Yesterday I wrote that the area around the central train station in Warsaw seemed dreary. Today, as I passed by it again on the tram, I couldn't help but compare it in my mind to Lodz. Warsaw was leveled to the ground by the Nazis so virtually the entire city was rebuilt (much of it under the charm-impaired Soviets). Lodz, by contrast, has a great number of pre-war buildings. Yet it is Warsaw that is by far the more inviting place.
There is a great deal of energy in the streets, and well-dressed people in the shops, cafes, and restaurants. I just had lunch in a small cafe, where I looked out across the tree-lined street at a scene that could just as easily have been set in the area of D.C. where I used to work (which also featured charm-impaired architecture).
The meal, by the way, was quite good. The cafe/restaurant was called Nu Jazz Bistro and since it is strawberry season, they had a special menu featuring the fruit. I had the cold strawberry soup (with almonds, mint, and I think yoghurt) to start, followed by the strawberry-less grilled salmon with vegetables and frytki (fries). It was all delicious and the whole meal (including soda water and tip) came to 42 Zl (about $14).
This morning I went to the newly opened Museum of the Warsaw Uprising, which commemorates the occupation and destruction of Warsaw, culminating in the failed attempt to free the city from the Germans in August 1944. In some ways, this is a counterpart to the Museum of Terror that I visited in Budapest, but it is a far more effective museum.
First and foremost, it is bilingual. The Hungarian museum was exclusively intended to for domestic consumption; this musuem assumes international visitors will come. It is also not as crude, nor is it as tendentious. It also acknowledges (though in a way that mostly, though not entirely, minimizes) anti-Jewish prejudices among the Poles during the war.
The layout of the museum is slightly confusing, and I found it difficult at times to figure out where I was supposed to go next. The museum begins with a quick survey of the destruction wrought during the conquest and occupation of Warsaw by the Nazis, including some moving depictions of life, suffering, and death in the Warsaw Ghetto, including the ghetto revolt of 1943. From there it moves to the main subject of the museum: the Warsaw Uprising of 1944. The first floor exhibit ends with the joy of the insurgents at the early victories over the Germans at the beginning of August 1944.
An elevator takes you to the mezzanine level where you see the attempts by the Poles to reestablish government in Warsaw, supply food and water to the population, and arms to the fighters. As the fighting turns for the worse, and as the Germans massacre entire neighborhoods of Warsaw, the exhibit traces the increasingly desperate situation of the fighters and the civilians surrounded in the Stare Miasto (the old town). With only limited supplies reaching them by air drop, and as Stalin's army sits quietly on the other side of the river, the Germans level the center of the city. Finally, the insurgents are forced to retreat from the Stare Miasto through the sewers, essentially isolating the now separate sections of Warsaw still under Polish control.
As you descend to the second floor there are a series of exhibits on fighters, including an extended interview with Marek Edelman, the only surviving leader of the Warsaw Ghetto fighters, who describes the liberation of the concentration camp established by the Nazis on the site of the former ghetto, and how the former inmates tried to volunteer to help defend Warsaw against the Germans. Many of them, however, were turned away when they tried to join the AK (the Polish Home Army), and so Marek describes how he joined the Communist People's Army, since they would accept Jews.
The exhibit then continues through the complete defeat of the insurgents and their surrender on October 2nd. In violation of the agreement, the Nazis proceeded to level the remainder of the city, in order to satistfy an enraged Hitler's order that Warsaw be removed from the map. All Polish sites were ranked in order of cultural importance and then dynamited. The entire population was ordered out of the city into holding camps, though thousands remained illegally in secret (such as Wladislaw Szpilman, the exhibit notes, who was depicted in The Pianists). They were known as "Robinsons" -- presumably a reference to Robinson Crusoe.
In the center of the floor is a full-size replica of one of the Allied planes that dropped supplies in an attempt to relieve the city. The museum itself is incomplete. It looks like they are building a replica of a bunker. Given the implicit (as well as explicit) criticism of the Soviet Union, such a museum only recently became possible.
Then I went to have the lunch described above; afterwards I decided to see some of the city that was rebuilt after the war. I took a tour of the royal apartments at the Royal Castle (Zamek Krolewski). The communists had no desire to rebuild the symbol of the Polish monarchy, but popular initiatives led to its reconstruction in the 1970s and 80s. While the physical structure itself is entirely new, most of the interior is original. The paintings, decorations, and furnishings were hid during the war.
The apartments are very 18th century: all rococo and gilded wood and marble. Most interesting was the Canaletto Room, which holds the paintings of Warsaw done (actually by Canaletto's nephew -- he was trading on his uncle's name) in the 18th century, and used as guides as to how the city center should look.
I wasn't sure how to think about the recreated city core. I had similar questions in Gdansk (which was also almost entirely destroyed and rebuilt); but it seems to me that these are all, by their very nature, constructed artifices. They do not lose or gain authenticity. Is is more authentic to leave Hitler's ruinous policies in place? In the end, I think the recreations stand or fall in their own right.
On a side note, I've been in touch with Our Roots tours in Warsaw in order to arrange an English-language tour of the former ghetto and Treblinka. It looks like it's going to run about $260. That's more than I expected, but I think I would be pence-wise and pound foolish to pass it up. Also, since it's for the purposes of planning a course of taking students to Jewish sites in Eastern Europe, I think the expense is deductible. They won't stop me from trying to find someone interested in splitting the cost.
Now, it's time to decide where to have dinner tonight. I was pleased last night to be able to sleep until 6:45 this morning (although I briefly woke up at 5). Hopefully, this is a sign of getting my sleep schedule back on track.
Monday, June 19, 2006
Sunday, June 18, 2006
Surviving Lodz (June 18)
The weather cooled off significantly last night and I had no difficulty sleeping (although, as usual, I was up at dawn -- i.e. 5:45 am).
After an odd breakfast -- meatless scrambled eggs (served in the pan), a roll, butter, preserves, etc. -- I headed off to find the Jewish cemetey. Lodz had the second largest Jewish community in Poland and 1/3rd of the city was Jewish. The Jewish cemetery is the largest in Europe (I think in terms of the number of people buried here) -- about 190,000 -- and is still being used. After finding my way in, my first stop was the mortuary where they have a hearse used in the ghetto on display.
About 43,000 ghetto inmates were buried in the Lodz cemetery. On my way to the ghetto field, I passed about half a dozen large pits by the cemetery wall. After the Germans liquidated the ghetto in July-August 1944 (it was the last ghetto in Poland), about 830 Jews were kept in the ghetto to clean up the various buildings. The Germans ordered them to dig these holes in the graveyard, apparently intending to shoot the remaining Jews and bury them in them, but in their haste to flee the advancing Soviet troops, these Jews were left alive to be liberated, and the holes, meant to be their graves, were kept as they were as a memorial.
The graveyard strongly resembles the Weisensee graveyard in Berlin, except here the graves tend to be monolingual and in Hebrew only, though occasionally in Polish (whereas in Berlin, the markers tend to be German on one side and Hebrew on the other). The cemetary is quite peaceful. The ghetto field is being restored and is only partially marked and cleared. It is dominated by large, squawking crows, who cawed noisely while I was there.
I headed from there to the Poznanski mauseleum, the largest in any Jewish cemetary. It is at least three stories tall and is being repaired. I noticed several graves of Jews buried here after the war, some as recently as last year. By the entrance wall, I saw several memorial plaques set up by survivors for family members who died in Chelmno or Auschwitz, including one from a Moshe Liebermensch of San Diego.
After leaving the cemetery, I made my way to Radogaszcz (or, as it was known in German, Radosgast) Station. This was the main train terminal for the ghetto, and the place where supplies or new deportees were unloaded, where goods made in the ghetto were shipped out, and ultimately as the umschlagplatz -- the deportation square -- for the 200,000+ Jews who were sent to the death camps (mostly Chelmno and Auschwitz-Birkenau).
As you approach the memorial at the station, what you see first is a brick smokestack that has been cut off in a diagonal. At its base, a small square brick structure meant to resemble a gas chamber with heavy black-barred gates and a star of David. Above the door is an inscription in Hebrew, Polish, and English: "Thou Shalt Not Kill." To its right stretches a long concrete wall with years written in Nazi gothic script: 1945 1944 1943 and so on up to 1939. At the end of this wall there are train tracks with three Nazi boxcars, a locomotive, the small station building, and more memorials. The wall ends to reveal a large vacant space within. Entry is barred by locked gates and the rails enter and disappear into the darkness, as if it is a black hole from which there is no escape.
On the wall opposite are a set of memorial markers from the city of Lodz, and the government of Poland. At the far end of the station is a concrete memorial in the shape of several gravestones bearing the names of the various death and concentration camps to which Jews from Lodz were deported. In the concrete surface, one can make out shapes of heads and outstretched arms. The effect is of people crying out for a salvation that will never come.
To the right there are two rather interesting memorials. One is from the City of Vienna recalling the several thousand Viennese Jews deported to the Lodz ghetto. It ends with the words (I'm paraphrasing from memory): "We remember them in mourning and in shame." Next to it is a memorial from the Roma community of Austria memorializing the 5000 Roma (over half children) sent to Lodz and incarcerated in a closed-off space within the ghetto. With no running water or sewage, over 600 died in a few months. The Germans then sent the remaining population to Chelmno were all were immediately gassed.
At first I did not intend to enter any of the box cars (in part because I feared nightmares), but I did go into one.
After I left the station, I walked through an area known as Maryinsin in the ghetto. This area was mostly wooden structures and fields used to grow food, and little of it has survived to the present. In the 1950s, the government built many large blocks of flats on the land. Much of the population living in the former ghetto area has little if any knowledge on what happened in the place where they are living. The efforts to commemorate the ghetto have mostly taken place only in the last 10 years. This area of the ghetto was also used as a concentration camp for Polish youths, who were used for slave labor.
I tried to find the Jewish community center, but all I found was a Jewish guesthouse and restaurant (both closed).
From there I headed to the Poznanski Palace, the former home of one of the wealthiest Jewish industrialists in pre-war Lodz, and whose home vaguely resembles a wing of Versailles. It now houses the Museum of the City of Lodz. There is a small exhibit on the Jews of Lodz in the cellar, but all of it is signed in Polish. The ground floor has works by local artists. The most interesting is the first floor, which contains the grand living spaces of the Poznanskis (basically nouveau riche splendor) along with a collection of paintings by Jewish artists, and a whole section devoted to native son Artur Rubenstein.
I read that Lodz has a nice collection of avant garde art, so I made that my last stop in the city. Housed in another mansion built by the Poznanski family, it is spread over several floors and one goes through it in reverse chronological order. The art I find most interesting -- 1900-1940 -- is located on the top most floor. They have a pretty good collection, including a small statue by Kathe Kollwitz, a Nolde, and some interesting expressionists, many of whom appear to have been strongly influenced by Matisse. There was one piece with a strongly Jewish theme, but as the gift shop did not have a post card of it (they never do, do they -- that is, have cards of the paintings I like the most), I don't remember the artist's name. It is a painting of the artist's parents, done in the early 1930s. I kept thinking it seemed somewhat Chagall like, but I'm at a loss to explain why. The colors are much more somber and dark. No one is floating in the sky, etc. Both the father and mother are pointing at a Hebrew parchment attached to the painting, which is a quote from Deuteronomy. It is, in fact, the second paragraph of the Shma. The artist survived the Holocaust (either in Europe or outside it). No word on his parents.
I took the train this afternoon to Warsaw. My first impression of the city, based on the area around the central train station, was that it was quite dreary. As I walked towards my hostel (described as the nicest in the country, by the way), however, the neighborhood improved. I'm staying just off Constitution Square, which is mostly noteworthy for the three giant candlelabras stuck on one side of it.
Dinner was nice. I went to a place nearby and had too much to drink (becherowka vodka as an aperitif, 0.4 liter beer, and a small wisnioc as a degustive -- the last on the house). The hostel provides free internet, but there was a long line and I didn't want to wait, so I'm now at a rather overpriced internet cafe, so I will end this here.
After an odd breakfast -- meatless scrambled eggs (served in the pan), a roll, butter, preserves, etc. -- I headed off to find the Jewish cemetey. Lodz had the second largest Jewish community in Poland and 1/3rd of the city was Jewish. The Jewish cemetery is the largest in Europe (I think in terms of the number of people buried here) -- about 190,000 -- and is still being used. After finding my way in, my first stop was the mortuary where they have a hearse used in the ghetto on display.
About 43,000 ghetto inmates were buried in the Lodz cemetery. On my way to the ghetto field, I passed about half a dozen large pits by the cemetery wall. After the Germans liquidated the ghetto in July-August 1944 (it was the last ghetto in Poland), about 830 Jews were kept in the ghetto to clean up the various buildings. The Germans ordered them to dig these holes in the graveyard, apparently intending to shoot the remaining Jews and bury them in them, but in their haste to flee the advancing Soviet troops, these Jews were left alive to be liberated, and the holes, meant to be their graves, were kept as they were as a memorial.
The graveyard strongly resembles the Weisensee graveyard in Berlin, except here the graves tend to be monolingual and in Hebrew only, though occasionally in Polish (whereas in Berlin, the markers tend to be German on one side and Hebrew on the other). The cemetary is quite peaceful. The ghetto field is being restored and is only partially marked and cleared. It is dominated by large, squawking crows, who cawed noisely while I was there.
I headed from there to the Poznanski mauseleum, the largest in any Jewish cemetary. It is at least three stories tall and is being repaired. I noticed several graves of Jews buried here after the war, some as recently as last year. By the entrance wall, I saw several memorial plaques set up by survivors for family members who died in Chelmno or Auschwitz, including one from a Moshe Liebermensch of San Diego.
After leaving the cemetery, I made my way to Radogaszcz (or, as it was known in German, Radosgast) Station. This was the main train terminal for the ghetto, and the place where supplies or new deportees were unloaded, where goods made in the ghetto were shipped out, and ultimately as the umschlagplatz -- the deportation square -- for the 200,000+ Jews who were sent to the death camps (mostly Chelmno and Auschwitz-Birkenau).
As you approach the memorial at the station, what you see first is a brick smokestack that has been cut off in a diagonal. At its base, a small square brick structure meant to resemble a gas chamber with heavy black-barred gates and a star of David. Above the door is an inscription in Hebrew, Polish, and English: "Thou Shalt Not Kill." To its right stretches a long concrete wall with years written in Nazi gothic script: 1945 1944 1943 and so on up to 1939. At the end of this wall there are train tracks with three Nazi boxcars, a locomotive, the small station building, and more memorials. The wall ends to reveal a large vacant space within. Entry is barred by locked gates and the rails enter and disappear into the darkness, as if it is a black hole from which there is no escape.
On the wall opposite are a set of memorial markers from the city of Lodz, and the government of Poland. At the far end of the station is a concrete memorial in the shape of several gravestones bearing the names of the various death and concentration camps to which Jews from Lodz were deported. In the concrete surface, one can make out shapes of heads and outstretched arms. The effect is of people crying out for a salvation that will never come.
To the right there are two rather interesting memorials. One is from the City of Vienna recalling the several thousand Viennese Jews deported to the Lodz ghetto. It ends with the words (I'm paraphrasing from memory): "We remember them in mourning and in shame." Next to it is a memorial from the Roma community of Austria memorializing the 5000 Roma (over half children) sent to Lodz and incarcerated in a closed-off space within the ghetto. With no running water or sewage, over 600 died in a few months. The Germans then sent the remaining population to Chelmno were all were immediately gassed.
At first I did not intend to enter any of the box cars (in part because I feared nightmares), but I did go into one.
After I left the station, I walked through an area known as Maryinsin in the ghetto. This area was mostly wooden structures and fields used to grow food, and little of it has survived to the present. In the 1950s, the government built many large blocks of flats on the land. Much of the population living in the former ghetto area has little if any knowledge on what happened in the place where they are living. The efforts to commemorate the ghetto have mostly taken place only in the last 10 years. This area of the ghetto was also used as a concentration camp for Polish youths, who were used for slave labor.
I tried to find the Jewish community center, but all I found was a Jewish guesthouse and restaurant (both closed).
From there I headed to the Poznanski Palace, the former home of one of the wealthiest Jewish industrialists in pre-war Lodz, and whose home vaguely resembles a wing of Versailles. It now houses the Museum of the City of Lodz. There is a small exhibit on the Jews of Lodz in the cellar, but all of it is signed in Polish. The ground floor has works by local artists. The most interesting is the first floor, which contains the grand living spaces of the Poznanskis (basically nouveau riche splendor) along with a collection of paintings by Jewish artists, and a whole section devoted to native son Artur Rubenstein.
