Travel and Trip Stories

What A Long Strange Trip It’s Been Greg and EllenEastern EuropeJuly 15^th 2004 to August 1^st 2004  Day 1 July 15^th Through the Looking Glass(es) Our flight out of Raleigh left around noon, so with increased security, we left for the airport around 9:00.  I wanted to stop for a quick “real American breakfast” before eating abroad for almost three weeks.  Lindsey took us and dropped us off at the airport.  All was normal (that is what we were used to).  We boarded in Charlotte for our Lufthansa flight to Munich.  I was able to use air miles for this flight (otherwise our tickets would have been 14K) so we went Business Class.  This afforded us menu options, individual video screens, and constant beverage service.  After a movie, and dinner, we both conked out—up to around 4 a.m. EDT.  My glasses were gone!  I mean literally off my face.  I surmise that somewhere in my travel, alcohol, time change induced fog I took them off and laid them on my bedside table.  Which of course didn’t exist.  Putting it mildly, we disrupted the cabin.  Thank goodness Ellen caught them, on the floor, one aisle over, out of the corner of her eye. Day 2 July 16^th “Back in the U.S.S.R.” Our plane landed in Munich at 8a.m. local (2a.m. EDT).  We had an uneventful 3 hour layover, although the jet lag had kicked in.  After having our travel documents checked thoroughly we boarded for Moscow.  This was a 3 hour flight, and as we were the only ones in Business we got excellent service.  Moscow from the air presents an unexpected, predictable sight.  Row upon row upon row of white multi-storied apartments.  They march across the horizon in orderly ranks, without any break.  Upon landing at Moscow SVO, we dealt with what remains a Soviet era international arrivals hall.  Down the stairs, into the gloom, and a sea of disorganized queues, booths and processes.  Red lines for locals, green lines for foreigners, different lines for customs, depending on articles brought in.  It was intimidating initially, but with patience, and a little ability to read Cyrillic, negotiable. (THANKS MIKE).A quick negotiation for a cab and it’s off to the center of Moscow.  Everything you’ve heard about Russian taxi drivers is true.  But we reached our hotel intact.  Check-in was uneventful and off to our room.  We stayed at the hotel Rosseya.  This has to be one of the ugliest hotels ever built.  The beauty of the place is location, location; location, price, and you can’t see how ugly it is from the inside.  My point is it was perfect for our stay.  The view out of the window was directly across St Basil’s, Red Square, the Kremlin and GUM department store.  Unbelievable! So as is wont, we wandered.  Through Red Square, up to Lenin’s Tomb, through GUM.  The sense of walking through these places and the realization that we were walking in places that held such mystery and sense of foreboding for so long brought a huge sense of the unreal. I couldn’t shake the feeling that at one time AMERICAN nuclear weapons were aimed at where I stood.   The only place we visited this evening (because of the time change it was 6p.m. in Moscow) was GUM, just a huge, beautiful mall, full of western stores.  From there we were pretty bushed, so we went back to the hotel for a nightcap and early to bed.  We got a taste of, what was to be the norm, vis-à-vis Russian service.  No offense to our Russian friend Mike (my Russian tutor); but we found Russian wait staff to be surly, short, and cold.  I had high hopes that six months of Russian lessons would pay off in some conversations and chances to practice Russian with the locals.  In most cases I was rebuffed with nay attempt to speak.  Service was quick, but without any warmth.  Then to bed. Day 3 July 17^th Moscow Culture Day Our first morning in Moscow started with goofed up circadian rhythms.  We awoke about 4:30.  After trying to go back to sleep, we gave up around 5:30 and got dressed for a quite early morning stroll. Wrong!  The streets were full of all night revelers, the sound of pumping dance music, bare-chested, beer drinking young men and women (the women weren’t bare-chested) and cars flying everywhere.  We walked up to Lubyanka Square to see the old KGB, and then looked for breakfast.  The sign said in English “Open for breakfast” what it didn’t say was “Our Motto: Service with an Attitude”  So we had a cup of coffee and left..  Now supposedly our hotel came with a free breakfast buffet, what they didn’t tell us was their motto “free breakfast—IF, you can get someone to tell you where it is—AND they decide to open today”   I have the plan we’ll walk to the Starlight Diner.  Advertised as American food, and looks to be about a kilometer from the map.  The map lied.  I’d guess, about 3 kilometers (although Ellen would say 30-40) I don’t know what they put in Moscow cement, but it’s the hardest cement I ever walked on.  Breakfast was fine, and I was complimented on my Russian by the wait staff here (Thanks Mike).  Now it was time to conquer the Moscow Metro.  The Moscow Metro is by far the largest in the world.  Over 130 miles of lines; 200 stops; ridden by 9 million people a day—more than New York and London combined.  It is a huge, scary, intimidating place.  It is also beautiful.  Every station has a theme, and sculptures, mosaics, chandeliers and beautiful tile floors.  The Metro is actually a tour stop.  We saw tour groups at several stations who had paid just to gawk and photograph.  I would call the stations one of the highlights of the trip.  Of course all the signage is in Cyrillic and our first trip required two transfers.  Mike would have been proud—no fuss no muss.  We got to VDNKh.  VDNKh is the old Soviet exhibition grounds.  140 acres of buildings built to showcase Soviet solidarity, economics and achievements.  The cosmonaut needle and museum is also here, as is Gagarin’s Vostok launcher.  Most of the main buildings were attractive in an overly gaudy way, and the two main fountains were actually quite pretty.  Perhaps the most interesting thing we saw here were two Tupelov passenger planes. At first we chuckled over the line of people paying 10 rubles to climb up and look.  On the way out I remembered at school field trip to JFK (then Idlewild) airport.  It gave us a sense of the average Russian never having seen the inside of a passenger plane.  On the way out we ran into something we found to be very Russian, a street market.  These things area massive, with tents about six feet square, and anything you can imagine.  Bikinis and lingerie, next to CD’s and shoes, next to purses and jewelry, next to books and wind chimes, next to apples and bread.  Just a warren of merchandise, filled with crowds and noise and fumes, and radios blaring while you’re jostled and harangued, yelled at and solicited.  After negotiating this we got back on the Metro to Sculptors Park.  Sculptors Park is where many of the old Soviet statures of Lenin and Stalin were moved after the revolution.  It’s like Easter Island with old statues instead of those rock things.  From here you can see the Peter the Great Statue in the Moscow River.  Reputedly one of the ugliest statues in the world (and the size of the Statue of Liberty) we didn’t find it ugly.  Different, unique, busy, but not ugly.  Our next stop was Gorky Park, which is right across the street.  When most people think of Gorky Park, they think of an oasis in the middle of the city, perhaps Central Park—they would be wrong; think Coney Island.  It’s a huge amusement Park.  Here we saw several wedding parties being photographed, and to our American minds an exploitive sight.  A bear and leopard chained and muzzled for photo ops.  At the back of the park is a pavilion by the lake that was a bit quieter, which in our omnipresent wisdom seemed a good place for a beer.  Two things of note: First in the lake were huge carp, 4 feet long at least, and people were fishing for them.  I know Russians love carp, but this, again to our American sensibilities seemed to be the wrong water.  We gave up Russian carp eating after that.  Secondly was another Russian institution.  This is a line of Porti-Pots with an elderly lady sitting outside.  Seven rubles per visit.   The price was consistent all over the city.Back to the metro for dinner and drinks.  Better luck speaking with the locals but not much  Day 4 July 18^th Markets, Cemeteries, and Convents We got back on the Metro to the Novodevichy Convent and Cemetery.  I think it was here Ellen noticed how much attention we were attracting on the Metro, we’d like to believe that it was a real novelty for Russians to see Americans riding the metro and not that they were laughing at us, but who knows.  Novodevichy Convent is famous for it’s icons and history, while the cemetery is the second best place to be buried (first is in the Kremlin wall)  Raisa Gorbachov and Krushev are both here, along with Tupolov, Chekhov Gogol, Gromyko and Rubenstein.  After the Kremlin, this was probably our second favorite spot.  We got off the train and walked right into another huge market.  This one had women modeling fur coats at the entrance.  One thing of interest was the Russian headstones.  They were massive, many I would guess were eight feet tall, four wide and two thick.  With intricate engravings (we’re talking photo quality) of the person.  Three dimensional busts and complete statues of the person.  They were engraved works of art.  The convent was ok but bluntly not much to our liking, however we did hear out first au capella choir in the main church—they had CD’s for sale.  On the way back to the Metro the market was almost gone.  It was literally being dismantled and packed into the back of trucks.  Guess they set up somewhere else that afternoon.  Our next stop was Vernisazh market at Izmaylovsky Park.  A permanent every Sunday flea market, of immense proportion.  This place deserves its reputation they had it all.  Ellen bought amber earrings here.  This was the first place we saw matrioshka dolls of US sports teams. (Matrioshka dolls are the stacking dolls—you open one to find the next inside some are gorgeous and some are junk)  Ellen found the University of Georgia.  700 rubles at one stand 350 at another.  We didn’t buy one ‘cause we couldn’t find Arkansas.  I had my first Kvas here.  This is a traditional Russian drink, something like ginger beer.  Actually, it is a very good thirst quencher.  It’s sold out of the back of a truck.  There’s this huge barrel on wheels with a tap, a large one cost 18 cents (of course I had to pay another 21 cents at the Porti-Pot lady stand).Back to town for dinner.  Nothing remarkable, except on the way back to the hotel we were approached by several street vendors selling more dolls and Soviet era military stuff—this on Red Square—it is the irony that impacted us.  Tonight we actually began a good conversation over drinks at the hotel.  That is, until the boss/owner/manager came in and had a huge argument with the staff.  Then it got very frosty.  Perhaps consorting with customers is bad form in Russia?  (Mike?) Day 5 July 19^th “You say you want a revolution”-OR- Smoking is dangerous to your wealth. Today is our last day here and the day we scheduled the Kremlin.  To make a long story short the line to the Kremlin stretched back about 10 miles.  We were approached (like the guidebook said) by Irene, an English speaking private for hire guide.  She agreed to tour us through the Kremlin and Museum for 2000 Rubles (60USD)   we took a chance and engaged her.  Our money bought us a personal tour, immediate access through all the lines and checkpoints, an extremely informative history, answers to all our questions, a marvelous sense of humor, and picture taking services.  She was great.  Two quick anecdotes.  The phrase “the power behind the throne” is quite literally Russian.  When Peter the Great ascended to the throne he had to share it with his brother who was crazy.  Therefore the throne had two seats side by side.  Behind Peter’s seat was a trap door through which the regent mother would whisper advice as he met with foreign dignitaries hence, quite literally “the power behind the throne”.  We saw a gown given to Catherine the Great with 999 diamonds sewn into it.  The natural question—Why 999? This is what Catherine asked.  “Why because you are the thousandth” This gentleman became a favorite.  None of this would have been explained had Irene not been with us.  The royal treasury is huge no wonder the people revolted.  We saw the Faberge Eggs, when you realize these were Easter presents you sense the opulence that was Tsarist Russia. Each egg has a surprise inside; one for example had an intricately carved gold train, with a ruby headlight.  It actually ran on a small track inside the egg. This was the precursor to our tradition of giving those little plastic eggs with something in them at Easter.  From there we went to Arbat.  Arbat is the old cultural, upper middle class area.  The main road Arbat ulitsa is now a pedestrian mall.  I wanted to see the old homes and less bustling, preserved older Moscow.  We stepped out of the main flow of people for a quick smoke and when I looked up from lighting my cigarette a wild eyed guy was maybe 18 inches from my face.  I told him to go away in Russian but to no avail.  It was quite threatening.  The next thing I knew Ellen was screaming and yelling “Are you crazy, leave him alone” and had slapped at him.  They were professional pickpockets.  The first guy was trying to distract me and get me to take my hands out of my pocket where the money was (he succeeded) while his partner slipped in and got the cash.  I don’t think they counted on Ellen. She saw what was happening, assessed the situation and raised enough of a fuss that they were gone as quick as they showed up.  We walked away a little shaken, a little wiser but no poorer.  Then it was back, we walked through Okhotny Ryad, a multi-million dollar underground shopping center, just behind Red Square.  From there it was off to dinner for our last night in Moscow.  We had chosen a restaurant called One Red Square, which is based in the State History Museum.  Wonderful.  The food was superb, the service four-star, and the waitress seemed to enjoy speaking Russian with me.  Back to the hotel for a night cap, and I do believe the wait staff was even ruder than usual (why did we keep going there?) and off the next morning.Overall thoughts on a visit to Russia Moscow is a big, sprawling hard place.  There are certainly attractions here but you have to work harder than in other cities to find them.  They appear to be getting a tourist trade, but don’t seem to quite know how to develop it.  There are some local tours, but unlike any other city we’ve been to, the local tours are hard to find and less tourist friendly.  The people, by American standards, are cold and hard to “break the ice with”.  I had studied Russian for six months prior to going in the mistaken belief that the effort would help me soak up a little more local culture.  This really didn’t work.  On reflection, perhaps the mores are different.  I have never been anywhere where wait staff wouldn’t engage you in conversation if you appeared desirous of interaction.  In Russia this just wasn’t the case.  It was so pervasive that I now think it could be discouraged.  On leaving Russia I wrote “This is a land of the superficial…” I think now with some hindsight that that’s a bit harsh.  My comments about the Tuplov planes at VDNKh and Gorky Park being more like Coney Island lead me to believe that Russian society might be much like America in the ‘50’s where we were more Xenophobic than we are now.  I recall finding Mike my Russian tutor difficult to work with initially, but as we developed our relationship enjoying him more and more.  I found his sense of humor refreshing, and him to be warm and engaging.  So my thought is that what appears to be rude, cold, and distancing, is normal in Russian society and that Russians do not openly interact with strangers quickly.  They say Russian women are among the most fashion conscious in the world.  This is true.  If you go to Russia take 5 inch stilettos to wear, on the Metro, on cobblestones, across miles of city walking.  If you want to move to Russia, become a foot surgeon; trust me it’s a growth industry there.  Finally, I wonder, had Russia won the Cold War how I’d feel about Russians visiting Washington D.C.?  Having said all that: I’m glad I went, but I won’t go back.  Moscow is a big, sprawling, dirty, noisy hard place. Day 6 July 20^th Turn up the Contrast  Off to the airport, another wild and crazy ride.  And I’m talking about in the airport.  Unlike here, each flight has its own check-in line.  Being American we arrived two hours early.  They checked our flight in about 45 minutes before boarding.  Our flight out of Russia was Aeroflot, but actually Business Class was comparable to any other airline I’ve been on.  Upon arriving in Poland we had to go through passport control.  Separate line for non-EU citizens.  Our reception was like this. “Is this your first trip to Poland?  Enjoy you stay” Civil, clean and convenient.  Our luggage was checked through—no customs and re-checking required. A short flight to Krakow and the taxi ride was straight forward and the price was reasonable (12USD for 20km).  Upon checking in we stopped at the bar for an “I need a beer” break.  This is where we met Blazey Ziembaczewski.  Blazey is a 26 year old recent graduate, with a new wife.  He is, by a large stretch, the most enjoyable person we’ve met in any of our travels.  We warmed up to him quickly, and us to him I think.  Enough to invite him to the states.  An excellent linguist and an excellent human being. He took us under his wing with dinner recommendations, and reservations, sight seeing reservations, political discussion, friendly back and forth comparing our cultures, interpretive help. The contrast between him and anyone we met in Russia was huge.  Off to the square we went. Notes on KrakowKrakow has two major claims to fame.  First, it is the only city, in Poland, not destroyed by WWII. Although it was wired by the Nazi’s for total destruction (as it was the major city by Auschwitz), the resistance cut the wires as the Nazi’s retreated.  Because the Nazi’s thought they had it taken care of the town, they retreated without defending the city.  Hence, the Soviets swung around the city and did not have to shell it.  It also has the largest town square in Europe.  So, we definitely wanted to see it.  The square is breathtaking.  It is dominated by three structures.  The first is St Anne’s church.  Now, I’ve seen too many churches and cathedrals in my life.  In fact I’m a bit blasé about them.  But this was different.  There are individual sculptures here, paintings, and small engraved works of art that literally took 30 years each to make by an individual craftsman.  This church is the home church of Pope Jon Paul.  It I believe is the prettiest I’ve seen.  The second structure is the tower.  This I think (Blazey?) was the old town hall/ national government building.  Krakow was once the capital.  In the basement there is now a libation station, but it once was the official torture chamber—and it looks like it.  The last building is the old cloth market, now a shopping area.  Surrounding all this are the ubiquitous umbrellas of Europe with outside dining and further libation stations.  