged to follow it up with some
dessert.
One of the first
things Eva told us about Krakow was about an ice cream parlor that she found
last time she was in town which served “buckets” of ice cream. Finding this
promised land of iced cream and sugary goodness became our mission of the trip.
We searched the day before and found an ice cream shop that seemed like it
could qualify, but since we couldn’t find “buckets of ice cream” on the big
board we decided to try again the next day. It turns out that we had actually
found the right store and had simply ordered incorrectly. Now, it should be
mentioned that a bucket in America is different than a bucket in the Czech
Republic or Poland, but when we returned on Saturday, we found the menu and saw
options we were previously unaware of. We settled on these…
And they were
good!
Okay, so after
the ice cream we made our way back to the Jewish Ghetto so that we could get a
better look at Ghetto Heroes' Square, the remaining pieces of the ghetto wall
and actually walk through the Schindler Museum, which had been recommended to
us as one of the best museums in Europe, with a permanent exhibit on WWII in
Poland and Krakow but didn’t focus exclusively on the story of Oskar Schindler
and his life. The reviews were spot on! Starting at Ghetto Heroes’ Square we
appreciated the public art dedicated to the memory of the Jews who lived in the
ghetto before trying to find the remaining ghetto walls and the museum.
The chairs in
Ghetto Heroes’ Square are supposed to commemorate the over crowdedness of the
ghetto which forced so many Jews to leave their furniture in the square because
they didn’t have room inside the walls, the lost lives (as the chairs are now
empty and isolated) as well as provide a rest for the weary today. After the
square, we started walking toward the museum and ghetto wall – or at least the
direction I thought they were in.
Though it turns out I was walking exactly opposite the museum and ghetto wall,
I remain convinced that I heading the same direction as the bus had gone only a
few hours before. After making a few turns though and not knowing where to go
next, I stopped when I saw a tour guide coming and asked if he could just point
us in the right direction. He instead insisted on us joining his tour since he
was going there anyway. It was a free tour so we joined and though we tried
several more times to embark on our own, the guide was convinced that we would
get lost and that it would be better just to wait a few extra minutes and go
with him. It turned out to be educational and he showed us a cool tunnel on the
way to the museum, so I don’t have any complaints. Besides, we got to the
museum without getting lost again, which is always a plus.
The museum is
really fascinating and incredibly put together. Each room has its own theme and
as you travel from room to room you are transported to a different period and
place in history. Some of the rooms are terrifying in their presentation (two
rooms in particular – one with three large flags of the Nazi
party hanging floor to ceiling and positioned in a way that you could not
go around them but were forced to walk through them and the very next room
which had swastika tiling) but those too passed. One of my favorite rooms was
the room for the Krakow ghetto which was designed to feel like a suffocating
space with the walls appearing as the walls of the ghetto (which also resembled
tombstones in a Jewish cemetery) but aside from the awesome power that the room
held, the some of the documents that survived from the ghetto were in the room
including notes that Roman Polanski wrote as a child before escaping the
ghetto. Say what you will about the man, it was really inspirational to see
into the mind of the young storyteller.
We had been told
that the museum requires at least two hours and that some people even spend
four hours in the museum in order to see it all. The layout of the museum
follows the IKEA model, that is, you are forced to walk through the entire
museum in order to reach the end. We had a little over two hours before closing
when we arrived but we were still rushed through the last room by the employees
who were closing the museum for the evening. I think that’s honestly the best
accomplishment of a museum – to keep its visitors interested for hours that
they don’t want to leave. So, if you ever find yourself in Krakow, make sure to
dedicate a few hours of your stay to the Schindler Museum, it’s worth it!
By the time we
left the museum, the sun had set and darkness had descended on Krakow, leaving
us to navigate our way back to the city center by moon- and streetlight. Did I
mention that I’m directionally challenged? Well, we decided to take the tram
rather than walking since Devin and I had already bought return tickets (look
Ma, I’m learning!). Unfortunately, the map for the tram didn’t have major
landmarks on it and instead listed only the names of the stops, so I was able
to convince the group that I knew where we needed to go, insisting “I got this”
several times to Devin. Turns out, I was about a kilometer off, but don’t
worry, I had it. Martha had a compass in her bag (because who doesn’t carry a
compass at all times?) and a map so I was able to get us back to the hotel
without asking for directions. Though I think the others were not happy that I
took them out of their way, I’m confident one day they’ll thank me. I mean, if
I hadn’t gotten them lost, they would never have seen that part of the city. I’ll
patiently wait for my thank you cards.
Saturday evening
was certainly one of my favorite nights abroad so far! After an awesome Indian
dinner we explored the local nightlife a little and met up with most of the
rest of the program at a bar and club not far from the restaurant. Without cash
or desire to borrow, I spent the night sipping on the remaining tonic from my
friends’ gin and tonics, but that didn’t get in the way of me having fun. In
fact, some times I find it equally entertaining to sit back and watch people
interact. Inebriated individuals will ping back and forth with an almost
inhuman energy, jumping from room to room, conversation to conversation, and
topic to topic with no hesitation. I spent nearly two hours at the club just
trying to keep up with my friends before a few of us called it a night and
headed back to the hotel.