I read that Lodz has a nice collection of avant garde art, so I made that my last stop in the city. Housed in another mansion built by the Poznanski family, it is spread over several floors and one goes through it in reverse chronological order. The art I find most interesting -- 1900-1940 -- is located on the top most floor. They have a pretty good collection, including a small statue by Kathe Kollwitz, a Nolde, and some interesting expressionists, many of whom appear to have been strongly influenced by Matisse. There was one piece with a strongly Jewish theme, but as the gift shop did not have a post card of it (they never do, do they -- that is, have cards of the paintings I like the most), I don't remember the artist's name. It is a painting of the artist's parents, done in the early 1930s. I kept thinking it seemed somewhat Chagall like, but I'm at a loss to explain why. The colors are much more somber and dark. No one is floating in the sky, etc. Both the father and mother are pointing at a Hebrew parchment attached to the painting, which is a quote from Deuteronomy. It is, in fact, the second paragraph of the Shma. The artist survived the Holocaust (either in Europe or outside it). No word on his parents.
I took the train this afternoon to Warsaw. My first impression of the city, based on the area around the central train station, was that it was quite dreary. As I walked towards my hostel (described as the nicest in the country, by the way), however, the neighborhood improved. I'm staying just off Constitution Square, which is mostly noteworthy for the three giant candlelabras stuck on one side of it.
Dinner was nice. I went to a place nearby and had too much to drink (becherowka vodka as an aperitif, 0.4 liter beer, and a small wisnioc as a degustive -- the last on the house). The hostel provides free internet, but there was a long line and I didn't want to wait, so I'm now at a rather overpriced internet cafe, so I will end this here.
Saturday, June 17, 2006
Obstacles (June 17)
Before I get to the depressing part, let me first say that the concert last night in Torun was fantastic. It was a small chamber orchestra, and the performed two pieces by Telemann and two by Handel. The star was their soprano, Maria Keohane, who has a clear, beautiful voice, and a great deal of charisma.
The concert was held in the guilded, fin-de-siecle hall opposite the Ratusz in the Stary Rynek. It was a "live" room, so the music resonated. The only flaw: given the heat, some air conditioning would have been nice, but that was only a minor problem.
Today I reached Lodz without difficulty. I found a compartment on the train with only one other occupant, but she had already taken 80% of the overhead storage space. My small suitcase and backpack filled in the remaining gaps. I was sort of amazed at how much luggage she had and wondered how she had gotten it on the train. I counted 4-5 suitcases, a full (and I mean full) backpack, several bags and at least 3 boxes. I wasn't the only one amazed: the conductor called in two back ups and they proceeded to question her quite closely about the luggage. She was in her late 20s, pretty, and reading a book on Mozart. At some points she looked close to tears, but I suspected it was an act, because she was quite well composed when the conductors left the room. One returned later, however, and demanded that she pay additional money for the luggage. As she was still on board when I got off in Lodz, I never did find out how she was going to get it off.
Lodz is a difficult city to like. It presents many obstacles to both the casual visitor as well as to the interested scholar. When I got off the train it was hot, overcast, incredibly muggy, and drizzling. No maps of the city at the trainstation. No chart of tram or bus routes. Just a lot of happy taxi drivers. Considering that my hotel was described as quite close to the train station, I was determined to find my way there (the hotel hadn't made it any easier since they don't provide a map on their website). It took me half an hour and I had to ask several people on the street, but I successfully took the right tram, got off at the right station, and walked the five blocks to the hotel).
Here's how the local Polish tourist guide describes my hotel:
Mid-range.
"Within spitting distance of the train station, Mazowiecki [my hotel] is a simple affair which like most of the hotel in town offers a straight choice between unrenovated and refurbished rooms. Go for the latter option. Do so and you'll find pleasant rooms decorated in light colours and a vaguely floral motif. Extremely springy beds and an ugly facade complete that unique Lodz experience."
I have a refurbished room. That means that I have slightly higher end toilet paper (not the grey crepe paper I had in my last three hotels, the kind I used to see in Israel in institutional bathrooms). My tv has only Polish or German stations, but at least this time one of the German ones is a music channel. Oh, and they save money by turning off their water heater by midday (I took a rather cold shower after I got it).
I wanted to get to the tourist office before they closed, so I rushed to the main pedestrian street. They were happy to sell me a book on the Lodz ghetto, but forgot to provide me with the map showing the route one should take in touring it (not in the book, it turns out). Then a grabbed a quick bite to eat at an outdoor cafe called "Roosters." I decided to keep it simple and safe and get the spaghetti bolognese. It quickly became apparent that Roosters is engaged in a bit of copyright infringement with Hooters. Basically, big-breasted waitresses in skimpy tops and bottoms.
Now for describing Lodz. I suppose the city it most resembles is Budapest. Yet while Budapest was the city I've enjoyed the most on this trip, Lodz is the city I like least (though, I should add, I just had my best meal in Poland -- more on that below). 70 years ago, Lodz (pronounced "Woodge" in Polish) was a large, beautiful, economically prosperous city. It had wide, tree-lined boulevards, plenty of local parks, enormous palatial mansions, and handsome beaux art style buildings. The problem is that the city has never recovered from WWII.
Many of those same boulevards, parks, mansions, and buildings are still here. While some ugly communist-era buildings were put up after the war, a lot of the center of Lodz is pre-war construction. The problem is that no work has gone into maintaining any of these structures since the war. Lodz is not so much in suspended animation as it is in a coma. It continues to live, suffer, grow abcesses, and develop bed sores. Except for a few buildings (mostly on the pedestrian promenade), most of what I've seen is soot-colored, grimy buildings with plaster peeling off to reveal the bricks beneath. Even when the front of the building isn't too bad, a quick peek into the courtyard reveals a dark, grimy passage leading to ramshackle wooden outbuildings, populated either by stray dogs or drinkers.
Despite the stifling humidity, I made my way to the the site of the former ghetto (the second largest in Poland -- 230,000) and began to explore. Unfortunately, the book I bought doesn't proceed in any logical order and I found myself jumping around trying to find where I was and determine whether the rotting, decaying structures were ones that had been in or outside the ghetto. I finally found where I was supposed to be when it began to rain again. As I didn't have my umbrella with me, I was forced to cut this part short.
I made my way back to the pedestrian promenade and found a nice cafe where I could sit, drink something non-alcoholic, and have a piece of pastry. This is not an easy thing to do in Poland. The easiest food to get in Poland is beer. You can get a large beer (.5 liters) for about $2.25. Anyone will sell it. There are beer stands all over the place. Cafes with tea/coffee and pastries, however, are much harder to find.
After going back to the hotel and getting my umbrella, I took another tram back to the ghetto area. This is probably the poorest part of Lodz; it makes the neighborhood around my hotel (which I thought looked pretty spotty) look like an upper middle-class area by contrast. After walking down one block looking for the ghetto hospital, I looked up with a shock to see I was standing in front of it. The book mentioned it had recently been vandalized, and, in fact, many of the back walls had fallen in, but the front was still standing. I will never forget how, after watching a video on how the Nazis had seized and deported the patients from this hospital to Chelmno in September 1942, I suffered an awful nightmare. And now I was standing in front of the actual place.
A lot of the original ghetto buildings remain, as does the cobblestone streets. I made my way to the building that housed many of the ghetto offices and it was still there. So too the criminal police headquarters where prisoners were tortured and executed, and the building where the Jewish archivists of the ghetto recorded the day to day persecutions and deaths. Tomorrow I'm going back to see the Lodz museum (former mansion of the wealthiest industrialist in Lodz), the Lodz cemetary (largest Jewish cemetary in Europe, and contains the largest Jewish mauseleum in Europe of the same wealthy industrialist) and the Radagost station or umschlagplatz, where the entire Jewish community was deported, either to Chelmno or Auschwitz.
I decided to get dinner at a kitschy "Jewish-style" restaurant called Anatewka (remember the "w" is pronounced like a "v"). It was decorated mostly in pictures of bearded rabbis, with a manekin in a talit at the door, and a live violinist playing from a perch over the heads of the diners. I ordered the mushroom soup with meat dumplings, the roast goose with "Jewish sauce," red cabbage salad, and the dessert special.
The soup was good and the goose was excellent. I was afraid the goose would be too fatty, but it was quite good (I was served breast meat, I think). The Jewish sauce was wine-based (according to the waitress) and had onions and small, red grapes in it. It was delicious. The red cabbage salad was rather boring and in no way resembled the red cabbage and apples my mother makes. The dessert was a "punch cake" -- basically a small sponge-type cake soaked in rum -- then served with a scoop of vanilla ice cream and rhubarb sauce. It was probably the best meal I've had in Poland.
Tomorrow, after finishing the sights in Lodz, I will go to Warsaw
The concert was held in the guilded, fin-de-siecle hall opposite the Ratusz in the Stary Rynek. It was a "live" room, so the music resonated. The only flaw: given the heat, some air conditioning would have been nice, but that was only a minor problem.
Today I reached Lodz without difficulty. I found a compartment on the train with only one other occupant, but she had already taken 80% of the overhead storage space. My small suitcase and backpack filled in the remaining gaps. I was sort of amazed at how much luggage she had and wondered how she had gotten it on the train. I counted 4-5 suitcases, a full (and I mean full) backpack, several bags and at least 3 boxes. I wasn't the only one amazed: the conductor called in two back ups and they proceeded to question her quite closely about the luggage. She was in her late 20s, pretty, and reading a book on Mozart. At some points she looked close to tears, but I suspected it was an act, because she was quite well composed when the conductors left the room. One returned later, however, and demanded that she pay additional money for the luggage. As she was still on board when I got off in Lodz, I never did find out how she was going to get it off.
Lodz is a difficult city to like. It presents many obstacles to both the casual visitor as well as to the interested scholar. When I got off the train it was hot, overcast, incredibly muggy, and drizzling. No maps of the city at the trainstation. No chart of tram or bus routes. Just a lot of happy taxi drivers. Considering that my hotel was described as quite close to the train station, I was determined to find my way there (the hotel hadn't made it any easier since they don't provide a map on their website). It took me half an hour and I had to ask several people on the street, but I successfully took the right tram, got off at the right station, and walked the five blocks to the hotel).
Here's how the local Polish tourist guide describes my hotel:
Mid-range.
"Within spitting distance of the train station, Mazowiecki [my hotel] is a simple affair which like most of the hotel in town offers a straight choice between unrenovated and refurbished rooms. Go for the latter option. Do so and you'll find pleasant rooms decorated in light colours and a vaguely floral motif. Extremely springy beds and an ugly facade complete that unique Lodz experience."
I have a refurbished room. That means that I have slightly higher end toilet paper (not the grey crepe paper I had in my last three hotels, the kind I used to see in Israel in institutional bathrooms). My tv has only Polish or German stations, but at least this time one of the German ones is a music channel. Oh, and they save money by turning off their water heater by midday (I took a rather cold shower after I got it).
I wanted to get to the tourist office before they closed, so I rushed to the main pedestrian street. They were happy to sell me a book on the Lodz ghetto, but forgot to provide me with the map showing the route one should take in touring it (not in the book, it turns out). Then a grabbed a quick bite to eat at an outdoor cafe called "Roosters." I decided to keep it simple and safe and get the spaghetti bolognese. It quickly became apparent that Roosters is engaged in a bit of copyright infringement with Hooters. Basically, big-breasted waitresses in skimpy tops and bottoms.
Now for describing Lodz. I suppose the city it most resembles is Budapest. Yet while Budapest was the city I've enjoyed the most on this trip, Lodz is the city I like least (though, I should add, I just had my best meal in Poland -- more on that below). 70 years ago, Lodz (pronounced "Woodge" in Polish) was a large, beautiful, economically prosperous city. It had wide, tree-lined boulevards, plenty of local parks, enormous palatial mansions, and handsome beaux art style buildings. The problem is that the city has never recovered from WWII.
Many of those same boulevards, parks, mansions, and buildings are still here. While some ugly communist-era buildings were put up after the war, a lot of the center of Lodz is pre-war construction. The problem is that no work has gone into maintaining any of these structures since the war. Lodz is not so much in suspended animation as it is in a coma. It continues to live, suffer, grow abcesses, and develop bed sores. Except for a few buildings (mostly on the pedestrian promenade), most of what I've seen is soot-colored, grimy buildings with plaster peeling off to reveal the bricks beneath. Even when the front of the building isn't too bad, a quick peek into the courtyard reveals a dark, grimy passage leading to ramshackle wooden outbuildings, populated either by stray dogs or drinkers.
Despite the stifling humidity, I made my way to the the site of the former ghetto (the second largest in Poland -- 230,000) and began to explore. Unfortunately, the book I bought doesn't proceed in any logical order and I found myself jumping around trying to find where I was and determine whether the rotting, decaying structures were ones that had been in or outside the ghetto. I finally found where I was supposed to be when it began to rain again. As I didn't have my umbrella with me, I was forced to cut this part short.
I made my way back to the pedestrian promenade and found a nice cafe where I could sit, drink something non-alcoholic, and have a piece of pastry. This is not an easy thing to do in Poland. The easiest food to get in Poland is beer. You can get a large beer (.5 liters) for about $2.25. Anyone will sell it. There are beer stands all over the place. Cafes with tea/coffee and pastries, however, are much harder to find.
After going back to the hotel and getting my umbrella, I took another tram back to the ghetto area. This is probably the poorest part of Lodz; it makes the neighborhood around my hotel (which I thought looked pretty spotty) look like an upper middle-class area by contrast. After walking down one block looking for the ghetto hospital, I looked up with a shock to see I was standing in front of it. The book mentioned it had recently been vandalized, and, in fact, many of the back walls had fallen in, but the front was still standing. I will never forget how, after watching a video on how the Nazis had seized and deported the patients from this hospital to Chelmno in September 1942, I suffered an awful nightmare. And now I was standing in front of the actual place.
A lot of the original ghetto buildings remain, as does the cobblestone streets. I made my way to the building that housed many of the ghetto offices and it was still there. So too the criminal police headquarters where prisoners were tortured and executed, and the building where the Jewish archivists of the ghetto recorded the day to day persecutions and deaths. Tomorrow I'm going back to see the Lodz museum (former mansion of the wealthiest industrialist in Lodz), the Lodz cemetary (largest Jewish cemetary in Europe, and contains the largest Jewish mauseleum in Europe of the same wealthy industrialist) and the Radagost station or umschlagplatz, where the entire Jewish community was deported, either to Chelmno or Auschwitz.
I decided to get dinner at a kitschy "Jewish-style" restaurant called Anatewka (remember the "w" is pronounced like a "v"). It was decorated mostly in pictures of bearded rabbis, with a manekin in a talit at the door, and a live violinist playing from a perch over the heads of the diners. I ordered the mushroom soup with meat dumplings, the roast goose with "Jewish sauce," red cabbage salad, and the dessert special.
The soup was good and the goose was excellent. I was afraid the goose would be too fatty, but it was quite good (I was served breast meat, I think). The Jewish sauce was wine-based (according to the waitress) and had onions and small, red grapes in it. It was delicious. The red cabbage salad was rather boring and in no way resembled the red cabbage and apples my mother makes. The dessert was a "punch cake" -- basically a small sponge-type cake soaked in rum -- then served with a scoop of vanilla ice cream and rhubarb sauce. It was probably the best meal I've had in Poland.
Tomorrow, after finishing the sights in Lodz, I will go to Warsaw
Friday, June 16, 2006
Revolutions (June 16)
I probably had my most expensive dinner in Poland last night in Gdansk. I went to Goldwasser, an upscale restaurant on the main canal, and the manufacturer of the liquor with gold flecks (I didn't have any of that). I ordered the soup of the day, the veal cutlet, and for dessert, cheesecake with warm cherry sauce. The soup was a cold vegetable soup with several flavors that I couldn't identify. I'm pretty sure there was beet, dill, and chives, as well as hard-boiled egg pieces, but I'm not sure about the rest. It was quite good, actually. The veal cutlet was good, but not especially interesting. The cheesecake (farmer's cheese based, not cream cheese) was good, and the warm cherry sauce worked great. Nonetheless, at 92 zloty (including tip) it's a bit overpriced for what you get.
Today I left for Torun, and of course, it's back to being warm and sunny. As we approach the solstice, the sun rises earlier and earlier, which means I'm waking up earlier and earlier. I caught the quickest train of the day (under 3 hours). There really aren't express trains in Poland; they start at medium and then go slow, slower, and I can walk faster than this train is going. Apparently, it's because of the quality of the tracks. Not that driving would be any faster. Apparently there are no freeways in Poland.
