*Nick in Vienna
Well, we're almost there. Jane is flying to Vienna tonight, then we are flying to Paris with Mason on the 28th, and then back to Columbus on the 30th. It has been quite an experience, and I'm not sure how I feel about leaving Europe, but I am very excited to live with Jane again (we've seen each other 5 days of the past 3 months).
I am also very excited to see all of you again, be you family or friend (or both?). We'll probably post some sort of wrap-up thoughts at some point. But for now, I need to clean my apartment...
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Summer night in Vienna
*Nick in Vienna
Earlier tonight I went to a free outdoor concert given by the Wiener Philharmoniker at Schoenbrunn. I met up with a couple friends from the English church who had also brought a few people from their school programs. We had a great seat up on the hill behind and above the stage. The view was amazing. The sound, not so much. We could barely hear anything up there. The music was all planet themed, so they played some Star Wars, Holst's Planets, and that sort of thing. I'm sure it was great. It didn't really matter, though. The view was great, the wine was flowing, and the conversation delightful. Here are a few pictures.
Earlier tonight I went to a free outdoor concert given by the Wiener Philharmoniker at Schoenbrunn. I met up with a couple friends from the English church who had also brought a few people from their school programs. We had a great seat up on the hill behind and above the stage. The view was amazing. The sound, not so much. We could barely hear anything up there. The music was all planet themed, so they played some Star Wars, Holst's Planets, and that sort of thing. I'm sure it was great. It didn't really matter, though. The view was great, the wine was flowing, and the conversation delightful. Here are a few pictures.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
We were Germans, if only for a day
*Nick in Vienna
As Jane mentioned in the post below this one, we went on a very nice hike while we were in Munich in the Alps. We pretty much just hiked to the summit of a mountain and back down. I think the mountain was called Wendenberg, which roughly means 'turning mountain,' but I can't quite remember.
Our friend Andreas brought a few other friends, two of whom had cars, so it meant that we could get right to the base of the hill. We would still have been able to go by train had we needed to, but it would have been less convenient and more expensive with six of us. We did the hike of Pfingsten (Pentecost), which is a holiday here so there were lots of people hiking. The parking lot was almost totally full when we arrived from people already on the hike. I felt a little out of place in the parking lot seeing all the equipment people had. Jane and I had one school-sized backpack that we traded off with water and apples, and we were both wearing sunscreen. The Germans in contrast all had a pair of hiking sticks, hiking boots, large backpacks filled with lots of food, maps, extra clothes, and cushions for sitting. The Germans take their hiking seriously, you see. At first Jane and I were kind of making fun of them to ourselves, but it turned out I really needed those hiking sticks. More on that later.
The views on the hike were stunning, as the pictures hopefully show. We actually stopped taking pictures at some point because there was just too much and a camera couldn't possibly capture it. Jane and I were both pretty upset at the pace as we were heading up the mountain.
Maybe because we weren't carrying very much, or maybe because we are Americans that like to walk fast, but we really wanted to move much quicker than everybody else. Presumably our company was just saving their strength as we turned out to really need it. We stopped about half way up for some food and we took this picture of the peak we were headed to.
Once we finally reached the peak, after about 3 1/2 hours of hiking uphill, some of it quite steep, it was really breathtaking. What was also really great, though, is that there is a beer garden on the top! Ahh Bavarians and their beer gardens. It was really quite nice after a long hike to enjoy a cold beer and a hot schnitzel. There were a ton of people up there, pretty much all German. This particular peak is very popular and there is actually a train that goes to almost the top (the reason for the Beer Garden). There is also a cute little church which can be seen in the last picture.
After hanging around at the top for a couple hours enjoying drinks, conversation, and the few, we headed down the other side. It was the more northerly side so there was still a fair amount of snow, especially on one stretch of the trail. Someone kindly let me borrow their hiking sticks but I still fell on my butt three or four times into the snow. Then my knee really starting acting up (actually, it was my IT band, or I think that is what Jane said). Someone let me use their hiking sticks for the whole descent, which was very kind of them because that is when you really want them, especially if your knee is hurting.