Arriving back at
the hotel around two, my fun for the night really was just getting started. Back
in the states, Madison was playing host to the Ohio State Buckeyes, so I pulled
out my laptop, hopped on the hotel’s wireless and tuned in to watch the Badgers
beat the number one team in the nation for the first time in 30 years with
Laura. I stayed up until nearly five to catch the final seconds and watch as
5000 students rushed the field. Living abroad is a tremendous experience and
one I’m sure I won’t be willing to trade for anything in life, but at that
moment, when I saw the Badgers beat the Buckeyes, when I knew my friends were
rejoicing on the field in Camp Randall, I wished I was home to participate.
I’ve been homesick a few times on this trip, but this I think was something
else. Sure, I missed home, I wanted to be at school and celebrating with my
friends, but that was also one of those moments when I realized just how
special Madison is.
That makes it
seem like I didn’t realize how amazing Madison and the University of Wisconsin
are before, which is not true, just that I have a new found appreciation. I
have not always been the biggest fan at the sporting events I have attended as
a student at UW (sometime even cheering for the University of Minnesota or
Duke), and I have been criticized for my distinct lack of Badger apparel. I
don’t know if I’m ready to cheer against the Gophers or Blue Devils yet, but
this week has been eye-opening in how much the University of Wisconsin –
Madison means to me. It’s as much a part of me at this point as my hometown or
my high school. It’s where I have met my best friends, where I have learned who
I am, and where I have grown up.
So what does
this mean? Well, I don’t know yet, but I’m excited to find out. In the short
run, I am trying to catch up on lost time by buying some Badger shirts and Teaching Prague How to Bucky.
To quickly wrap
up my trip to Krakow before getting into the video – on Sunday we visited
Krakow’s salt mines. I’m not a huge fan of mines – call me crazy, but a
collapsible corridor several hundred feet below the surface of the earth just
doesn’t seem like a place I want to go for fun – but these mines were better
than most. At least these didn’t combine collapsible and subterranean with
claustrophobic like the silver mines in Kutna Hora.
From the mines
we made the seven hour bus ride back to Prague which is increasingly feeling
like home.
When I got back
to my flat I saw that I had a message from Lisa asking what time I would be
free to shoot a Teach Me How To Bucky movie. I’d seen the Zooniversity edition
start popping up on Facebook a week or two ago at this point but hadn’t given
any thought to making our own version. Lisa clearly had bigger plans and so we
found some time to get some work in. I don’t think I’ve made a video since I
was kid with my brother and our neighbors using our over the shoulder VHS video
camera. Sunday night, in between working on various assignments, I would think
about how we could pay homage to the original video while showing off Prague.
Personally enamored with the pedagogic components of the song, I wanted the
video to follow the story of Badgers abroad teaching the country to Bucky.
Ultimately, Lisa
maintained creative control of the video (and no complaints here – it’s
AWESOME), but I think some of the things I wanted in the movie are represented
in the final cut either consciously or otherwise. Aside from having an awesome
time going out with Lisa, Tessa, and Bara to shoot the movie, a few parts stand
out in the movie. First and foremost, the little girl who is dancing with Lisa
and me in front of the statues was just out with her father as he took photos
of the statues when we arrived. In broken Czech, I asked her if she wanted to
learn how to dance. In Czech, where verbs can assume the pronoun, that sentence
becomes three verbs: Chceš se učit tancovat?
Initially her father wasn’t the biggest supporter of the idea (something about
a stranger approaching his five year old daughter asking is she wanted to dance
didn’t sit well with him, I don’t know), but the little girl wanted in and the
father eventually acquiesced. Another of my favorite parts of the movie comes
when the break-dancers get screen time. Though I wasn’t there for the filming
of that segment, this crew is always at the metro stop I take to go home from
school (they’re literally the best part of my day every day). I haven’t had the
courage to talk to them yet, but I mentioned them to Lisa and she got them to
participate; I’m hoping that this means that if I do eventually get the courage
to talk to them, they will be willing to teach me a few moves that I can bring
with me back to the states.
That’s my week.
Give or take a ton of details that I wish I could remember or had time to write
about but hopefully eight pages will satiate you until I have time to post
more. Also, remember to check shuttersandsounds.wordpress.com for pictures that
I haven’t had time to post on this blog.
I’m taking a quick breath in what has been a very full week
to try and update this blog. This weekend my history class had a trip to Cesky
Krumlov in southern Bohemia with stops in Trebon and Tabor as well.
The trip was a giant success. Aside from all of the stuff
you would expect on an education trip (a little touring, clamoring through
underground tunnels, attending lectures, climbing church towers, and visiting
castles), we saw one of the oldest extant Baroque theaters in the world, had an
intimate dinner on the banks of the Vltava river (which runs south to north by
the way), and made a fort!
Let’s take these one at a time. The Baroque theater in the
Cesky Krumlov castle is over 200 years old and is only rivaled in its completeness
of artifacts (from costumes to stage props) by a theater in Stockholm (which
actually already starts to introduce features of classicism. It was so cool to
see this theater! The stage was designed in such a way as to give the
impression of incredible depth even though it was maybe only 30 feet deep and
they had sets that could be changed in and out to create 13 different
environments. While it would sometimes be necessary to take an intermission to
change the environment, the stage was able to have two “pre-loaded” so that
they could change in under 20 seconds. I know I’m not doing this theater
justice with my description, so here is a professional photo, they wouldn’t let
us take any (and in fact the tour guide yelled at me when she thought she saw a
flash coming from my direction – even though my camera and flash were turned
off and my lens cap was on my camera) - Theater Stage. The
stage also had trap doors to get props into (or remove them from) the middle of
the stage quickly, including people.