My hotel in Torun is a short 15 minute bus ride from the station, and just across the park from the entrance to the historic center of the city. The hotel basically resembles a 1960s-era motel built along the Wisla river. They added on at various times, so to get to my room. I walk upstairs, turn left, then right, then left, walk down a long corridor, turn left again, go down stairs, turn right and I'm at my room (which is just opposite the closed swimming pool). I showered, changed clothes, and watched the end of The Count of Monte Cristo dubbed in German. There are no English-language stations on the hotel tv, just 5 Polish and 4 German stations.
Torun is a very pretty city and seems to have escaped the devastation of wars relatively well. The city is celebrating one of its annual "jarmarks" so there are craft booths set up between the city gate and the Rynek (the main square). I got some lunch at a cafe off the square. The menu was entirely in Polish so I just guessed. I ended up with was basically pork schnitzel but instead of being coated in breadcrumbs, it was coated in sliced almonds, and was accompanied by boiled potatoes garnished with fresh dill. Not bad, actually. One eighth the price (including the half liter of diet coke) of last night's dinner, and the main course was more interesting.
Afterwards I toured the City Museum, located in the Ratusz. Polish museums are strangely organized, and I started off touring the wing devoted to Polish art of the 19th and 20th century. They have a pretty good collection, far more interesting than the much larger National Museum in Poznan. I particularly liked a self-portrait by Norbert Strassberg. The painting was made in 1933 and showed the artists against a dark sky, wrapped in a dark trenchcoat being buffeted by strong winds, while the brambles at his feet were in the shape of a swastika. According to the sign, he died in 1941. I hoped to get a postcard of it (no photographs permitted), but of course, none were for sale.
The lower parts of the museum are dedicated to the history of the city over the last 7 centuries. Built up by the Teutonic Knights, the city shares many architectural similarities with Gdansk and Malbork. The lowest levels had medieval art, particularly two dozen 14th century stained glass panels. From there I climbed to the top of the tower where I could see the entire city. The view was incredible, the air was clear, and I could see the whole medieval city. There are, of course, many flights of stairs, but they provide frequent landings, and I even saw two small children making the climb with their parents. The whole stair schema reminded me more than once of The Hunchback of Notre Dame, and I kept hearing Charles Laughton's cry "sanctuary! sanctuary!"
Afterwards, I walked down to the old city wall and to the Wisla river. I made my way to the new town square (actually just as old as the old town square, but built as the center for the artisans, rather than merchants). The center of this square is undergoing restoration and isn't as interesting.
Then I decided to check out the gingerbread museum. Torun is famous for its gingerbread, but when I entered the museum (which had locals dressed in historic costume preparing dough for the amusement of a group of school children, I was told that the museum had been reserved for this afternoon, and I would have to come back tomorrow. That was fine, because it really wasn't a museum so much as an elaborate advertisement for buying their gingerbread. Instead, I walked around the corner to a store that specializes in traditional Torun gingerbread and bought three pieces: one apple, one flavor I think was fig, and one praline. They were all delicious.
Finally, I visited the Mikolai Kopernik house (that's Copernicus to your or me). They can't be sure he was born in this house (his family owned more than one property in Torun, but they think it likely this was the one in which he was born. One side of the house is devoted to showing furninishings from the period of his life (late 15th-early 16th century), the other side shows facsimiles of his books and instruments, including a facsimile of his "Revolutions" of the heavens (which only appeared in Polish in the 19th century, when the Vatican finally unbanned it). It was mildly interesting, and, while overpriced at 10 Zl, it's still far less than the 10 Euros I was paying in Vienna (roughly 4 times more).
I'm going back to the hotel to change for dinner. Then I've bought a ticket to a classical music concert in the Dwor Artusa, located on the Rynek. I didn't see a full program, but think that about half of it is Handel, so how bad could it be?
Today I left for Torun, and of course, it's back to being warm and sunny. As we approach the solstice, the sun rises earlier and earlier, which means I'm waking up earlier and earlier. I caught the quickest train of the day (under 3 hours). There really aren't express trains in Poland; they start at medium and then go slow, slower, and I can walk faster than this train is going. Apparently, it's because of the quality of the tracks. Not that driving would be any faster. Apparently there are no freeways in Poland.
My hotel in Torun is a short 15 minute bus ride from the station, and just across the park from the entrance to the historic center of the city. The hotel basically resembles a 1960s-era motel built along the Wisla river. They added on at various times, so to get to my room. I walk upstairs, turn left, then right, then left, walk down a long corridor, turn left again, go down stairs, turn right and I'm at my room (which is just opposite the closed swimming pool). I showered, changed clothes, and watched the end of The Count of Monte Cristo dubbed in German. There are no English-language stations on the hotel tv, just 5 Polish and 4 German stations.
Torun is a very pretty city and seems to have escaped the devastation of wars relatively well. The city is celebrating one of its annual "jarmarks" so there are craft booths set up between the city gate and the Rynek (the main square). I got some lunch at a cafe off the square. The menu was entirely in Polish so I just guessed. I ended up with was basically pork schnitzel but instead of being coated in breadcrumbs, it was coated in sliced almonds, and was accompanied by boiled potatoes garnished with fresh dill. Not bad, actually. One eighth the price (including the half liter of diet coke) of last night's dinner, and the main course was more interesting.
Afterwards I toured the City Museum, located in the Ratusz. Polish museums are strangely organized, and I started off touring the wing devoted to Polish art of the 19th and 20th century. They have a pretty good collection, far more interesting than the much larger National Museum in Poznan. I particularly liked a self-portrait by Norbert Strassberg. The painting was made in 1933 and showed the artists against a dark sky, wrapped in a dark trenchcoat being buffeted by strong winds, while the brambles at his feet were in the shape of a swastika. According to the sign, he died in 1941. I hoped to get a postcard of it (no photographs permitted), but of course, none were for sale.
The lower parts of the museum are dedicated to the history of the city over the last 7 centuries. Built up by the Teutonic Knights, the city shares many architectural similarities with Gdansk and Malbork. The lowest levels had medieval art, particularly two dozen 14th century stained glass panels. From there I climbed to the top of the tower where I could see the entire city. The view was incredible, the air was clear, and I could see the whole medieval city. There are, of course, many flights of stairs, but they provide frequent landings, and I even saw two small children making the climb with their parents. The whole stair schema reminded me more than once of The Hunchback of Notre Dame, and I kept hearing Charles Laughton's cry "sanctuary! sanctuary!"
Afterwards, I walked down to the old city wall and to the Wisla river. I made my way to the new town square (actually just as old as the old town square, but built as the center for the artisans, rather than merchants). The center of this square is undergoing restoration and isn't as interesting.
Then I decided to check out the gingerbread museum. Torun is famous for its gingerbread, but when I entered the museum (which had locals dressed in historic costume preparing dough for the amusement of a group of school children, I was told that the museum had been reserved for this afternoon, and I would have to come back tomorrow. That was fine, because it really wasn't a museum so much as an elaborate advertisement for buying their gingerbread. Instead, I walked around the corner to a store that specializes in traditional Torun gingerbread and bought three pieces: one apple, one flavor I think was fig, and one praline. They were all delicious.
Finally, I visited the Mikolai Kopernik house (that's Copernicus to your or me). They can't be sure he was born in this house (his family owned more than one property in Torun, but they think it likely this was the one in which he was born. One side of the house is devoted to showing furninishings from the period of his life (late 15th-early 16th century), the other side shows facsimiles of his books and instruments, including a facsimile of his "Revolutions" of the heavens (which only appeared in Polish in the 19th century, when the Vatican finally unbanned it). It was mildly interesting, and, while overpriced at 10 Zl, it's still far less than the 10 Euros I was paying in Vienna (roughly 4 times more).
I'm going back to the hotel to change for dinner. Then I've bought a ticket to a classical music concert in the Dwor Artusa, located on the Rynek. I didn't see a full program, but think that about half of it is Handel, so how bad could it be?
Thursday, June 15, 2006
A Cold Day in Hel
There were all sorts of puns I thought of using to title this post: to Hel and back; the train from Hel; the train to Hel.
The plan was to catch the morning train to the small fishing village of Hel, located on a narrow peninsula jutting out into the Baltic Sea. I was joined by two women from the hostel who also wanted to go and weren't sure how to navigate the Polish rail system.
The rail system takes some getting used to. There are several classes of trains, each of which have their rates and speeds. Not all cashiers can issue tickets for all classes of trains. Few of the cashiers can speak English. It makes things interesting.
The train to Hel was packed. Because today is a holiday, everyone wanted to get away from the religious processionals by heading to the beach. We got seats, but the aisles were so packed that we were repeatedly delayed so that by the time we reached the peninsula, we had to wait for 30 minutes for the outbound train to clear, since the peninsula is so narrow, there is only one rail line. In the end, we arrived an hour late.
We headed into town and got some fried fish from a stand at the harbor. The weather was quite a contrast from the last few days; instead of sun and heat we had clouds and cold. We had planned on taking the ferry back to Gdansk. Unfortunately, it was cancelled today due to bad weather. Forced to take the train back, we decided to head to the beach and see the Baltic.
I had brought a swim suit and flip flops in the hopes of getting some swimming, but it was too cold (even though the sun was beginning to peak through). Instead, I decided just to wade in the water (it was cold -- about as cold as the Pacific in So. Cal. this time of year). It would have been just a pleasant experience except for the 6 year-0ld who had lost a floating toy in the water. I tried to retrieve it but it ended up being a plastic box filled with water and much heavier than I thought. I lost my balance and fell into the Baltic Sea.
Luckily I had left my backpack and shoes on dry land, but that still left my shorts and the lower half my shirt soaked. I changed into my bathing suit and spent the rest of the day walking around Poland in a Hawaiian-style bathing suit. Still, it was better than the alternatives.
The ride back was much less crowded and more pleasant. The sun came out and we found ourselves going through the wooded dunes of the peninsula. This was the last piece of Poland to be captured by the Germans and the last piece of Poland liberated from the Germans (between 60,000 and 100,000 German troops held out here until May 1945). The sea was beautiful as were the trees and grasses.
Soon we were heading through the green Polish countryside. I've noticed several times now that outside small towns there are large, elaborate, garden plots. Each family has a large garden, fenced off from the others, which they develop, growing either vegetables or flowers (or both). Most people have some kind of shed, but many of them are quite elaborate, resembling small country cottages. It was late afternoon, and we saw many people sitting out in their gardens as families.
Tomorrow I'm off to Torun.
The plan was to catch the morning train to the small fishing village of Hel, located on a narrow peninsula jutting out into the Baltic Sea. I was joined by two women from the hostel who also wanted to go and weren't sure how to navigate the Polish rail system.
The rail system takes some getting used to. There are several classes of trains, each of which have their rates and speeds. Not all cashiers can issue tickets for all classes of trains. Few of the cashiers can speak English. It makes things interesting.
The train to Hel was packed. Because today is a holiday, everyone wanted to get away from the religious processionals by heading to the beach. We got seats, but the aisles were so packed that we were repeatedly delayed so that by the time we reached the peninsula, we had to wait for 30 minutes for the outbound train to clear, since the peninsula is so narrow, there is only one rail line. In the end, we arrived an hour late.
We headed into town and got some fried fish from a stand at the harbor. The weather was quite a contrast from the last few days; instead of sun and heat we had clouds and cold. We had planned on taking the ferry back to Gdansk. Unfortunately, it was cancelled today due to bad weather. Forced to take the train back, we decided to head to the beach and see the Baltic.
I had brought a swim suit and flip flops in the hopes of getting some swimming, but it was too cold (even though the sun was beginning to peak through). Instead, I decided just to wade in the water (it was cold -- about as cold as the Pacific in So. Cal. this time of year). It would have been just a pleasant experience except for the 6 year-0ld who had lost a floating toy in the water. I tried to retrieve it but it ended up being a plastic box filled with water and much heavier than I thought. I lost my balance and fell into the Baltic Sea.
Luckily I had left my backpack and shoes on dry land, but that still left my shorts and the lower half my shirt soaked. I changed into my bathing suit and spent the rest of the day walking around Poland in a Hawaiian-style bathing suit. Still, it was better than the alternatives.
The ride back was much less crowded and more pleasant. The sun came out and we found ourselves going through the wooded dunes of the peninsula. This was the last piece of Poland to be captured by the Germans and the last piece of Poland liberated from the Germans (between 60,000 and 100,000 German troops held out here until May 1945). The sea was beautiful as were the trees and grasses.
Soon we were heading through the green Polish countryside. I've noticed several times now that outside small towns there are large, elaborate, garden plots. Each family has a large garden, fenced off from the others, which they develop, growing either vegetables or flowers (or both). Most people have some kind of shed, but many of them are quite elaborate, resembling small country cottages. It was late afternoon, and we saw many people sitting out in their gardens as families.
Tomorrow I'm off to Torun.
Wednesday, June 14, 2006
World Cup in Poland (June 15)
I watched the Poland-German world cup match last night. The pub across the street from the hostel set up a big screen tv on their patio and some 50-75 people crowded around, watching the game and drinking beer, all wearing red and white shirts, hats, or flags (Poland's colors).
Whenever Poland's goalie would save the ball, the crowd would yell "Artur! BORUC!! Artur! BORUC!!" (his name -- pronounced Borutz, by the way). They sang one chant to the tune of Guantanamera that I think was "I love you Poland." There was also the "red-white Poland" chant and the ubiquitous "POL!! SKA!! (clap clap clap) POL!! SKA!! (clap clap clap)."
The streets were mostly deserted once the game began; everyone was crowded around tv sets to watch the game. During the first half, when it looked like Poland was playing better offense, the crowd got excited at every attempted goal. During the second half, when it looked like Germany was playing better offense, they cheered every time Boruc blocked the shot. There were three police vans parked across the street in case the crowd got to rowdy and since there was no place to sit, I was standing far in the back, about a 15-second dash to the hostel front door if things got out of hand, but nothing happened.
After 90 minutes of zero-zero, the game when into extra minutes, and at 91 minutes, Germany scored the only goal of the game. The crowd got very somber and very quiet. Two minutes later the game was over.
Apparently, by the way, there was a small group of German tourists there and when Germany scored the goal, one of them started cheering, but quieted down real fast when he saw how everyone else reacted (I didn't see it, but some of the other hostel guests told me about it afterwards).
Today is the holiday of Corpus Christi in Poland. It has something to do with the body of Jesus, and will be celebrated today by processions of priests displaying the communion wafer. I'm going to avoid all of that by going straight to Hel, a small fishing village on the Baltic coast, where, I'm told, there's some nice beaches.
Whenever Poland's goalie would save the ball, the crowd would yell "Artur! BORUC!! Artur! BORUC!!" (his name -- pronounced Borutz, by the way). They sang one chant to the tune of Guantanamera that I think was "I love you Poland." There was also the "red-white Poland" chant and the ubiquitous "POL!! SKA!! (clap clap clap) POL!! SKA!! (clap clap clap)."
The streets were mostly deserted once the game began; everyone was crowded around tv sets to watch the game. During the first half, when it looked like Poland was playing better offense, the crowd got excited at every attempted goal. During the second half, when it looked like Germany was playing better offense, they cheered every time Boruc blocked the shot. There were three police vans parked across the street in case the crowd got to rowdy and since there was no place to sit, I was standing far in the back, about a 15-second dash to the hostel front door if things got out of hand, but nothing happened.
After 90 minutes of zero-zero, the game when into extra minutes, and at 91 minutes, Germany scored the only goal of the game. The crowd got very somber and very quiet. Two minutes later the game was over.
Apparently, by the way, there was a small group of German tourists there and when Germany scored the goal, one of them started cheering, but quieted down real fast when he saw how everyone else reacted (I didn't see it, but some of the other hostel guests told me about it afterwards).
Today is the holiday of Corpus Christi in Poland. It has something to do with the body of Jesus, and will be celebrated today by processions of priests displaying the communion wafer. I'm going to avoid all of that by going straight to Hel, a small fishing village on the Baltic coast, where, I'm told, there's some nice beaches.
Sunny Day at Malbork Castle (June 14)
It's surprisingly hot here in Poland. Surprising, in part because it was so cold for the last two weeks, surprising in that the sun feels more mediterranean in its strength.
I've been going to sleep a little early here, not because I'm so tired, but because I wake up so early. The window curtains are quite sheer and the sun comes up around 5 am. This morning I woke up at 5 and forced myself to go back to sleep until 6:30. At least I didn't have to wait for the shower.