Behind all this is a warren of old streets, close to but not quite a maze.  We often got turned around in here.  The whole area has a festive, yet relaxed, yet energizing, yet calm aura.  Street musicians complete the scene.  We watched two outstanding street musicians play the violin.  They were incredibly accomplished, in perfect harmony, and smooth and sweet.  They were also 7 and 9.  Outside the streets of Old Town you come to the Planty. This is a 50-60 yard wide green area with benches, and walking trails.  It follows the old medieval walls completely around the old city.  Past this you see the trams.  These trams are different in that they’re a narrower gauge than anywhere else I’ve seen.  Somehow this gives them a more Eastern European feel and just a cooler visual.  This was absolutely my favorite city on the trip.  Ellen struggles with this and Prague. Day 6 Continued Upon reaching the square we did the two things we’re most likely to do on seeing a new place.  We wandered and gawked and then found a place for liquid refreshment.  From there we visited the church, wandered through the market, and ate dinner.  We somehow ended up sitting and watching the trams at night.  I was enchanted.  After being “slightly bewildered” we found our hotel, visited with Blazey and went to bed. Day 7 July 21^st Auschwitz (no jokes here) We had made arrangements to visit Auschwitz through our hotel, so at the appointed hour we met our driver.  The drive itself was interesting with, perhaps sight of an old horse drawn coal cart being driven down the road the highlight.  Then Auschwitz.  There are two ways to describe this, the actual and the emotional.  The two are so closely linked it’s difficult to explain.  We had been hooked up with an English speaking guide, who had an emotional synergy with the place.  Her ability to communicate verbally and non-verbally, and bring life in the camp, survival factors in the camp, and the weight of what had happened to light, in real, and powerful ways was unexpected.  You enter through the famous “Work makes Free” sign.  The first thing to hit you is the double rows of electrified barb wire, coupled with guard towers—one way in no way out.  The second thing to hit you is the orderliness, part of the reason this spot was selected, is that former Polish army barracks sat here.  It was actually already built.  Many Americans have seen the Holocaust Museum in D.C. and are affected by the shoes.  In Auschwitz you walk through a former barrack and see a similar display, followed by a display of human hair, another of eyeglasses, another of personal grooming items (combs, brushes, razors, another of blankets made of human hair, another of luggage with the owners name on it.  Each is a vast as D.C.’s but the cumulative effect increases the emotion logarithmically. I teared up at the eyeglasses, Ellen at the luggage.  Our guide pointed out a display of entry and death dates for inmates.  The average woman died within a month, men lasted three.  By far the most chilling experience was walking around a corner and into a room.  The guide announced “You are standing where 2000 people a day were gassed.”  Ellen had to leave.  Our guide pointed out the window to Rudolph Hess’s home, were he lived with his wife and children.  His dining room window overlooked the gas chamber and crematorium. This probably had the most impact on me.  Thousands died outside his window while he ate after another day at the office. The director of the camp now, is a survivor of the camp; I got a chance to shake his hand when he came up to say something to our guide.  Then on to Auschwitz II, Berkinow.  This is actually a camp built for killing.  The scope is huge. (200,000 at any one time)  There were a few of the old wooden barracks left, but what I recall is the specially build train tracks in, and the bath house.  In the bath house the toilets were concrete rectangles sixty yards long and two feet wide with holes in the top.  The holes alternated so that as you looked down the left side, there would be a corresponding hole on the right between the two.  The holes were a foot apart.  Each bathhouse served 5000 people.  The toilets were never hooked up to plumbing, so one camp job was to empty them each day.  People assigned to this task lived an average of two weeks.  This was the end of the tour.  But here is exactly what I wrote that night in my journal. Auschwitz Personal Reflections As we drive up I recall quite clearly hearing the song “Don’t worry be Happy”  How ironic I think, as we learned of the process by which new camp internees were sent directly to the gas chamber for “a shower after your long trip” I wondered how many arrived as I did.  Happy to reach their destination and wondering what awaited them.  How many thought don’t worry be happy….and how many died within the hour.  It was so hot today, and yet the sense of cold privitation was omni-present.  I looked at the wire and knew escape was impossible.  After seeing the entry and death dates I knew I would not have survived.  And as the day progressed the workman like efficiency of the operation became smothering, the realization that someone wrote a policy and procedure manual for the killing and harvesting of humans.  As Rudolph Hess ate, and reviewed homework, as he made love to his wife, as he enjoyed his evening nightcap thousands died.  Oh well, just another day at the office.  Human beings with names, dreams, hopes and passion, became no more than a crop here.  A resource to be harvested and a logistics problem to dispose of.  We must never forget our responsibility to hold our government responsible. Day 7 Continued On to lighter things.  We rode back and struck up a conversation with our van mates.  A British couple and an Australian woman.  I think we all needed a little break.  Back at the hotel, we ran into the Aussie at the bar.  Interesting lady, she’s a retired banker whose second career is English as a Second Language.  She lives in Bratislava teaching English to Slovaks.  She doesn’t speak Slovak, because it’s a total immersion program.  She told us demand is great, pay is good, time off is several months a year and you can live just about anywhere.  Hmmmmm.Dinner reservation from Blazey, for some real, real good Polish food (and I do love it).  Back to the hotel for a political debate with our new British friends (in which he called George Bush and Tony Blair “twits”) and another day gone. Day 8 July 22ed The last train to Transylvania Up for the 10 o’clock train to Budapest and a switch to the overnight to Romania, then a quick day of Dracula tours (Bran castle and Sigasora) before catching the overnight to Budapest.  WRONG.  Somehow in all the date goofs by our travel agent the itinerary got goofed and we were supposed to be on the 8 o’clock to Katowice and then on to Budapest.  We rebooked directly to Budapest the next night and just let Romania drop.  Checked back in at the hotel, and spent the day wandering Krakow.  Ellen suggested we visit Wawel castle but I said no.  I was in a snit I wanted to see Dracula’s castle and if I couldn’t I wasn’t going to see any castle.  So we hung all day and explored more of Krakow, sat on the square ate and went to bed. Day 9 July 23ed “Workin’ in a Salt Mine goin’ down down down” Just outside of Krakow is Wieliczka, home to the UNESCO site of the old salt mine.  This entire mine has been carved out over 400 years.  What’s fascinating is that over time the miners carved statues, and entire rooms out of the salt.  Everything, the floor, walls, chandeliers, statues, steps is of salt.  Salt being translucent, and containing different impurities, can be lit from underneath to create soothing, eerie, and spooky effects.  There are entire churches, chapels, tableaux, and rooms carved out.  Chandeliers are made of single salt crystals the size of quarters.  We ended up 137 meters below ground at the end of the tour.  Then up the old working elevator and back to the hotel.  I think perhaps Blazey was surprised to see us.  Back to our favorite restaurant where we met Esther a costume designer for the TV show CSI-Miami.  We agreed to share a taxi to the train station.  Made our train to Budapest on the overnight, and settled in.  We visited briefly with the folks in the cabin next to ours, two Michiganders studying in Krakow and off to Budapest for the weekend.  It was late so we went to bed, only to be awakened at 4 a.m. with someone beating on our door with “Pass Kontrol”. We had entered Slovakia.  These guys were all para-military, big, and serious looking.  There was some commotion about us and the other Americans having to move “You go to C klass” the porter said.  I went back in the room and locked the door and went back to bed which was the last we heard of it.  We think it was all a big show for the Slovaks, but we don’t know why.  We were able to sleep awhile and the “Pass Kontrol” and we were in Hungry. Day 10 July 24^th Sunflowers and Mountains We awoke that morning to an amazing sight.  Mile upon mile upon mile of sunflowers.  Stretching in all directions.  Obviously a crop.  This was a scene we would continue to see throughout Hungry and the Czech Republic.  A quick change of money to Floreints, no problem with the taxi and off to the hotel. Notes on Budapest:  Budapest is actually three cities Buda, Pest, and Obuda.  Buda and Obuda sit on the west side of the Danube, while Pest makes up the east side.  The most dominating features are: Parliament in Pest, a neo-gothic structure that has to be seen to be believed.  It contains over 800 rooms and is majestic.  Atop the hills of Buda sit the Castle district and Gellert hill.  The castle district is enclosed by walls and contains the old palaces, the executive branch of government, museums, old churches, and the old town area.  It has been transformed into a tourist area with restaurants, shops, and libation stations. Gellert Hill supports the old Citadella.  This is a fort originally built by the Hapsburgs to threaten a rain of iron should the unruly citizens become unruly.  It dominates the castle, and everything in sight.   Stop one after the hotel was food.  We had a “toast” which is basically toast and an assortment of toppings.  I had an egg toast and Ellen had some other kind.  Then it was time to tour—But Wait—Border guards, jerky trains, a late start got the best of us so we decided to nap.  What’s a vacation for?  We slept to three and off to Gellert Hill.  Let’s walk we need the exercise, we said.  And so we did.  We walk and walked and walked and walked.  Did I mention this was on the top of the highest hill in Budapest?  It was worth it.  The vista was tremendous, and also gave us a good sense of the layout of the city.  Having studied a bit of the recent history, I could clearly see the Soviets sweeping west through Pest, as the Nazi’s tried to defend the hills of Buda (more on that later).  After a pause for refreshment we headed down.  A new plan, follow the tour buses.  Worked quite well until we got to the bottom with absolutely no idea where we were.  However, on the way down we did see the upscale residential area of Buda, and a lot of broken down old soviet made Ladas, along with a few embassies.  Time for more refreshment, and then the daunting task of finding our way to the Castle District (which we were sitting right under).  We went this way, we went that way, we went another way, we met ourselves coming back, we followed people—they were lost too.  We did see a sight that we saw often in Budapest.  An individual bathing publicly.  Budapest is full of fountains.  People casually will dip their feet in, wash their hands, splash their faces and generally use them for hygienic purposes.  This lady was at a public bench, which was fairly secluded stripped to her unmentionables and giving herself a sponge bath. We finally found a way in on the south side and made our way north through the castle district.  This day we walked straight through looking at the sights and getting the layout.  From there we left by the north gate and headed down to our hotel.  This is when I first noticed something unique to Budapest.  Mostly old (17^th-18^th century) buildings and right in the middle a soviet monstrosity.  As the Germans dug in the Soviets shelled Buda.  Over 30,000 buildings were destroyed.  After the soviet “liberated: Budapest they rebuilt, as only the soviets could.  If you’re looking for it it’s quite telling.  Each of these soviet era buildings represent a shelled out building from WWII.  It’s not a memorial, but it feels like one.  Our hotel was in Batthyany ter. (directly across the river from Parliament), so we made our way back and found an authentic Hungarian restaurant—goulash at last. A nightcap and bed.  Day 11 July 25^th Concerts, Churches, Corsendonk Finally an egg, a real scrambled egg and bacon and sausage, breakfast fit for an American Yippee Ki Yeah.  Of to Pest.  First stop a walk over the Chain Bridge.  Don’t know exactly why, but when in Budapest it the law.  Then on to St. Stephens’s basilica.  St Stephan is sort of the patron saint of Hungary.  In the church they have his mummified hand and for about 4 dollars you can have a look.  This I wanted to see.  First stop though was a ride up to the top of the steeple.  A long and impressive look around town.  Then back down, and into the church.  Now this was strange (although we were to see it again) services were in process.  Tourist milled in the background, talking taking pictures and etc. This was Ellen’s favorite church (I still prefer the one in Krakow.  But, no mummified hand, not on Sunday.  From there we walked to the Lutheran church.  The museum holds Martin Luther’s Last Will and Testament.  But those stuffy Lutherans weren’t open on Sunday either.  They were having services and you couldn’t go in. The other thing that struck me was the high church attendance.  Many of the worshipers were our age or younger.  Despite forty plus years of official atheism, the number of people attending Sunday worship was high.  I guess government cannot legislate the spiritual beliefs of people, either by dictating what or no religion.  It certain made me reflect on the wisdom of our founding fathers in separating church and state.  So we left. And went to Varoshaz ut.  The high class pedestrian mall in Budapest.  Interesting not compelling.  However, in the square is the most elaborate 18^th century pissior in the world.  And it truly is, it’s also now a kiosk.  From there we went back to the river for a break on a floating restaurant.  After leaving we chanced upon a medieval festival at the foot of the Chain Bridge, which we watched for awhile (it sort of messes you up to see a knight in mail, swords, and armor smoking a cigarette and drinking beer out of a can).  On the other side of the Chain Bridge is a tram that lifts you straight up to the top of castle hill. (3.00$ US)  Where was it last night?  Up we go.  When you get off the tram, you are faced with a large plaza.  To your left is the imposing edifice of the National Museum; to your right are three rows of buildings framing streets.  The outside buildings hug the walls and the middle building runs between the two streets.  This pattern continues until the area is four streets wide.  It should be noted this is a lived in neighbor hood, with grocery stores, apartments and all.  This in addition to shops and restaurants.  We wandered for several hours, and the stopped for a beer. (Is this stopped for a beer becoming repetitive? Methinks so therefore from this point on I will simply insert SFB) Back to the tram and dinner at the same restaurant.  I had heard earlier in the day of an organ concert in a large church next to our hotel.  I though we should go.  I thought we ought to get us some culture.  So we did, and actually it was quite nice but long, and we had enough culture after two hours (2 hrs divided by 17 days times 24 hrs = .4% of the trip)Now I have a confession to make.  I love Stella beer.  So I saw the Stella Umbrella and said “Let’s SFB” we did but they were out of Stella and sold us Corsendonk.  With each Corsendonk you get a free scratch off.  First time out I won a pen, second time out I won a pen.  But greed got the best of me I wanted a tee-shirt.  I would be the envy of all my friends with a Corsendonk tee-shirt.  We tried and tried, the waiter even brought us complimentary scratch off’s. Nothing but X’s. To bed, too late, too much Corsendonk.  Day 12 July 26^th Lions and Tigers and Baths oh my Slept in until 10a.m.  Ellen wanted to see the zoo.  So we discussed our best transport.  The metro, of course.  I admit I like figuring out metros in foreign cities.  It’s a cool feeling to get where you wanted to go.  Plus the original line in Budapest was built in the 1890’s and is still powered by an engine with caterpillar treads. So off we go.  No problem.  The Budapest zoo is like nothing I’ve ever seen.  By American standards it would probably be judged inhumane, but I have never been so close to the animals.  The rhinos, for instance, are in a pen, surrounded by upstanding telephone poles.  It’s deep enough that the poles though six feet above the surface are about four feet above the sidewalk.  The rhinos are right there.  It is not uncommon at all for parents to let their children reach out and touch them.  The elephant house has to be seen.  It’s a blue dome that looks Indian.  The other thing that struck our fancy was the raccoons.  Now we know that raccoons are smart and sly.  There was a cage of them and, at least to my observation, no real roof to keep them in.  We hypothesized that they stayed in the day, escaped at night, and returned for food in the daytime.  I predict that Budapest will soon report an ecological disaster.  The other thing we noticed is conservation displays.  In American zoos this is a given.  In Eastern Europe the pollution is/was so bad that we found encouragement in the first, and only attempts we found to educate the populace.  We spent several hours here, and then off to see a real Hungarian bathhouse.  Very ornate, very busy, very neat.  Back to the hotel, SFB, sort of a funny story here.  We ordered Corsendonk, but apparently the promotion worked, we were told “All we have is lousy German beer”, ate SFB, and an early night as we had a 6a.m. wake up                      Brief thoughts on Budapest This city of 1.2 million is on its way.  One of the only Soviet Bloc countries to enact economic reform, it’s gotten a head start.  I’ve heard it described as “Paris on the Danube” and that description is apt.  The Hungarian’s have a battle with their rural areas but should become a viable economy, and country very soon . Day 13 July 27^th “Rollin’ on the River”  Got to the hydrofoil with time to spare which was good, as the lines were long.  The hydrofoil was smaller than I thought.  Sitting in it was more like being a plane than a boat.  Off we go, into the mist and rain.  The Danube is by stretches a major waterway and a small river.  At times the shores were one hundred yards in each direction, at others mere feet.  What was surprising is that it is an industrial river.  Barges, tour boats, fishing boats, and private boats accompanied us the entire way.  Backdrop this with bluffs of crumbling castles, and medieval walls, then add the old and new juxtaposed in unique, unexpected, and sometimes startling ways.  