On our first night in Cesky Krumlov, we ended our lessons at
the foot of the castle just before sundown. I and a few other students decided
to walk around the castle a bit and see it before darkness descended. The
castle of Cesky Krumlov is really quite fairy-tale like. (Warning: Geek moment)
with tall spires, bridges and gardens, I felt almost as if I were walking
through Rivendell
– though the architecture was a bit heavier than the Elves would probably use.
Being in Cesky Krumlov at the onset of Autumn as the sunset was really special
and something I intend on remembering for many years. The warmth you felt even
as the sun receded behind the hills was… I don’t even know how to describe it -
it was simply special. As we descended from the castle and reentered the town,
dinnertime was fast approaching and so we began looking for a restaurant. Finally
settling on a little mideival-esque tavern, which offered riverside seating, we
were pleased to discover that several of our friends had made the same choice
and were already seated, enjoying hot wine under warm blankets. We joined them
and together feasted on Pheasant, Chicken, Duck and Rabbit accompanied by hot
wine, grog and mead (I have to admit – mead is not my favorite, and I’ll be
sticking with wine in the future).
And finally I arrive at the fort. I roomed with Devin and
Cyrus for the weekend and it turned out to be a great decision to take the only
triple for the guys. They gave us a five-person bedroom. Since I have a single
at my flat, I offered Devin and Cyrus the Czech version of a full bed (really
two twins next to each other with an uncomfortable gap). The first night we all
slept in our beds as would be expected, but by Saturday night we had grander
designs in mind. Creating a horseshoe out of three beds and placing two more on
top as a roof frame and blankets as thatching we created our fort. I had a very
nice and relaxing evening in the fort watching Superbad with Laura (it was her
first time) and Carey while some others who had been taking pulls of absinthe
and rum went “do klubu” (to the club).
Story time! When Cyrus and Devin returned from the club
around 1:30, we were just finishing the movie and so started preparing for bed.
Cyrus helped me to dismantle the fort (so that I could sleep on a mattress
without fear of sitting up and hitting my head on the “roof.” We didn’t want to
exert ourselves too heavily however and so we left the bed frames in the most
convenient location which happened to be between the beds and the bathroom.
Devin was the last to brush his teeth that night and as Cyrus had turned off
the lights on his way back from the bathroom, I reminded Devin to watch out for
the beds so that he didn’t hurt himself. Sure enough, thirty seconds later when
Devin got up to brush his teeth a huge bang resonates through the room. Devin
had forgotten my warning and tripped right onto the mattress-less bed frame. He
wasn’t hurt (thankfully) but still was displeased that someone had left the
beds between him and the bathroom. When I reminded him that I had warned him
not a minute before about the beds, he denied any such notice. As the
conversation continued it became clear that Cyrus also did not remember helping
me move the beds. At this point, it might seem that I was in fact the
inebriated individual, however, I verified with Carey the following morning who
it was that had helped me move the beds. These events have only reinforced my
distrust of absinthe.
Since returning to Prague, I have been busily preparing for
a presentation on Charles IV (which I gave this morning). The assignment called
for a 15 minute presentation, but as I have made it through two years of
college without having had a presentation (or not one where I felt like I had
to speak for 15 minutes) I had no idea how much material was necessary. While I
don’t know exactly for how long I presented, Devin told me that I was in front
of the class for nearly 50 minutes. I think I included too much background if
that is the case, but still I feel much better about where I am in terms of now
needing to convert the material I have into a paper.
Phew. That’s a quick run down of my week. Tomorrow I’m
having dinner with my Czech buddy at his flat (Lukas, not Mira) and this
weekend is Krakow!
Also, I started another blog (why not?). This one is focused
on photography and music and I’m trying to have at least one photo a day to
post along side a song of the day (which I’ve been doing for nearly a year on
my Facebook). If you’re so inclined, please check it out at www.shuttersandsounds.wordpress.com,
leave thoughts and comments, and enjoy (that’s the important one)!
A few quick thoughts before I have to run back to my
riveting reading regarding Czech national development in the 14th
and 15th century (trust me, it’s as interesting as it sounds).
Today, I brought my camera to school and during my lunch
break I manned up and asked Tessa if she wanted to take some photos in the park
across the street. I know this is something most photographers need – the
ability to ask people if it is okay to take their picture, even better if you
can ask them to sit a certain way – but I have always been really hesitant
about doing it. I honestly think it has a lot to do with me being a guy and one
who has always struggled with identifying as an artist. Sure, I like making
art. I like drawing, taking photos, and even painting (to a point), but I’ve
never considered myself an artist. Maybe if I did, I would be more comfortable
asking my friends if I could take photos of them and one day even graduate to
strangers. After all, one of my favorite times of photography is very urban,
where it seems like the photographer is simply walking the streets of New York,
sees someone with an interesting face and takes their picture. That’s what I
want to do! I see people all the time where I think to myself, “Damn, that’d
make a good photo” but I don’t have the courage to ask them if I can take it.
