So this will (sniffle, whimper) be my last post from Europe-- at least for a while.
Zak and I are back at the hostel we originally stayed at in Vienna. That gives the trip a nice sense of closure-- we have come full circle and are back to familiar digs. We are old hands at Vienna, barely even tourists anymore.
I think that the length of the trip has been great-- we have both seen a lot and we are both quite tired (my feet are a sort of medical textbook illustration for blistering and his bum hip is really starting to ache him-- what a bunch of old farts we are!) We are seriously ready to vegitate for a little while before going on to the next adventures.
A brief rundown of the past two days-- we had an absurdly long trip from Prague to Vienna which involved a missed train, some really unhelpful Czech ticket agents, and a couple of old ex-Nazis who we were seated next to. I don't know for sure about the last thing-- but they definitely had the feel of a couple who met at a camp guard reunion (do you suppose they have such things?)
Once we got here, we walked downtown and had a nice amble through the main drag of Vienna and the very pretty State Park. Shabbat starts very late in this Northern part of the world-- so we scored dinner right as it started getting twilighty. Zak insisted on a final Sacher torte afterwards-- so he ordered and paid, but I admit that I did help myself to some ample sharing.
Today was slow and nice. We got up quite late and wandered over to National Fine Arts Museum, which is incredible. Especially impressive were their Egytian relics and Greco-Roman sculpture-- but they also had some great paintings and other things. Afterwards we relaxed in the Hofburg Palace rose garden. Zak took a nap under a big tree and I wandered around and literally smelled the roses.
We got very unsatisfying falafel for a late dinner tonight and talked a little bit about how the trip went. Zak and I agree that it was a very good time and that, on the whole, we did very well with each other. We have seen many dysfunctional travel pairs in our hostels and it is nice to know that my brother and I can travel together without too much stress.
My flight leaves tomorrow at 7:20 AM and the airport is a ways out of the city. I am trying to decide now if it is even worth going to sleep-- just to get up in another four hours to leave for the airport. Argh.
While this is an end to this phase in the blog, I fully intend to keep writing. I am really quite amazed that anyone at all is reading this-- but if you poor schmegges have nothing better to do than to read my disjointed thoughts-- who am I to deny you? Seriously, I do hope to keep writing, so please do me the honor of checking in every once in a while.
For those in LA or Long Beach for the next week, I would love to see you. Please give a call.
Much Love,
adam
Saturday, June 9, 2007
Thursday, June 7, 2007
Prague III
Hard to believe-- but this trip is nearing its conclusion. This is our last evening in Prague-- tomorrow morning Zak and I catch a train to Vienna, then its Shabbat back in the Old Empire, and a 7:30 AM (argh!) flight back to Los Angeles on Sunday.
While I am not ready to do a full wrap up yet (nor to cheat myself out of three more days possible adventures) I am starting to get ready for this trip to come to an end. I have discovered that backpack/hosteling nomadism is not the same thing as a "vacation"-- there is a lot to do and see and it really hurts to waste even a minute. However, this was an exceptionally long year for both Zak and I, and we will both be working hard this summer, so I think I will enjoy spending my one week home in Long Beach on the beach and not moving terribly much.
The last two days in Prague have been very nice. We got pretty chummy with another pair of guys traveling-- two Minnesotans named Jimmy and Dave. We spent the past two nights hanging out with them in the garden of the hostel, playing chess and talking.
Jimmy joined Zak and I for the biggest adventure of the past two days-- a trip to the "Bone Church" of Kunte Hora-- an hour outside of Prague. The entire space is filled with human bones, arranged in whimsical decorative patterns and a massive grand chandelier. All told, the guidebook says that there are the bones of 40,000 individuals on display in this church, and I have no trouble at all believing it. I am not sure what possesses a medieval monk to do such a thing-- but questions like that are, perhaps, better left unasked.
Also in the town of Kunte Hora is the Phillip Morris Museum-- a small, free display space in the largest cigarette manufacturing plant in Central Europe. We were treated to displays of cigarette cases throughout the ages and a multi-media exploration of how the tobacco leaf becomes a refreshing Marlboro. This is one odd town.