We saw, the largest cathedral in Hungary, the walls, bridges, and castles of Bratislava.  We saw freight, we saw fishing, and we saw sunbathers.  This is a river of commerce, a river of transport, and a river of wonder.  But what was most impressive to us, it is a river of locks.  About the time I expected to arrive at Bratislava, the boat slowed, and I saw out of the window, concrete walls.  I announce with surety and confidence to Ellen “Ah we’ve arrived in Bratislava.  Oh no, my geographically challenged American.  We were in a 75 foot lock.  I have never been through a lock before.  The experience is nothing of what I expected.  I expected turbulence, and rocking.  It was a smooth, almost anti-climactic.  The doors behind us closed, and we waited.  Water bubbled up on our starboard side.  It reminded me of the disturbance on the top of a pool when the filter hose points upward.  Only bigger.  As I watched I could clearly see, based on marks on the lock pool, the rise of the boat.  Very clinical, very logical, and very predictable.  The slow but steady change in the horizon was not.  Suddenly, trees, roads, light standards, people, and buildings came level with our limited horizon.  It was then that the magic of physics became real. Then the doors opened and we were off.  We repeated this experience once again, and were in Vienna.  Again, the taxi, the check-in, the room, the SFB.  This was the night we searched for, and found an Irish Pub.  A hamburger, a hamburger, with French fries please.  We found it, and lo and behold they had a “Chili-Cheese burger” so it was ordered times two.  Just so you know a chili-cheese burger in Vienna is a cheese burger with chili peppers on it.  I’m done good night.  Day 14 July 28^th Artwork on the R/Hoof Vienna is another large city.  The old section of Vienna however is fairly compact.  It is surrounded by a ring road, and all the interesting, old palaces, opera houses, museums, and the like are inside.  We walked this most of the day.  The original palace is still the seat of government, plus the National art galleries, and museums.  It’s a gigantic place, that’s been added to through the centuries.  There’s an original medieval wing, coupled with more modern buildings.  This is the home of the Lipenstanzer stallions, Vienna Boy’s choir, and famous Vienna opera house.  Both the horses and choir were on summer vacation, which was a bit of a disappointment.  The most striking thing in Vienna is the ornamentation on the tops of buildings.  A Hapsburg affectation, these sculptures boggle the mind.  Between each window, at each cornice, marching across eaves, set back into corners these representations of mythical scenes were every where.  All of them different.  The other noticeable thing is the use of gold gilt.  Every globe, every spear tip, shields, in fact, anything that could be gold gilded was.  It made for a gaudy display.  There’s significant renovation going on in Vienna.  The Opera House was completely shrouded, as was the church.  (Have I mentioned I’ve seen just about enough C’s [churches castles, cathedrals])  One thing of note that I found curious.  The church here was black and being cleaned.  Throughout much of Eastern Europe we saw old cathedrals being cleaned of old coal soot.  They were, as a rule, black.  I was happy to see money being sent on these grand old buildings after years of official neglect.  Since Vienna was not part of the Soviet Bloc, it surprised me here.  This was a day of aimless wandering (and a few SFB’s) towards evening we walked through an area called “Carmen’s Corner” Over an area of several acres were small kitchens, under A-frame covers.  Atop each was a national flag, and each sold their national food.  We saw Japanese, South African, British, Greek, Slovak, and about fifty others (but no US).  Interspersed were beer stands, and in the center were large picnic tables.  People milled around, having a beer, sampling food from around the world, and generally having a good time.  Nothing appealed to us, so we walked, eventually finding a small, family run restaurant off the beaten track.  They understood (vee sign with the fingers, followed by “Bier bitte”) and we understood Danke Shoen.  That was about the extent of our communication.  However, it worked.  It was interesting (although we felt a little like voyeurs) to watch the local comings and goings.  Apparently, the owner (not the manager—the wife was clearly in charge) liked something about us.  Perhaps our quiet, respectful sitting there (perhaps our on-going ordering of beer).  He brought us two complimentary schnapps.  Quite complimentary to the beer, we decided, so we ordered two more. (Vee sign hold up the glasses, Bitte).  Before long we were taking pictures of each other, his son was trying to speak English, and we were communicating verbally, non-verbally (at one point the owner brought us two more schnapps, held a finger to his lips in the classic shhh sign, and pointed at his wife.  His message was clear enough.)  One gentleman there spoke good English and was well traveled so we ended up spending a couple of enjoyable hours in what we considered to be authentic Austrian company.  Then it was off to bed and get ready for the train. Day 15 July 29^th It was with mixed feelings we left for the train to Prague.  We wanted to see Prague, yet it was our last city.  I reflected on the train, that we’d seen so much, and the time had flown, and now it was coming to an end.  I admit feeling a bit melancholy at the station.  The train ride dispelled the gloom.  We rode through Moravia, and Bohemia, along side a small river, through several tunnels, and around high hills.  It was beautiful.  Actually this was the only real trip through the countryside we took.  The other, from Krakow to Budapest was at night.  On this segment you could clearly see the beauty of the land, and the ugliness of the economy.  Small villages and town appeared to be crumbling, dirty, and graffiti laced.  As we neared Prague the homes thickened, and obviously, the economy improved.  Larger, better kept homes, many with pools became the norm.  Typical train station and taxi ride got us to our hotel.  We walked from here to the Old Town Square.  Prague is made up of five major areas.  Hradcany (Castle district), Mala Strana (lesser quarter) on the east side of the river.  Stare Mesto (Old town), Nove Mesto (new town) and Josefov (Jewish quarter) on the west.  These are connected by three bridges, the most famous being the Charles Bridge.  The Charles Bridge is a pedestrian only bridge, full of kiosks, street performers, statues, and tourists.  Esther (the lady from LA we met in Krakow) described as a sea of heads.  Apt description.  Our first stop was the old town square in the old town.  This square, while not as large as that in Krakow is still impressive.  Because this area was part of Neville Chamberlains “there will be peace in our time” deal with Hitler it escaped WWII damage.  So it remains relatively pristine.  As you come into the square your senses are bombarded by multiple points of interest.  To your rights is a yellow double steeple church with black highlights.  In front of you is the old town hall and tower.  Completely surrounding the square are multi-storied houses of blue, purple, yellow and pink.  Within the square are, you guessed it, beer umbrellas. (The Czech Republic has the highest per capita beer consumption in the world; it was here we saw kids 7 and 8 having beer for breakfast—after drinking their beer I totally understand).  At the bottom of each building is a store.  A few “tourist” shops, tee-shirts and the like, but also Czech crystal.  They make just about anything you can think of crystal, chess sets, chandeliers, doo-dads.  I walked into one and the phrase “bull in a china shop” sprung to mind.  One miss-step and we’d be permanently poor. I left.  There is also a line of booths selling everything from film, to blacksmith products, to linens.  First things first, the famous astronomical clock.  This may be Prague’s single most famous tourist draw.  I will inadequately describe it, I’m sure.  The foremost thing to remember is that it was built around the time Columbus discovered America.  On the hour it chimes, and has for 500 years.  Just before the hour a skeleton about 18 inches tall begins to shiver and shake.  It pulls a string attached to a small brass bell.  In perfect synchronization the bells on the tower ring.  It appears the skeleton is ringing the tower bells.  After this starts, two figures on either side begin to nod their heads, again in perfect synchronization.  Two doors open, and the twelve apostles march by.  The last, disappears and the doors close, and a raven caws three times marking the exact moment of the hour.  Not particularly impressive by computer generated Hollywood special effects standards, but built over 500 years ago it’s pretty striking (sorry couldn’t resist.).  From there it was time to head for the Charles Bridge.  It was all it was said to be, beautiful, active, and touristy.  So off for a SFB.  We had two choices, the first was described as the oldest beer joint in Prague, it was also described as over-priced, over rated and over busy.  The second was Medicia”s, built and operated in the 1300’s and the home of Budvar, the original Budweiser.  This is where we went.  On to dinner, a little more strolling and bed.  Although I should mention that we stopped at the hotel bar for a nightcap. (Perhaps another acronym is in order {SATHBFAN}—our waiter was very concerned about visiting the USA because of alligators. Day 16 July 30^th I am done with castles and churches—OR—The Tour De Lance. We had made arrangements the previous night for a taxi to the top of Castle Hill.  While it was walk able, it was also insane.  This was proven later on the way down as we saw sweaty, panting, red-faced people on their way up.  Quickly, upon arriving, our able, cosmopolitan minds were completely confused.  Multiple tickets, different tours, different times and lines had us scratching our collective heads.  This area is comparable to the Mall in DC.  National museums, art galleries, historic tours, all generated from one spot.  Add to this German, English, partial tours, language specific, guided tours, walking rentals, and our basic ignorance and it took us 5-10 minutes to figure it out.  But we did.  First stop another church.  This was the final one.  Three things were unique here.  First, the tomb of good King Wenceslas, which is cordoned off and decorated with precious jewels throughout the walls.  They are literally glued to the walls.  Immediately behind his chapel is a staircase.  This takes you through the foundations of the church (St Vitis), down through the original medivial foundations.  You literally look at masonary that was laid by people who lived in the 13^th century.  Unknown to most, there is a door at the back of the room you arrive in.  It is very forgettable, unpretentious, and can be easily ignored.  It is the door to the Czech national treasure.  It has seven locks, and seven individual keys.  Each held by a different person.  To access the national treasury all seven must congregate and agree to open this door.  Next stop was the old castle.  While not particularly noteworthy, there were two areas that enthralled me.  The main hall was huge, and it had to be, as in ancient days jousting occurred in here, inside.  Literally there was a horse path from outside to this room.  It was probably 80 yards long and 40 wide.  Winding corridors, steps, and hallways lead us to the castles upper rooms.  It was here that clerics and despots were thrown out the window during popular uprisings.  It is a loooooong way down.  One cleric, however, managed to hit a dung cart and survived.  He also left the country.  From here we wandered down “Golden Alley” This is a “Holy Smoke let me catch my breath” spot.  You are, quite literally, transported back to a medieval age.  As you round the corner there is a line of homes on both sides of the street.  The street is about eight feet wide, the homes are two stories, but stand no taller than eleven feet.  They lean out over the street, and the second story sticks out 2-3 feet beyond the first.  As recently as the 1960’s people actually lived in these homes and number 23 was the home of Franz Kafka.  This very well might have been one of my favorite spots.  And finally, we are done with churches, castles, and cathedrals (The C’s).  Outside the castles walls is the Royal garden; within the Royal Garden is the Singing Fountain.  Sounds cool right?  After walking about 350 miles we found it, it stunk.  However, on closer examination we did get a chuckle.  The underside of the upper bowl had interspersed old men and cherubs.  The old men were spitting water out of their old men faces, while the cherubs were urinating water out of their cherub penises.  On the way back we stumbled across what can only be described as a bird of prey holding spot.  There were falcons, and owls, chained to pegs—each with their individual house.  Quite odd.  Down the hill we went, to Mala Strana (the lesser quarter) we had heard of this area for years.  Winding lanes, streets that turn into lanes that turn into alleys—a real wonderland.  And, while smaller than we thought it was as advertised.  At one point we came out of a small alley, and I said “Look”, we had stumbled on the US embassy.  Turning left we headed down the street, and ran across a check-point.  No one was allowed up the street without a security check.  We’re talking mirrors under the car and the whole nine yards.  A bit disconcerting.  SFB, and watched the Stars and Stripes wave on the hill. Then it was back towards Old Town.  It was at this point we almost stopped at McDonalds, I was sorely tempted by the McGreek sandwich, I also wanted to see the Museum of Medieval Torture Equipment but Ellen nixed that idea.  Our next stop Wenceslas Square.  Lance Armstrong was making an appearance at 4:30 and we thought we’d drop by to chat.  We stopped at Bethlehem Square (my anglicizing) for a quick peek at the protestant church their.  This is not the original church, but it is the sight of something I never knew.  A Roman Catholic cleric, Jan Hus, about 50 years before Martin Luther challenged the sovereignty, and theology of the church on this spot.  He proposed starting a new church based on a strict interpretation of the bible.  He opposed the power of Rome, the selling of absolution, and the abuses of the clergy.  He was burned at the stake.  Then on to Wenceslas Square.  Another spot that evinces a bucolic and serene sense.  Wrong.  It’s a zoo.  It’s actually two major thoroughfares, separated by a median, surrounded by 8-10 story buildings, and full of people, bars, restraints, shopping, hotels, McDonald’s,  Nike swoosh’s, pandemonium, rock music, and on this day a bike race.  In honor of Lance Armstrong, they had set up a bike race track, around which bikers raced—for hours—while someone called the race—every lead change, every moment, on end, and end.  It was noisy.  We’re sure (?) Lance Armstrong was in the race, so we saw him.  We’re sure. Seriously.  We really didn’t want to deal with the press of the crowd so we left.  Back to Old Town, SFB, and met a really nice bar tender.  His English wasn’t too good, our Czech was worse, he spoke a little Russian, as did I so we at least conversed (albeit painfully).  Back to our restraint for dinner, and then an evening sit as we watched the sun come down and the lights go on in the old square.  Prague is very proud and supportive of their local football (soccer) team the Sparta.  Apparently, they were playing an English team the next day, as the quintessential English football hooligan began to show up in droves.  Chanting, marching, drinking, and generally raising Cain. I though we were going to bust a gut.  They were all out in the square, shirtless, arms around each other, chanting some team mantra, when we noticed the old town drunk right in the middle of them.  He was one of the guys.  When the mooning started the police moved in and we headed back. Day 17 July 31^st “It’s a wonderful world” First stop today, Josefov, the old Jewish quarter and WWII ghetto.  The only thing of interest here is the cemetery.  It was first used in the mid 1400’s and continued to be used through the 1700’s.  It got so full that people are buried 12 deep.  Many of the older gravestones have a pictorial emblem designating that person’s profession.  It’s eerie.  Just in front is an old synagogue.  Even after a new spot was found and people were buried elsewhere, all the deceased were carted through this synagogue, as part of the burial tradition.  Back to the Tower.  There was a tour which took you behind the astronomical clock to see its inner working.  We got in the wrong line and ended up on top of the tower overlooking the square.  Vertigo, my old friend.  Down we went, and off to some street markets we’d seen earlier.  It was souvenir time.  These differed from anything else we saw, they were orderly, and the goods were truly hand made.  (In many cases the artists were out front working) and a bargain.  From there SFB, and back to the hotel.  We were booked on a dinner river cruise.  Van picked us up, and dropped us off.  Now, I have to say, the food basically stunk.  But, the river views were outstanding.  I finally got a good look at two things I wanted to see in Prague.  A cubist building (if you have to ask forget it—no way can it be described), and Prague’s 15^th century water tower.   The water tower house the secret police watch station on Vaclav Havel’s apartment.  An unexpected plus, we went through another lock.  Up the river and back.  As we sat in the lock, it seemed magic occurred.  In the boat ahead an accordion player started, he had his whole boat rocking.  Then our band came up to play Louie Armstrong’s ‘It’s a wonderful world”.  The sun set and the lights came on.  The castle on the hill looked like it was floating, the lights under the arches of Charles Bridge framed, the lights of old town.  Music drifted across the river, jazz, and accordions, and classical.  Not the least bit discordant, it created a myriad of sights and sounds.  And then, fireworks.  A whole fire works show, across the river.  The sight and sound, the magic of Prague at night, was a magically goodbye to a magical trip.  In the van on the way back we met some New Yorkers from Seaford.  They actually drive by my elementary school every day.  Day 18 August 1^st   “Go West Young Man” A plane, 23 hours getting home, a delay in Charlotte and paying more for a few beers in the Charlotte airport than we paid for beers and dinner in a day in Poland, Hungary, and the Czech Republic.  Home.  First stop McDonald’s, and yes, we’re home. Top Ten Moments and sights10                          Sunflowers in Hungary09                          View from Gellert Hill in Budapest08                          Salt Mine Chapel in Poland07          Astronomical Clock06          St Anne’s Krakow Square05          Krakow Square04          Golden Alley Prague03          Rudolph Hess’s home and the gas chamber02          View from our Window Moscow01          Prague from the river at night. Things we learned1                   Take less2                   Take more trains3                   Go in the Spring or Fall4                   Find out a little more about shows, and theatre Final Thoughts