We finally made it to the bottom and then we went out for huge pieces of cake. Like, seriously, you have never seen pieces of cake this big. Jane had sachertorte that was probably the size of four normal pieces. Germans often have their cake/dessert in the late afternoon rather than after dinner like Americans, so it was pretty crowded at the cafe, but we sat outside in a beautiful cafe surrounded by flowers. We figured we earned our huge cake, though, because on that day we were Germans.
As Jane mentioned in the post below this one, we went on a very nice hike while we were in Munich in the Alps. We pretty much just hiked to the summit of a mountain and back down. I think the mountain was called Wendenberg, which roughly means 'turning mountain,' but I can't quite remember.
Our friend Andreas brought a few other friends, two of whom had cars, so it meant that we could get right to the base of the hill. We would still have been able to go by train had we needed to, but it would have been less convenient and more expensive with six of us. We did the hike of Pfingsten (Pentecost), which is a holiday here so there were lots of people hiking. The parking lot was almost totally full when we arrived from people already on the hike. I felt a little out of place in the parking lot seeing all the equipment people had. Jane and I had one school-sized backpack that we traded off with water and apples, and we were both wearing sunscreen. The Germans in contrast all had a pair of hiking sticks, hiking boots, large backpacks filled with lots of food, maps, extra clothes, and cushions for sitting. The Germans take their hiking seriously, you see. At first Jane and I were kind of making fun of them to ourselves, but it turned out I really needed those hiking sticks. More on that later.
The views on the hike were stunning, as the pictures hopefully show. We actually stopped taking pictures at some point because there was just too much and a camera couldn't possibly capture it. Jane and I were both pretty upset at the pace as we were heading up the mountain.
Maybe because we weren't carrying very much, or maybe because we are Americans that like to walk fast, but we really wanted to move much quicker than everybody else. Presumably our company was just saving their strength as we turned out to really need it. We stopped about half way up for some food and we took this picture of the peak we were headed to. Once we finally reached the peak, after about 3 1/2 hours of hiking uphill, some of it quite steep, it was really breathtaking. What was also really great, though, is that there is a beer garden on the top! Ahh Bavarians and their beer gardens. It was really quite nice after a long hike to enjoy a cold beer and a hot schnitzel. There were a ton of people up there, pretty much all German. This particular peak is very popular and there is actually a train that goes to almost the top (the reason for the Beer Garden). There is also a cute little church which can be seen in the last picture.
After hanging around at the top for a couple hours enjoying drinks, conversation, and the few, we headed down the other side. It was the more northerly side so there was still a fair amount of snow, especially on one stretch of the trail. Someone kindly let me borrow their hiking sticks but I still fell on my butt three or four times into the snow. Then my knee really starting acting up (actually, it was my IT band, or I think that is what Jane said). Someone let me use their hiking sticks for the whole descent, which was very kind of them because that is when you really want them, especially if your knee is hurting.
We finally made it to the bottom and then we went out for huge pieces of cake. Like, seriously, you have never seen pieces of cake this big. Jane had sachertorte that was probably the size of four normal pieces. Germans often have their cake/dessert in the late afternoon rather than after dinner like Americans, so it was pretty crowded at the cafe, but we sat outside in a beautiful cafe surrounded by flowers. We figured we earned our huge cake, though, because on that day we were Germans.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Spending time with German people in Germany
*Jane in Paris*
Recently Nick and I went to Munich to visit the family that I lived with when I studied in Germany in 2003. More precisely we went to Holzkirchen, a little town with a view of the Alps 35 km south of Munich, and stayed with the Orlando family. My host father, Stefan, is Italian-born, but he has lived in the Holzkirchen area for almost all of his life.
My host mother, Annemarie, has always lived there. This was the third time that I had stayed with the Orlandos, the second time for Nick, and as always their hospitality was amazing. We felt at home from the first minute - they gave us a set of keys, invited us to rummage in the refrigerator, let us watch TV with them, and patiently spoke with us in German. I've always loved being at their home - it's not too large but clean, bright, and comfortable, and the view of the Alps from the backyard is something I never tired of. They had built a new pond for the pet ducks since the last time I had been there, and while the cat had recently passed away, they had acquired a turtle that likes to make laps around the backyard. The area where I live in Paris is extremely urban, and the startling effect a more natural surrounding had on me during the retreat I wrote about in the last post hit me once again in Holzkirchen.