We rode back to Prague in a train compartment together with a very odd Canadian goth, who told us that she came to Prague exclusively for the purpose of visiting this church (she also told us that the only thing that interested her in Paris were the catacombs.) She proceeded to show us her eccentric piercings and a scar on her chest in the shape of a keyhole that he boyfriend had lovingly given her. All I could think was Linda Blair in the Exorcist, so I was plenty glad to get out of that compartment and on my way.
In the evening, Zak and I made our way, dutifully, back down to the Old Town Square and did the ritual battle with the tourist hoards. We did manage to find a nice spot by the river with a view of the Castle, and it is always pleasant to wander and talk with Zak, but downtown might be getting a little old.
This morning, we trudged down once again and went to a series of Paneria's-- a chain, cheap pastry shop all over Prague-- where we ordered various delicious things and talked. Really, one of the high points of this trip has been the chance to hang out with Zak, and before him, Ben-- they are both pretty neat-o guys and we don't get to see too much of each other these days. Pastry never hurts either.
While I am not ready to do a full wrap up yet (nor to cheat myself out of three more days possible adventures) I am starting to get ready for this trip to come to an end. I have discovered that backpack/hosteling nomadism is not the same thing as a "vacation"-- there is a lot to do and see and it really hurts to waste even a minute. However, this was an exceptionally long year for both Zak and I, and we will both be working hard this summer, so I think I will enjoy spending my one week home in Long Beach on the beach and not moving terribly much.
The last two days in Prague have been very nice. We got pretty chummy with another pair of guys traveling-- two Minnesotans named Jimmy and Dave. We spent the past two nights hanging out with them in the garden of the hostel, playing chess and talking.
Jimmy joined Zak and I for the biggest adventure of the past two days-- a trip to the "Bone Church" of Kunte Hora-- an hour outside of Prague. The entire space is filled with human bones, arranged in whimsical decorative patterns and a massive grand chandelier. All told, the guidebook says that there are the bones of 40,000 individuals on display in this church, and I have no trouble at all believing it. I am not sure what possesses a medieval monk to do such a thing-- but questions like that are, perhaps, better left unasked.
Also in the town of Kunte Hora is the Phillip Morris Museum-- a small, free display space in the largest cigarette manufacturing plant in Central Europe. We were treated to displays of cigarette cases throughout the ages and a multi-media exploration of how the tobacco leaf becomes a refreshing Marlboro. This is one odd town.
We rode back to Prague in a train compartment together with a very odd Canadian goth, who told us that she came to Prague exclusively for the purpose of visiting this church (she also told us that the only thing that interested her in Paris were the catacombs.) She proceeded to show us her eccentric piercings and a scar on her chest in the shape of a keyhole that he boyfriend had lovingly given her. All I could think was Linda Blair in the Exorcist, so I was plenty glad to get out of that compartment and on my way.
In the evening, Zak and I made our way, dutifully, back down to the Old Town Square and did the ritual battle with the tourist hoards. We did manage to find a nice spot by the river with a view of the Castle, and it is always pleasant to wander and talk with Zak, but downtown might be getting a little old.
This morning, we trudged down once again and went to a series of Paneria's-- a chain, cheap pastry shop all over Prague-- where we ordered various delicious things and talked. Really, one of the high points of this trip has been the chance to hang out with Zak, and before him, Ben-- they are both pretty neat-o guys and we don't get to see too much of each other these days. Pastry never hurts either.
Tuesday, June 5, 2007
More Prague, More Jews
Today and yesterday we explored most of the Old Town Quarter of Prague. I am of two minds about this city-- on one hand, it is surely one of the most beautiful that we have visited, with twisty, cobblestone streets and lots of old, stately buildings; one the other hand, it is incredibly touristy and everyone here hates me.