What a mixed bag.  We experienced the beauty of the salt mines, and Prague at night.  We saw the horror of Auschwitz.  We experienced the warmth of Blazj, and pickpockets in Moscow.  We saw an area of the world regaining pride, and a future.  We saw churches being renovated, and people back in church.  We saw economic struggle, and hope for the next generation.  So what did we learn?  I like to read foreign papers when I’m overseas to get a view of the world we don’t get here.  I was struck by two articles.  The first, spoke to the smuggling problem between Romania, and Hungry involving sugar.  The second pointed out that less than 20% of Americans have passports.  Most Americans would never know of the smuggling problem, but as countries join the EU and price supports hit day to day commodities it makes sense.  These countries have a long way to go, and all they see at this point is increasing prices (most apartments in these cities rent for 1200 Euros a month) and flat incomes.  Life is hard, it’s a great bargain for us, and it’s on the people’s backs.  Since most American never travel overseas, we are oblivious.  Yet there is a sense of future here.  The over education of the past is being replaced by a real economy.  Throughout this area, there has never been a middle class.  I sense strongly in Budapest a burgeoning middle class, and a nascent one in Poland and the Czech Republic.  There is hope here, and they deserve it.  I didn’t sense the anti-Americanism we had feared.  The most vocal anti-American sentiment I heard was from the Brit.  I did sense, the nervous question.  Will the Americans be steadfast friends?  It is amazing the interest people through the region had in our politics.  They all understood our electoral college (which I don’t), and they all knew of Kerry.  They even clearly, understand how a few states drive our foreign policy.  It was humbling. 