Anyway, Tessa obliged, we spent fifteen minutes or so,
playing in the foliage, taking pictures and talking before returning to lunch
and homework. I hope to edit some photos tonight, which means hopefully, some
photos of this journey will actually be available relatively soon. Cross your
fingers, because I have to balance that with reading about Charles IV, and you
know how demanding kings can be.
Changing subjects… I have really bad luck with my
headphones. I don’t know why. I don’t listen to music that loudly, but somehow,
I manage to blow out the speakers on my cheap Apple headphones every month or
so. I call them cheap because they’re right up there for the cheapest
headphones on the market, although I am preferential for the iPhone variant
with the remote built into the wire, so that increases the price a little.
Knowing all of this and my tradition of breaking my headphones, I tried to take
good care of them when I got to Prague. Even my best efforts could not get my
headphones to last more than a month however, and I’m now using headphones that
are pitifully underpowered.
Every now and then I do something that’s smart though. Rare
as it may be, it does happen, and let me tell you, buying AppleCare is one of
those times. Let’s break down apple care for a moment and see how much money
it’s saved me. For $60 I have a two-year warranty on my phone and for a $250 (I
could have sworn it used to be less) a three-year warranty on my computer.
Okay, that’s a chunk of change, but, what have I gotten for my money? Most
importantly, AppleCare provides me with a carefree mind. I know that if I have
a problem, Apple will help me resolve it with a real human being in face-to-face
contact – who else can say that these days? How about specifics? Well, as I’ve
already mentioned, I go through these Apple headphones rather quickly, but
since they’re covered under AppleCare, I can get a replacement if I can
demonstrate that mine are actually broken. I think I’ve done this six times, at
$29.00 a piece, that’s $174 in my pocket. I realized this summer that the Home
button on my phone was sticking more than it used to making it more difficult
to use the new functions of iOS4, so Apple gave me a brand new phone, $499
(without a new contract) saved. The best was for my computer though. I had a
problem with my Ethernet jack because it wouldn’t actually keep my cord in my
computer. This wouldn’t be a problem if I had access to reliable and fast
wireless in my apartments all the time, but as this wasn’t the case, I finally
got around to bringing my computer in. Apparently the Ethernet jack is
connected to the motherboard, so in order to get it fixed, Apple needed to
replace the entire motherboard. If I had done this out of warranty, it would
have cost me a new motherboard, a few hundred dollars at least, plus labor
(Apple estimated the entire thing to total around $600). How much did it cost
with AppleCare? $0, as in Free.99. Not a bad deal if you ask me.
Economists might call this type of behavior the moral hazard
of insurance. A moral hazard being when an insured person acts recklessly due
to the knowledge that any incident that may occur as a result will be covered
by their insurance. I’m going to go ahead and disagree with that train of
thought. Moral hazard theories imply that if I were not covered by AppleCare,
my behavior would somehow change fundamentally. For those of you have ever met
me (I’m assuming just about anyone who reads this blog, though if you don’t
know me, quite honestly I’m impressed I haven’t bored you yet), you know that I
care for my possessions, especially shoes and electronics. If I don’t act
recklessly, then what would happen if I were not insured but still faced these
repairs? Well, one of two things could happen both leading to the same
conclusion: I could fork the money over to Apple for the repairs and be roughly
$1,000 poorer, or I could suffer through the broken goods. Regardless of which
route I take however, my happiness and standard of living would be depressed
from their current levels, which is not the optimal solution.
And with that LONG ad for AppleCare, I bid you adieu for
now. Hopefully to return but in a moment with some photos for you all to enjoy.
Edit: So here’s the problem with stream of consciousness
writing – you forget where you were going.
Why was I talking about my broken headphones? Why is it a
big deal that my headphones are broken? Why? Well because when I’d normally hop
into an Apple store and make full use of my coverage, there are none, as in
zero, Apple stores in Prague. There are a ton of authorized resellers but no
Apple store to recognize my AppleCare. What’s that mean in real terms? If I get
so fed up with my headphones that I NEED (I won’t) to buy a new pair of
headphones, I’ll need to scrounge up 990 Kc, or just under $60. SIXTY! What
happened to purchasing power parity? Why is the exact same good that’s
available in America 100% more expensive here? It’s not production costs, they’re
both coming from China. Shipping can’t be it since Prague is closer to China.
So, unless these stores have to buy them first from Apple and then decide to
mark-up for profit, I just don’t get it. Needless to say, while I’d love it if
my warranty were recognized here, I can wait until I take a trip to a Western
European country with an Apple store.
On another note, last night I gave Czech opera a second
chance and boy am I happy I did! Titled Prodaná nevěsta (which
translates into English as The Bartered
Bride) is a story of true love with a happy ending. You can find more here if you’re
interested. Where Kudykam fell short The Bartered Bride thrived and it was
not lost on me. The Bartered Bride had
a full orchestra pit compared to a small ensemble for Kudykam and while both had capable singers, the music and storyline
allowed those in The Bartered Bride
to really showcase their skills instead of being hidden behind heavy drums and
guitars. Finally, and maybe some Opera aficionados will frown upon this point,
but The Bartered Bride also had
subtitles (in English and German). So not only was the story line coherent for
the foreigners in attendance, but I also got a chance to refresh some of my
lost German skills which is always fun.