Allow me to explain:
Prague is indeed beautiful. Zak and I strolled up and down along the river, walked in some of the island parks, got lost in the back allies, and have appreciated the lovely churches and bridges. We have eaten quite well so far-- there are ample ethnic restaurants (Lebanese, Indian, etc) with lots of vegetarian food (by the way, Zak has gone veg since finishing his program, so we are in the same boat as far as food.) The Jewish Quarter is amazing-- but more on that later.
Prague is touristy. The main boulevards and squares are seas of foreign tourists (like us) wearing tee-shirts that say things like "Prague Drinking Team" or "Prague: Czech it Out!" (unlike us.) We hear a lot of English here, and there are endless souvenir stands where there should be quaint and interesting shop fronts. That's a bit of a downside.
Prague hates me personally. I don't really know what it is-- but the people of Prague appear to despise me. I was cut in line three times at the train station, harassed by a cop who made me pick up someone else's dirty tissue which he insisted that I dropped, had my money refused at a gelato stand when it was clearly and obviously in the correct amount, and told that I am learning nonsense at school and consequently will never deserve to hold the title "rabbi" but the Chief Rabbi of Prague. Also, President Bush is here-- meaning that the Prague Castle has been closed for the past two days. It amazing-- even here Bush can make me sad.
All and all it is a mixed record and the jury is still out. However, this afternoon's tour of the Old Jewish Quarter was definitely a big strike in favor of this city.
We met up with a tour guide named Peter, who was recommended to us by Zak's friend Leo's parents. He was phenomenal-- he holds a Ph.d in Jewish history and knows everyone and everything about the Jewish community of Prague. The locations were also fantastic. Hitler personally decreed that the Prague Jewish Quarter would be preserved as a historical museum of the Extinct Jewish Race-- sick as that is, it means that the synagogues and cemeteries of the Jewish Quarter are perfectly intact.
We went into four different synagogues-- each of them were beautiful and understated, a nice contrast to the baroque gaudiness of the Great Synagogue in Budapest. The Spanish synagogue is done in a Moorish style-- resembling pictures of buildings I have seen from Southern Spain, with colorful geometric patterns and mosaics. One synagogue has been converted to a haunting Holocaust memorial-- the names of all known Prague Jewish victims of the Nazis cover the walls. Most interesting of all was the cemetery-- with its ancient (back to the 14th century) gravestones jutting out in all directions. The Maharal, the famous creator of the Golem, is buried there. It was an amazing tour and absolutely worth the splurge for a private tour.
Allow me to explain:
Prague is indeed beautiful. Zak and I strolled up and down along the river, walked in some of the island parks, got lost in the back allies, and have appreciated the lovely churches and bridges. We have eaten quite well so far-- there are ample ethnic restaurants (Lebanese, Indian, etc) with lots of vegetarian food (by the way, Zak has gone veg since finishing his program, so we are in the same boat as far as food.) The Jewish Quarter is amazing-- but more on that later.
Prague is touristy. The main boulevards and squares are seas of foreign tourists (like us) wearing tee-shirts that say things like "Prague Drinking Team" or "Prague: Czech it Out!" (unlike us.) We hear a lot of English here, and there are endless souvenir stands where there should be quaint and interesting shop fronts. That's a bit of a downside.
Prague hates me personally. I don't really know what it is-- but the people of Prague appear to despise me. I was cut in line three times at the train station, harassed by a cop who made me pick up someone else's dirty tissue which he insisted that I dropped, had my money refused at a gelato stand when it was clearly and obviously in the correct amount, and told that I am learning nonsense at school and consequently will never deserve to hold the title "rabbi" but the Chief Rabbi of Prague. Also, President Bush is here-- meaning that the Prague Castle has been closed for the past two days. It amazing-- even here Bush can make me sad.
All and all it is a mixed record and the jury is still out. However, this afternoon's tour of the Old Jewish Quarter was definitely a big strike in favor of this city.
We met up with a tour guide named Peter, who was recommended to us by Zak's friend Leo's parents. He was phenomenal-- he holds a Ph.d in Jewish history and knows everyone and everything about the Jewish community of Prague. The locations were also fantastic. Hitler personally decreed that the Prague Jewish Quarter would be preserved as a historical museum of the Extinct Jewish Race-- sick as that is, it means that the synagogues and cemeteries of the Jewish Quarter are perfectly intact.