Planes, Trains and AutomobilesCroatia, Romania and Bulgaria   Sept. 14^th through Oct 7^th 2006  Okay why here?The genesis of the trip

Two years ago we planned to visit Brasov and Romania while in Eastern Europe.  Through travel agent error and our ignorance we missed the train.  I now consider this a real blessing in disguise, as we connected with Blaji, got to see the salt mines and in retrospect, one day wouldn’t have done Romania justice.  As we started to plan our 06 trip I went back to our Eastern European guide book and began to identify more places to see in Romania.  Then flipping through the pages I found Croatia and Split.  We also had heard great things from Blaji about Bulgaria.  I was also intrigued with the fact that none of these countries currently are members of the EU, although both Bulgaria and Romania are scheduled to join next year.  I really wanted to see them prior to that happening; I wanted to see life in these countries without any more foreign influence than necessary.  And so it came to pass.

 

A brief history of the area.

The most predominate force in the history of the Balkans are the Carpathian Mountains.  These mountains effectively isolated this area from the rest of Europe.  The western side of the peninsula borders the Adriatic Sea, while the eastern side borders the Black sea.  By land there are only three reasonable routes into the area.  On the extreme west is a coastal route from Italy.  In the Southeast is a route from Turkey and to the northwest is a route through the Ukraine (Russia).  Considering these routes and the fact that the area lies in the middle of the seats of power for The Holy Roman church, Constantinople, and the Ottoman Empire (with an important northeastern access to the Russian Orthodox Church) it ended up being both hotly contested at times and experiencing long periods of isolation.  Over the course of many centuries there was an ongoing ebb and flow of dominant powers.  Each advance and retreat left behind converts, transplants, victims, and conquerors. Each subsequent advance and retreat turned the power structure over.  People mixed and melded, defined themselves by language, religion and ethnicity, isolated themselves and built farms and homes amongst like minded people, and found themselves over run again.  Then they were faced with the choice of changing language custom and religion or holding out.  If they converted they faced a reconquest, if they didn’t they faced persecution.  Some facts that may illustrate this point.  There are some Muslim sects in Macedonia that celebrate a variation of Christmas and Easter.  Transylvania is strongly Saxon in architecture and culture due to the Hungarians moving huge numbers of Saxons here as a buffer against the Ottomans.  There is some thought that the legend of the Pied Piper of Hamelin (where he leads the children away) is actually the relocation of the Saxons. Bulgaria’s close ties to Russia can be traced to Russia’s support of their Orthodoxy in the face of the Turks. More on the Russian Turkish War of 1886-7 later). At one point the Turks had a two tier tax system, Muslims paid a lower tariff.  So many Christians converted that they quit allowing conversions.  The Croats and Serbs are actually the same ethnic group and share a very similar language, the difference; Croats are Roman Catholic, and use Roman letters, while Serbs are orthodox and use Cyrillic letters.  This then begins to explain the volatility of the region.  In the early 1600’s people began to see themselves as nations.  Within these boundaries there were majorities and minorities, at the same time the majorities looked across borders and saw like minorities in other countries. This began an excuse to push and shove to increase the size of nations.  At one point or another each nation was much larger than it is now and there remains to this day a sense that part of “my” country is controlled by outsiders and my countrymen are being forced to live as a minority.  In my feeble and uninformed opinion the watershed event for the entire 20^th and early 21^st century occurred in Bulgaria in 1886.  The Bulgars rose up against the Ottoman Empire.  This uprising was put down brutally, so much so, that the entire world was shocked.  Enter the Russians (who were trying to extend their Empire, and make the Russian orthodox Church the “third city of God”)  they drove the Turks out and as a reward for Bulgaria’s help ceded them large tracts of Romania, and what is currently Greece, and Macedonia.  Western Europe recoiled and at the treaty of Berlin 1889, redrew all the borders irrespective of ethnicity, previous loyalty, religion, or language.  Greater Serbia was put under the control of Austria, which lead to a trip by Prince Ferdinand to Sarajevo and his assassination by a Serb.  This was the powder keg for WWI, which lead to (among other things a redrawing of the Middle East map) WWII, the Cold War and etc.

A quick note on the civil war in the former Yugoslavia:  Yugoslavia was Serb dominated, when it broke down minorities who were the majority in smaller areas (Croatia {Roman Catholic, Roman letters}; Kosovo {Muslim, Roman letters}) saw the hand writing on the wall and tried to break away.  The Serbs tried to prevent this and also tried to remove Croats from Serb dominated areas, and Muslims from Serb dominated areas, of course the Croats wanted the Serbs out of Croat dominated areas.  There were no good guys here.

A quick note on Romania; unlike any other area the Romanians trace their roots to Western Europe.  They believe they are descendants of a Roman outpost and I can see this as possible the “Roman Nose” is in clear evidence.

 

Okay enough of that lecture stuff if you want to know more I suggest a book called “Balkan Ghosts” it’s very good.

  Day 1Gentleman Start your EnginesSeptember 14^th 2006 

We went out the night before for a good chili-cheeseburger (knowing we wouldn’t get one for a long while) had a bon-voyage drink, finished packing and went to bed.  5:30 came plenty early.  Originally I wanted to go to Briggs for breakfast but with the recent “gel” scare and all the admonishments to get to the airport early, Ellen nixed this so we decided to cook at home.  Ellen bought beef bacon (which I don’t recommend as it A) stinks, B) cooks up bad and C) tastes bad) I also fixed some eggs (delicious) and waffles.  So with full stomachs it was off to RDU. Lindsey drove us which gave me my last taste of domestic bliss (Lindsey slow down! Lindsey you’re too close to that car! Moooooooom, I know how to drive!  Moooooom just leave me alone!  Both of you SHUT UP!!!)  This reminded my why I needed a vacation.  We arrived with 3 hours to spare and got our tickets and through security in about 12 minutes.  So we went to the bar.  After a few screwdrivers we struck up a conversation with the bartender Frank, who is leaving a week after we get back for Prague and Krakow.  We passed the time with him until our flight, which was delayed an hour.  This was defiantly okay as Philly is a non-smoking airport.  We got our nicotine levels up, boarded and reached Philly.  After a 2 hour lay over we boarded.  This flight was completely uneventful.  Dinner and a movie and bed, and we held on to our spectacles.

  Day TwoThe City by the SeaSeptember 15^th 2006 

Our flight arrived in Frankfurt ahead of schedule.  Since we flew in business class the first stop was the Envoy lounge—alas—non-smoking.  Since our last smoke was 13 hours earlier we got directions to a coffee stand where we could smoke.  Ellen was seriously zoned, but I felt pretty good.  The man running the coffee stand was Mid-eastern and actually pretty funny, he kept saying “I take Euros, dollars, pounds, yen, whatever you have.”  From there we went to the Envoy lounge and waited until we needed to get to our gate.  Maybe I was a little more jet lagged than I thought as I led us unerringly right out of the international terminal, which meant we had to pass passport control twice—but hey, I have German stamps on my passport now.  After a slight delay we boarded Air Croatia for the flight to Dubrovnik. They served us lunch; it was some kind of doughy rolled up thing with some cheese in it.  It filled you up and left you wanting to eat.  I had hoped to be able to look out on the Adriatic and Italy, but alas it was overcast (a harbinger of things to come).  We got into Dubrovnik at 4:30 local (10:30 Friday morning at home or 26 hours in transit) and taxied to the hotel.  Along the way we drove along a cliff over looking the water and got our first view of Dubrovnik, which was everything it was cracked up to be.  Quick check-in and freshen up, and it was off to the city.  Our hotel was about 5 miles from the old city (this has become so popular that old city hotels are now going for 4-500 a night).  The front desk advised us to take “Bus #6, just walk to the top of the hill and turn left you’ll see the bus stop and wait for #6, we can even sell the tickets here” (60 cents) so we did, except her left was my right.  So we walked, and walked, and found the bus which took us right back where we started from and only then did we get to the city.  Dubrovnik was founded in the 7^th century by refugees from a Roman settlement over run by barbarians.  The first walls were built then.  Over time because of its unique location and security it became a major trading city, and eventually became a city state on par with Venice.  When the entire coast of Dalmatia was sold to Venice in the 13^th century Dubrovnik went along but maintained a stubborn independence.  The city was devastated by an earthquake in 1667 and rebuilt in the Baroque style.  Napoleon captured the city and turned it over to Austria and over the last 200 years the city saw a slow but steady decline in its fortunes.  Famous as one of the last European cities to maintain it’s walls, and for it’s red tile roofs (many of which were destroyed, but since fixed, by a Serb bombardment in 1992) it has found new economic strength in tourism.  There are only two ways in and out, the active gates have working drawbridges.  These, as well, as the still working 14^th century well, which is a feat of engineering in itself as it brings water from a well 14 miles away (and still works) were used during the 1992 bombardment.  Upon entering we found ourselves in a small plaza that led directly to the famous marble main street.  So we wandered, this is a real working city, and as you wander the narrow, windy streets you pass people doing their daily business, this is also a city of cats.  I suspect the mice/rat problem in these old buildings could be serious, but all the cats appeared well fed, and I didn’t see a mouse.  When we got back to the main town we passed a working vegetable market, and decided to stop for beer (SFB) and a bite.  I was worried about the weather (rightfully so) and insisted we do the wall walk.  It was just about wall closing time, but we made it, did the walls, and then decided the travel had the best of us.  So, back to bus #6, and the hotel.  A few nightcaps and brief discussion with Suzanne (the night cap delivery person) and we hit the bed.

  Day 3Typhoon DubrovnikSeptember 16^th 2006 

We got up at a decent hour and wandered down to the seaside, and saw a bit of the resort coast of the lee side of the island, breakfast was being served when we got back up to the hotel, so we ate.  From there we headed back to the old town. This time we knew where to wait for the bus. After getting our ferry tickets for tomorrow we headed back through the gate.  Today was meant to be a slower “see the sights” day.  We walked to the lesser known back gate and out into the old harbor area.  This is still an active harbor and we watched the fishing boats come and go.  Set up around the harbor was a market which sold many home made linens and crafts.  These were interesting and Ellen spent some time looking.  From there we went and saw the old main church, the 3ed oldest pharmacy in Europe, and the first to sell to people other than the nobility.  We sort of goofed with this as it’s inside the Dominican Monastery, and right next to a working pharmacy, so we ended up in a working pharmacy thinking the old one was still in service.  That may be why they began to give us funny looks after awhile.  Of course, I may have looked a little funny too, because I just didn’t get it.  We visited the monastery, an old orthodox church and the icon museum.  And then the rain hit.  So we bought an umbrella, and then the rain hit.  We found a drinking/eating establishment out of the rain and had some lunch and a few beers.  Next to us were the founding members of the Red Hat Society.  In a word these ladies were obnoxious.  But they thought they were having fun; alas.  Because the streets are so narrow, we were able to look closely at the walls, from where we sat, and without too trouble able to determine shell damage and repairs.  It really brings the civil war home.  Okay so it was raining, and we’d pretty well seen the city.  We caught bus #6 back.  And then the rain hit.  Total and complete downpour.  If I held the umbrella Ellen got soaked, if she held it I got soaked—there was no compromise we got soaked to the skin.  Since we only had 4 changes of clothes each this was a problem—but it could wait.  We had a few drinks and then I took a nap while Ellen ate.  Back to the bar for some discussion and contemplation, we thought.  Oh no a tour had come in and it was disco dance night.  I really really hate disco.  But this was kind of funny because the hotel supplies disco dance night facilitators.  They did the disco dance and encouraged participation, and were really goofy.  Somewhere during the evening we met Bertrand a fish farmer from Majorca. He’s French and obviously pretty high up in the fish farming community.  He had come down from Venice where he’d done a presentation on fish farming.  We discussed catfish farming, sea bass farming and others.  He delivered one of the best lines of the trip.  “Forget the French visit France. For some reason I found this hilarious.  We also got our first taste of the passion and ethnic emotion of the area.  I asked the bartender if he’d been around in 1992.  While acknowledging that he had, his non-verbals quickly told me to change subjects.  Then it was off to bed.