The hostel isn't bad. It's very close to the center of town (about a 5-10 minute walk to the main square; about a 10-15 minute walk to the train station), and my window looks out on one of the old watch towers and the main canal. I had a lot of problem finding a place to stay in Gdansk (this was my third choice), but it's been pretty good. They are washing my dirty laundry for me as I type (they also provide free internet, but you have to wait in line).
Today I went to Malbork Castle, about 45 minutes east from Gdansk. I had seen "kingdom of the teutonic knights) on maps of medieval Europe, but never really understood who they were until today. The castle, made from red brick, dominates the town and is amazing. I bumped into an American couple from Chicago, who, along with a Latvian couple, had hired an English guide, so I joined in with them.
The tour was great and the sights were amazing. Tons of school children running about with their teachers (probably 2:1 ration of children to adult tourists).
When I got back this afternoon, I went to the main square to tour the Dom Artus and the Ratusz (city hall). Amazing restoration work of buildings that were nearly obliterated in the war. At one point I entered a room clearly not meant for tourists as I saw a parokhetv (the fabric cover in front of an ark) on display. I could see several other displays of Jewish life in Gdansk (I think), but the staff quickly ushered me out as the room was not yet ready for tourists. At least, unlike Poznan, they are actually doing something regarding Jewish history.
Tonight there should be a big crowd at the pubs watching the game between Poland and Germany. I asked the guide who was favored to win. He said that Germany had played in Dortmund stadium over a dozen times and never lost.
I've been going to sleep a little early here, not because I'm so tired, but because I wake up so early. The window curtains are quite sheer and the sun comes up around 5 am. This morning I woke up at 5 and forced myself to go back to sleep until 6:30. At least I didn't have to wait for the shower.
The hostel isn't bad. It's very close to the center of town (about a 5-10 minute walk to the main square; about a 10-15 minute walk to the train station), and my window looks out on one of the old watch towers and the main canal. I had a lot of problem finding a place to stay in Gdansk (this was my third choice), but it's been pretty good. They are washing my dirty laundry for me as I type (they also provide free internet, but you have to wait in line).
Today I went to Malbork Castle, about 45 minutes east from Gdansk. I had seen "kingdom of the teutonic knights) on maps of medieval Europe, but never really understood who they were until today. The castle, made from red brick, dominates the town and is amazing. I bumped into an American couple from Chicago, who, along with a Latvian couple, had hired an English guide, so I joined in with them.
The tour was great and the sights were amazing. Tons of school children running about with their teachers (probably 2:1 ration of children to adult tourists).
When I got back this afternoon, I went to the main square to tour the Dom Artus and the Ratusz (city hall). Amazing restoration work of buildings that were nearly obliterated in the war. At one point I entered a room clearly not meant for tourists as I saw a parokhetv (the fabric cover in front of an ark) on display. I could see several other displays of Jewish life in Gdansk (I think), but the staff quickly ushered me out as the room was not yet ready for tourists. At least, unlike Poznan, they are actually doing something regarding Jewish history.
Tonight there should be a big crowd at the pubs watching the game between Poland and Germany. I asked the guide who was favored to win. He said that Germany had played in Dortmund stadium over a dozen times and never lost.
Monday, June 12, 2006
Tracing Jews/Jewish Traces (June 13)
I ended up going to Souix for dinner last night. They gave me an English-language menu but it wasn't that much help, as many of the dishes had cutesy but highly offensive descriptions (e.g. "red-skinned potatoes"). I went with the chopped "tomahawk" steak with onions, fries, and veggies. I was expecting something like salisbury steak, but it was different. It should have been beef, but it looked more like pork. It was crunchy, I think (hope) from all the cracked pepper and onions chopped into it. The veggies consisted of shredded carrot salad, shredded beet salad, and shredded cabbage in a vinegar sauce (basically coleslaw). The fries, at least, were crispy.
After dinner I went back to Jews street to look for more traces of the past. I knew that there was a second big synagogue in the area and I found it at the end of the block. It was a large 4-5 story building, that looked as if at one point it had stained glass windows. When I walked to the front I saw there was plaque in Polish and English reading "This building was built as a synagogue in 1907 and served as a house of worship until 1939." From what I could tell, it is currently being used as an athletic center (there were notices about singing up for aerobic dancing). Later, I passed a building with a plaque put up in 2002 that had Polish, Hebrew, English and German, about a 19th century scientist who had lived in the house and established a scholarly center in Poznan. No mention that he was Jewish, but one could assume that from the Hebrew.
I don't know why I should expect more. After all, the communists did little to commemorate the annihilation of Polish Jewry (even less after the openly antisemitic campaign of 1967 when the Jews were purged from the communist party). Anything that would be up would have to have gone up since 1990. It's just that the other cities I've gone to all had memorials for their destroyed Jewish communities.
I took the train to Gdansk. In 15 minutes, the train had left Poznan and I was again shocked at the enormous difference between urban and rural Poland. Poznan and Katowice were intensly urban environments, with little green, while the countryside is overwhelmingly, if not shockingly green. For hours, the train passed through green fields, rolling hills, occasional woods, and outbreaks of wildflowers, the most beautiful being the bright red poppies.
I shared the long train ride with a management student from Wroclaw (who heard he failed his semester exam just as we got into town), a girl on a trip home from Vienna, and a middle-aged couple from Belgium (I think). The student spoke English, French, and Polish; the girl spoke German and Polish; and the couple spoke French and Polish. It made for an interesting trip.
I really like Gdansk and prefer it to Poznan. Perhaps it's because it isn't as physically hot (though you feel it the instant you move into sunlight. It might be because the city so resembles Amsterdam or Brugge (only without as many canals). I think it's because I had my first good meals in Poland here. I stopped in a cafe on the main street this afternoon and ordered what I thought was cheesecake. What came were three silver-dollar sized pancakes, covered with sour cream and candied orange peel. At first I thought I got the wrong dish, but the waitress insisted it was. I tried it and it tasted a bit like blintzes. They were quite good.
After wandering through the town (the museums close early on Tuesday here), and just soaked in the town. After picking up a birthday present for my mom (since she reads this blog, I can't say exactly what I bought), I had a pretty good dinner at a restaurant specializing in pierogi. I got the traditional pierogi, which were filled with meat and covered with sauteed onions. I got the cucumber salad as a side, which was sliced cucumbers with sour cream dressing and dill. It all was pretty good, and far better than anything I ate in Poznan.
I picked up Monday's International Herald Tribune (it arrives a day late in Poland) and saw that Thursday is a holiday here. Turns out it's Corpus Christi and most stores and museums will be closed, so instead of spending that day at Malbork Castle, I've decided to go there tomorrow morning, and spend Thursday on the beach at Hel (assuming I can work out the transportation issues, but that's something I'll work on tomorrow).
After dinner I went back to Jews street to look for more traces of the past. I knew that there was a second big synagogue in the area and I found it at the end of the block. It was a large 4-5 story building, that looked as if at one point it had stained glass windows. When I walked to the front I saw there was plaque in Polish and English reading "This building was built as a synagogue in 1907 and served as a house of worship until 1939." From what I could tell, it is currently being used as an athletic center (there were notices about singing up for aerobic dancing). Later, I passed a building with a plaque put up in 2002 that had Polish, Hebrew, English and German, about a 19th century scientist who had lived in the house and established a scholarly center in Poznan. No mention that he was Jewish, but one could assume that from the Hebrew.
I don't know why I should expect more. After all, the communists did little to commemorate the annihilation of Polish Jewry (even less after the openly antisemitic campaign of 1967 when the Jews were purged from the communist party). Anything that would be up would have to have gone up since 1990. It's just that the other cities I've gone to all had memorials for their destroyed Jewish communities.
I took the train to Gdansk. In 15 minutes, the train had left Poznan and I was again shocked at the enormous difference between urban and rural Poland. Poznan and Katowice were intensly urban environments, with little green, while the countryside is overwhelmingly, if not shockingly green. For hours, the train passed through green fields, rolling hills, occasional woods, and outbreaks of wildflowers, the most beautiful being the bright red poppies.
I shared the long train ride with a management student from Wroclaw (who heard he failed his semester exam just as we got into town), a girl on a trip home from Vienna, and a middle-aged couple from Belgium (I think). The student spoke English, French, and Polish; the girl spoke German and Polish; and the couple spoke French and Polish. It made for an interesting trip.
I really like Gdansk and prefer it to Poznan. Perhaps it's because it isn't as physically hot (though you feel it the instant you move into sunlight. It might be because the city so resembles Amsterdam or Brugge (only without as many canals). I think it's because I had my first good meals in Poland here. I stopped in a cafe on the main street this afternoon and ordered what I thought was cheesecake. What came were three silver-dollar sized pancakes, covered with sour cream and candied orange peel. At first I thought I got the wrong dish, but the waitress insisted it was. I tried it and it tasted a bit like blintzes. They were quite good.
After wandering through the town (the museums close early on Tuesday here), and just soaked in the town. After picking up a birthday present for my mom (since she reads this blog, I can't say exactly what I bought), I had a pretty good dinner at a restaurant specializing in pierogi. I got the traditional pierogi, which were filled with meat and covered with sauteed onions. I got the cucumber salad as a side, which was sliced cucumbers with sour cream dressing and dill. It all was pretty good, and far better than anything I ate in Poznan.
I picked up Monday's International Herald Tribune (it arrives a day late in Poland) and saw that Thursday is a holiday here. Turns out it's Corpus Christi and most stores and museums will be closed, so instead of spending that day at Malbork Castle, I've decided to go there tomorrow morning, and spend Thursday on the beach at Hel (assuming I can work out the transportation issues, but that's something I'll work on tomorrow).
A Day in the Country (June 12) (part 2)
I decided to spend the afternoon doing some hiking in the Polish countryside. I grabbed a quick lunch at a restaurant across from the hotel called "Sphinx" (it looked sort of like a Polish version of Chili's) and then headed to the train station. I wanted to try going by tram, but all the routes have been changed from their versions on the map and I barely made my train.
I didn't want to schlep my guidebook, so I wrote out the directions for hiking and got off the train at the recommended station. Or so I thought. I bought some water and looked for the road I was supposed to take. No sign of it. So I just started walking towards the park. After about 15 minutes I reached a major intersection where an old woman was selling strawberries. I asked if her she could point the way to the Hotel Morena (one of the landmarks I needed to find). She pointed down the road.
I started walking. After a while I found a trail heading into the park marked with a red blaze. I knew the trail I wanted (marked with a blue blaze) would intersect the red trail at some point, so I started following it. Up into the hills I walked. After about 30 minutes I saw that I was approaching some houses in the distance and I could hear barking dogs (the bane of my existence as a hiker), so I decided to turn away. I came to a small town and was resigned to return when what should I find but the Hotel Morena. I turned around and started walking back up the hill, but now I turned left at the fork where I was supposed to and I finally found my blue blaze marked trail, just 1 hour after I started. I was off.
I was touring the Wielkopolska National Park, one of the only areas of protected landscape in the entire province. It was described as a post-glacial landscape of low moraines, gentle ridges, lakes, and pine forest. My plan was to follow the blue trail across the park until I reached Steszow, where I could catch a train back to Poznan. The catch: I only had two trains I could catch: the 16:42 or the 20:32, and after my one hour detour that only left 2 hours and 42 minutes to get to the station or I would have to wait there 4 hours for the next train.
As I walked along through the green fields the path began to descend through trees towards a small beautiful lake. Where I was surrounded by clouds of bugs. Why didn't I use the bug spray that I've been schlepping all over Europe just for this occasion? It was a question I asked myself frequently.
When I was swatting away gnats I was able to enjoy beautiful green hills. After the second lake, the trail emerged into fields. On my left were fields of green wheat, while on my right I saw fields of yellow mustard flowers. The path, really a road at this point, was lined with flowering trees that scented the air.
And what's that up ahead? Why more farm houses. And you know what that means, don't you? More farm dogs. By now I had picked up a large stick to bat them away if they came after me. Unfortunately, it was so flimsy that I think it would only have worked against a beagle, though one of those did bark menacingly at me.
As the trail wound on and on and began to worry that I would make my train. I picked up my pace, but as I left my map at home, I didn't have any sense of how far I still had to go. It seemed I had been walking forever, but with no signs, I had no idea if I were nearly there or still had hours to go. I decided that either this hike would turn out to have been a great decision or a terrible decision.
Finally, with 2o minutes to go, I reached the outskirts of Steszew. That still meant I had to find the train station, but 7 minutes later I was there. Good thing I made it on time. There was nothing nearby where I could have waited. No stores, no cafes, no restaurants, nothing.
Thankfully, the train came and 30 minutes later I was back in Poznan, and 15 minutes after that I was soaking in my tub at the hotel. I looked in my guidebook to see how I could have started out so wrong, and it turns out I got out at the wrong stop. Or perhaps it would be better to say that the stop marked "Mosina" was not the "Mosina" stop I needed, which was 2 kilometers further on down the tracks.
I haven't decided where to eat dinner tonight. There's a placed called Souix Cafe, which is quite garish and so I was tempted to see how perfectly tactless it could be (they've had Indian-style street performers out front yesterday, but I don't think they were hired by the restaurant, since I've seen them elsewhere.
Tomorrow I'm off to Gdansk, where I hope to swim in the Baltic.
I didn't want to schlep my guidebook, so I wrote out the directions for hiking and got off the train at the recommended station. Or so I thought. I bought some water and looked for the road I was supposed to take. No sign of it. So I just started walking towards the park. After about 15 minutes I reached a major intersection where an old woman was selling strawberries. I asked if her she could point the way to the Hotel Morena (one of the landmarks I needed to find). She pointed down the road.
I started walking. After a while I found a trail heading into the park marked with a red blaze. I knew the trail I wanted (marked with a blue blaze) would intersect the red trail at some point, so I started following it. Up into the hills I walked. After about 30 minutes I saw that I was approaching some houses in the distance and I could hear barking dogs (the bane of my existence as a hiker), so I decided to turn away. I came to a small town and was resigned to return when what should I find but the Hotel Morena. I turned around and started walking back up the hill, but now I turned left at the fork where I was supposed to and I finally found my blue blaze marked trail, just 1 hour after I started. I was off.
I was touring the Wielkopolska National Park, one of the only areas of protected landscape in the entire province. It was described as a post-glacial landscape of low moraines, gentle ridges, lakes, and pine forest. My plan was to follow the blue trail across the park until I reached Steszow, where I could catch a train back to Poznan. The catch: I only had two trains I could catch: the 16:42 or the 20:32, and after my one hour detour that only left 2 hours and 42 minutes to get to the station or I would have to wait there 4 hours for the next train.
As I walked along through the green fields the path began to descend through trees towards a small beautiful lake. Where I was surrounded by clouds of bugs. Why didn't I use the bug spray that I've been schlepping all over Europe just for this occasion? It was a question I asked myself frequently.
When I was swatting away gnats I was able to enjoy beautiful green hills. After the second lake, the trail emerged into fields. On my left were fields of green wheat, while on my right I saw fields of yellow mustard flowers. The path, really a road at this point, was lined with flowering trees that scented the air.
And what's that up ahead? Why more farm houses. And you know what that means, don't you? More farm dogs. By now I had picked up a large stick to bat them away if they came after me. Unfortunately, it was so flimsy that I think it would only have worked against a beagle, though one of those did bark menacingly at me.
As the trail wound on and on and began to worry that I would make my train. I picked up my pace, but as I left my map at home, I didn't have any sense of how far I still had to go. It seemed I had been walking forever, but with no signs, I had no idea if I were nearly there or still had hours to go. I decided that either this hike would turn out to have been a great decision or a terrible decision.
Finally, with 2o minutes to go, I reached the outskirts of Steszew. That still meant I had to find the train station, but 7 minutes later I was there. Good thing I made it on time. There was nothing nearby where I could have waited. No stores, no cafes, no restaurants, nothing.
Thankfully, the train came and 30 minutes later I was back in Poznan, and 15 minutes after that I was soaking in my tub at the hotel. I looked in my guidebook to see how I could have started out so wrong, and it turns out I got out at the wrong stop. Or perhaps it would be better to say that the stop marked "Mosina" was not the "Mosina" stop I needed, which was 2 kilometers further on down the tracks.
I haven't decided where to eat dinner tonight. There's a placed called Souix Cafe, which is quite garish and so I was tempted to see how perfectly tactless it could be (they've had Indian-style street performers out front yesterday, but I don't think they were hired by the restaurant, since I've seen them elsewhere.