On the first day the weather was incredibly cold - I think the high was 50 F. After taking a few trains from the airport and splitting our ticket with a nice German couple that we met, Annemarie picked us up from the Holzkirchen train station. Immediately speaking German was strange to me, and although I was surprised at how quickly a lot of it came back to me, throughout that first night French words would frequently slip out of my mouth. We ate a classic German dinner of sausage, large pretzels, and beer.
The next day we spent some time walking through Holzkirchen, and I realized that although I lived there for 6 weeks during my time of study, I didn't know the town well at all. While I was there I only utilized a few of the streets and never ventured away from them. I knew the walk from the train station to the Orlando home, and that was about it. We walked to a park and played on the equipment, looked at the many Bavarian-style homes that we passed, and stopped in a used clothing store where I bought a dress inspired by traditional Bavarian fashion (referred to as Tracht). On the way to the store we stopped for ice cream at Crema Gelato, and it was even better than I remembered it.
On the third day we went into Munich, our first trip into the city. We stumbled upon a huge clothing store that devoted an entire floor to Tracht. Despite a sale we still couldn't afford anything, but we enjoyed trying things on anyway.
We also visited our friend Andreas, who just spent six months in Paris, causing our paths to cross. If we hadn't missed our connecting train on the way to move me into my Paris apartment we probably would have never met him. Andreas welcomed us with coffee and rubarb cake, and I finally agreed with Nick that I do like rubarb. That night the Bayern Muenchen soccer team played International Milan in the Champions' League final. Throughout the day we saw more and more Bayern jerseys in the city, and at the Indian restaurant where we ate lunch we watched the waiters adorning the entry with Bayern scarves. Down the street workers at a different restaurant were installing a flat screen tv above the outdoor seating. Nick and I watched the game back in Holzkirchen with the family, and Bayern sadly lost. Annemarie was sad; Stefan had no opinion.
On Sunday Annemarie and Stefan lead us on a bike tour through a forest near their house. The ride was at least as stressful as it was enjoyable, because the path was littered with large rocks and it had rained on it the night before.
We ended the ride with a late lunch in a beer garden, joined by my host sister, Verena, and her boyfriend. Yes, the Bavarians certainly know their way around pork! The ride back, after such a nice meal and the tiring ride there, was not as enjoyable. We got home and basically had to just lie around for the rest of the day, because we had planned a big hike for Monday.
Nick is going to pick up with the day of the hike, which as far as views and excitement goes was the high point of the trip.
Recently Nick and I went to Munich to visit the family that I lived with when I studied in Germany in 2003. More precisely we went to Holzkirchen, a little town with a view of the Alps 35 km south of Munich, and stayed with the Orlando family. My host father, Stefan, is Italian-born, but he has lived in the Holzkirchen area for almost all of his life.
My host mother, Annemarie, has always lived there. This was the third time that I had stayed with the Orlandos, the second time for Nick, and as always their hospitality was amazing. We felt at home from the first minute - they gave us a set of keys, invited us to rummage in the refrigerator, let us watch TV with them, and patiently spoke with us in German. I've always loved being at their home - it's not too large but clean, bright, and comfortable, and the view of the Alps from the backyard is something I never tired of. They had built a new pond for the pet ducks since the last time I had been there, and while the cat had recently passed away, they had acquired a turtle that likes to make laps around the backyard. The area where I live in Paris is extremely urban, and the startling effect a more natural surrounding had on me during the retreat I wrote about in the last post hit me once again in Holzkirchen. On the first day the weather was incredibly cold - I think the high was 50 F. After taking a few trains from the airport and splitting our ticket with a nice German couple that we met, Annemarie picked us up from the Holzkirchen train station. Immediately speaking German was strange to me, and although I was surprised at how quickly a lot of it came back to me, throughout that first night French words would frequently slip out of my mouth. We ate a classic German dinner of sausage, large pretzels, and beer.
