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PARIS Back in Paris this year for the 3rd time.
John and Victoria welcomed us back to their suburban home in Le Visenet and treated us to the fine cuisine of the American forces in Iraq: MRE's (Meals ready to eat). Not exactly stuffed goose liver, but especially tasty in the middle of the Iraqi desert.
Judy made a quick trip home to Seattle to tend to some family matters, and I had about a week to explore on my own. We flew together from Paris to London. The next day we said our goodbyes and I took a ferry to the Isle of Wight. That's Wight! ISLE OF WIGHT (England)
After finding a cozy berth aboard a former dive boat which had become a "floatel", I toured and wandered round the Island countryside by public bus and on foot finding the former home of Victorian photographer, Julia Margaret Cameron. at Freshwater Bay.
Today it's known as Tennyson Down. While riding around the Island I came across family and a strange place to buy motorcycles.
Here's the website for the Island's Tourist information: http://www.islandbreaks.co.uk/ NORMANDY (Northern France)
On the beach was an old rusted hull of a landing craft, still somewhat intact, left there to rust away slowly as silent witness to history's largest invasion.
I spent way too much time between Omaha beach and the American cemetery, but it started getting to me and I felt unexpectedly choked up and agitated. Tourists started arriving by the busload in the afternoon, collecting sand in plastic bags and posing for group photographs. It seemed somehow a sacrilege to be surrounded by so many loud and exuberant visitors at a place where thousands died. I walked the beach and past a topless women laying on a blanket. I couldn't muster up the nerve to photograph her. The irony felt so strong. Yet I felt like the intruder. Isn't this a sacred place? It felt disrespectful and ignorant not to show some humility to those who died here. AMSTERDAM
Judy's best friend Deb arrived from Providence, Rhode Island to see Judy (who had just returned from Seattle to join me ) while we had a couple of weeks rest in Amsterdam. Our friend Rickie Moore found us a couple of cool apartments in the Jordaan area to rent. What a great neighborhood feeling one gets here. so little car traffic and everything is conveniently located. As Rickie likes to say. "Everything is just around the corner." How true. We met new friends from the states too. Cindy Freedman (Rickie's niece) and Sharon Stewart both from New Mexico. Judy and Cindy hit it off instantly.
We did art museums, public markets, heard sonorous Mongolian Throat singers, went bike riding in Vondel park, café lounging and the notorious Red light district. live Sex shows. just makin' sure I'm still doing it right. Our loving couple was smiling and cooing, and when it came to audience participation, some wound up American tourists were suddenly embarrassed when they were led onstage by a frisky young black man in bikini shorts. But I swear to god, it was all in good fun. Like a Disney sex show for the family. or seeing the Lion King in thong underwear.
Thanks to a friend, Kelly Guenther and his Danish friend Hanne, we found ourselves invited to rural Denmark (Nyborg: about an hour's train ride west of Copenhagen) for a month (rent free). IF we were willing to housesit and take care of a Springer spaniel. No fair! They saw our website and knew we were suckers for dogs. One month house-sitting and dog sitting for Mikkel and the Helms family in Denmark turned out to be a great opportunity to meet the Danes and swim in the Baltic for the first time. It's WARM! Much warmer in fact than ol' Puget Sound. I'm a convert and went as often as I could. I will not soon forget those rare, sun-filled afternoons in Denmark at the beach.
Danish life is enviable. Bikes rule the community road, their economy is strong and well supplemented by high income taxes but what a secure environment to live in. National Energy needs are almost 20% covered by wind and solar power, national health care for all, the homeless and destitute are funded and old retirees can expect a comfortable retirement which may include a decent home provided by the government. It makes a smug American want to cry.
Taxes provide for the general good of all. I've never seen such an unstratified and classless society. It seems to work folks! They've got something else I loved. great licorice!!! Ever had salt licorice? Neither had I. But it became a favorite of mine and I discovered it's a national habit.
Copenhagen highlights: seeing Tony Bennett live at a free outdoor concert at Tivoli Gardens, visiting the free city of Christiania, sitting out near the canals which were influenced by the Danish King's visit to Amsterdam, a visit to the Louisiana museum just north of town and finally staying at Gitte Kongstad's new place with it's bright color and friendly hostess and the Helgoland swim club.