  Day 4The Sea Passage to SplitSeptember 17^th 2006 

After an early breakfast and checkout we got a taxi to the ferry dock.  You enter the ferry through the front ramp where they load the cars, this felt like walking into a gaping maw.  But we quickly found our cabin unloaded our stuff and made our way around.  This day was set aside to just soak in the sea coast of Croatia.  Instead we just got soaked.  It rained most of the way, but there were enough clear spots, and it did improve during the day that we got to experience the incredibly beautiful islands, and sea of Croatia.  One thing of note, most of the islands are almost devoid of vegetation.  It wasn’t always like this but in the 17^th century Venice cut down most of the trees for ship building.  Because most of the nutrients were in the trees to this day these islands can’t support vegetation.  A nice lunch in the restaurant, a few drinks in the lounge a conversation with Peter from Austria (but with an Arizona driver’s license) and we’re practically to Split.  We did stop at Korkula legendary home of Marco Polo, and a beautiful city in its own right.  After check in we went to the old city of Split (more on Split tomorrow) where we had dinner took a short walk, and then went back to the hotel, where we arranged a car to go to Trogir tomorrow.

 Day 5Let’s do the time warp againSeptember 18^th 2006 

We got an early start to Trogir, which is about 20 miles from Split.  Trogir is a World heritage site, and a jewel.  I could have never imagined that a place like this still exists.  Trogir is on a small island in an arm of the Adriatic, probably no more than .15 miles long and half as wide this town is a maze of medieval streets dating from the 7^th century.  Many of the streets are less that 1.5 meters wide and meander with side streets, alleys, stairs, and sudden forks and squares.  Most of the buildings are 3-4 stories high so you fell like you’re walking through (and you are) ancient passages. What a wonderland, it feels like a movie set, but it’s real.  People live and work here.  There is no car traffic (the streets are too narrow).  Everywhere you look is a little courtyard, or set of steps to some mysterious place.  It’s completely built of stone, and has retained a look and feel that is timeless.  Eventually, and purely by accident you find yourself on the water side of town.  This is a big yachting area so the whole waterfront is full of sailing and power vessels, each worth millions.  The crews were busy cleaning and restocking (beer, fresh food and flowers).  Turning around you see the old medieval keep that looks just like it should, and the front of an old cathedral.  After we’d seen enough of the waterfront we went back into the city proper, and found the main square.  While tiny, it has the look you’d imagine, a church to one side, the town municipal buildings opposite.  It really doesn’t take any imagination to visualize ladies in full skirts, and men wearing swords with doublet’s and tights.  You can imagine the tonsured monks walking around the church, the hawkers with their wares, and the horses shuffling their feet.  If there is a time machine on earth, this is it.  We walked a little more and watched the restaurants get ready for lunch.  Even this is astounding. We watched the fish restaurant lay their fresh catch (out of buckets) in a bed of ice.  We watched elderly women sweep the floor with straw homemade brooms, we watched food supplies being brought in on hand trucks, we watched a timeless ritual occur.  But then it was time for our lunch, so we ate.  During lunch several people dressed for business passed our table which was in the end of a 5 foot wide alley and climb stairs, when we asked the wait staff what was up there we found out it was the town accountant.  Afterward we went out in front of town.  Here we found an active market (this is where all the foodstuff and flowers for the yachts came from) it was obvious that this is Trogirs supermarket.  There is no room in the city for this, so daily the inhabitants go out front and buy their meat and vegetables.  There were also some souvenir and tourist trap spots but very few.  Again, like Dubrovnik, this was the real world, and real life here.  But, it was time for our driver to pick us up and go back to Split.  First stop Diocletian’s Palace.  Another UNESCO sight, this is the remains of Diocletian’s retirement home.  Palace is a bit of a misnomer, it’s actually an estate measuring 250 meters by 250 meters of walled estate, containing temples, houses, the palace, columns, roads, and other structures.  What makes this unique is that the bulk of it is still in use.  The original city of Split grew up within the defensive walls after a nearby Roman settlement was overrun.  The Romans fled to Split in the 7^th century to hide behind these defensive walls.  Many inhabitants are direct descendants and over the last two millennia, have appropriated most of the space.  Inside you will find restaurants (one of which we ate in last night) stores, apartments, outdoor cafes, and on and on.  Beneath the city is a museum that allows you to wander through the foundations, the whole thing is a remarkable juxtaposition of old, new and function.  In front is a waterfront promenade with more of the same.  What captures your attention is looking from outside back at the palace and marveling at the sheer magnitude.  A huge market selling everything from nuts to soup sits on the eastern edge of the walls; we walked through but didn’t buy anything, as I wanted to go to the land entrance to the palace.  Two reasons for this, first it was supposed to be more dramatic, and second the “lucky toe guy” is there.  There is a huge bronze statue of Gregoris of Nin, and legend has it if you rub his left toe you’ll have good luck.  We rubbed his toe (had to stand in line as everyone around wanted good luck) and then went to the Golden gate, which was under renovation—So much for Gregoris of Nin.  Then it was time for SFB, and dinner (Croatian Proscuttio is to die for)  The Croatian Navy had both ships in port for the night, and their band was giving a concert on the waterfront, so we went and soaked that up for awhile, then taxi, phone calls and bed.

  Day 6Trains, Trains, Trains(and Ellen forgets her native language)September 19^th 2006  

Got going early because we had a train to catch.  This was to be a big day of train travel Split to Zagreb, Zagreb to Budapest, and Budapest to Sibiu Romania.  Well, the first surprise came when we tried to check out of the hotel.  Seems Ellen’s magical phone card didn’t work and we owed them a whole bunch of money.  After a heated discussion in which the Croats forgot they knew English we paid up and left in a huffy silence.  The second surprise at the train station was that we were on a “special” train, and “special trains” cost more.  So we had to dig up some more cash.  But then we boarded, and it was kinda special (i.e. roomy and clean), and it was an express no stops.  We spent the first hour climbing over the mountains and on to Zagreb.  Two things of note: first a couple sat next to us and tried to speak German.  We had gone to pains before we left to minimize the chances of being spotted as Americans.  We knew we couldn’t conceal the fact we were tourists so we tried for a western European look (black, European shoes etc.).  When that didn’t work they asked Ellen if she spoke English to which she replied “No” this produced great confusion (especially with me).  Guess you had to be there.  We also had a conversation with the conductor who expressed a lot of satisfaction with Croatia, and no desire to pursue membership in the EU.  We heard this all over Croatia.  When I asked why he said.  “What more do we need, we have a beautiful country, we all have cars, flats and jobs, what can the EU do for us?”  We arrived in Zagreb, put our luggage in left luggage and explored the town, had a bite to eat and got back to the station for our train to Budapest.  The train through Croatia was entirely unremarkable, meaning there was no dining car until we got to Hungary.  Then they attached a dining car.  The dining car guy came through and invited us back for “Real, and really good, authentic Hungarian goulash” so we went.  He allowed us to smoke; we drank a few beers, and had really bland Hungarian goulash.  This guy was a hoot.  He loved Elvis, so the whole time, we listened to “You ain’t nothing but a hound dog” and watched this guy dance.  Believe me the trip from the border to Budapest passed in a flash.  We also met an American named Tonio.  He formerly worked for the US state department as a cultural advisor in Russia during communist times.  Currently he runs an organization that organizes cultural exchanges between nations, very heady, very interesting stuff.  We got to Budapest for out night train to Romania.  Tonio was a Euro light to make a phone call which we gave him, and he watched my back while I exchanged money with a black market guy, since the exchange was closed.  We had Czech money left from our last trip plus some Kuna from Croatia.  I just wanted enough floreints to buy a few beers and sandwiches for the train.  The train was late, but we boarded, found our sleeper, had a few bites of sandwich and a beer, and went to bed.

 

Thoughts on Croatia

What a beautiful country, and it really has the history and places to visit.  It has become, and will be an even bigger tourist mecca.  If you haven’t heard of it as a vacation destination, you will and soon 2-3 years.  As history and geography would dictate this is a very sophisticated, westernized country.  The people are fiercely proud, and fiercely xenophobic.  I suspected we might run into this based on my reading.  It was more overt than I thought.  Comments from our taxi driver about Muslims, and comments by many about the “poor, dirty, criminal” read desperate Romanians and Bulgarians were couched, in concern for us, but a real and palpable inability to understand why we would A) as a country allow Muslims to live in the U.S., and B) risk our lives, money, and waste our time to visit anywhere else but Croatia.  Only in Zagreb did we see support for the EU.  I got the sense that while worldly, Croatians are a bit naive, and on the coast at least think that foreign travel dollars can sustain them indefinitely.  I also got the sense that they would rather see the economy dry up, than run the risk of being reliant on “undesirables”  There was a stated sense of nervousness over the fact that Croatia as a country in only 13 years old, and there is a great big future staring them in the face.  But right now is okay, so why change anything.  Maybe this is just a coastal resort attitude.  I don’t know   Day 7Confusion, Construction, ConflagrationSeptember 20^th 2006 

As usual, Ellen fell asleep immediately; I on the other hand jolted awake at every change in motion and speed, anticipating the border.  One anecdote from the border crossing; the border guard was Santa Claus without a beard. A jolly, hefty, happy man.  I tried a little Romanian on him and he lit up like a Christmas tree—so much different than Russia.  Naturally the border crossing was a snap, and then I fell asleep, and Ellen was awake.  I knew we had to get off before the train got to Bucharest, so at sunup, I checked with the (dirty, poor, thieving, robber) conductor.  “Oh no, this train is not on the circuit to Sibiu, you can’t get there on this train” Now, this is not exactly what I wanted to hear.  I got our travel book from the agent and showed it to him.  All he could do was shake his head and say “No, No, this train doesn’t go there” Again, this is not what I wanted to hear, so I went to tell Ellen.  I suspect from her reaction she didn’t want to hear this either.  I suggested we dress, and pack because that’s the only constructive thing I could think of, when there was a knock on the door.  It was the conductor (the dirty, poor, thieving robber) who had written out what we needed to do on a napkin.  The next stop was Alba Iulia, we were to get off here, ride the next local train to the next town and catch a fast train to Sibiu.  Oh sure. But between his English and my Romanian we had a plan.  So we get off in Alba Iulia.  The train station is small and under construction, but off I go to the only ticket window to try and speak with another (dirty, poor, thieving, robber) “Good Morning how may I help you?”  I explained, she printed our tickets, and helped us validate our Romanian rail pass. It should be noted that the train station itself was undergoing major repair. This little detour required us to ride a “local” train.  We would have even more experience with this later, but this was our first experience.  Local trains are a primary mode of transportation in Romania, where in the US people jump in their car, in Romania they use the local train.  So we boarded this train along with, the plumber carrying his tools and pipe, the lady with her groceries, and the guy with his kid’s new tricycle.  We only had to ride 11 minutes to our next stop, where we had a twenty minute wait. It should be noted that the train station was undergoing major renovation.  A rather rough, but fairly diminutive guy tried to bum a cigarette but shuffled off quickly when we said “Nu”.  Okay so, we’ve had to changed train plans, passed through two “under repair” train stations, rode a train that was showing “deferred maintenance” and been hit up for a cigarette.  All this in about 20 minutes.  Maybe all we’d heard about Romania was true.  I think it fair to say the look Ellen was giving me communicated “This is a fine mess you’ve gotten us into” Then our train to Sibiu showed up.  Very modern, very nice, very fast, and very comfortable.  This was the kind of train travel I enjoy.  And somehow, by luck, magic, or the grace of God we got to Sibiu.  Did I mention the Sibiu train station was under major renovation?  We’d heard enough horror stories about Romania that we were still uneasy, and having to drag our luggage through mud, and construction debris didn’t help.  Because of the renovation taxis were about 150 meters away.  We exchanged our Florients, and $50 US for some lei, found a taxi and off we went to town.  Did I mention that much of Sibiu is under construction?  The taxi driver had to drop us off about 150 meters from the hotel, and we had to drag our luggage through mud and construction debris.  We checked in, freshened up and headed to town. 