The next day we spent some time walking through Holzkirchen, and I realized that although I lived there for 6 weeks during my time of study, I didn't know the town well at all. While I was there I only utilized a few of the streets and never ventured away from them. I knew the walk from the train station to the Orlando home, and that was about it. We walked to a park and played on the equipment, looked at the many Bavarian-style homes that we passed, and stopped in a used clothing store where I bought a dress inspired by traditional Bavarian fashion (referred to as Tracht). On the way to the store we stopped for ice cream at Crema Gelato, and it was even better than I remembered it.
On the third day we went into Munich, our first trip into the city. We stumbled upon a huge clothing store that devoted an entire floor to Tracht. Despite a sale we still couldn't afford anything, but we enjoyed trying things on anyway.
We also visited our friend Andreas, who just spent six months in Paris, causing our paths to cross. If we hadn't missed our connecting train on the way to move me into my Paris apartment we probably would have never met him. Andreas welcomed us with coffee and rubarb cake, and I finally agreed with Nick that I do like rubarb. That night the Bayern Muenchen soccer team played International Milan in the Champions' League final. Throughout the day we saw more and more Bayern jerseys in the city, and at the Indian restaurant where we ate lunch we watched the waiters adorning the entry with Bayern scarves. Down the street workers at a different restaurant were installing a flat screen tv above the outdoor seating. Nick and I watched the game back in Holzkirchen with the family, and Bayern sadly lost. Annemarie was sad; Stefan had no opinion.
On Sunday Annemarie and Stefan lead us on a bike tour through a forest near their house. The ride was at least as stressful as it was enjoyable, because the path was littered with large rocks and it had rained on it the night before.
We ended the ride with a late lunch in a beer garden, joined by my host sister, Verena, and her boyfriend. Yes, the Bavarians certainly know their way around pork! The ride back, after such a nice meal and the tiring ride there, was not as enjoyable. We got home and basically had to just lie around for the rest of the day, because we had planned a big hike for Monday.
Nick is going to pick up with the day of the hike, which as far as views and excitement goes was the high point of the trip.
Monday, May 10, 2010
Spending time with French people in France
*Jane in Paris*
As I've talked about before, I've been doing a fair amount with a church close to where I live, L’Église reformée du Marais. It's only a 15 min. walk from my apartment. Last Wednesday I volunteered to make the meal for the student group that meets every Wednesday night. I was nervous about this because, you know, food is really a specialty of the French. They've all eaten plenty of very good meals. I made chili for them, because I don't know many French dishes and chili is something I feel like I make well. Also, I knew they would like an "American" dish. Before I bought the ingredients I asked the guy I cooked with, a great guy from Madagascar named Ony, how spicy I should make the chili. I didn't want to overwhelm my friends, I said, but spicy is really an innate quality of chili. He agreed, and said that I should make it a little spicy, and that they would just have to deal with it :) When the meal was served, some of the students were tentative at first. They didn't take very much and ate slowly. One of them told me it was quite spicy for her. The leader of our group, an English guy named Alex, told me that this was as much spice as he could stand before whatever he was eating turned from wonderful to unbearable. (I eat spicy things regularly in the U.S. but I am not known as someone who conquers spice. The chili was so mild that unless I thought about it, I didn't notice the spice as I ate). After awhile, though, I noticed a lot of people taking second helpings. And when I left there were no leftovers! I think it was a success.
Then this past weekend I went on a retreat with the same student group. We took a train to the little town of Melun, about 50 kilometers from Paris, where there is a YMCA lodge/center built on several acres of land. On Saturday we arrived at the center along with several hundred scouts (pronounced "scoots" in French, and girls and boys were together). They didn't bother us because they stayed at a campsite, but we heard them yelling in the distance throughout Saturday and Sunday. The grounds of the center were beautiful - flowers and flowering trees were everywhere, little stone paths crisscrossed the landscape, and places to sit made out of rocks were scattered around.
The weather in Paris has been unpleasant for the past few weeks, and so I was grateful for the few hours of sun and warmth before it began to rain that evening. There also isn't a whole lot of green in Paris, especially where I live, which isn't close to any parks.