So I realize
that I’ve been away for a while and not posting as much as I'd like to be. I guess that’s what school can
do to you, that and other distractions. Tonight, for example, I will be trying
the opera out again. They’ve promised us that this one will be “a more
traditional” opera, so I have my fingers crossed that I won’t see any pink
bunnies on stage.
This weekend I
went on two trips – part of the reason I didn’t get around to blog at all – one
to Bezdez Castle
and the Škoda car
factory in Mlada Boleslav, and the other to Třebíč for a
guided tour of the Jewish quarter from Rabbi Hoffberg. I already talked a bit
about Bezdez and Skoda in my last post, but hadn’t gone on the tour of Trebic
yet.
The coolest part
of the Jewish quarter in Trebic was the art gallery we went into. I think it
was part of the tour because it was in a home, which had a well in it – a
rarity in the olden days. While the well was cool, the artist who lived made
ceramic pieces, both spun otherwise, which were really beautiful. She even made
likenesses of the Golem of Prague. In the story, Rabbi Loew, the Maharal,
created the golem to defend the Jewish community from pogroms. Enamored with
the idea of having my very own golem, I supported the arts of Trebic and
purchased one for myself. My golem even has a space to set a tea candle in it
in order to light it up like a Jack-O-Lantern. I’m pretty excited to try it
out!
Okay, I have to
run now and do some homework so I have time to research Charles IV. Fun fact: I
have to give a 15 minute presentation on Charles IV next Wednesday. Who wants
to take bets on how I do?
P.S. I'm also well aware that I haven't put any photos up in a really long time. Hopefully I'll find some time to edit a photo or two during my study breaks soon!
Since I’m up and
blogging, I might as well keep going. This week flew by in a blur, but a few
fun and note worthy things happened and I’ll try to regurgitate them in a
pleasant fashion now.
If weeks have
themes – I feel like they do – this week’s theme was “Cultural Events and
School.” This week I participated in a cooking event, where I learned how to
fry cheese in the traditional Czech fashion (Dad, if I come back a little
heavier, at least we know it will be from cheese and not beer), attended an out
class to the Old-New Synagogue of Prague, and today visited the castle at
Bezdez and the Skoda factory.
The cooking
lesson was a ton of fun and one of the events that I’ve been looking forward to
since I got here and looked at the big board of cultural activities at CIEE.
Somehow I had gone nearly a month without yet experiencing the deliciousness of
fried cheese, so when I heard that I had mistakenly signed up for the wrong
cooking lesson (there were two at nearly the exact same time), I discretely
excused myself from the lesson in Brambory (potatoes) to attend the cheese
fest. For those who might aspire to try fried cheese at home, it is shockingly
easy. I say that now, but when I learned I had never seen anything like it,
though I guess that’s more because we don’t fry much in my house and I’m
relatively new to cooking myself.
That being said,
here’s what you’ll need to make your own fried cheese and a quick synopsis of
the process. Large blocks of cheese – I recommend a medium softness cheese, not
Parmesan but not Mozzarella either, maybe a cheddar though we used “Eidam” (I
haven’t yet figured out how Eidam translates to English). Cut the cheese into
wedges approximately the size of a half slice of bread – I think of the cheese
like bread when you’re making French toast (in a frat house, aka not with
Challah or a baguette). Okay, from here you’re going to need flour, raw egg and
breadcrumbs, and a pan of hot oil on the stove. Make an assembly line, dip,
dip, dip and dip. Let the cheese brown on one side, flip, repeat, remove,
drain, serve. Czechs love tartar sauce and they like to serve their fried
cheese as a sandwich with bread, the cheese and tartar sauce, really, nothing
else is needed. And that, in a nutshell, is how to make fried cheese.
The cooking
lesson was on Tuesday and on Wednesday, I put my newfound skills to use and
breaded some chicken to bake and cheese to fry for a dinner I shared with
Devin. It wasn’t perfect, I still have a ways to go with my chicken, but
considering where I started just a few months ago, I was pleased. Although, for
those chefs out there that might have stumbled on my blog (Dad, really I’m
looking to you though anyone else is more than welcome to answer) how do you
know when your chicken is done without just “knowing”? or better yet, is there
a way to check without mauling the piece of meat?
On Wednesday,
History of Jews in Bohemia, one of the courses offered CIEE, had an out class
to the Old-New Synagogue in the Jewish quarter and they offered five extra
spots to people who weren’t enrolled, but were interested. On Wednesdays I just
so happen to have a large window in between classes in which the field trip fit
snuggly, so I signed up and attended.
Rabbi Hoffberg,
who among other things, is American and loves to tell stories, led the tour. He
tells stories about anything and everything, often jumping from one story to
another with little to no segue to bridge the gulley dividing the topics.
Though his unorthodox approach to oration may leave his audience at a loss for a
moment or two as they try an orient themselves to the ever changing landscape,
it has its benefits as well, like that he is able to cover so many different
stories in a short amount of time without those trying to keep up with what
he’s saying.