Tomorrow I'm off to Gdansk, where I hope to swim in the Baltic.
Polish Food (June 12) (part 1)
I went to a restaurant last night that is supposed to prepare high quality Polish dishes. I ordered barszcz (borscht) and a beef roulade with frytky (fries). The borscht was good. It was warm and the beets gave it a rather sweet taste, but the base was clearly some kind of meat stock, which gave it a rather salty taste. The beef was overcooked, so that the burnt parts were dried out. I had been expecting more of thin steak sort of dish, but its texture was more like sausage or hamburger. It was rather salty and so I finished my soda water very quickly and ordered a fanta. On the plus side, the fries were nice and crispy.
Earlier, in the Stary Rynek (the main square), I got a warm waffle from a stand and had them put whipped cream and cherry sauce on it, so I felt I didn't really need a dessert after that. Instead, I ordered a Wisnioc (I know I'm misspelling it). It's basially a cherry-flavored vodka. I had heard from family members that my grandmother used to make a version of it called vishnitz, and my attempts to duplicate it were usually (charitably) described by friends as tasting like cough syrup. This was good, almost light, though quite strong, when it came to the alcohol content.
This morning I ordered the (al)most vegeterian option for breakfast. From its description, it was the only meatless option, with three types of cheese, rolls, bread, tea, jam and butter, and a tomato and cucumber salad. However, one of the cheese (the soft spreadable triangle-type cheese) was actually salami flavored. Who knew? The slice cheese tasted like Monterey Jack and I did't care for the "cream cheese" (probably hoop or farmer cheese). The tomatoes were pretty good, though.
I toured the Ratusz (town hall) this morning. It has the history of Poznan from medieval times to pre-WWI. I kept looking for traces of the Jewish community, but only found a few old postcards showing either a synagogue or the Jewish community hospital. No indications that Poznan had one of the oldest and most important Jewish communities in Poland in the late medieval and renaissance period, or that there was an important yeshiva here. No mention of Jews at all, though I was fortunate to find a German map of the city from 1900 that showed where the synagogue was.
I left the museum and headed down Zdowska St. (Jews Street) and turned on to the block where the synagogue should have been. Instead, however, there is just a hole. The site of the former synagogue is an empty lot surrounded on all sides by a 6-foot high metal fence, so that literally one can see the absence of the former Jewish community. No plaques or memorials. Nothing to indicate what once stood here.
Earlier, in the Stary Rynek (the main square), I got a warm waffle from a stand and had them put whipped cream and cherry sauce on it, so I felt I didn't really need a dessert after that. Instead, I ordered a Wisnioc (I know I'm misspelling it). It's basially a cherry-flavored vodka. I had heard from family members that my grandmother used to make a version of it called vishnitz, and my attempts to duplicate it were usually (charitably) described by friends as tasting like cough syrup. This was good, almost light, though quite strong, when it came to the alcohol content.
This morning I ordered the (al)most vegeterian option for breakfast. From its description, it was the only meatless option, with three types of cheese, rolls, bread, tea, jam and butter, and a tomato and cucumber salad. However, one of the cheese (the soft spreadable triangle-type cheese) was actually salami flavored. Who knew? The slice cheese tasted like Monterey Jack and I did't care for the "cream cheese" (probably hoop or farmer cheese). The tomatoes were pretty good, though.
I toured the Ratusz (town hall) this morning. It has the history of Poznan from medieval times to pre-WWI. I kept looking for traces of the Jewish community, but only found a few old postcards showing either a synagogue or the Jewish community hospital. No indications that Poznan had one of the oldest and most important Jewish communities in Poland in the late medieval and renaissance period, or that there was an important yeshiva here. No mention of Jews at all, though I was fortunate to find a German map of the city from 1900 that showed where the synagogue was.
I left the museum and headed down Zdowska St. (Jews Street) and turned on to the block where the synagogue should have been. Instead, however, there is just a hole. The site of the former synagogue is an empty lot surrounded on all sides by a 6-foot high metal fence, so that literally one can see the absence of the former Jewish community. No plaques or memorials. Nothing to indicate what once stood here.
Sunday, June 11, 2006
Fair Day in Poznan (June 11)
I've been in Poland for almost 24 hours now, but I don't have any firm impressions yet. Mostly I'm trying to keep from imposing my own expectation on what I experience. Such as looking for traces of a lost Jewish community. I don't mean traces from the community that was; rather, I mean, the effect of not having a Jewish community. Sort of an update on Hugo Bettauer's The City Without Jews, only setting it now in Poland.
Katowice was a rather depressed and depressing city. The central core where my hotel was located was basically deserted. I walked back to the train station to use the internet and bought a hamburger from a vendor (I won't go to McDonald's). She microwaved, slathered with some yellow mustard/mayonaisse substance, glopped on what looked like kimchi, and handed to me. I took three bites and threw it away. I ended up making a meal from a packaged turkey sandwich from a neighborhood shop, along with a bag of chips, an apple, and half a liter of beer (the preferred drinking size, apparently), and watched The Dirty Dozen on my hotel room tv.
The hotel was serviceable and the facilities reminded me of institutional Israeli (not a compliment). Today I woke up early, skipped the hotel breakfast, and caught the 7:23 train to Poznan (which arrived at 12:12). My hotel was about a 20 minute walk from the train station (there are trams, but I didn't know where to by the ticket), and is nicer. From the outside, it still looked a tad Stalinish, but inside it was quite nice. There's a real tub, the toilet is firmly attached to the ground, the carpet is a nice color, etc.
Walking to the Stary Miasto (old town square), I decided to stop for lunch at a cafeteria that seemed to be quite popular. Not knowing the English equivalents for most of the food on the menu, I stuck to the schnitzel with fries and coleslaw (actually, it was something like "kotlet schabowa," "frytki," and something with too many letters to remember). It wasn't bad.
Then I headed into the main square. I had thought I had planned my timing poorly, since almost all the museums in town will be closed tomorrow, but it turns out I didn't do that poorly after all. Today there was a major fair here in Poznan, and the central square was full of shops selling trinkets, toys, swap meet and flea market items, etc.
I toured the archaeological museum. It was ok. No English, but the dioramas on ancient stone age life were pretty self-explanatory. The I went to the National Museum, which houses their art collection. Parts of it weren't bad. They have a decent collection of Dutch renaissance paintings, and some interesting Polish art nouveau pieces. The best stuff, in my opinion, was their small collection of paintings from the 1920s-1940s.
The painting that struck me the most was one done in 1944 called "Jewish Woman." I thought a lot about why the artist might have painted it during the Holocaust. Was this a woman he knew and wanted to depict her suffering? Was it a woman he had known and wanted to memorialize? Was it an attempt to depict a species becoming extinct for future generations? There's no way to know from just the painting itself, but her sad eyes lingered on me.
Tomorrow, I'm going to try to spend the afternoon in a national park nearby doing some hiking. The weather is so warm, I should have worn shorts today.
Katowice was a rather depressed and depressing city. The central core where my hotel was located was basically deserted. I walked back to the train station to use the internet and bought a hamburger from a vendor (I won't go to McDonald's). She microwaved, slathered with some yellow mustard/mayonaisse substance, glopped on what looked like kimchi, and handed to me. I took three bites and threw it away. I ended up making a meal from a packaged turkey sandwich from a neighborhood shop, along with a bag of chips, an apple, and half a liter of beer (the preferred drinking size, apparently), and watched The Dirty Dozen on my hotel room tv.
The hotel was serviceable and the facilities reminded me of institutional Israeli (not a compliment). Today I woke up early, skipped the hotel breakfast, and caught the 7:23 train to Poznan (which arrived at 12:12). My hotel was about a 20 minute walk from the train station (there are trams, but I didn't know where to by the ticket), and is nicer. From the outside, it still looked a tad Stalinish, but inside it was quite nice. There's a real tub, the toilet is firmly attached to the ground, the carpet is a nice color, etc.
Walking to the Stary Miasto (old town square), I decided to stop for lunch at a cafeteria that seemed to be quite popular. Not knowing the English equivalents for most of the food on the menu, I stuck to the schnitzel with fries and coleslaw (actually, it was something like "kotlet schabowa," "frytki," and something with too many letters to remember). It wasn't bad.
Then I headed into the main square. I had thought I had planned my timing poorly, since almost all the museums in town will be closed tomorrow, but it turns out I didn't do that poorly after all. Today there was a major fair here in Poznan, and the central square was full of shops selling trinkets, toys, swap meet and flea market items, etc.
I toured the archaeological museum. It was ok. No English, but the dioramas on ancient stone age life were pretty self-explanatory. The I went to the National Museum, which houses their art collection. Parts of it weren't bad. They have a decent collection of Dutch renaissance paintings, and some interesting Polish art nouveau pieces. The best stuff, in my opinion, was their small collection of paintings from the 1920s-1940s.
The painting that struck me the most was one done in 1944 called "Jewish Woman." I thought a lot about why the artist might have painted it during the Holocaust. Was this a woman he knew and wanted to depict her suffering? Was it a woman he had known and wanted to memorialize? Was it an attempt to depict a species becoming extinct for future generations? There's no way to know from just the painting itself, but her sad eyes lingered on me.
Tomorrow, I'm going to try to spend the afternoon in a national park nearby doing some hiking. The weather is so warm, I should have worn shorts today.
Saturday, June 10, 2006
Safely in Poland (June 10)
After such a nice day, I knew the good weather couldn't last. Sure enough, it rained and drizzled this morning.
No problem. Today was a travel day. After breakfast I headed to the train station, bought some food for the journey, and caught my first train.
Once we were out of the Budapest area, the weather cleared up, and by the time we reached Vac (pronounced "Votz"), we had beautiful views of the "Danube bend," where the Danube passes through hills and then finally turns south. As we pass by Visegrad, we had a great view of the ruined castle on top of the hill.
From there it was through Slovakia to the Czech border where I had a two hour wait for my next train. This time I shared the compartment at first with two women making very long journeys. One was a Polish woman heading to the Baltic coast. The other was a German woman from Mainz who was traveling to the Polish border to visit her father's grave on the one year anniversary of his death. The second woman was rather fearful. She was afraid of Budapest, and so had never gone (I could never figure out why she was afraid). She was afraid of Prague, apparently in part because no one there spoke German. She was making this very long train trip because she was afraid to fly.
We were later joined by an elderly man who spoke both German and Czech. I had trouble following the entire discussion between him and the German woman, but it had something to do with how after WWI, the region changed from Austrian to Czech and he either had to or was forbidden from (I'm not sure which) speak German in the school. The German woman kept saying that she was born after the war, while the Czech man kept saying how all the lands between the Elbe and Sar (I think) were Slavic.
After he left, she complained to me how he his discussions of the past had bothered her and how she was born after the war. Her father was from Silesia and fought in the German army during WWII, was captured by the British, and held as a POW. After the war, he could not return to Silesia, since this was now Poland, but he always felt it was his homeland and wanted to be buried there. As it happens, he died there last year on holiday and was buried there, much to his daughter's disappointment, since she has to make this terrible trip now, just to visit him.
15 minutes before the stop she got ready to go. We told her she had plenty of time, since we would be at the station for 15 minutes for passport control, but she was afraid she would miss the stop.
After she left, it was a much calmer trip. The views of southern Poland are beautiful: all green fields and small woods.
Katowice, where I am tonight, is basically a depressed industrial city. Think Thatcherite England, only with no beautiful laundrettes to live things up. Tomorrow I head north to Poznan.
No problem. Today was a travel day. After breakfast I headed to the train station, bought some food for the journey, and caught my first train.
Once we were out of the Budapest area, the weather cleared up, and by the time we reached Vac (pronounced "Votz"), we had beautiful views of the "Danube bend," where the Danube passes through hills and then finally turns south. As we pass by Visegrad, we had a great view of the ruined castle on top of the hill.
From there it was through Slovakia to the Czech border where I had a two hour wait for my next train. This time I shared the compartment at first with two women making very long journeys. One was a Polish woman heading to the Baltic coast. The other was a German woman from Mainz who was traveling to the Polish border to visit her father's grave on the one year anniversary of his death. The second woman was rather fearful. She was afraid of Budapest, and so had never gone (I could never figure out why she was afraid). She was afraid of Prague, apparently in part because no one there spoke German. She was making this very long train trip because she was afraid to fly.
We were later joined by an elderly man who spoke both German and Czech. I had trouble following the entire discussion between him and the German woman, but it had something to do with how after WWI, the region changed from Austrian to Czech and he either had to or was forbidden from (I'm not sure which) speak German in the school. The German woman kept saying that she was born after the war, while the Czech man kept saying how all the lands between the Elbe and Sar (I think) were Slavic.
After he left, she complained to me how he his discussions of the past had bothered her and how she was born after the war. Her father was from Silesia and fought in the German army during WWII, was captured by the British, and held as a POW. After the war, he could not return to Silesia, since this was now Poland, but he always felt it was his homeland and wanted to be buried there. As it happens, he died there last year on holiday and was buried there, much to his daughter's disappointment, since she has to make this terrible trip now, just to visit him.
15 minutes before the stop she got ready to go. We told her she had plenty of time, since we would be at the station for 15 minutes for passport control, but she was afraid she would miss the stop.
After she left, it was a much calmer trip. The views of southern Poland are beautiful: all green fields and small woods.
Katowice, where I am tonight, is basically a depressed industrial city. Think Thatcherite England, only with no beautiful laundrettes to live things up. Tomorrow I head north to Poznan.
Friday, June 09, 2006
A Perfect Ending to a Perfect Day
Ok, this post will probably be only of interest to those of you who love food and melodramatic music.
So, I went back to Bagolyvár for one last dinner in Budapest. As I intended, I ordered the menu, and a glass of rose.
The couvert is a ring of rolls: sesame, poppyseed, and caraway. The butter has chopped onions and paprika blended in.The soup was the sour cherry soup I had yesterday. There's definitely heavy cream blended into the soup, along with a big dollop on top. At first I thought there was also cloves in the soup, but I'm pretty sure it's allspice.
The main course was turkey breast "parisian style." That meant it was sliced in two, pounded flat, dipped in egg, and then sautéed. It was accompanied by fluffy rice pilaf that had chopped mushrooms blended in.
The dessert was different from what I expected. The menu said "warm applecake with whipped cream;" what came was something else almost entirely. It's probably easiest to describe in layers, beginning at the bottom and working up.
The base was a 1 inch tall slice of cinnamon or spice cake. On top of it were thin slices of baked apples and raisins. Then there was a half inch of meringue. The top of it was crispy and I think there was shredded coconut in it (or the coconut was on top of the apple layer). The entire cake was then dusted in powdered sugar with caramel sauce garnish. It was unusual but quite good. I have no idea how they baked that all together.
The final touch, however, came from the live musician. He was playing this instrument that seems to be a cross between a piano and a xylophone. It is about the size of a medium harpsichord and the musician strikes it with these two funny-shaped felt-covered hammers.
At first he was just playing an odd medley of songs. Some I recognized as from "Fiddler on the Roof," others it was hard to tell (the instrument was badly out of tune). Then, as I was waiting for the bill to arrive, he began to play a tune I immediately recognized as "Gloomy Sunday."
This was a famous song composed in Budapest at the problematic restaurant I ate at two nights ago. It was also a major melodic and plot theme in the film of the same name that my cousin Ruth and I saw almost two years ago and which we screened at the Long Beach Jewish Film Festival (and still not available on DVD).
Filmed on location (in Buda, I think), the film involves a complicated love triangle between a Jewish restaurant owner, his beautiful waitress, and the struggling pianist who composes the song for her. All of this gets even more complicated when a young German businessman falls in love with the waitress as well.
So sure enough, I finally heard this famous Budapest melody just as I was getting ready to go. It really was the perfect way to end this trip to Budapest.
So, I went back to Bagolyvár for one last dinner in Budapest. As I intended, I ordered the menu, and a glass of rose.
The couvert is a ring of rolls: sesame, poppyseed, and caraway. The butter has chopped onions and paprika blended in.The soup was the sour cherry soup I had yesterday. There's definitely heavy cream blended into the soup, along with a big dollop on top. At first I thought there was also cloves in the soup, but I'm pretty sure it's allspice.
The main course was turkey breast "parisian style." That meant it was sliced in two, pounded flat, dipped in egg, and then sautéed. It was accompanied by fluffy rice pilaf that had chopped mushrooms blended in.