Besides the times of discussion, prayer, worship, and hearing from a pastor named Youssra who joined us on the trip, we hung out and played games. On Saturday night we played loups-garous (werewolves), which is very similar to Mafia. I liked this version of the concept better, though, because there were a lot more possible roles. The French are known for loving debate, and I have noticed that discussions can reach a level that I would consider to be an angry argument, but that in reality is culturally appropriate. This meant that a game like loups-garous was very fun to play with French people (For those who don't know the game, identities are passed out and 2-4 people are designated werewolves and they kill off the villagers one by one at night, and everyone has to figure out who they are during debating sessions in between each murder.) No one was shy about making accusations, and anyone who was accused immediately went on the defensive. For several minutes at a time the room would be full of yelling and laughing as we all threw ourselves into the scenario. We played the game twice; once I was the sorcerer (the doctor) and once I was indeed a werewolf. After some of the students had retired to bed I stayed up longer to play another game, Jungle Speed, which was kind of like Uno, except that the rules seemed rather flexible. It took me at least 30 minutes to begin to understand the game, including the important point that we were trying to get rid of our cards and not gain all the cards. Despite not even realizing this for several rounds I won the game twice and fell out of my chair once when I made the mistake of going for the little totem that is a part of the game at the same time as Barth.
I have to say a little bit about the food. We were at a YMCA camp and we ate cafeteria-style meals. For an American this means pretty bad food: fake mashed potatoes, rubbery meat, little cartons of milk. But no, we were still in France. We had haute-savoie-style pasta with butter, a sort of tomato and beef stew, and there were always baguettes. To drink we could choose from beer, wine, or Coke in a glass bottle, and the salads were always artfully arranged.
The last thing I want to mention is how incredibly nice everyone was to me on the trip. I feel guilty sometimes around these kids, because I worry that as a foreigner who is still working on my French skills I am just a burden to them. But almost everyone made it a point to talk to me at least once during the trip, and I found myself taking part in group conversations more often than I ever have before due to how welcomed I felt. I had long conversations: with Audrey about the French scouts and about her journey towards knowing God, with Rachel about languages, and with several others. The only time that I became profoundly aware of my difference was when I was in a group trying to make up a skit, and all of the girls went into full French-humor mode, using words that I had never heard of before, naming celebrities that I didn't know, and in general making jokes that I only kind of understood while they laughed insanely. However, this situation works both ways, and I try to keep that in mind: my French friends need to be welcoming and patient with me, and I need to understand that there will be times when they want to truly be themselves around each other. Living in a foreign country for so long and especially trying to integrate myself into a group like this has lent a me a lot of insight into the lives of the many immigrants in America who try to integrate themselves into society, many of whom deal with larger cultural differences and live abroad for much longer.
As I've talked about before, I've been doing a fair amount with a church close to where I live, L’Église reformée du Marais. It's only a 15 min. walk from my apartment. Last Wednesday I volunteered to make the meal for the student group that meets every Wednesday night. I was nervous about this because, you know, food is really a specialty of the French. They've all eaten plenty of very good meals. I made chili for them, because I don't know many French dishes and chili is something I feel like I make well. Also, I knew they would like an "American" dish. Before I bought the ingredients I asked the guy I cooked with, a great guy from Madagascar named Ony, how spicy I should make the chili. I didn't want to overwhelm my friends, I said, but spicy is really an innate quality of chili. He agreed, and said that I should make it a little spicy, and that they would just have to deal with it :) When the meal was served, some of the students were tentative at first. They didn't take very much and ate slowly. One of them told me it was quite spicy for her. The leader of our group, an English guy named Alex, told me that this was as much spice as he could stand before whatever he was eating turned from wonderful to unbearable. (I eat spicy things regularly in the U.S. but I am not known as someone who conquers spice. The chili was so mild that unless I thought about it, I didn't notice the spice as I ate). After awhile, though, I noticed a lot of people taking second helpings. And when I left there were no leftovers! I think it was a success.