Deb was with us for the first week and we all spent time exploring. Then Mom came to visit for 3 weeks. At 79 she showed some courage and pluck to come half-way "round the world by herself to join us. What a time she had. We gave her a week to acclimate then started taking her on daytrips to nearby Danish towns, islands and villages. including a daytrip north to Aarhus (Juteland) to visit with Alison Strong-Storkholm and then a week aboard a cruise ship steaming up the west coast of Norway. fjord hunting.
Spent the last few days in Copenhagen wandering streets, eating pizza together by the canal and calling home the Royal Nepalese Consulate. Mom got off just fine and after one more night at Gitte Kongstad's in Copenhagen, we headed to Eastern Europe.
JUDY.
Their departure coincided with the arrival of Deborah Petrarca.
(Jason and Matthew were born one week apart and both turn 23 in December.) Amidst nursing babies, active toddlers (not yet toilet trained), carpooling young children and chaos we talked about one day taking a holiday together. YES!!!!
After Hazel flew back to Seattle from Copenhagen Kev and I took an overnight ferry from Copenhagen to Gdansk, Poland. I was surprised by the "old town' of Gdansk which had been bombed to smithereens during WWII.
Traveler angels blessed us again by connecting us with Gabriela - a super tour guide, lovely person and brilliant historian with excellent English and interests that coincided with my own. I was smitten with the poems of Wistawa Szymborska, "Nothing Twice" (Selected Poems) was so good that I ordered a copy and had it sent to the states. Warsaw, Poland. my heritage is Polish/Russian. all 4 of my grandparents were born in what is now Poland but at that time was part of Czarist Russia. My father's mother was born in Warsaw ( pronounced Varshava), his father in Lomza (pronounced Woamza), my mother's mother was born we believe in Bialystok (Bialweystok. like in "The Producers") and my other grandfather, just south of Warsaw. They all left before WWII otherwise I wouldn't be writing this. suffice to say that I had mixed feelings about coming here. I found myself holding my breath, agitated and angry much of the time we spent in Warsaw. Meeting Yale Reisner at the Jewish Historical Institute was the high point of my time in Warsaw. Yale invited us to his small cramped office strewn with piles of books and papers. We spent several hours at his computer searching for my roots and got some good leads. Yale is funded by the Ronald S. Lauder (son of Estee) Foundation Genealogy Project. He moved with his family to Poland years ago and is very helpful. He can be reached at laudergen@jewish.org.pl KEVIN: GDANSK,POLAND
Sat inside the cavernous St. Mary's church in the old town last night for an Organ concert with choir. reputed to be the largest brick Cathedral in the world. It held more than 20,000 people in sanctuary during the Solidarity union strikes at the Gdansk shipyards in 1982. It was literally a refuge for workers and citizens who locked themselves inside in protest against imprisoned strikers and martial law. We had a great outing today with a local historian who guided us through Gdansk's old city with stories of wealth, terror and tragedy. from the golden age (during the Hanseatic League days in the 15th & 16th century) through many French, German, Swedish, Danish and Russian conflicts and finally the nearly total devastation suffered during World War 2.
It literally took our breath away upon first seeing the old world period facades, squares and churches almost completely rebuilt since 1945 under communist directive. We felt transported in time. blown away by its old world beauty, prosperity and past status as the largest Baltic harbor and one of Europe's richest cities. Our guide, Gabriela Kosicka is a teacher and a historian who takes walking tour groups around her city in her spare time. She is so erudite, well read and fluent that we asked her personal questions about Communism, Lech Welensa and how she views today's Poland. She could speak on any subject with self-assurance and charm. Gabriela is a must if you ever plan a visit in Gdansk. She's far better than a guidebook; she even modestly whispered that she had been the official personal English translator/guide assigned to Prince Charles' during his recent visit to Gdansk. We felt so lucky to find her! Just ask for her at the Tourist info office across from the old town hall in the old city. Amber jewelry is everywhere. there are thousands of Poles in Gdansk who make their living from this stone which was once tree sap. Prices depend upon your taste and where you buy. there are street vendors and shops who sell nothing but amber and jewelry. A great reminder of this Baltic coastal city. Poland is a land in transition. Certainly much different from the east block experience I had 22 years ago in Czechoslovakia and the former East Germany (DDR). ÜThe Poles are embracing capitalism and all it's trappings. ÜOf course all the western products are here to solve life's problems. .Levis, Nikes, Addidas, Burger King, and