We went into four different synagogues-- each of them were beautiful and understated, a nice contrast to the baroque gaudiness of the Great Synagogue in Budapest. The Spanish synagogue is done in a Moorish style-- resembling pictures of buildings I have seen from Southern Spain, with colorful geometric patterns and mosaics. One synagogue has been converted to a haunting Holocaust memorial-- the names of all known Prague Jewish victims of the Nazis cover the walls. Most interesting of all was the cemetery-- with its ancient (back to the 14th century) gravestones jutting out in all directions. The Maharal, the famous creator of the Golem, is buried there. It was an amazing tour and absolutely worth the splurge for a private tour.
Sunday, June 3, 2007
Soviets, Shabbes, and Prague Pt I
Hello loyal blog readers-- I apologize for our long time apart. A combination of God's law (Friday night-Saturday) and faulty Eastern European Internet service (Saturday night- now) has kept us apart. But no longer.
On Friday, Zak and I visited the Soviet Statue Park. When the USSR fell, Budapest (like most Eastern bloc cities) was left with a plethora of statues of Marx, Lenin, Stalin and other fun guys in all their public squares. Rather than destroying them, aspiring Budapest capitalists relocated them to a dusty, ugly park outside of the town limits. Today they charge people lots of money to go see them and to buy Communist-era knick-knacks. Oh, the triumph of freedom!
It took us approximately three hours to get there-- not because it is so far away, but only because we managed to get on the wrong bus four different times. At least we got to see significant parts of the backwaters of Budapest in the process. By the time we had finished a few winding drives through concrete, bunker-like apartment buildings and bleak, run-down bus stations, we were already getting the feel of Hungary under Papa Joe. It was good for setting the mood.
We entered the park through large, brick gates, flanked by statues of Lenin and Marx. The Internationale was playing on a boom-box (I still know all the words, thanks Mom!) We picked up guidebook, and spent the next forty-five minutes learning about the heroes who defended the Hungarian State against "outside agitators" in the 1956 uprising and various stern-looking men and women carrying agricultural implements and permanent righteous scowls. It was really quite something. We left to the strains of Avante Papalo (the Italian Communist anthem, to which I only know the HaShomer Hatzair parody version. Again, thanks Mom!)
We made it back to the City just in time for Shabbat services at the Great Synagogue. While our tour had been lacking in substance, I was really looking forward to going back there to daven. Alas, it was the most High Church service I have ever attended-- complete with a huge organ, a choir sequestered in a box high above the bima, and a cantor wearing a ridiculous cantor hat. For the first fifteen minutes I was appreciating the service from a cultural point of view-- after that, I wanted out.
The evening was saved when Zak went and got a bottle of wine, which we proceeded to split in the little courtyard outside our hostel. We talked for a couple hours and really had a wonderful time. I learned quite a lot about him, and I think he may have learned something about me. No joke here-- it was beautiful.
Shabbat day was very slow. I didn't have any interest in going back to that shul-- so we both stayed in bed until quite late. Zak is totally engaged in a novel I lent him, so he had no interest in going out for a walk in the afternoon-- so I went solo. I explored the main Basilica of Budapest-- which contains St. Stephan's mummified hand-- and walked a few of the main streets of the city that we had yet to reach together.
So far, keeping Shabbat and kashrut while traveling has not been overly difficult. I have maintained basically the same kashrut standards that I have in the States-- however, it is difficult to ask the kind of detailed questions I typically ask when the wait staff rarely speaks much English. It is possible that I have eaten something that I shouldn't-- but on the whole, I have fared quite well in this very carnivorous part of the world. Shabbat, too, has not been overly difficult-- a little boring, but not too challenging. I continue to work very hard at trying to integrate my halakhic commitments with a desire to live in the world and not to miss out on all the experiences that are out there. I am not always perfect-- but I genuinely enjoy the challenge.