Then this past weekend I went on a retreat with the same student group. We took a train to the little town of Melun, about 50 kilometers from Paris, where there is a YMCA lodge/center built on several acres of land. On Saturday we arrived at the center along with several hundred scouts (pronounced "scoots" in French, and girls and boys were together). They didn't bother us because they stayed at a campsite, but we heard them yelling in the distance throughout Saturday and Sunday. The grounds of the center were beautiful - flowers and flowering trees were everywhere, little stone paths crisscrossed the landscape, and places to sit made out of rocks were scattered around.
The weather in Paris has been unpleasant for the past few weeks, and so I was grateful for the few hours of sun and warmth before it began to rain that evening. There also isn't a whole lot of green in Paris, especially where I live, which isn't close to any parks.Besides the times of discussion, prayer, worship, and hearing from a pastor named Youssra who joined us on the trip, we hung out and played games. On Saturday night we played loups-garous (werewolves), which is very similar to Mafia. I liked this version of the concept better, though, because there were a lot more possible roles. The French are known for loving debate, and I have noticed that discussions can reach a level that I would consider to be an angry argument, but that in reality is culturally appropriate. This meant that a game like loups-garous was very fun to play with French people (For those who don't know the game, identities are passed out and 2-4 people are designated werewolves and they kill off the villagers one by one at night, and everyone has to figure out who they are during debating sessions in between each murder.) No one was shy about making accusations, and anyone who was accused immediately went on the defensive. For several minutes at a time the room would be full of yelling and laughing as we all threw ourselves into the scenario. We played the game twice; once I was the sorcerer (the doctor) and once I was indeed a werewolf. After some of the students had retired to bed I stayed up longer to play another game, Jungle Speed, which was kind of like Uno, except that the rules seemed rather flexible. It took me at least 30 minutes to begin to understand the game, including the important point that we were trying to get rid of our cards and not gain all the cards. Despite not even realizing this for several rounds I won the game twice and fell out of my chair once when I made the mistake of going for the little totem that is a part of the game at the same time as Barth.
I have to say a little bit about the food. We were at a YMCA camp and we ate cafeteria-style meals. For an American this means pretty bad food: fake mashed potatoes, rubbery meat, little cartons of milk. But no, we were still in France. We had haute-savoie-style pasta with butter, a sort of tomato and beef stew, and there were always baguettes. To drink we could choose from beer, wine, or Coke in a glass bottle, and the salads were always artfully arranged.
The last thing I want to mention is how incredibly nice everyone was to me on the trip. I feel guilty sometimes around these kids, because I worry that as a foreigner who is still working on my French skills I am just a burden to them. But almost everyone made it a point to talk to me at least once during the trip, and I found myself taking part in group conversations more often than I ever have before due to how welcomed I felt. I had long conversations: with Audrey about the French scouts and about her journey towards knowing God, with Rachel about languages, and with several others. The only time that I became profoundly aware of my difference was when I was in a group trying to make up a skit, and all of the girls went into full French-humor mode, using words that I had never heard of before, naming celebrities that I didn't know, and in general making jokes that I only kind of understood while they laughed insanely. However, this situation works both ways, and I try to keep that in mind: my French friends need to be welcoming and patient with me, and I need to understand that there will be times when they want to truly be themselves around each other. Living in a foreign country for so long and especially trying to integrate myself into a group like this has lent a me a lot of insight into the lives of the many immigrants in America who try to integrate themselves into society, many of whom deal with larger cultural differences and live abroad for much longer.
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Week in Wroclaw, pt 2
*Nick in Vienna
Bit late getting this up, but oh well, you all are patient. Last time I wrote about the library and the area surrounding it in Wroclaw, Poland. Now I want to say a bit about the downtown and show a few pictures. The short version is that I really liked Wroclaw, and the next time you find yourself in Central or Eastern Europe you really should visit it. Wroclaw is a little tougher to get to, but if you want something that isn't crazy with tourists, but still very lovely and enjoyable (not to mention dirt cheap), then you can't go wrong with Wroclaw.
The main square is huge. It is a square like ones in the states where there is a big building in the middle and four blocks around it (meaning, it is not like Brussels, where the square is a big empty lot surrounded by buildings). Unlike American squares, though, it is only for pedestrians and bicycles. It's pretty hard to capture in a picture.