the Ubiquitous McDonalds, the Colonel and Pizza Hut. Beautiful people who look like anyone you might run into in the mid-west at a mall. If I were a young, ambitious entrepreneur I'd head here to Eastern Europe and get in on the ground floor. It's going to take off in a big way in the next 10 years and life is reasonably cheap by western standards. . not to mention those Slavic beauties. A rich history here. We definitely aren't in Denmark anymore. . hard to find English speaking Poles especially anyone over 30. unemployment in Poland nationally, about 20%. In the rural areas, about 35%. So although they're on the verge of joining the EU, many are finding the transition from Communism to Capitalism very hard. If you'd like to help, plan a trip to Poland. WARSAW
We punch our tram ticket and hop the first tram that comes along. En route, we see a group of uniformed soldiers, some wearing yarmulkes, gathered at a street side memorial. We decide to investigate, suspecting something involving Polish Jews. It 's a simple 4-walled memorial about the size of a railroad car. I open my guidebook. On this spot roughly 400,000 Jews were gathered together and shipped off to Treblinka, Auschwitz and other extermination camps. It was called the "Umschlagplatz" a German word which means transfer place. Judy wants to go somewhere else. to get out of Warsaw. "We're leaving tomorrow, I'm not staying here any longer!" she tells me emphatically. "I'm not comfortable here." It was a day of sadness and agitation. She's loosing it, I think to myself. but how can you deny her feeling such sadness and alienation when these silent stone memorials to inhumanity seem to dot every street corner? These chiseled and muted memorials from just 60 years ago are telling me. this is where it happened. Don't forget us. If it happened here it can happen again. We walk on. no destination in mind. Judy wants coffee as an antidote to an early start. She's upset. Maybe a rest and some coffee will get rid of the headache. We keep passing granite memorial stones inscribed in Hebrew and Polish on almost every street corner. Most have a Jewish name then lots of indecipherable words and the date, 1940-43. We later find out that these stones honor Jewish activists and mark the boundaries of the former Warsaw Ghetto, a 4 kilometer square neighborhood which was home to about a half million Polish Jews.
Judy says it's no coincidence. I won't argue. CRAKOW:
We felt obliged by history to be a witness to even more brutality and sadness. Did I come all the way to Poland to avoid going to Auschwitz?
The place has been kept in as near original condition as possible. There are busloads of international visitors and as you'd expect, many Jews. One orthodox Jewish man from New York gathered near the old crematory ovens and said prayers singing in a soft low voice.
As an antidote I later spent an afternoon at a folk-dance festival in the old city watching dancers spin and promonade. Crakow has a stunningly well-preserved old city neighborhood with large sprawling parks and paths lining the serpentine Vistula River. We walked the old Jewish section, Kazimierz yesterday during a 3- hour guided walking tour. Synagogues, cemetary and even some locations from the film "Schindler's List". Unexpectedly, we met a survivor of the Crakow holocaust and an original member of "Schindlers List". he graciously posed with Judy for a photo.
Oscar Schindler's original factory door still stands today. After more stories of Jewish tragedy, we felt the need to escape so we ran away to the cryk, a Polish Cryk or Circus. Cryk Zelewsky. what fun!!! I first experienced the joy of a small, intimate circus under one tent way back in Berlin (1980) at the Tempodrome.
Circus Zelewsky operates on a similar small scale but packs a big punch with talented black acrobats from Africa, happy/sad Clown, two- humped Camels and Ploomed Palomino horses. all managed by a well coiffed Ringleader whose long blonde curls and moustache reminded one of Buffalo Bill Cody. Judy had a wonderful time. I got the clown to pose with me.
BUDAPEST
Got maybe 15 minutes sleep. Shared a second class couchette with two gregarious, beer drinking but scrupulously polite young Kiwi guys in their twenties, working in London and on vacation. Bumpy, noisy and chilly ride. Then countless passport officials break the fitful monotony by slamming the door open, turn on the lights and rudely demanding passports at 3 and 6am. I guess Slovakia will be the only country stamped in my passport that I slept through.
On first impression, Budapest rates high. A cultured place with long, broad boulevards of over 2 million that actually lives up to the "Paris of eastern Europe" reputation. Have wanted to come here for years. Today she showed off all her glory. blue skies, streaked clouds and warm temps kept us in shorts and tee shirts. We'd heard about the natural healing waters of the area and with a good recommendation, headed for one of the more popular spas Just a 10 minute subway ride from downtown. Could be much worse ways to spend an afternoon in Budapest.