A fun history
factoid about the Old-New Synagogue of Prague: it gained its name because it is
the second oldest synagogue constructed in Prague, so at the time of
construction, it was the New Synagogue. As time went on though and the
centuries passed, what was once new became old and now we have the Old-New
Synagogue (the original Old Synagogue was demolished in 1867 to be replaced the
following year by the Spanish Synagogue of Prague. Okay, maybe that wasn’t
“fun” but I thought it was interesting.
The tour culminated
with admittance into the Old-New Synagogue where we sat in the chairs used for
prayer (installed hundreds of years after the original construction) to hear
the tale of a riot in which nearly the entire Jewish population was murdered
within the walls of the synagogue following accusations that a Jewish child
threw a stone at a priest on Easter. For two hundred years the blood of the
murdered remained covering the prayers painted on the walls before the rabbis
declared that it was improper to leave blood unburied. The walls were
re-plastered under the condition that the walls would never again be decorated
and they remain plain to this day.
This morning, or
I suppose yesterday at this point, since it is nearly 4 AM here as I write this
(but tomorrow is Saturday and I can sleep in), I went on the day trip to Bezdez
and Mlad Boleslav. Bezdez is home to a castle and town founded by the King
Premysl Ottokar II. The castle has a rich history of ransoms and religion,
treasures and legends all of which attracted pilgrims, treasure seekers, and
artists alike. Two such artists were Josef Manes and Karel Hynek Macha,
the foremost representative of Czech Romanticism.
Of course, the
thing about castles, is that one, they’re awesome, but two, they're often on
hills. This second part is, of course, what gives the castle its strategic
advantage in battle, but it can prove irritating to those who wish to visit the
castle. Persevering and clamoring up the hill certainly has its benefits
though, and the labored breaths and beads of sweat were more than compensated
for by the incredible view from atop the watchtower (pictures soon).
We followed up
our visit to the castle with a trip to the Skoda factory at the nearby town of
Mlada Boleslav. Skoda is the fifth oldest automobile company in the world,
producing cars since 1905. The firm though got its start in bicycles and
motorcycles before expanding their business into automobiles. Today, the firm
is growing rapidly under the purview of the Volkswagen auto group and continues
to invest in future development well above the industry average. Though Skoda
automobiles have yet to reach the States, they have expanded their exports from
just 30 countries in the early 90s to over 100 countries as this decade draws
to a close, including a recent expansion into the Chinese market.
The trips were
actually really interesting, but unfortunately, I have had too little sleep
this week and Thursday night was no exception. Before waking up for the trip at
7, I had gotten only 4 or 5 hours of sleep, right in line with my sleep
schedule for the week as a whole. This wouldn’t be a problem if I functioned at
100% on 4 or 5 hours of sleep or drank copious amounts of coffee. However, since
I normally require 8 hours of sleep to function at a high level and try to
avoid caffeine like the plague, I am starting to see the negative effects: my
throat is dry, I feel like I’m starting to get a little sick, and I was able to
fall asleep during a five minute bus ride.
Since I doubt I’m
going to get to blog again on Sunday since I have another day trip (this time
to the Jewish Ghetto of Trebic) I want to wish Evan and Vanessa a very happy
birthday! Evan, welcome to 21. Vanessa, next year dear.
And now, I’m
going to hibernate. Sweet dreams ya’ll.
I just got back from Budapest a few hours ago and I’m
exhausted, but I wanted to try to blog a little before crashing. *Edit: This
post has taken me nearly a week to write and I don't really want to go back and change everything as if I'm writing it now instead of then, so I might blend my experiences in
Budapest with this past week. Hope you don't mind.*
Friday morning, before waking up for a crack of dawn (7:30
AM) departure, I decided that it would be an even better idea to wake up
earlier and make it to the Charles Bridge for sunrise. I convinced a few people
to join me and we made an outing of it. Sunrise on the Charles Bridge is one of
those things that was on my Prague Bucket List, so I’m really happy that I can
cross it off and say that I actually got to see it. Of course, I also want to
see sunrise on the Charles Bridge with snow, so I’ll just have to do it again.
What is typically a congested scene with hundreds of
tourists and dozens of vendors at any given time is a peaceful oasis in the
morning hours before the sun comes up, and it was a really amazing experience.
Of course, I’ll post pictures as soon as I can.
We made the bus without difficulties and found our seats.
The bus ride is not a particularly easy one, though the accommodations were
actually pretty good. We had movies, a free hot beverage, and most importantly,
seats that reclined.
When we finally arrived in Budapest, I had to figure out a
way to contact my parents, but I didn’t have any credits on my phone. I ended
up getting a hold of them and got a chance to see them (for three minutes) in
Budapest. I’m never going to complain about a chance to see my parents, and
this was no exception. Unfortunately, it was only for a few minutes because
they had to catch a train to Rome.
Now, where was I? Frazzled, in a foreign city, no way to
contact anyone who knew where we were staying; a formula for success by any
estimation to be sure. Fortunately, I’m resourceful and unafraid to ask for
help. Some guys may have pride, but I don’t bother myself with such a foolish
concerns and freely ask people who appear as if they might be friendly enough
to respond. I had the address to my hostel, so I showed it to the ticket lady
and she pointed me toward a stop on the blue line. Believing her to be
knowledgeable on the subject, I heeded her advice and wound up a mile and a
half north of where I needed to be.
I’m not going to say I was thrilled when I discovered how
far away the kind ticket lady had led me, but it actually proved to be a
blessing in disguise as I got my camera out and played tourist for an hour.