This one shows maybe 1/2 of one side of the square. The buildings around the edge are very colorful and cheery. The next picture is the building in the middle. I wish I could tell you what it was, but I have no idea.
Also in the square was a shrine for the recently deceased Polish President and his wife. I was there a little less than a week after it happened. The mood around the shrine was very somber. I saw many people bringing candles and a handful crying.
This next picture captures what I oddly loved about Wroclaw, pristine beauty next to decaying Communist buildings. I tried to capture it in one shot as best I could. On the left is the main university building. On the right is what I guess an apartment building built during the Communist era when Poland was under Soviet rule. All over town it is quite evident that the Poles have made no effort whatsoever in keeping up the building constructed by the Reds. I didn't get many pictures of it, but scattered throughout the town are crumbling and ugly reminders of Wroclaw's bleak past.
A more cheerful reminder of that past, and a far better story is captured in the many gnome statues scattered throughout the city. I read online that these actually have a very interesting story. Apparently during Russian rule in the 1980s a group of students and professors started protesting the communists by making colorful, happy garden gnomes and placing them throughout the city. This seriously upset the Russians (who put out patrols to destroy all garden gnomes...seriously) but I think it is a brilliant and creative form of protest and truly captures what I love about the Poles. A few years ago the city commissioned some local artists to built bronze gnome statues to be placed throughout the city as a reminder of the revolution against the Russians. This picture was taken on the square. I read there are websites where all 150ish gnomes are marked on a map with gps coordinates. It is like that super weird hunting thing I did with Zack and Eve last summer (can't remember what it was called), except it is for victims of communist rule. Finally, the last picture I took facing out from the square, and I didn't even realize until I got home that one of the gnomes is hanging on the street light on the right.
Bit late getting this up, but oh well, you all are patient. Last time I wrote about the library and the area surrounding it in Wroclaw, Poland. Now I want to say a bit about the downtown and show a few pictures. The short version is that I really liked Wroclaw, and the next time you find yourself in Central or Eastern Europe you really should visit it. Wroclaw is a little tougher to get to, but if you want something that isn't crazy with tourists, but still very lovely and enjoyable (not to mention dirt cheap), then you can't go wrong with Wroclaw.
The main square is huge. It is a square like ones in the states where there is a big building in the middle and four blocks around it (meaning, it is not like Brussels, where the square is a big empty lot surrounded by buildings). Unlike American squares, though, it is only for pedestrians and bicycles. It's pretty hard to capture in a picture.
This one shows maybe 1/2 of one side of the square. The buildings around the edge are very colorful and cheery. The next picture is the building in the middle. I wish I could tell you what it was, but I have no idea. Also in the square was a shrine for the recently deceased Polish President and his wife. I was there a little less than a week after it happened. The mood around the shrine was very somber. I saw many people bringing candles and a handful crying.
This next picture captures what I oddly loved about Wroclaw, pristine beauty next to decaying Communist buildings. I tried to capture it in one shot as best I could. On the left is the main university building. On the right is what I guess an apartment building built during the Communist era when Poland was under Soviet rule. All over town it is quite evident that the Poles have made no effort whatsoever in keeping up the building constructed by the Reds. I didn't get many pictures of it, but scattered throughout the town are crumbling and ugly reminders of Wroclaw's bleak past.
A more cheerful reminder of that past, and a far better story is captured in the many gnome statues scattered throughout the city. I read online that these actually have a very interesting story. Apparently during Russian rule in the 1980s a group of students and professors started protesting the communists by making colorful, happy garden gnomes and placing them throughout the city. This seriously upset the Russians (who put out patrols to destroy all garden gnomes...seriously) but I think it is a brilliant and creative form of protest and truly captures what I love about the Poles. A few years ago the city commissioned some local artists to built bronze gnome statues to be placed throughout the city as a reminder of the revolution against the Russians. This picture was taken on the square. I read there are websites where all 150ish gnomes are marked on a map with gps coordinates. It is like that super weird hunting thing I did with Zack and Eve last summer (can't remember what it was called), except it is for victims of communist rule. Finally, the last picture I took facing out from the square, and I didn't even realize until I got home that one of the gnomes is hanging on the street light on the right.