ODESSA, UKRAINIA At the Black Sea Hotel 5 nights.
"At all times and under any circumstances Odessa was full of beautiful women dressed with coquettish elegance. Odessa still can boast not simply women-but romance." In fact, The Beatles weren't kidding while taunting the Beach Boys. "Those Ukraine girls really knock me out, they leave the west behind. " The Slavic women are stunning and any single, western, red-blooded young man would do well to brush up on his Russian before coming here. Many do according to our hotel staff. Groups of lonely hearted, western men (mostly Americans) come to Odessa to find a bride. Many stay at our hotel and after arranging their pick through on-line bride services, come here to get personal and buy a bride. I have mixed feelings about this since many of these women end up in indentured servitude, unhappy or even dead (remember the Russian bride killed in Snohomish?) After surviving 70 years of communism, the Odessa women are still a sight for sore eyes, but the city, Lady Odessa, can feel pretty rough around the edges for most western travelers with it's mix of post soviet economic chaos, mafia run businesses and oversized billboards promising the "good life" of the west. Ü
We got through it all by ending up in a small, overpriced $100/night room with two, twin beds and a toilet that wouldn't flush. Because we had our booking taken care of at the last minute, the Hotel bill (5 nights) had to be paid in advance. Ouch! I was furious but soon decided to go with the Black Sea flow.
I came here for two reasons: to see the Black Sea and the Odessa Steps. I made a "filmgrimage" to the Odessa Steps of "Battleship Potempkin" fame. When I was a college boy at Wazzu, I got hooked on filmmaking in a class called "Masters of the Cinema." We watched old classics and learned about camera angles and editing techniques. One of those early classics is a silent, Russian masterpiece called "Battleship Potempkin" (1925). Potempkin's most memorable and brutal sequence features the Tsars troops marching lockstep down these same stairs with drawn bayonets killing anything in their path. Still considered one of the most powerful examples of film editing it's been copied many times. remember the train station shootout in "The Untouchables"?
In Odessa we found the people big hearted but life is a struggle. Downtown is a grid of classic old architecture (many patched with ramshackle, corrugated tin roofs) and Russian Orthodox churches with huge onion domes. But once you leave the glossy core of western billboards and designer boutiques. It gets pretty sad and brutal. Grannies shaking plastic cups, hungry street kids looking for food or a handout and drunks sleeping off cheap vodka and beer on the sidewalk. We arrived in Odessa on our wedding anniversary. Still suffering from a healthy dose of bureaucratic shell shock and with no real plans we wandered aimlessly downtown passing a parade of sidewalk cafes, euro designer boutiques, hole in the wall 24 hour cash exchange offices and darkened streets lit by fluorescent billboards and neon. Was it purely luck that steered us in the right direction and allowed us to find reprieve at Odessa's pride. a domed, classical style opera house. one of the 5 best in the world they say. Inside the red velvet and gilded brocade had faded somewhat but the orchestra, overall production and quality of singing drew tears.
The collapse of the USSR left scores more or less destitute. We were told the professional Opera singers we heard perform "Madame Butterfly" survive on a wage of $40./month. Grandparents somehow survive on Pensions as low as $7./month. I recently read a film review in the Herald Tribune which quoted a line from a new Armenian production. it summed it up: "Before we had everything but freedom. Now we have freedom and nothing else." I walked from our hotel to a huge, sprawling public market today and was so inspired by the faces there that I hired our new friend and travel agent Anna as a translator with the market vendors. Some terrific characters. It was a wonderful experience.
She's wonderful. and tell her Kevin and Judy send their best.
PRAGUE:
3 days, long enough to show Judy the highlights and sights. Sun shone, Charles Bridge is still magic, we took a romantic ride in a small boat on the Valtava River with a sailor-suited guide. Jewish cemetery still too crowded. St. Vitus Cathedral, the king's palace, Franz Kafka's tiny home on Golden row. now charging admission! Too many tourists!
