Signing Off-- Or Am I?

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

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.

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.

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.

Jews and Frickin´ Steep Hills

Today was more or less evenly divided between Jews and some really frickin´ steep hills.

In the morning, we visited the Great Synagogue-- billed as the largest synagogue in Europe and the second largest in the world, after Temple Emanu-El in New York. It is very beautiful and very much in the European style of ornate houses of worship (albeit without all the statuary and imagery of the many churches we have been visiting.) Indeed, after spending so much time in churches lately, it was sort of refreshing to walk into a synagogue-- finally, some landsmen!

The only unfortunate part of the visit to the Great Synagogue was our tour guide. She spoke limited English, and what she said was not really worth tuning into. For most of the twenty minutes (we paid for an hour) that she spoke to us, she listed the various donors to the reconstruction effort and told us which prominent Hungarian Jews had not been generous. Unfortunate stereotypes flashed in my head. I think she spent a total of five sentences on the history of the building.

She did tell us a ˝joke˝ which went like this--

The Orthodox grandfather was sitting at home on Shabbat. He forgot to turn on the light. And you know flipping the light is a sin. So he called to his grandson: ˝Janus! (That is Hungarian for John) I bought you a big bottle of kosher slivovitz brandy, but I cannot find it!˝ And so, Janus turned on the light! The End.

I don´t think it is necessary to offer commentary. The sheer hilariousity of the joke speaks for itself.

Afterwards, Zak and I walked across the lovely Elizabeth bridge to Buda. Our first stop was the famous Cave Church-- an underground sanctuary built in a natural cave in the side of the highest hill in Budapest. The church was nice-- if a little bit dank. We set out to climb the hill, to reach the Liberty Monument (erected in 1945 after the Nazi defeat) and the Citadel (built by the Hapsburgs after the 1848 revolution.) The hill was significantly higher than I realized, and I am deeply out-of-shape. I made it to the top of the hill without having a myocardial infarction, but only barely.

It was worth it. The views from the top were magnificent. Budapest´s urban landscape (which has been designated a World Heritage Site by UNESCO) is really something to behold. I think Zak and I took about 300 pictures of the Parliament Building alone (thank God for digital!)

After wandering back down the hill, we realized that we now wanted to see Castle Hill, so back up we went. The whole complex was very nice. The Castle is not as grand as those in Vienna, but well worth looking at up close. Even cooler was St. Matthias Church-- a traditional, Gothic church that is completely covered in colorful, geometric paintings. Zak and I shared a beer at a little beer garden looking out over the city before descending Castle Hill.

We took a meandering walk back to the hostel, where both us have been chilling for the past few hours. Zak is making noises about going out later, I am thinking about an early night. I am starting to understand the wisdom of resting a little bit between bouts of sight-seeing-- I believe that my back and feet will thank me for it.

On the Blue Danube

This morning, we packed up, checked out of the hostel in Vienna, and made our way to the train station for a new adventure.

The train from Vienna to Budapest was largely unremarkable. Zak and I both slept most of the way. It is amazing how physically draining it is to spend all day long walking and sight-seeing. It has been the same for the past week-- the second I sit or lie down, I tend to fall asleep.

It is interesting to pass through the former Iron Curtain. I suppose, for a significant portion of the last century, the border between Austria and Hungary marked a sort of end-of-the-world. Indeed, one could clearly see from the windows that the towns we passed in Hungary were poorer than those I had encountered in Germany or Austria. Many of the towns we passed still sported huge, concrete housing structures, of the type I have seen pictures of from the Communist era.

We arrived in Budapest and got a little bit lost looking for the hostel. Hungarian is a difficult language, and it is not related to either the Germanic or the Romance languages groups, so I can´t make any sense of the words on the street signs. Thankfully, we encountered many helpful English speakers on the street, who guided us to our hostel.

I´m not going to lie-- this hostel building is a pretty freaky place. To get the hostel itself, one must walk up a few flights of stairs through a dark and creepy building-- with peeling paint and graffiti on the inside walls. The stairs creak. The few times I have entered the main atrium, there are ominous bangings from higher floors. I am reminded of how geographically close we are to Transylvania.

The rooms themselves are quirky-- done up in bright colors with lots of strange art on the walls. The proprietor lives here year-round. He speaks some English and seems friendly enough, but I will lock my door tonight.

Zak and I walked around the city for a couple hours this evening. We had a delicious and filling pasta dinner on an upscale street. Afterwards, we decided to splurge and took a nighttime river cruise on the Danube. The cruise lasted one hour, and included a blanket for the cold, head-phones with a very corny monologue given in the voice of the Danube River herself, two glasses of perfectly horrible champagne and wine, and awesome views of the city at night.

All of the great buildings of Budapest hug the river, and at night they are all illuminated with a rich, golden light. I was really quite taken with the beautiful Budapest Castle, glowing on a hilltop, reflecting its light onto the river around us. Each of the four major bridges which connect Buda with Pest were also lit-up, and it was wonderful to pass underneath them. Zak and I both agreed that this is one of the most beautiful cities that we have ever seen.

Two Slices of Cake and an Imperial Pee

We had a very slow, sleepy morning. Neither Zak nor I got out of bed until around 11-- and then we wandered over to the nearby bakery and produce shop to buy lunch. We ate a quiet lunch of fruit and crusty, olive-bread in the hostel courtyard.

After that, we repented for our sleepy morning by walking, pretty much continuously, from noon until ten o'clock at night. We walked around the grounds of the Hofberg Palace, the primary residence of the Hapsburgs, the imperial rulers of most of Europe, for several centuries. It is really quite awesome-- just massive.

I remember Mr. Meckna-- 11th grade, AP European History-- telling me that there are living Hapsburg heirs today. I remember thinking that it seemed like a pretty rough break to be born into the family that used to run the Holy Roman Empire. Now, having seen a few of their former digs, my sympathy for these poor schlemiels has monumentally increased.

Afterwards we walked through the Vienna Jewish Museum. he main exhibit covers the history of Viennenese Jewry through holograms-- that was very strange. Much cooler, and much sadder, were the open store-rooms in which one can view piles of ritual items of all types saved from the Kristallnacht destruction of Vienna's synagogues.

Lunch was a slice of cake at Demel's-- founded in the 1740s as the confectioner to the Imperial Court. The cake has a blend of nutty chocolate cream with orange liqueour, complimented with an excellent cup of coffee. Vienna is full of beatiful art and architecture-- but more than anything, I am coming to love this city for its cake.

Another highlight of the afternoon was a stop at the Hotel Imperial. One of the lovely traditions passed down to me by my Mother is a love of peeing at the great hotels of the world. I'm not sure the origins of this particular tradition-- but, I have faithfully peed at the Plaza in New York, the Sir Francis Drake in San Francisco, and many others. I have a list somewhere. Now, I can add the Hotel Imperial in Vienna. Score!

After an awful salad at an American sports bar full of drunken Scotsmen in impressive kilts, we decided that we needed yet another piece of cake. Another slice of Sacher torte at the Hotel Sachar was wonderful. I can imagine this becoming a place of pilgrammage.

I have 30 more seconds of Internet before I have to pay again, so I will sign off for now. Tomorrow, we go to Budapest, so my next entry will be from a new place.