This morning, we packed up and caught the train to Prague. It is a seven-hour ride, which can get a bit tedious; however, I had my New Yorker and lovely scenery, and Zak had his novel, so we made it through.
The hostel in Prague is nice-- much cleaner and more professionally run than the one in Budapest. The room is big and airy, there is a nice little garden courtyard, and there are no bloodstains on the walls (don't ask.) This evening we walked around town and started to get acquainted with yet another new city. The main drag feels very touristy and sort of dirty, but the little, winding streets are nice. I am looking forward to exploring more thoroughly tomorrow.
On Friday, Zak and I visited the Soviet Statue Park. When the USSR fell, Budapest (like most Eastern bloc cities) was left with a plethora of statues of Marx, Lenin, Stalin and other fun guys in all their public squares. Rather than destroying them, aspiring Budapest capitalists relocated them to a dusty, ugly park outside of the town limits. Today they charge people lots of money to go see them and to buy Communist-era knick-knacks. Oh, the triumph of freedom!
It took us approximately three hours to get there-- not because it is so far away, but only because we managed to get on the wrong bus four different times. At least we got to see significant parts of the backwaters of Budapest in the process. By the time we had finished a few winding drives through concrete, bunker-like apartment buildings and bleak, run-down bus stations, we were already getting the feel of Hungary under Papa Joe. It was good for setting the mood.
We entered the park through large, brick gates, flanked by statues of Lenin and Marx. The Internationale was playing on a boom-box (I still know all the words, thanks Mom!) We picked up guidebook, and spent the next forty-five minutes learning about the heroes who defended the Hungarian State against "outside agitators" in the 1956 uprising and various stern-looking men and women carrying agricultural implements and permanent righteous scowls. It was really quite something. We left to the strains of Avante Papalo (the Italian Communist anthem, to which I only know the HaShomer Hatzair parody version. Again, thanks Mom!)
We made it back to the City just in time for Shabbat services at the Great Synagogue. While our tour had been lacking in substance, I was really looking forward to going back there to daven. Alas, it was the most High Church service I have ever attended-- complete with a huge organ, a choir sequestered in a box high above the bima, and a cantor wearing a ridiculous cantor hat. For the first fifteen minutes I was appreciating the service from a cultural point of view-- after that, I wanted out.
The evening was saved when Zak went and got a bottle of wine, which we proceeded to split in the little courtyard outside our hostel. We talked for a couple hours and really had a wonderful time. I learned quite a lot about him, and I think he may have learned something about me. No joke here-- it was beautiful.
Shabbat day was very slow. I didn't have any interest in going back to that shul-- so we both stayed in bed until quite late. Zak is totally engaged in a novel I lent him, so he had no interest in going out for a walk in the afternoon-- so I went solo. I explored the main Basilica of Budapest-- which contains St. Stephan's mummified hand-- and walked a few of the main streets of the city that we had yet to reach together.
So far, keeping Shabbat and kashrut while traveling has not been overly difficult. I have maintained basically the same kashrut standards that I have in the States-- however, it is difficult to ask the kind of detailed questions I typically ask when the wait staff rarely speaks much English. It is possible that I have eaten something that I shouldn't-- but on the whole, I have fared quite well in this very carnivorous part of the world. Shabbat, too, has not been overly difficult-- a little boring, but not too challenging. I continue to work very hard at trying to integrate my halakhic commitments with a desire to live in the world and not to miss out on all the experiences that are out there. I am not always perfect-- but I genuinely enjoy the challenge.
This morning, we packed up and caught the train to Prague. It is a seven-hour ride, which can get a bit tedious; however, I had my New Yorker and lovely scenery, and Zak had his novel, so we made it through.
The hostel in Prague is nice-- much cleaner and more professionally run than the one in Budapest. The room is big and airy, there is a nice little garden courtyard, and there are no bloodstains on the walls (don't ask.) This evening we walked around town and started to get acquainted with yet another new city. The main drag feels very touristy and sort of dirty, but the little, winding streets are nice. I am looking forward to exploring more thoroughly tomorrow.
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