Saw a black light show with a story about Alice in Wonderland. She was stark naked by the end. no body in the audience seemed to mind though. Bought some Czech. Becherovka (a digestive liquor) for the stomach. which came in handy a day or two later. picked up some stomach bug in Budapest or Odessa that wouldn't go for days. Night train from Praha to Frankfurt. met and talked with Scott Gilliam, brother of Terry Gilliam (Monty Python player & filmmaker of "Brazil" and" Baron von Munchhausen " fame) changed trains to ride further north along the Rhine to Colonge, Dusseldorf and finally Amsterdam! So good to be back here and to know we can settle down and rest up for a month! What a luxury. We felt like the road was taking its toll during our eastern European travels. now is time to catch up the website and Judy has already started to paint again. Out of the paint emerges Ozzie and Esme!
So here we are in old Amsterdam among the leaning, crooked, skinny old buildings, leafy canals and bicycle riding Dutch. We love it. AMSTERDAM
300 Euros and it's ready to hang. In fact, it's just around the corner.
So here's the building that we call our home in Europe. We live on Tuinstraat in the Jordaan district, just 10 minutes from the center of old Amsterdam. The 2 bedroom apt. belongs to our friend Bram. He likes the "feeling of nature" when he showers so his has something most showers don't. pine boughs and rope lights. At first it was weird, now I love it!
And. we love Bram, Wendy, Martin, Sergio, Stefan, Frank, Wilma, Mark, Tex and all our wonderful new friends here in Amsterdam. Thank you all for making us feel so welcome in your city. Praise Rickie and Henry for introducing us to all of these wonderful people! There's just something about these canals with their old houseboats and skinny, crooked buildings that is like no other place. even in gloomy weather it feels good to be here. CRETE, GREECE
My first visit to Crete was 31 years ago (1972) with Fred Barnett my longtime friend and travel partner from Bainbridge Island. Both 19, we spent roughly 8 weeks traveling through Greece sleeping on the beach or on construction sites to stretch our meager resources.
Today (October 7th, 2003) we flew directly from Amsterdam to Chania, former capitol on the western portion of the big Island. From Chania, we took a bus south to the south coast to Hora Sfakion, then another short ferry ride to Loutro and then by private boat to the Old Phoenix. a hotel, pension run by a family who has been in business for over 25 years.
We owe this pleasure to our new friends in New Mexico, Cindy and Sharon who told us we'd like it. Armed with their lonely planet guidebook to Crete we arrived to a soft landing. The Old Phoenix is a lovely, postcard like hide-away so don't go blabbing it around because, damn it, we have to have at least a few places we can find refuge from the crazy pace of western living. One comes here to relax, rebuild, recharge, revitalize, and renew oneself. so keep it to yourself. You are hereby sworn to secrecy about this place. Or Else! May the Sfakians vent their vendettas on you with the swiftness of a Cretan goat sacrifice. That said, it's not so easy to get to and requires a windy bus ride and a couple of short boat trips before you arrive.
We stayed with the Old Phoenix for 9 days before heading west by ferry to Paleochora, a place Fred and I had spend several weeks in back in "72. I was girding myself for the worst. High rise condos, out of control tourism and all the horror stories of the northern part of the island. Arriving at night by ferry I saw a much more developed skyline of buildings and my heart began to sink.
Nostalgia ain't what it's cracked up to be but I was on a collision course with my own past. 31 years ago, this sleepy little town on the SW tip of Crete played a pivotal role in my life. I met a woman here who started me off on a string of adventures to and from the Northwest to Europe.
The next morning I looked around and decided that Paleochora had grown, yes. But its essential welcoming spirit survives. Sitting outside at a taverna that first night, I witnessed the same evening ritual that had been locked and filed away inside my head all these years.
one of maybe 15-20 tourists in town in 1972; this feeling of being a part of that parade. I saw a man shoot himself here, celebrated a village wedding and a funeral, spent time in the local Greek orthodox church, saw the local priest walking his tethered goat to the butcher and by witnessing a very traditional way of life, felt a part of it. But so what. Who would even remember me from so many years past?
Where did I find him? Sitting on a chair right across the street from his old place. white hair, wizened distant expression and dressed in a natty plaid sport coat. He drew a slight smile as I introduced myself in English and told him how much I had enjoyed being here over 30 years ago. "Thirty years ago?" they asked in disbelief. I felt like Rip Van Winkle but thank god for a familiar face. A slow Grin softly crossed his face as we shook hands, an old friend translated my tale of how I enjoyed many days and nights at his café and that it was these memories which had brought me back. |
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