The dessert was different from what I expected. The menu said "warm applecake with whipped cream;" what came was something else almost entirely. It's probably easiest to describe in layers, beginning at the bottom and working up.
The base was a 1 inch tall slice of cinnamon or spice cake. On top of it were thin slices of baked apples and raisins. Then there was a half inch of meringue. The top of it was crispy and I think there was shredded coconut in it (or the coconut was on top of the apple layer). The entire cake was then dusted in powdered sugar with caramel sauce garnish. It was unusual but quite good. I have no idea how they baked that all together.
The final touch, however, came from the live musician. He was playing this instrument that seems to be a cross between a piano and a xylophone. It is about the size of a medium harpsichord and the musician strikes it with these two funny-shaped felt-covered hammers.
At first he was just playing an odd medley of songs. Some I recognized as from "Fiddler on the Roof," others it was hard to tell (the instrument was badly out of tune). Then, as I was waiting for the bill to arrive, he began to play a tune I immediately recognized as "Gloomy Sunday."
This was a famous song composed in Budapest at the problematic restaurant I ate at two nights ago. It was also a major melodic and plot theme in the film of the same name that my cousin Ruth and I saw almost two years ago and which we screened at the Long Beach Jewish Film Festival (and still not available on DVD).
Filmed on location (in Buda, I think), the film involves a complicated love triangle between a Jewish restaurant owner, his beautiful waitress, and the struggling pianist who composes the song for her. All of this gets even more complicated when a young German businessman falls in love with the waitress as well.
So sure enough, I finally heard this famous Budapest melody just as I was getting ready to go. It really was the perfect way to end this trip to Budapest.
A Perfect Day (June 9th)
Well, so far, today has been a perfect day.
I woke up to clear skies. After breakfast, I headed over to the train station to buy my ticket for tomorrow, when I leave Budapest for Poland. It will be a very long train ride: 8 hours (nearly two hours for the change of trains in the Czech Republic) and I should reach Katowice by 19:25.
With that settled, I headed over to Buda to catch the regional train to the town of Szentendre, a small town about 45 minutes up the Danube. Szentendre was settled in the late 17th or early 18th century by Serbian refugees, who created a little bit of the Balkans in Hungary. The journey by train was pleasant, with the lush green countryside interspersed with suburban growth.
Szentendre is very much a tourist town. They have both a wine museum and a marzipan museum, both of which, you will not be surprised to learn, end in the sales shop. I visited two of the Serbian churches in the town. The one of the main square was sort of small, but as soon as the Spanish tour group left, the attendent hit the tape, and the church was filled with the sound of the Serbian mass.
I walked down the cobblestone streets past shop after shop hawking lace, embroidery, paprika, porcelain, crystal, etc. I found the harbor and the schedule for boats back to Budapest. My only disappointment was that my only choices for taking a boat back to Budapest were at 12:00 and 17:00. The former only gave me about 2 hours in town, and not enough time to eat lunch there, but I knew there wasn't enough to keep me engaged in the town until 5pm. I bought a ticket and then headed up to the main cathedral. This baroque structure is where the Serbian bishop sits for mass.
After buying some marzipan and then a salami sandwich for the boat, I boarded a little before noon. The ride back was perfect. It was warm, sunny, and breezy. I sat on the upper deck with my jacket off, just enjoying the green countryside that was slowly passing by. There were the ocassional fishermen, kayakers, and speed boats, but it mostly was just quiet. I had thought the voyage back would be 2 hours, but it only took half that time (and only 15 minutes longer than the train). And the cost was a steal at 1150 forint (about $6, and only $3 more than taking the regional train.
We had great views of the city as we came in. The white neo-gothic confection that is the Hungarian parliament stood prominently against the rushing, nearly overflowing Danube. Gorgeous views of the Castle Hill and the various bridges over the Danube.
Back in Pest, I took care of some financial matters to make sure I have enough Polish złotys to handle any matter that might arise before the banks open on Monday. Then I headed up to Bagolyvár to make reservations for dinner. The menu today is cold sour cherry soup, some sort of meat dish (I think it's turkey), and warm apple cake with whipped cream. It's so typical thatI can remember the soup and dessert, but not the main course. Then I headed back to Gerbeaud for one last pastry (strawberry torte) and tea on the square.
Now, I'm going back to the hotel to get my things together before I leave tomorrow. I wish I could have gone to the spas one more time, but I'm pretty sure my bathing suit wouldn't dry by the time I would need to pack it tomorrow.
As I mentioned above, I will be on the train for most of tomorrow and then again Sunday morning, as I continue on to Poznan. I don't know when I will be able to post to this blog again, but probably not before Sunday (at the earliest).
I woke up to clear skies. After breakfast, I headed over to the train station to buy my ticket for tomorrow, when I leave Budapest for Poland. It will be a very long train ride: 8 hours (nearly two hours for the change of trains in the Czech Republic) and I should reach Katowice by 19:25.
With that settled, I headed over to Buda to catch the regional train to the town of Szentendre, a small town about 45 minutes up the Danube. Szentendre was settled in the late 17th or early 18th century by Serbian refugees, who created a little bit of the Balkans in Hungary. The journey by train was pleasant, with the lush green countryside interspersed with suburban growth.
Szentendre is very much a tourist town. They have both a wine museum and a marzipan museum, both of which, you will not be surprised to learn, end in the sales shop. I visited two of the Serbian churches in the town. The one of the main square was sort of small, but as soon as the Spanish tour group left, the attendent hit the tape, and the church was filled with the sound of the Serbian mass.
I walked down the cobblestone streets past shop after shop hawking lace, embroidery, paprika, porcelain, crystal, etc. I found the harbor and the schedule for boats back to Budapest. My only disappointment was that my only choices for taking a boat back to Budapest were at 12:00 and 17:00. The former only gave me about 2 hours in town, and not enough time to eat lunch there, but I knew there wasn't enough to keep me engaged in the town until 5pm. I bought a ticket and then headed up to the main cathedral. This baroque structure is where the Serbian bishop sits for mass.
After buying some marzipan and then a salami sandwich for the boat, I boarded a little before noon. The ride back was perfect. It was warm, sunny, and breezy. I sat on the upper deck with my jacket off, just enjoying the green countryside that was slowly passing by. There were the ocassional fishermen, kayakers, and speed boats, but it mostly was just quiet. I had thought the voyage back would be 2 hours, but it only took half that time (and only 15 minutes longer than the train). And the cost was a steal at 1150 forint (about $6, and only $3 more than taking the regional train.
We had great views of the city as we came in. The white neo-gothic confection that is the Hungarian parliament stood prominently against the rushing, nearly overflowing Danube. Gorgeous views of the Castle Hill and the various bridges over the Danube.
Back in Pest, I took care of some financial matters to make sure I have enough Polish złotys to handle any matter that might arise before the banks open on Monday. Then I headed up to Bagolyvár to make reservations for dinner. The menu today is cold sour cherry soup, some sort of meat dish (I think it's turkey), and warm apple cake with whipped cream. It's so typical thatI can remember the soup and dessert, but not the main course. Then I headed back to Gerbeaud for one last pastry (strawberry torte) and tea on the square.
Now, I'm going back to the hotel to get my things together before I leave tomorrow. I wish I could have gone to the spas one more time, but I'm pretty sure my bathing suit wouldn't dry by the time I would need to pack it tomorrow.
As I mentioned above, I will be on the train for most of tomorrow and then again Sunday morning, as I continue on to Poznan. I don't know when I will be able to post to this blog again, but probably not before Sunday (at the earliest).
Gloomy (Thursday) (June 8th)
Well, now I know why the famous 1930s song that supposedly inspired so many suicides was composed in the restaurant I ate at last night. It wasn't the Great Depression or the rise of fascism; it wasn't the food or the ambience; it was the lousy service.
I got to the restaurant Kulács (near the Blaha lujza tér subway station) around 8:40 and the place was full. The maitre d' told me it would be a 5-10 minute wait, so I sat in the bar and ordered a bottle of sparkling water. And read the local magazine guide. And the back of my map. And the articles in the guide that I skipped the first time around. Then around 9pm, the maitre d' came back to tell me they were paying the bill and it would only be a minute. I went back to reading (again) the brief history of Budapest and Hungary on the map. Then rereading the more interesting articles in the magazine guide. Then looking at my watch. Finally, at 9:30, I was led to a table and seated.
By my waiting didn't end. No one bothered to give me a menu. After 5-10 minutes I motioned to a waiter that I would like a menu. Three minutes later he got it for me (with apologies). I got ready to order, but my first choice -- the goose -- wasn't available. I don't know what I ordered but I'm pretty sure it was pork.
Then I waited for my meal. And waited. And waited. I drank my wine. I listened to the live Roma musicians. The meal came. It was quite good, with the paprika not overwhelming the meat, the potato wedges nice and crispy, and the mixed side salad rather interesting. It was shredded cabbage with tomato and cucumber, with the dressing a sort of sweet-sour marinade. Quite tasty actually.
After finishing my meal I waited to order dessert. I ended up waiting 15 minutes before I was able to get my waiter's attention. My choices were limited so I ordered the apple strudel. It was ok. Then I waited to get the bill. After a few minutes I spotted my waiter and asked for the bill. I swear to God, it took over 10 minutes for the bill to arrive. I quickly paid and left.
In some restaurants service is included in others it isn't. This restaurant did not include service, so I gave them only 11%. The food was quite good, and I know that most restaurants split the tip among various employees, many of whom were probably doing their job.
I was just able to catch the last metro train back to my hotel (11:39 pm).
This morning I headed up to the Museum of Fine Arts for their Titian exhibit. This museum houses Budapest's collection of non-Hungarian artists. They have a special exhibition for the first two weeks of June on Renaissance portraiture during the first half of the 16th century. Only about a dozen paintings in the exhibit, but they got some nice ones, beginning was a very interesting Dürer. The centerpiece, however, was a special loan from the Pitti Palace in Florence of Titian's portrait of "The Young Man with Blue-Green Eyes" (at least that's how it's known in Hungary).
The exhibit was a little gem and both well-signed and enjoyable.
The rest of the museum was ok. They have some nice pieces in their fin-de siécle section, and some good northern renaissance paintings. The baroque room, however, was entirely forgettable. Afterwards, I walked through the park again and checked out the zoo. From what I could see, the elephant house is shaped like a Turkish mosque. Talk about orientalizing!
At noon, I went back to Bagolyvár. The weather was beautiful today, so I was seated outside on the back terrace. This time I ordered the cold cherry soup to start and then a roulade of river carp with almonds and porcini mushrooms, accompanied by rice soufflé and grilled zucchini in something called a wine sauce. The soup was yummy and had a big dollop of either unsweetened cream or sweetened créme fraiche in it. The fish was light and delicious. For dessert, my choice was between something called "layered noodles," or "sweetened walnut or poppyseed noodles." I went with the layered noodles.
It turned out to be kugel. Actually, a warm red and green grape kugel dusted with powdered sugar and accompanied by some lightly whipped cream. It was delicious. The entire meal came to only 5250 forint (at that was because I added an extra 250 above and beyond the 15% service). That works out to about $26. A steal if you ask me.
Afterwards, I decided to visit the Museum of the House of Terror. This was the building first used by the Arrow Cross and later by the Hungarian Communists to arrest, torture, imprison, and execute prisoners. It made an interesting contrast with the Holocaust museum I saw yesterday.
Unlike the Holocaust museum, the House of Terror was anything but subtle. To give but one example, as you wait in line to buy your ticket, there's a continuously looping video of a Hungarian man weeping while asking "Why? Why did they have to kill them? Why dfd they have to die?" I think I saw three times through while waiting in (a very short) line.
It was clear from the beginning that the target audience for this exhibit is almost exclusively Hungarian. None of the exhibits are signed in any language other than Hungarian (unlike at the Holocaust museum which was bilingual). At the doorway to each room was a handout in English (I found out from some Americans that if you get the audio guide you just hear a woman reading the handout to you).
The sound effects and layout is reminiscent in its lack of subtlety to the Museum of Tolerance in LA. I found the entire museum distancing and alienating. Far from drawing me in to the tragedy of Hungary during the last 60 years it had the opposite effect and left me rather cold.
Once I left the museum I went back to my hotel, grabbed my swimsuit, and headed across the Danube to the Gellert. This is the most prestigious (and expensive) spa in Budapest. That means that it cost me a grand total of $12 to use it.
They use the same odd system as the City Spa I used earlier. You get a time card when you enter and then a refund of some of your money if you leave before 3 hours are up. As in all the spas, the attendent opens the cabin or locker and then locks up behind you giving you a token to get back in (not a key, mind you, you still need the attendent to open the door each time and then lock up behind you).
At the City Spa, the exterior pool is rather elaborately decorated, while the indoor pools are communist-era utilitarian. At the Király, the walls and ceiling are dark, lit by small turkish-era windows in the dome. At the Gellert, both the main co-ed pools and the mens' pools are elaborately decorated in blue tile and art deco designs. The co-ed pool is the most elaborate with beige columns and a retractable sky light so you can swim while looking up and blue sky.
All in all, I have to say the city spa is the best deal. Not only is it the cheapest, but you get far more options when it comes to pool and sauna temperatures.
Afterwards, I headed up to northern Buda to track down some small patches of the Turkish era. I trudged up cobble-stoned Gül Baba utca to see the tomb of this favorite of Suliman. Then I walked across the Margit Bridge in the late afternoon sunlight.
I had dinner at Premier, a terrace restaurant on Andrássy utca. I ordered a half liter of draft beer and the veal roulade. Even though the roulade came with paprika sauce (and the required dollop of sour cream), the dill and goat cheese in the semolina gnocci more than countered it.
I skipped dessert to head back to Gerbaud's where I ordered the Dobos Torte. This is another one of those obligatory tortes, like the Sacher Torte, that in the end I don't quite care for. It is made with about 7 layers of very thin, very dry cake, separated by layers of dark and milk chocolate ganache. In the end, it was a little too dry for my tastes, but again, if you don't try, you never find out.
Now it's back to my hotel to rest up for tomorrow.
Wednesday, June 07, 2006
Going to Extremes (July 7)
Today really has been a day of extremes for me.
I decided to spend the morning on the top of Buda Hill. It was bright and partly cloudy, and I took the bus across the Chain Bridge to the foot of the Castle Hill. From there it was one short funicular ride to the top and some amazing views. The Danube is really high. Because of all the rain, the water is lapping over the top onto the street that runs along its Buda bank. There are bits of wood and branches floating in it as well.
The view from the Castle is gorgeous. I had plenty of time to enjoy it since I got there at 9 and the National Art Gallery didn't open until 10. I wandered about the Castle, enjoying the various views of Pest, the Danube, the Citadella (which I thought by the look of it from a distance was some socialist-realist sculpture but apparently is of St. Gellert - I hope to get a closer look at tomorrow when I go to the Gellert Spa). Eventually I wandered towards Matthias Church and the Fisherman's Bastion. I have no idea what a "bastion" is or why it's dedicated to fishermen, but it really looks like someone lifted it from an idea Walt Disney had for Sleeping Beauty's Castle.
Next to is the oldest church in Buda. It' s supposed to be a historical landmark, but I wasn't particularly impressed. The church was restored in the 19th century to full Victorian-era (I suppose I should call it Franz-Josef era) glory. I did, however, spot a place for dessert just around the corner that I decided to visit later.
Anyway, I went back to the National Gallery to see their special exhibit on Hungarian fauvists. These works have never been exhibited before as a group and it was a real treat to see them. I've always like fauvist art and they had many interesting pieces. I really enjoyed it. I skipped past the Baroque section and the 19th century stuff was mostly pieces that would fit right in at the Getty (not a compliment). They had some nice 20th century Expressionists pieces, however, as well as some Secessionist-influenced works as well.
I decided to have a light lunch in the museum café since I was planning a heavy dessert. For that I went back up to Matthias Church to go to Ruszwurm Cukrászda, the oldest pastry shop in Budapest (you can see pictures of the café and of their wares at http://www.ruszwurm.hu/m_menu.html ). They don't show, however, the dessert I ordered: I got the rigo janscí along with the Ruszwurm Kavé. I should describe both.
The rigo janscí is a chocolate dessert that is made of layers. Going from top to bottom: light chocolate ganache, dark chocolate ganache, a thin (think 1 cm) layer of chocolate cake, a thick (think 2 inches) layer of chocolate mousse, and one more thin layer of chocolate cake on the bottom. It was terrific.
The Ruszwurm Kavé, is of course coffee, but with cherry brandy, cream, chocolate, schlagobers (whipped cream), and finally chocolate sauce. I didn't bother to add any sugar, and it's (relatively slight) bitterness made a nice contrast with the rigo janscí.