We stayed in a nicely located hostel. It wasn’t in the
center of the city, but for the prices we paid, it probably should have been in
the exburbs at least. Instead, we were just a few blocks from the oldest
underground train line in continental Europe (England has the oldest in the
world), Hero’s square, a square dedicated to Hungarian heroes of past eras
which replaced a communist memorial at the end of the communist era, and a very
large park with a zoo, Turkish baths and other cool buildings in it. To top it
all off, on Sunday morning, the Budapest marathon started only a few blocks
away from us, so a few runners stayed in our hostel.
Friday night we did a little exploring and found a small
little restaurant that was well within our means as students to dabble in the
local cuisine. After a main course of Goulash, we had “Golden Dumplings” in a
cream sauce. It reminded me a bit of bread pudding but not as warm. Honestly, I
think I would have enjoyed them even more if they had been heated, but I won’t
complain since they were still delicious.
Following dinner, we looked for a place to relax and on our
way encountered a nice fountain to play in. The type of fountain that invites
to playing in – not the kind where it’s frowned upon, don’t worry. The water
shot up from the brick in timed intervals creating a rectangular enclosure
with walls of water. After the fountain, we made our way to a little park and
played on the playground, which had a few toys like a train and a
spinny-thingy, before sitting and talking.
I might mention at this point that the group was 10 people
strong. I don’t know about the rest of you, but when I travel, I much prefer to
be in smaller groups. Then again, I like smaller groups for just about
everything, so maybe it’s just me. When I’m traveling in big groups like that,
I find myself shying away to the shadows and talking much less than I would in
a group of two or three. I’m not proud of it, but I just feel like I impose on
people when I speak in a big group, but have no issues with a smaller group.
Anyway, as a result, I was pretty quiet the whole night and stayed inside my
head instead. I still had a good night; I just also spent a lot of time
thinking about home and such.
On Saturday, we went on a “free” walking tour – in quotes
because tips are strongly encouraged
and they mention how much other walking tours cost multiple times throughout
the tour, just so you know how much you should tip. Either way, the tour was
still cheap and very informative. Starting at the opera house and ending at the
castle, we spent nearly 3 ½ hours wandering the streets of Budapest. The opera
house is gorgeous, and though smaller than the opera house in Vienna, I can’t
imagine (and the tour guides argued against the notion) that is less impressive
– I guess I’ll just have to see for myself when I go to Vienna! We saw some
cool examples of Art Nouveau architecture, including one for a shopping center
that was converted from an old casino – fortunately though, the casino's pit floor was
retained, because it’s gorgeous and in a style that contrasts starkly with
the rest of the building (pictures coming).
On our way to the Jewish Quarter, I had my favorite moment
of the trip. We stopped at a block party where they were cooking goulash in the
street and music was playing. There weren’t too many people there yet, but the
cooks were out stirring their pots. One of the pots had two children helping
cook. Donning aprons, these kids were freaking adorable. The little girl looked
so mature – her proportions were those of a late-teen, early twenty woman and
she wore acid washed jeans and a t-shirt under her apron. The little boy looked
considerably more his age, but that only helped to magnify how cute he was.
Since I had my camera, I tried to snap a few photos of these kids playing
soccer. When the little boy caught sight of me, he ran over and started talking
to me. I smiled and didn’t say much (I don’t know a word of Hungarian). Soon
his attention shifted to my camera and he started playing with it, touching
buttons and looking through the viewfinder, even trying to take the flash off.
We were crouched in the middle of the street while a car tried to inch past us.
As the car got closer, the little boy clutched onto me in a hug and I couldn’t
help but hug him back, keeping him out of the way of the car. The best part for
me, since I’ve never had much of an affinity with children – unlike my brother,
was that the boy didn’t let go even after the car had passed. It was then that
I turned around to see if any of my friends were witnesses to this that I realized
my entire group had left and disappeared around the corner.
Fortunately, Laura (don’t know if I’ve mentioned her yet,
but she’s Meghan’s friend from school) picked up her phone when Meghan didn’t
and directed me back to the group. In the Jewish quarter we saw a Lubavitch shul
nestled in between two non-descript buildings. As it was the first Shabbat of
Sukkot, the congregation had migrated across the street into a vacant lot in
which a Sukkah had been constructed for the holiday. The shul allowed our tour
to enter and look around as long as we didn’t take any photos – it was Shabbat
after all.
Though I’ve had limited, if any experience, with orthodoxy
in my personal life, I have spent many Saturday mornings in a synagogue through
the years for the high holidays and bar/bat-mitzvahs. That experience is
apparently not as ubiquitous as my upbringing would have led me to believe. I
walked through the sanctuary with Drew and was surprised to learn that it was
his first time in a synagogue, period. I know there are plenty of Americans who
have never met a Jewish person before, but by beginning my education at a
Jewish day school only to transfer to a private secular institution for high
school with a not insignificant Jewish minority before attending a large state
university and promptly joining a Jewish fraternity, I have never been far from
a Jewish community. Drew’s lack of interaction with a Jewish community served
as a poignant reminder that we all have our own story, our own history, and
they’re all different. Something that may be completely normal for me may be
equally novel for someone else.