 

A word about Romanian money

Romanian money can be confusing, although this will clear up next year.  A few years ago the lei was devalued by 1000%, but they still use both denominations, referred to as the old lei and the new lei or ROL, RNL.  It’s not uncommon to be given change in both so change may consist of a 10 RNL, and a 10,000 ROL which would be 20 RNL.  Prices are listed interchangeably.  You have to pay attention.  Coinage can be even worse, but things are rarely prices in uneven numbers.  Romanian bills are also interesting, in that they’re made of plastic, they are virtually indestructible.  You can’t tear, or rip them.

 

Anyway, we reached town and (surprise, surprise) Ellen wanted coffee and food.  We found this easily.  The waitress explained how to keep from getting confused with the old and new lei (poor, dirty, thieving robber) and then we headed out to explore.  Sibiu’s old town is made up of three interlocking squares, centered on the old church.  Collectively this is a massive area.  Down the side of the hill is a road to the lower town traversed by a bridge known as “Liars Bridge”.  The name comes from the fact it was a meeting place for the town leaders, merchants and, businessmen.  This was where they would hatch their schemes, make deals, and plot together.  The legend has since become that if you tell a lie on Liars Bridge it will collapse.  Much of Sibiu is being “face lifted”. After the bright colors of the buildings around the square in Prague, and Krakow the run down look of the buildings, streets and roofs was a bit of a disappointment.  I expected gaily decorated facades, multiple places to stop for a rest, flower carts and the whole shebang, but instead we saw scaffolding, faded facades, some broken roof tiles and none of the rest.  After seeing the sights, the old church and government buildings, we settled in for a few beers and a relaxing afternoon.  I tried my Romanian which must have worked as we actually got two beers and a smile from the waitress (who was a poor dirty, thieving, robber).  I should mention this also, our room was amazing, two stories in an old elegant hotel.  We headed back here and freshened up, and then headed for dinner.  We had a bottle of wine, appetizers, trout and salad and steak and spent 30$.  By now it was dark, so we headed back to the hotel, where a dance was underway.  Honestly, I don’t know what prompted us to go back out, but we did, and we found a small, lower level spot for a nightcap.  This place was intriguing, in that you had to walk down stairs, duck under an archway, where upon you entered a low vaulted rock ceiling chamber that served as the bar.  Okay so it’s true confession time, we had a few beers and decided to try Absinthe.  I saw the waitress inform the bartender, who looked at us old fogies with raised eyebrows.  What we didn’t realize is there’s quite a ritual associated with absinthe.  The waiter brought absinthe in a shot glass, sugar, spoons, and a glass of ice.  First of all the ritual.  You light the absinthe, then slowly melt the sugar over the flame, pour it into the absinthe dump the whole thing over the ice and savor.  Our bartender told us he’d do Ellen’s and I could watch and emulate.  So far so good except I a) set my sugar on fire b) created a chunk of sugar charcoal, and c) let this flaming mass of sugar and alcohol spread to the table top.  Not enough that it didn’t burn out quickly, but I think the bartender had a moment of elevated adrenalin.  Ellen drink turned out to be a lovely light shade of green with a pleasant aroma; mine on the other hand was brown with a charred odor.  We drank it, and my what a kick, I now understand and appreciate Toulouse Latrec’s paintings. We had a short conversation with the bartender who said two things that stay with me.  His first comment was that he was surprised that two Americans would visit Romanian and travel on their own, as he knew we were warned that everyone in Romania is a poor, dirty, thieving robber.  His second comment (and one we would hear over and over again both here and in Bulgaria) was that he expected life to get worse when Romania joined the European Union and for the next 20 years, but he was willing to deal with that for his children.  At this point we were done and we headed back to the hotel.  And it hit me-right between the eyes—people were going about their business, groups sat on benches visiting, couples ambled aimlessly, and mothers walked with their children.  I was seeing what I came to see.  This was a real square, in a real city, being used by real people, as part of their everyday lives.  No postcard shops, souvenir stands, hawkers, or overpriced restaurants.  I wanted a time machine, and I was in it.  Things may not have been maintained for many years, and maybe some of the facades needed new paint, and a few of the roof tiles needed replacing but things hadn’t changed for centuries.  This wasn’t Disneyland made up for tourists; this was reality that I happened to visit.  This insight changed the whole trip for me.  No longer did I want to re-experience more “modern” western European cities, I wanted to absorb what I know won’t last.  Sibiu will be the next Krakow or Prague—write it down—in five years it will be one of THE destinations, I’m glad I’ve seen it before then.

 Day 8In search of DraculaSeptember 21^st 2006  

Got up, had breakfast, and the orange juice was NOT Tang.  You had a juicer to use.  We did the whole tourist book tour, and visited the churches and whatnot. A few notable stops included the Evangelical church with its organ consisting of 6006 pipes, and the staircase passage.  After that we headed for the remaining of the walls and towers.  Since this was a city strongly influenced by the Saxons, guilds were the bases of the government.  Each guild built and manned a tower, and each tower was named after the guild.  Only three remain, and they are hard to get to, but we managed.  After that we headed to the Orthodox Church which is a miniature model of Istanbul’s Hagia Sofia.  Last stop Haller Bastion know as the “gate of corpses” as holes were drilled in the walls for quick disposal of bodies when the city was hit by the plague.  Running parallel to our hotel is a long pedestrian street full of shops and restaurants, we walked the street stopped for lunch, and then it was time for the train.

 

A word about Romanian trains.  There are three types acc which are modern fast and comfortable rap which are older but make a few scheduled stops, and loc which are old and stop every 15 minutes, often where there is not a station, just a dirt path leading to a village a quarter of a mile from the tracks.

 

Our first train to Sigasora was a local train and a change in Medias.  This was a local train which took two hours to cover 30 miles; it was interesting at first as it stopped at every village along the way, although I must admit it became tedious after awhile.  We did see rural Romania and the famous haystacks and horse carts in evidence along the way.  We had to change trains in Medias.  Medias will never be on any tour list for Romania, and yet I’m glad I saw it.  It is the center point of the industrial, polluted, belt of Romania.  This, in a way, is a monument to the incredible damage done by Ceausescu and the Communists.  At its height the carbonizing plant and metalwork’s spewed out enough smoke and pollutants that 66% of children born in this area had some sort of mental illness.  Sheep turned black, and laundry had to be hung up inside.  We saw miles of burned out factories, mountains of slag, and decaying, collapsing warehouses.  It was apocalyptic. The train station reflected the despair of the region.  Three things stay with me about the wait for the next train.  We were hit up early by a young (9-10) beggar.  We shushed her off, but later saw her with a 5 lei note that she used to buy cigarettes.  At one point I needed the restroom (1 lei and the old European toilets with two footpads and a hole) and yet in the midst of all this we watched a (very) drunk guy wander down the platform, and an elderly gent looked at us and waved his hand in the air saying “Kaput” which got a laugh out of us.  Unable to communicate we used sign language and gestures to communicate.  He made sure we knew when our train was coming, had us guffawing over a pantomime of tourists in Sigasora looking for “Dracul” and reminded us of everyone’s favorite grandpa.  Our train (thank God an acc) arrived, with a dining car and off we go.  What a difference, a few beers, a smoke, a comfortable chair and a quick trip.  And then in the distance we saw Sigasora looming on its hilltop.  A taxi up the hill and we’re at our hotel.  This hotel was old, but nice.  However—no lift and we’re on the 4^th floor.  So to us Americans we’re on the fifth floor.  Now I have a bag that weighs 79 kilos, but the desk guy grabbed it and carried it up (personally I think he regretted it about the second floor) and then headed back to the square.  This square is very small probably 75X75 yards.  Night had fallen, it was raining, we were in the middle of Transylvania, and surrounded by an even darker gloom of the surrounding mountains.  But the temperature was comfortable, so we found some shelter and (surprise, surprise) had a few beers. Suddenly the black cathedral that towers over the square started an organ concert, the effect was eerie, but we both concurred that if we stayed and listened we’d get our culture quota in for the trip, so we had another beer.  Search for dinner, which took us in and out of several places, until we finally found one that suited.  Then it was back to the hotel for a nightcap where we met two Brits on tour, and an American who lived in Prague, and an Aussie who lived in Albania.  The discussion went all over the board but ended with rock music and concerts.  And then it was off to bed.

 Day 9The Melting Pot of CulturesSeptember 22ed 2006 

Sigasora is famous for being the home of Vlad Tepes (Vlad the impaler; Dracula). His natal home were he lived until the age of 4 is here (it’s now a restaurant).  The citadel (another UNESCO site) sits on a high hill. Surrounded by black walls, and with a glowering black clock tower it’s foreboding from the ground, and not a place you’d attack willingly.  While very small there are several things to see.  We visited the, the Clock tower, with it’s working clock of 80 cm figurines built in 1648, and below ground dungeon, the black cathedral (15^th century Lutheran, the German cemetery, saw the towers (originally 15 with 9 bastions of which nine towers remain) and the old medieval steps (all 172 of them) to the Church on the hill.  This church started out catholic and then became Lutheran.  When the Lutherans took over they painted over all the frescos which are now being restored.  Our guide was Orthodox and I found some irony in a Church built by Catholics, run by Lutherans, and explained by the Orthodox.  Inside he explained many of the frescos (this is where Ellen got intrigued by the legend of St. George) and also pointed out new additions recently found in one of the attics of a fortified church. On our way out we met “the plum lady” Probably 70+ she had 7 or 8 plums in a bowl which she tried to sell.  And then we were done, Sigasora is quite small.  We headed for the square.  Our train was in five hours so we considered a tour but couldn’t really find anything, so I ordered a beer and Ellen ordered a pizza.  And here came the plum lady.  Ellen had not gotten the cost/benefit ratio down yet so her 3 dollar pizza was approximately 24 inches in diameter.  She ate half, and here comes the plum lady, who through gestures asked for the rest of the pizza.  We gave it to her.  We went back to the hotel to see if we could get a private car to Brasov.  One million (ROL) we were told (about $40) US.  But decided to take the train.  While we waited we visited with Laurentii and Marian the bartenders.  We again heard their commitment to the next generation.  I used some Romanian with them and was asked why I tried to learn their language.  Because I was a visitor in their country which earned me a funny look and then real thanks (very different from Russian). Perhaps the most interesting part of the discussion revolved around the different schools.  There is a German school, and a Hungarian school inside the citadel, but no Romanian school.  Just a real world reminder of the ebb and flow of dominant cultures in the area.  Remember that native Romanians were not allowed inside the cities, and neither was their school.  But the Germans (at the Hungarian request) settled the area as a first line of defense against the Turks.  In a startling example of the problems facing Romania, we were also told that of the three hundred homes in Sigasora, only one hundred were occupied. Off to the train which was a rap not as nice as the acc but suited well, as it had a dining car.  Beautiful countryside, and a nice ride and we reached Brasov.  On the way to the hotel our taxi driver offered us a fixed price tour of the area which we took him up on for the next day.  Great hotel, and we followed his recommendation for dinner, a few drinks back at the hotel and we were toast.