When I walked out of the cafe, however, I was surprised how quickly the weather had changed. Instead of sun, it had started to rain. I caught a bus down the hill and went to the Holocaust museum. This was a radical change in mood. Nonetheless, it was an extraordinary museum and I strongly recommend it.
The entrance is stone and glass walls, but the walls are askew, as if to imply a world not right, not well ordered. The museum is laid out over a series of rooms, not so much in chronological order as in order of intensifying persecution. The primary subjects of the persecution described in the museum are those of the Jews and the Roma (known colloquially as "gypsies").
The first room is dedicated to showing Jewish and Roma life before the war. The music in the background is from a Jewish wedding and we are introduced to several families, mostly Jewish, but one Roma), which we follow from room to room.
As we walk from the introduction room to the room describing the loss of rights, the floor suddenly slopes down with no warning. The visitor is thrown off balance and has trouble regaining it as the entire room is on a slope, heading down hill as more and more rights are taken away. The entire effect is to disorient the visitor, to make him/her feel unsure, unsteady, not knowing what to expect.
From there, the course of rooms is what you would expect: expropriation of property, loss of freedoms, loss of dignity, deportions, and finally death. The displays are tasteful, though still shocking, and I found myself close to tears on several occasions. The museum also clarified for me the confusing course of events in Hungary from March 1944, when the Germans occupied the country until January 1945 when the Russians liberated it.
In the last primary room of the exhibit, the visitor is again disturbed by the surroundings. This is the room dealing with survivors and one hears three sets of conflicting sounds. First, there are the sounds coming from the video on the liberation of the camps; then there are the sounds from the first room, the sounds of the Jewish wedding, which we hear as an echo of what was lost and destroyed; finally we hear sounds coming from the memorial room, a prayer melody. All three of these clash, yet combine into a disjointed experience of loss, pain, and mourning.
From the exhibit the visitor proceeds to the synagogue. Built in the 1920s for the local community, it was recently and beautifuly restored. Above the ark, the words (in Hebrew) read: "You will hear the plea from servant and your people Israel." Such words in this context (which I assume were original) ring hollow and accusatory. The room is filled with a wordless singing of a Jewish melody.
All in all, I have to say this was one of the better Holocaust museums I've been to, and of course the so-called "Museum of Tolerance" in LA looks even more pathetic in contrast.
From there I made my way back to my hotel to get my umbrella and do some browsing. But no sooner that I come of a store and it's back to being sunny again. I took the tram across town and when I got off, the sky began to cloud up again and threaten rain. It certainly has been a day of extremes.
I think tonight I will go to a restaurant that claims to have been the one where the song "Gloomy Sunday" was composed. Actually two restaurants make that claim. Both are in Pest (though in the film loosely based on the actual events, the restaurant was in Buda).
One last word about Hungarians. I know that Paris has the reputation of the city of lovers, but I don't think they can hold a candle to the people of Budapest when it comes to public displays of affection. Not even in Paris would couples make out on crowded rush-hour trams, but that happens all the time here.
I decided to spend the morning on the top of Buda Hill. It was bright and partly cloudy, and I took the bus across the Chain Bridge to the foot of the Castle Hill. From there it was one short funicular ride to the top and some amazing views. The Danube is really high. Because of all the rain, the water is lapping over the top onto the street that runs along its Buda bank. There are bits of wood and branches floating in it as well.
The view from the Castle is gorgeous. I had plenty of time to enjoy it since I got there at 9 and the National Art Gallery didn't open until 10. I wandered about the Castle, enjoying the various views of Pest, the Danube, the Citadella (which I thought by the look of it from a distance was some socialist-realist sculpture but apparently is of St. Gellert - I hope to get a closer look at tomorrow when I go to the Gellert Spa). Eventually I wandered towards Matthias Church and the Fisherman's Bastion. I have no idea what a "bastion" is or why it's dedicated to fishermen, but it really looks like someone lifted it from an idea Walt Disney had for Sleeping Beauty's Castle.
Next to is the oldest church in Buda. It' s supposed to be a historical landmark, but I wasn't particularly impressed. The church was restored in the 19th century to full Victorian-era (I suppose I should call it Franz-Josef era) glory. I did, however, spot a place for dessert just around the corner that I decided to visit later.
Anyway, I went back to the National Gallery to see their special exhibit on Hungarian fauvists. These works have never been exhibited before as a group and it was a real treat to see them. I've always like fauvist art and they had many interesting pieces. I really enjoyed it. I skipped past the Baroque section and the 19th century stuff was mostly pieces that would fit right in at the Getty (not a compliment). They had some nice 20th century Expressionists pieces, however, as well as some Secessionist-influenced works as well.
I decided to have a light lunch in the museum café since I was planning a heavy dessert. For that I went back up to Matthias Church to go to Ruszwurm Cukrászda, the oldest pastry shop in Budapest (you can see pictures of the café and of their wares at http://www.ruszwurm.hu/m_menu.html ). They don't show, however, the dessert I ordered: I got the rigo janscí along with the Ruszwurm Kavé. I should describe both.
The rigo janscí is a chocolate dessert that is made of layers. Going from top to bottom: light chocolate ganache, dark chocolate ganache, a thin (think 1 cm) layer of chocolate cake, a thick (think 2 inches) layer of chocolate mousse, and one more thin layer of chocolate cake on the bottom. It was terrific.
The Ruszwurm Kavé, is of course coffee, but with cherry brandy, cream, chocolate, schlagobers (whipped cream), and finally chocolate sauce. I didn't bother to add any sugar, and it's (relatively slight) bitterness made a nice contrast with the rigo janscí.
When I walked out of the cafe, however, I was surprised how quickly the weather had changed. Instead of sun, it had started to rain. I caught a bus down the hill and went to the Holocaust museum. This was a radical change in mood. Nonetheless, it was an extraordinary museum and I strongly recommend it.
The entrance is stone and glass walls, but the walls are askew, as if to imply a world not right, not well ordered. The museum is laid out over a series of rooms, not so much in chronological order as in order of intensifying persecution. The primary subjects of the persecution described in the museum are those of the Jews and the Roma (known colloquially as "gypsies").
The first room is dedicated to showing Jewish and Roma life before the war. The music in the background is from a Jewish wedding and we are introduced to several families, mostly Jewish, but one Roma), which we follow from room to room.
As we walk from the introduction room to the room describing the loss of rights, the floor suddenly slopes down with no warning. The visitor is thrown off balance and has trouble regaining it as the entire room is on a slope, heading down hill as more and more rights are taken away. The entire effect is to disorient the visitor, to make him/her feel unsure, unsteady, not knowing what to expect.
From there, the course of rooms is what you would expect: expropriation of property, loss of freedoms, loss of dignity, deportions, and finally death. The displays are tasteful, though still shocking, and I found myself close to tears on several occasions. The museum also clarified for me the confusing course of events in Hungary from March 1944, when the Germans occupied the country until January 1945 when the Russians liberated it.
In the last primary room of the exhibit, the visitor is again disturbed by the surroundings. This is the room dealing with survivors and one hears three sets of conflicting sounds. First, there are the sounds coming from the video on the liberation of the camps; then there are the sounds from the first room, the sounds of the Jewish wedding, which we hear as an echo of what was lost and destroyed; finally we hear sounds coming from the memorial room, a prayer melody. All three of these clash, yet combine into a disjointed experience of loss, pain, and mourning.
From the exhibit the visitor proceeds to the synagogue. Built in the 1920s for the local community, it was recently and beautifuly restored. Above the ark, the words (in Hebrew) read: "You will hear the plea from servant and your people Israel." Such words in this context (which I assume were original) ring hollow and accusatory. The room is filled with a wordless singing of a Jewish melody.
All in all, I have to say this was one of the better Holocaust museums I've been to, and of course the so-called "Museum of Tolerance" in LA looks even more pathetic in contrast.
From there I made my way back to my hotel to get my umbrella and do some browsing. But no sooner that I come of a store and it's back to being sunny again. I took the tram across town and when I got off, the sky began to cloud up again and threaten rain. It certainly has been a day of extremes.
I think tonight I will go to a restaurant that claims to have been the one where the song "Gloomy Sunday" was composed. Actually two restaurants make that claim. Both are in Pest (though in the film loosely based on the actual events, the restaurant was in Buda).
One last word about Hungarians. I know that Paris has the reputation of the city of lovers, but I don't think they can hold a candle to the people of Budapest when it comes to public displays of affection. Not even in Paris would couples make out on crowded rush-hour trams, but that happens all the time here.
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
A Night at the Opera
I'm having a bit of trouble with the Hungarian keyboards and it's causing me problems with logging on to my e-mail. I can do it from some internet cafes, but not others, and I'm not sure why.
Keyboards have not been my only problem. I've had an enormous problem with using ATMs here. I've tried virtually every bank in town with no success. It was weighing on my mind so much that I had dreams about it last night.
This morning I got up deciding to solve the problem once and for all. I heard from a tourist at the spa yesterday that he had luck with Citibank. No problem, just find the ATM, right? But all he could remember was that it was in downtown Pest. I checked the phonebook this morning and started walking. Two hours later I was no closer to finding it. I finally decided to get some pastry and tea to boost my spirits, and what do you know? There it was, right across the square from Gerbaud's! Mission accomplished. I've found the one ATM in Budapest I can use.
Instead of getting pastry, I decided to just go get an early lunch. On my way to a restaurant in the Jewish quarter known for serving "home-style" cooking, I stumbled onto the Rumbach St. synagogue, which is undergoing restorations. There were some people already there and one was describing the way it used to look when he was a boy. Turns out he and his wife live in England, but both survived the Holocaust. He was 9 when in 1944, he was imprisoned in the Budapest ghetto. His wife was from Vienna and she asked me if I visited the 2nd district. I showed her my photos of the deportation square in Vienna and she told me that that was her school (the Nazis had used the Jewish school as their headquarters for liquidating the Jewish community of Vienna). We all talked for quite a while and then left.
So in the end it worked out. If I hadn't done all that running around earlier, I wouldn't have been in a position to meet them.
I made my way to Klauzel ter, where the restaurant is. This part of the VII district was the center of the ghetto and the buildings look like they haven't been repaired since. The restaurant, Kadar Etkezde, specializes in country cooking. I decided to order off the Hungarian menu and got something called Vardas. It was slices of pot roast accompanied by two large dumplings and covered in a paprika sauce. I like paprika, but they tend to overdue it a bit here so that paprika becomes the only flavor. The meal wasn't bad, though, and I got a kick out of the seltzer bottles on the table (which I used).
Afterwards, I stopped at a Cukraszda for dessert. I think it's Hungarian for "sweet shop." I got something called meggyes retes. It was delicious. It's basically a bar-shaped dessert, with the bottom layer being flaky pastry dough, then a layer of sweet poppy seeds, then a layer of sour cherries, and finally a pastry dough latice on top. Yummy (and only 120 forint, or about 60 cents).
I decided to try the second spa, the Kiraly, so went back to my hotel to get my swim suit and towel. This spa is single-sex and is only open to men certain days of the week. The main reason I wanted to see it was that it dates from the Ottoman period (the dome over the main pool is something like 500 years old. The clientele, however, were basically what we call AKs (almost no one under 70). The water had a faint smell of rotten eggs to it, which means it has sulfer in it (like the spa at Ein Gedi in Israel, but not as intense). I stayed for a while and went back to the hotel to change.
I went to the Hungarian State Opera tonight. I saw on Sunday that they were doing Mozart's Cosi fan Tutti, and decided to get a ticket. I was in nose bleed seats, but I had a good view of the stage and the sound was great. The Opera House was built in the last quarter of the 19th century and is incredible. Lots of gold leaf and flying puttis and cherubs. Supposedly there are lots of masonic symbols in the frescoes but I didn't recognize them.
I went for an early dinner before the curtain. I wanted something lighter and had a nice beef broth soup and then pasta with broccoli, sun-dried tomatoes, pignoli and parmesan. It hit the spot. I'm going to get a last dessert now and then head back to the hotel before the trams stop running.
Keyboards have not been my only problem. I've had an enormous problem with using ATMs here. I've tried virtually every bank in town with no success. It was weighing on my mind so much that I had dreams about it last night.
This morning I got up deciding to solve the problem once and for all. I heard from a tourist at the spa yesterday that he had luck with Citibank. No problem, just find the ATM, right? But all he could remember was that it was in downtown Pest. I checked the phonebook this morning and started walking. Two hours later I was no closer to finding it. I finally decided to get some pastry and tea to boost my spirits, and what do you know? There it was, right across the square from Gerbaud's! Mission accomplished. I've found the one ATM in Budapest I can use.
Instead of getting pastry, I decided to just go get an early lunch. On my way to a restaurant in the Jewish quarter known for serving "home-style" cooking, I stumbled onto the Rumbach St. synagogue, which is undergoing restorations. There were some people already there and one was describing the way it used to look when he was a boy. Turns out he and his wife live in England, but both survived the Holocaust. He was 9 when in 1944, he was imprisoned in the Budapest ghetto. His wife was from Vienna and she asked me if I visited the 2nd district. I showed her my photos of the deportation square in Vienna and she told me that that was her school (the Nazis had used the Jewish school as their headquarters for liquidating the Jewish community of Vienna). We all talked for quite a while and then left.
So in the end it worked out. If I hadn't done all that running around earlier, I wouldn't have been in a position to meet them.
I made my way to Klauzel ter, where the restaurant is. This part of the VII district was the center of the ghetto and the buildings look like they haven't been repaired since. The restaurant, Kadar Etkezde, specializes in country cooking. I decided to order off the Hungarian menu and got something called Vardas. It was slices of pot roast accompanied by two large dumplings and covered in a paprika sauce. I like paprika, but they tend to overdue it a bit here so that paprika becomes the only flavor. The meal wasn't bad, though, and I got a kick out of the seltzer bottles on the table (which I used).
Afterwards, I stopped at a Cukraszda for dessert. I think it's Hungarian for "sweet shop." I got something called meggyes retes. It was delicious. It's basically a bar-shaped dessert, with the bottom layer being flaky pastry dough, then a layer of sweet poppy seeds, then a layer of sour cherries, and finally a pastry dough latice on top. Yummy (and only 120 forint, or about 60 cents).
I decided to try the second spa, the Kiraly, so went back to my hotel to get my swim suit and towel. This spa is single-sex and is only open to men certain days of the week. The main reason I wanted to see it was that it dates from the Ottoman period (the dome over the main pool is something like 500 years old. The clientele, however, were basically what we call AKs (almost no one under 70). The water had a faint smell of rotten eggs to it, which means it has sulfer in it (like the spa at Ein Gedi in Israel, but not as intense). I stayed for a while and went back to the hotel to change.
I went to the Hungarian State Opera tonight. I saw on Sunday that they were doing Mozart's Cosi fan Tutti, and decided to get a ticket. I was in nose bleed seats, but I had a good view of the stage and the sound was great. The Opera House was built in the last quarter of the 19th century and is incredible. Lots of gold leaf and flying puttis and cherubs. Supposedly there are lots of masonic symbols in the frescoes but I didn't recognize them.
I went for an early dinner before the curtain. I wanted something lighter and had a nice beef broth soup and then pasta with broccoli, sun-dried tomatoes, pignoli and parmesan. It hit the spot. I'm going to get a last dessert now and then head back to the hotel before the trams stop running.
Monday, June 05, 2006
Holiday in Budapest (June 5)
Today is Pentecost in Hungary (which makes sense since Shavuot was last Friday) so even the museums that wouldn't normally close on Monday are closed today. So I went to the places i new wouldn't be closed. I started off at the Dohány synagogue. The complex is massive and impressive; it's a really beautiful building. I graves of the 2000 Jews who died in the Budapest ghetto are really moving. I also enjoyed the small museum next door.
Afterwards, I went for lunch at a restaurant recommended to me by my fellow traveler on the train: Bagolyvár. It's up by the main city park and run by the same people who run the famous Gundel restaurant next door. Three major distinctions: 1) all the staff are female, 2) there's no dress code (I didn't bring a suit and tie with me), and 3) it's a lot cheaper. I ordered the menu for today: beef soup with carrots and small noodles; a pork cutlet breaded, fried, and filled with cheese, onions, thinly sliced sausage, and (I think) a paprika sauce; and for dessert, a wonderful sweet cheese pastry. They described it as a cheese strudel, but it wasn't strudel shaped. It was square but the casing was strudelteig (or filo). It was covered in powdered sugar, but what made it really come together was the sour cherry sauce, whose tartness really countered the mild sweetness of the dish. All together (along with the rolls, the paprika-onion-garlic butter, and the diet coke) the meal came to about 4500 forint (or 22 dollars).