It’s moments like that, which inspire me to be a journalist.
I find it so interesting to learn where people come from, their personal
histories, their daily lives, their educational history, and their thoughts on
current events – the ultimate goal, of course, being to answer the question
why. Why are we this way? Why do we think that way?
Okay, skipping ahead a little. The walking tour concluded at
the Castle, but since they didn’t have time to take us through the palace or
cathedral on the hill, Devin, Harrison and I signed up for a second free
walking tour. Adam, one of the guides from the morning edition, led this tour,
which focused on the palace. The cool thing about this tour was that it was
just the three of us and Adam (as opposed to our group of 20 for the first
tour) so we got to ask a lot of questions and Adam shared some personal
anecdotes too. We were talking about the Hungarian revolution of 1956 against
the Soviet government when Adam tossed in the tidbit about how his parents had
both participated in the revolution. That is so cool and Adam just included it
in conversation as if it were completely normal. Maybe it’s just me, but when
you can claim direct heritage to revolutionaries I’m going to think you’re
pretty cool. Of course it depends on which revolution, but the Hungarian
revolution of ’56 is a pretty legitimate one and from the slanted point of view
of a western capitalist, a just one.
Later that evening, I attended the Turkish baths with Cyrus,
Sarah, Bara and Tessa. Initially, it looked like the baths were simply outdoor
pools, albeit in a very pretty building nestled into the park behind Hero’s
Square. Looks can be deceiving. The coolest hot pool had a whirlpool in it. Not
a whirlpool like the bathtubs you find in America, but an actual whirlpool
where the water flowed counter-clockwise carrying anyone in its current around
and around in a tiled alleyway (imagine a round-about with only one entrance
and exit and air jets in the “curb” propelling the turn rather than the engine
of the car). Allowing the water to
spin us round and round for nearly ten minutes, we stopped only when the jets
turned off. The still water served as the impetus for our further
investigations of the baths in which we discovered an abrasively hot sauna, a
few smaller hot tubs and an aromatherapy steam room among other delights.
Sunday, our final eight hours in Budapest, could have gone
better. I should have taken a hint when the day started with the realization
that I had no idea where I put my keys to my flat in Prague. After frantically
searching through my possessions I finally found them in the last place I
looked (see what I did there?) – the pocket where I keep my lock key in my
backpack (smart right?). Breathing a little easier, we set off to grab
breakfast at the art nouveau building in the old casino. I tried to snap away
while in the room to capture some of its majesty, and when I finally get around
to editing some photos, I’ll see how successful I was – either way, I’m hoping
there will be at least one serviceable photo.
From breakfast, which was really just coffee for those who
wanted it, we went to the world’s second largest synagogue. The largest is
apparently in New York and quite honestly I’m shocked. I have no idea how any
congregation can afford to pay the property taxes for a building even larger in
New York. This synagogue was enormous! Interestingly, the synagogue was the only
building in Budapest where people formed a cue for entry – at least that we
noticed during our sojourn. It wasn’t an insignificant cue either, but a line of
nearly 100 people waiting patiently for their chance to see the synagogue and
its accompanying cemetery and museum.
Here’s where the trouble begins. When we left the hostel in
the morning I knew that I would likely need three tram tickets, one to the
synagogue, a second one to return, and a third to reach the bus station. For whatever
reason, I decide to buy two tickets in the morning knowing that I could always
buy a third one. On the way back from the synagogue we have to take the metro
to the only transfer point in Budapest. Whereas in Prague, the metro police
validate your ticket on the way out of the tram, in Budapest, it had appeared
as if they check them on your way in. Well, at the stop we used to reach the transfer
point, there were ticket checkers and I made the (idiotic) decision to try my
luck and free ride on the metro planning to save my ticket for the trip to the
bus station. As I already mentioned, luck was not on my side on this day, and
at Deak Ter, the transfer station, they checked tickets on the way out too.
Apparently, I looked suspicious and was asked to present my ticket. I had kept
every single ticket I’d purchased during my stay, so I just kept handing them to
the officer hoping for some sympathy. I received none. The thing about these
public transportation systems is that it always
makes sense to buy a ticket than risk facing a fine. What should have been
$1.50 ride ended up costing me $31.50, and I still needed to buy a ticket for
the bus.
Oh! While I was trying to scrounge up 6000 florin, which I
didn’t have, the ticket lady took my passport and bus ticket and started
copying down what I can only imagine was my visa number. Fortunately, Harrison
had blundered on the first day in Budapest and instead of withdrawing $50, withdrew
nearly $500. The good thing about that is that it meant he had 6000 florin to
loan me. The bad thing is that I had to borrow the money in the first place. Money
in hand, my passport was returned and I was left to sulk and kick myself for my
mistake.
An hour later when we arrived at the station and were cueing
up to board the bus, imagine my surprise when I realized that the ticket
officer had kept my bus ticket! I think I’m normally respectful to law
enforcement, even if they have never treated me with any particular kindness,
or even respect, but when I thought that this ticket officer had just cost me
the ability to return to Prague, let’s just say, my typically rosy picture of
civil servants passed under a cloud. In the end I was able to convince the
stewardess that I had previously purchased a ticket for this bus by locating my
seat on the manifest and matching the name to my passport, so everything worked
out – except that my wallet was $30 lighter.
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