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Week in Wroclaw pt. 1
*Nick in Vienna
I spent the last week in Wroclaw (pronounced vroat-suave), Poland working in their music history archive. My trip was cut a little short for a few reasons - I worked faster than I thought I would, they had less stuff than I though, and there was a techno festival in town during the weekend and I couldn't find an empty bed.
As some of you might know Krakow and Warsaw were two of our favorite places during our honeymoon, so I was excited to see more of Poland. My night bus from Vienna arrived at 4 am, though, so I wasn't that thrilled when I got there. I found a train station nearby and sat for a few hours before heading into town. The area around the train station is not very pretty and is mostly crumbling communist buildings. Once I made it downtown, though, Wroclaw revealed itself as a beautiful city with all the charm of Krakow. Wroclaw is much smaller, around 200,000 people. It is a university town and there were tons of students everywhere. Basically everything for a tourist is within walking distance, and there are very few cars downtown. Instead there are mostly trams and bikes.
I made it to the library at 8:00 and spent the day transcribing a set of madrigals from the 1580s. The music library is on a little island and in a former monastery. This picture is of the courtyard and the huge church that it is attached to. To get in I had to show my passport to a couple security guards who didn't speak any English. Luckily there was a woman nearby who spoke German, so she translated for me. It is always so much easier to speak German with people who don't speak it as their native language. I'm not really sure why there needed to be so much security. I saw hardly anyone all week in the library, and I was the only visitor for the whole week in the music collection. Jane thought it might be a communist holdover of having a bunch of jobs that aren't really necessary but keep people eating.
The main music librarian was very friendly, like most Polish people, and spoke some English. He sat by me almost the whole day and when I wanted to go get lunch he walked outside with me to show me how to get to the best places. Near the library is the main cathedral of Wroclaw. I took relaxing walks during lunch most days near the library. Here are some pictures, including one of a statue of Pope John Paul II, who lived in Wroclaw at one point. Tomorrow I'll post pics and description of downtown and the many gnomes of Wroclaw, so look forward to that.
I spent the last week in Wroclaw (pronounced vroat-suave), Poland working in their music history archive. My trip was cut a little short for a few reasons - I worked faster than I thought I would, they had less stuff than I though, and there was a techno festival in town during the weekend and I couldn't find an empty bed.
As some of you might know Krakow and Warsaw were two of our favorite places during our honeymoon, so I was excited to see more of Poland. My night bus from Vienna arrived at 4 am, though, so I wasn't that thrilled when I got there. I found a train station nearby and sat for a few hours before heading into town. The area around the train station is not very pretty and is mostly crumbling communist buildings. Once I made it downtown, though, Wroclaw revealed itself as a beautiful city with all the charm of Krakow. Wroclaw is much smaller, around 200,000 people. It is a university town and there were tons of students everywhere. Basically everything for a tourist is within walking distance, and there are very few cars downtown. Instead there are mostly trams and bikes.
I made it to the library at 8:00 and spent the day transcribing a set of madrigals from the 1580s. The music library is on a little island and in a former monastery. This picture is of the courtyard and the huge church that it is attached to. To get in I had to show my passport to a couple security guards who didn't speak any English. Luckily there was a woman nearby who spoke German, so she translated for me. It is always so much easier to speak German with people who don't speak it as their native language. I'm not really sure why there needed to be so much security. I saw hardly anyone all week in the library, and I was the only visitor for the whole week in the music collection. Jane thought it might be a communist holdover of having a bunch of jobs that aren't really necessary but keep people eating.
The main music librarian was very friendly, like most Polish people, and spoke some English. He sat by me almost the whole day and when I wanted to go get lunch he walked outside with me to show me how to get to the best places. Near the library is the main cathedral of Wroclaw. I took relaxing walks during lunch most days near the library. Here are some pictures, including one of a statue of Pope John Paul II, who lived in Wroclaw at one point. Tomorrow I'll post pics and description of downtown and the many gnomes of Wroclaw, so look forward to that.
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