Afterwards I wandered through the main city park. It was quite nice, actually, a great place to take kids. There was a pony ride, you could drive model boats in the pond, there was a zoo, and even an Italian circus. Across from the circus was the city-run spa. I saw they took credit cards (I'm having trouble with ATMs here), so I went back to my hotel, grabbed my suit, flip-flops, and went back to the spa.
This is a huge complex, with both outdoor and indoor sections. The hard part was figuring out how to use the locker room. I was given an electronic key that recorded what time I entered. I made my way to the locker room where the attendent assigned me a locker and gave me a key. I got my suit on and made my way outside to the big pool. I ran into a group of Americans and we started talking. The air was cool but the pool was nice and warm. Then I started hearing Hebrew and found that there were three bus loads of Israelis visiting the spa as well.
After about 45 minutes outdoors I went inside to try the medicinal baths. There are a series of pools, all co-ed, with varying temperatures and kinds of water. The first pool I came to had eucalyptus oil, so the room was redolent with the smell. As I went further along, the pools became warmer, with the warmest being 38 C (which I couldn't do more than wade in). They had two saunas; one at 40-45 C, and another at 50 C (which I couldn't go into).
As I was sitting in one of the "medicinal pools", a large group of Americans came in. They were on some tour and they strongly recommended visiting the circus. I asked them why? Oh, it's great, they said. They have lions, a giraffe, trapeze artists. I said I didn't speak Hungarian. That's no problem, they said, it's an Italian circus.
Around 6 pm, I decided I'd had enough, and went to shower and change. As I left they read my electronic card again and told me that since I'd only spent 2.5 hours in the spa, I was entitled to a refund. So instead of costing me 2000 forint (about 10 dollars), it only cost 1700 forint (8.5 dollars). Not a bad deal.
I think I'm going to try the Király Baths tomorrow (they're supposed to be very Ottoman in decor, which is appropriate since that's who built them in the 16th century).
A few last words about Budapest. Yesterday I was thinking about the differences between Budapest and Vienna, implicitly comparing it to Paris, but now I've decided the city it most resembles is Buenos Aires. I'm not saying the cities look the same. Rather, they have the same faded glory, the same wide boulevards, the same fin-de-siécle buildings that are slowly crumbling away.
Even the subway in some ways reminds me of B.A. Particularly the M1 line, which runs so close to the surface and has the sort of narrow square shaped cars that resemble the ones I remember in B.A. The M2 line, on the other hand, is quite deep, with long, long fast-moving escalators; the kind you might see in London. One odd thing is that while in Paris, the metro signs would tell me how long until the next train, here they tell me how long it's been since the last train left this station.
Afterwards, I went for lunch at a restaurant recommended to me by my fellow traveler on the train: Bagolyvár. It's up by the main city park and run by the same people who run the famous Gundel restaurant next door. Three major distinctions: 1) all the staff are female, 2) there's no dress code (I didn't bring a suit and tie with me), and 3) it's a lot cheaper. I ordered the menu for today: beef soup with carrots and small noodles; a pork cutlet breaded, fried, and filled with cheese, onions, thinly sliced sausage, and (I think) a paprika sauce; and for dessert, a wonderful sweet cheese pastry. They described it as a cheese strudel, but it wasn't strudel shaped. It was square but the casing was strudelteig (or filo). It was covered in powdered sugar, but what made it really come together was the sour cherry sauce, whose tartness really countered the mild sweetness of the dish. All together (along with the rolls, the paprika-onion-garlic butter, and the diet coke) the meal came to about 4500 forint (or 22 dollars).
Afterwards I wandered through the main city park. It was quite nice, actually, a great place to take kids. There was a pony ride, you could drive model boats in the pond, there was a zoo, and even an Italian circus. Across from the circus was the city-run spa. I saw they took credit cards (I'm having trouble with ATMs here), so I went back to my hotel, grabbed my suit, flip-flops, and went back to the spa.
This is a huge complex, with both outdoor and indoor sections. The hard part was figuring out how to use the locker room. I was given an electronic key that recorded what time I entered. I made my way to the locker room where the attendent assigned me a locker and gave me a key. I got my suit on and made my way outside to the big pool. I ran into a group of Americans and we started talking. The air was cool but the pool was nice and warm. Then I started hearing Hebrew and found that there were three bus loads of Israelis visiting the spa as well.
After about 45 minutes outdoors I went inside to try the medicinal baths. There are a series of pools, all co-ed, with varying temperatures and kinds of water. The first pool I came to had eucalyptus oil, so the room was redolent with the smell. As I went further along, the pools became warmer, with the warmest being 38 C (which I couldn't do more than wade in). They had two saunas; one at 40-45 C, and another at 50 C (which I couldn't go into).
As I was sitting in one of the "medicinal pools", a large group of Americans came in. They were on some tour and they strongly recommended visiting the circus. I asked them why? Oh, it's great, they said. They have lions, a giraffe, trapeze artists. I said I didn't speak Hungarian. That's no problem, they said, it's an Italian circus.
Around 6 pm, I decided I'd had enough, and went to shower and change. As I left they read my electronic card again and told me that since I'd only spent 2.5 hours in the spa, I was entitled to a refund. So instead of costing me 2000 forint (about 10 dollars), it only cost 1700 forint (8.5 dollars). Not a bad deal.
I think I'm going to try the Király Baths tomorrow (they're supposed to be very Ottoman in decor, which is appropriate since that's who built them in the 16th century).
A few last words about Budapest. Yesterday I was thinking about the differences between Budapest and Vienna, implicitly comparing it to Paris, but now I've decided the city it most resembles is Buenos Aires. I'm not saying the cities look the same. Rather, they have the same faded glory, the same wide boulevards, the same fin-de-siécle buildings that are slowly crumbling away.
Even the subway in some ways reminds me of B.A. Particularly the M1 line, which runs so close to the surface and has the sort of narrow square shaped cars that resemble the ones I remember in B.A. The M2 line, on the other hand, is quite deep, with long, long fast-moving escalators; the kind you might see in London. One odd thing is that while in Paris, the metro signs would tell me how long until the next train, here they tell me how long it's been since the last train left this station.
Sunday, June 04, 2006
Feeling Good (Sunday, June 4)
Well, despite some difficulties, I'm feeling pretty good right now.
Had a nice dinner last night in a cafe near the Nasch Market. Some squash-based soup (either butternut or pumpkin, I'm not sure how to say either in German), and some croquettes made from either polenta or rice with some hard tyrolean cheese inside. Despite having eaten so much, I decided to get the Kaiserschmarren for dessert, mostly because I've had difficulty making it myself and I wanted to see how it was supposed to look and taste. The portion was easily meant for 4 people. It was good, but I had to leave too much uneaten.
This morning I woke up with a slight cold, but didn't let that slow me down. I decided to walk to the Jewish museum since I had an hour to kill before it opened. It gave me a chance to see the Hoffburg palace and the Loos House on Michaelerplatz. The Jewish museum has the remains of the original synagogue in Vienna, burned to the ground in 1421, with some of its stones going to build Vienna University. It's a small, but nice, display. I liked the video with the computer recreation of the synagogue and the old Jewish quarter.
I made my train to Budapest with plenty of time and chatted with an American tourist seated across from me. Because Hungary is not in the European Union, the border police came on board at the border and stamped the passport. We changed trains at Gyoer and that's when the problems began.
The ticket collector told me there was a problem. She didn't speak English and I don't speak Hungarian, but I gathered I needed to pay her an extra 2390 Fiorin because I was on an intercity train (the clerk at the Vienna station should have charged me but didn't). The problem was I only had Euros. I went to the cafe car to see if I could change my euros, but they couldn't break a 50 euro note. I went back to the car and borrowed a 10 euro note from the other American tourist, promising to pay her back when we reached Budapest. They then changed the note and gave me the receipt.
At the station in Budapest I immediately changed currency in order to pay back the money I borrowed. This meant, it turns out, that I got a particularly awful exchange rate (200 euros/1 fiorin as opposed to 250 euros/1 fiorin -- basically 20% rip off), but I really had no choice.
Thing immediately improved afterwards, however. The hotel is nice (it even has tv, though I immediately screwed it up so unless I can fix it, no cnn for me), and it is clean and comfortable. It is also located right in the middle of the Jewish quarter (there's a synagogue down the block, though not the big central one). I washed some clothing and hung it up to dry, and then went out to explore.
I took the subway down to the center of Pest and found my way to Cafe Gerbaud, a famous cafe and conditerie (pastry shop) near the Danube. I ordered a slice of their Gerbaud pastry (a blending of walnut/chocolate cake with a thin layer of jam and layers of chocolate ganache) and tea. The waitress brought the cake and the hot water, but no tea. I managed to get her attention and she quickly brought it.
Some American students on a study-abroad trip sat down behind me with their professor. She was singing the praises of Sachertorte and they all ordered the Gerbaud. She preferred the Sacher, though I and, it seems from what I could overhear, at least some of the students preferred the Gerbaud (I find the Sachertorte too dry and dense). I kibbitzed a bit and suggested they try the Eszterhazytorte if they have the chance.
Feeling refreshed and happy to once again make the acquaintance of the sun, I strolled down to the Danube to look out over the river towards Buda in the later afternoon sun. Budapest is quite different from Vienna, and in some ways more resembles Paris (from what little I've seen). As a city, Vienna felt very heavy, with large stone buildings filling the blocks. You could just feel their weight and massiveness as you walked down the street. By contrast, Paris felt much lighter, freer. I was trying to figure out why I felt this difference, since the cities share many characteristics: fin de siecle buildings, mostly 6 stories tall. I think the major difference is that there is more open air and greenery in Paris, and certainly more pedestrian traffic.
Budapest has more of the wide sidewalks and pedestrian traffic that I associate with Paris. Also, at least from the little I've seen, there is more greenery. So despite all the difficulties I've had today, it has me feeling quite good right now.
Had a nice dinner last night in a cafe near the Nasch Market. Some squash-based soup (either butternut or pumpkin, I'm not sure how to say either in German), and some croquettes made from either polenta or rice with some hard tyrolean cheese inside. Despite having eaten so much, I decided to get the Kaiserschmarren for dessert, mostly because I've had difficulty making it myself and I wanted to see how it was supposed to look and taste. The portion was easily meant for 4 people. It was good, but I had to leave too much uneaten.
This morning I woke up with a slight cold, but didn't let that slow me down. I decided to walk to the Jewish museum since I had an hour to kill before it opened. It gave me a chance to see the Hoffburg palace and the Loos House on Michaelerplatz. The Jewish museum has the remains of the original synagogue in Vienna, burned to the ground in 1421, with some of its stones going to build Vienna University. It's a small, but nice, display. I liked the video with the computer recreation of the synagogue and the old Jewish quarter.
I made my train to Budapest with plenty of time and chatted with an American tourist seated across from me. Because Hungary is not in the European Union, the border police came on board at the border and stamped the passport. We changed trains at Gyoer and that's when the problems began.
The ticket collector told me there was a problem. She didn't speak English and I don't speak Hungarian, but I gathered I needed to pay her an extra 2390 Fiorin because I was on an intercity train (the clerk at the Vienna station should have charged me but didn't). The problem was I only had Euros. I went to the cafe car to see if I could change my euros, but they couldn't break a 50 euro note. I went back to the car and borrowed a 10 euro note from the other American tourist, promising to pay her back when we reached Budapest. They then changed the note and gave me the receipt.
At the station in Budapest I immediately changed currency in order to pay back the money I borrowed. This meant, it turns out, that I got a particularly awful exchange rate (200 euros/1 fiorin as opposed to 250 euros/1 fiorin -- basically 20% rip off), but I really had no choice.
Thing immediately improved afterwards, however. The hotel is nice (it even has tv, though I immediately screwed it up so unless I can fix it, no cnn for me), and it is clean and comfortable. It is also located right in the middle of the Jewish quarter (there's a synagogue down the block, though not the big central one). I washed some clothing and hung it up to dry, and then went out to explore.
I took the subway down to the center of Pest and found my way to Cafe Gerbaud, a famous cafe and conditerie (pastry shop) near the Danube. I ordered a slice of their Gerbaud pastry (a blending of walnut/chocolate cake with a thin layer of jam and layers of chocolate ganache) and tea. The waitress brought the cake and the hot water, but no tea. I managed to get her attention and she quickly brought it.
Some American students on a study-abroad trip sat down behind me with their professor. She was singing the praises of Sachertorte and they all ordered the Gerbaud. She preferred the Sacher, though I and, it seems from what I could overhear, at least some of the students preferred the Gerbaud (I find the Sachertorte too dry and dense). I kibbitzed a bit and suggested they try the Eszterhazytorte if they have the chance.
Feeling refreshed and happy to once again make the acquaintance of the sun, I strolled down to the Danube to look out over the river towards Buda in the later afternoon sun. Budapest is quite different from Vienna, and in some ways more resembles Paris (from what little I've seen). As a city, Vienna felt very heavy, with large stone buildings filling the blocks. You could just feel their weight and massiveness as you walked down the street. By contrast, Paris felt much lighter, freer. I was trying to figure out why I felt this difference, since the cities share many characteristics: fin de siecle buildings, mostly 6 stories tall. I think the major difference is that there is more open air and greenery in Paris, and certainly more pedestrian traffic.
Budapest has more of the wide sidewalks and pedestrian traffic that I associate with Paris. Also, at least from the little I've seen, there is more greenery. So despite all the difficulties I've had today, it has me feeling quite good right now.
Saturday, June 03, 2006
Saturdaz, June 3rd, part 2
I think I finally fixed the problem with blogger.com; I think I was saving my posts in draft as opposed to posting them.
I went to the Freud museum. The only original part is the entry hall; the rest is in London where he was forced to flee in 1938 after the Nazis took Austria. There was a nice little exhibit on the couch and its significance in contemporary art, as well as some interesting home movies of the Freuds.
Afterwards, I went to a cafe for a tea with milk and something called a nougatrolle, which tasted like it was filled with haselnut cream. Very tasty. I took the time to start outlining an article on the problems of teaching the Holocaust.
Then I decided to skip the KunstHausWien as it only had an exhibit on Giger (the artist most famous for designing the alien in Alien), and instead take advantage of the break in the rain to go to the Ferris Wheel (featured prominently in the film, The Third Man). Nice views of the city. As the tram back to the center stopped just a few blocks from the KunstHaus, I thought I would take the opportunity to see the building designed by Hundertwasser. Turns out that the museum houses a large collection of his work, but it was closing in 15 minutes, so there was no time to tour it.
Just three blocks away is an apartment complex designed by Hundertwasser so I walked over. Lots of people brought their small children to play around the house and I could see why. I've never seen an architect who more appeals to one's inner child and sense of play. It's a great place to take children to introduce them to art and architecture. That's why it's so strange that they would be exhibiting Giger. Giger is all about violently blending flesh and machine; Hundertwasser is about rejecting machine-oriented building (the floors are deliberately not flat) in favor of a human-oriented approach.
I went to the Freud museum. The only original part is the entry hall; the rest is in London where he was forced to flee in 1938 after the Nazis took Austria. There was a nice little exhibit on the couch and its significance in contemporary art, as well as some interesting home movies of the Freuds.
Afterwards, I went to a cafe for a tea with milk and something called a nougatrolle, which tasted like it was filled with haselnut cream. Very tasty. I took the time to start outlining an article on the problems of teaching the Holocaust.
Then I decided to skip the KunstHausWien as it only had an exhibit on Giger (the artist most famous for designing the alien in Alien), and instead take advantage of the break in the rain to go to the Ferris Wheel (featured prominently in the film, The Third Man). Nice views of the city. As the tram back to the center stopped just a few blocks from the KunstHaus, I thought I would take the opportunity to see the building designed by Hundertwasser. Turns out that the museum houses a large collection of his work, but it was closing in 15 minutes, so there was no time to tour it.
Just three blocks away is an apartment complex designed by Hundertwasser so I walked over. Lots of people brought their small children to play around the house and I could see why. I've never seen an architect who more appeals to one's inner child and sense of play. It's a great place to take children to introduce them to art and architecture. That's why it's so strange that they would be exhibiting Giger. Giger is all about violently blending flesh and machine; Hundertwasser is about rejecting machine-oriented building (the floors are deliberately not flat) in favor of a human-oriented approach.
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