 Day 10Bran, Bears, Bakers Courtyards, and Vacuum CleanersSeptember 23 2006 

This was another hotel with a free breakfast buffet, with a twist, you could hang a hangie thing on the door at night and you got room service buffet (huh?). Well Ellen checked it all, so it took 3 waiters (a big tip—free?) and nine plates to bring it all it. And we still didn’t have enough coffee. Claude our driver picked us up at nine.  We first visited two fortified churches that are UNESCO sights.  There churches litter the Transylvanian landscape.  Basically they were defensive structures.  Centered in the inner courtyard is a church.  The wall surrounding this has apartments and living quarters built into the wall.  Moving outward is another wall with about 20 feet separating it from the next wall.  This was known as the baker’s courtyard where the cooking was done.  The outer wall also has living quarters, but outside there are shooting galleries.  In times of peace the population would live outside this structure and farm.  During times of invasion everyone would move into the structure and defend the area.  From there we visited Sinaia, first stopping at an Orthodox monastery, and then on to the royal compound.  On the way we saw something interesting, we passed a plant with a plethora of blue pipes emerging and heading in all directions.  I inquired about this and Claude explained it was the city wide heating plant during communist times.  Basically all the heat was generated here and the pipes acted as ducts for the whole city.  I’m sure people were toasty warm. We visited the first King of Romania’s summer castle, which was the first castle in Europe to have telephones, elevators, central heat, and central a vacuum clearing system.  The king loved wood and wood work, so every room has its own type of wood and is decorated to reflect the origin of that wood.  The teak room is Indonesian, the oak room is German, and the workmanship and detail is astounding.  This castle is a real point of pride for Romanians as it should be.  An interesting side note is that Ceausescu decided to appropriate this castle as his summer residence, the caretakers told him there was disease in the wood and it was unsafe, so he built a small residence nearby.  While inside the sky opened up, and as we left—there was Claude (poor, dirty, thieving robber) with our umbrella.  From there it was off to Bran castle. But first we stopped for lunch.  I invited Claude to join us, and sensed some reluctance, but I kind of insisted.  He took us to a restaurant were he was known.  All the food was cooked over an open fire, and I had the national dish of Romania tourq-a-tura. Kind of a meat stew, with a fried egg and polenta.  I wouldn’t need to eat for a day.  This is where we got to know Claude.  He was the first person we’d meet who would talk about life under Ceausecsu. He told us he knew it was Friday when the police came and beat his father up, he opined that a firing squad was a mercy and that he should have been strung up like Mussolini, he talked about the despair, and lingering national nightmare caused by this one man.  Brief editorial.  Of all the Communist leaders this man stands alone as having done more real, and permanent damage to his people and country.  This was by far the most repressive regime in the old Soviet Union.  The ecological, economical, human damage is evident and real today.  He out Stalined Stalin.  No one knows the total death toll and the misery and pain is incalculable.  Romanians are proud, and were crushed; it is horrible to even contemplate.  Most Romanians will not discuss those times; they merely shake their head and say “It was very bad” I will give more examples later. Ellen and Claude both ordered soup, and soup comes in huge bowls, with bread it’s a meal.  At the end Ellen grabbed her bowl lifted it up and drank the rest.  Claude chuckled and said “I wanted to do that but was ashamed of my manners” this one statement spoke volumes.  Then it was off to Bran castle.  Bran castle is famous as the symbol of Romania.  Almost any Romanian thing you see will have Bran as the picture.  It is the castle that Bram Stoker placed the Dracula legend.  It is doubtful Vlad Tepes ever set foot in this building.  The legend of Dracula actually began in Vienna.  Stoker needed two things to create a great story, a forbidding setting and a ghoulish main character.  Since Transylvania was primarily settled by Germans, it was known to Western Europe. (Literally Trans—beyond; Sylvania—the trees)  Stoker visited with a friend of his who was fascinated by torture, villains, and madmen.  This is where he came upon Dracul, literally devil and the executions by impalement.  In Romanian adding “la” means son of so Dracula (son of the devil) was born.  Bran sits on a mountain pass between Transylvania and Walachia, and originally was to ensure taxes were paid.  Later Queen Maria (once described as the only man in Romania) moved in, as she found the Castle in Sinia ostentatious.  It is now a tourist destination.  We walked through the secret passages and found it to be stark and Spartan.  From there it was through the market and back to Brasov.  We bought some homemade goat cheese at the market which we promptly left in Claude’s car.  He returned it (value $1.50) the next day (poor, dirty, thieving, robber).  He also told us about bears coming into Brasov at night and to beware, immediately afterward offering to drive us through that night on a “bear tour” (67% of the bears, and wolves in Europe live in Romania) we declined.  He took us by the location for the filming of “Cold Mountain” and then we got dropped off for a dinner of beer.  Off to bed and a new day.

  Festival in the Market PlaceDay 12September 24^th 2006 

Sunday morning broke with an overcast sky and fog in the mountain tops, but perhaps finally a hint of clearing.  Today was our day to visit Brasov town.  It was obvious from the start that Sunday was to be a big day; a market and stage were being set up.  We looked at some of the market goods and headed for the black church (Lutheran, looming, truly black, and having services) as such we were unable to go in. One of the amazing things is Dracula tried to burn this church down (part of the reason it’s called the black church) since it is solid rock he failed.  We were invited to services by the pastor, but since I don’t know “Onward Christian Soldiers” in Romanian I demurred.  There is a long pedestrian mall, which we wandered and found the McDonald’s for Ellen’s McDonalds shot (I got one in Bulgaria also, so now we have London, Moscow, Prague, Krakow, Budapest, Brasov, Plovdiv, Mexico, and Vienna—my goal is to make a calendar) We visited the smallest street in Europe—less than 30 inches wide, just outside the city walls, where we did have a (self-induced) scare. We heard footsteps behind us and left in a hurry.  We stopped in a Scottish pub, and drank Czech beer (which seemed odd) and then went back to the square where we whiled away the afternoon in the market, and watching the folk festival.  We went back to the same restaurant for dinner, where we sat next to one of the performers from the festival.  The strolling band came back around and she joined in, which was quite a treat.  I worked up my nerve and spoke to her in Romanian, enough to tell her I was American, spoke poor Romanian, but very much enjoyed her impromptu show.  And then it was off to bed as we had an early train to Bucharest in the morning.

  Fast Trains, Big Buildings, and Late night TalksDay 13September 25^th 2006 

The train to Bucharest took 6 hours, four to get out of Transylvania, about 40% of the mileage and 2 to get through Walachia. There is a clear delineation between the two, Transylvania, is beautiful, mountainous and relatively pristine.  As soon as you reach Walachia it becomes flat, monotonous, and littered with industrial waste.  We again saw burned out factories, industrial waste, and decaying warehouses.  However, the train was nice, with a dining car and the trip went fast.  Gara de Nord, Bucharest’s train station has the worst reputation of any European stop, for beggars, pickpockets, Roma’s, and a generally unhealthy, sinister atmosphere.  So it was with some trepidation, that we arrived and departed the train.  Naturally, the taxi mafia was in full force, but we’ve learned to indicate we’re just changing trains and they generally leave.  This ploy worked here.  We tried to verify our tickets for the next day, but the language barrier proved too much, so we went out front found a real metered taxi, and took off for the hotel thinking the train station wasn’t all that bad.  There were four things I wanted to see in Bucharest; the Palace of Parliament which is the second largest building on earth after the pentagon; Revolution Square where Ceausescu tried to quell the revolution in 1989, and was forced to escape by helicopter (he was later caught and executed by a firing squad) his grave, and the meat processing factory that was used in WWII to eliminate the Jewish population.  Bucharest was founded by a Shepard named Bucar, and legend has it our hotel was on the spot of his camp.  Nestled in the very center of town, it was a 1800’s mansion set in a quiet quarter, as I referred to it “a quiet oasis in the midst of mayhem”  Now usually with a little study, a guidebook, and a tourist map I can navigate foreign cities quickly.  Unfortunately, once you left the hotel you’re faced with a traffic circle which radiates onto 6 major arteries, none of which have a street name to be found.  So we walked in what we thought was the general direction of The Palace of Parliament, and about forty five minutes later we found it.  A few facts just for fun; one sixth of Bucharest was bulldozed in 1984 to create the space, it took 700 architects and a 24 hour a day workforce of 20,000 5 years to build it, it used 5/6 of all of Bucharest’s electricity every day, the carpet for the main room weighs 14 tons, it is 12 stories high, has 3000 rooms, and is 330,000 square meters is size. That’s nearly 3 million square feet.  After getting there and walking around we gave up on the meat processing plant (which was supposed to be in the shadows—it wasn’t) and decided to visit the plazas in the morning.  So it was back to the hotel.  Directly in front of this building is a street named Boulevard Unerii.  From here you can discern Ceausescu’s grand design.  This street is actually divided into four lanes, one road is an inner “fast” route, and to each side is another two lane road with parking and access to the stores and restaurants.  Between the two “fast” lanes are fountains, and a walking route, with ornate streetlights, just about as far as you can see.  It’s pretty and functional.  We walked down this street about 200 yards when Ellen said “I think this archway connects to our hotel.”  There is no way, we’ve walked 45 minutes to get here how can we be 5 minutes from the hotel, but she insisted, after passing the archway, we settled in at the hotel for a beer.  Two families were visiting with what we assumed were siblings, but later found out were cousins aged 7 and 5.  Mario and Anna.  Mario and Anna had an excess of energy.  Mario and Anna were trouble.  Mario had some bouncy balls, which he lost every 2.3 seconds.  Mario caused great consternation by a) disappearing every 4.3 seconds b) reappearing c) bouncing his bouncy balls off people, umbrellas, cars, and beers.  I was glad when Mario left.  Since I knew how to say “there” and “here” in Romanian I became Mario’s personal ball locator.  After a wonderful (and again cheap) dinner we went back out to Boulevards Unreii to see it at night and then back to the hotel for a nightcap.  Here we met Anna’s parents.  This was a long winding conversation that boiled down to Antonio telling me that he was in the squares during the revolution, he believes that the revolution was actually manipulated by other forces and was a coup (this belief is addressed in some of the pre-trip reading I’ve done, but it was startling to actually hear it.  He also expressed the belief that the Republic of Moldova rightly belongs to Romania (ditto), and he was very curious to hear our views and thoughts on Romania.  However, when we spoke highly of our experiences he seemed to think we were feeding him pabulum, and when we questioned or expressed concern he became slightly offended.  And yet it was not a contentious discussion, but a hard, honest, and enlightening discussion.  Antonio represents to me the future of Romania, he lived abroad and did well, in the import export business with Italy, and has moved his business back to Romania, not because he can make more money, but because “it’s what I can do for the future of my country”.  One other thing sticks with me.  Ellen and his wife did, as women through the world do, discussed child rearing.  His wife expressed confusion over how strict to be.  As I mentioned Anna was a bit energetic, obnoxiously so.  Yet her mother showed us scars on her forehead and asked “Does it take this to make a child behave”, again a small moment that spoke volumes about the past.  I could have spoken with them all night, but Ellen needed to go to bed and so we ended another day.

 Too much Train, a little understanding, and a good scareDay 14September 26^th 2006 

After an uncomfortable night, in a too small, too hot room, we checked on our train to Suceava, and found out there was an earlier one, so we abandoned our plans for Bucharest and headed for the train station.  Taxis couldn’t get to our hotel, so we had to head for the traffic circle to find one, which went fine.  At the train station we got our seats, and found out you now have to show your ticket to get to the platforms.  This one change has made spending time here much better than what we thought.  Our train was later, but none the less we boarded.  This was a 7 hour trip, so we assumed there’d be a dining car. We were wrong.  This ended up being a marathon.  One guy in our compartment spoke a little English (he’d lived in Seattle and showed us his US drivers license.  I enjoyed at the end of the trip looking out as it was harvest time, and the hose carts, and old style harvest was in full swing, I was smitten by the timeliness of it all.  Occasionally you’d see a small ancient tractor working but 90% was being done by hand and horse.  And then suddenly I became uncomfortable.  I don’t know if I can describe it, but I felt like a voyeur, I’d come to gawk? The disparity between my circumstances and those working in the field suddenly went from quaint to prick my conscious. I’d traveled a third of the way around the world to see unfortunate people in unfortunate circumstances of which they were entirely helpless to change.  The money we’d spent on this trip would feed, and take care of one of these families for ten years, and I’d used it to peer into their life.  I came with a cerebral interest in “understanding” and now “understood” on a more visceral level.  And it wasn’t entirely comfortable, so maybe, just maybe I’d accomplished some real understanding.  And maybe now I “got it” better when others spoke of the US. Anyway we got to Suceava and decided to taxi to Gura Humorului.  To protect our valuable valuables Ellen had sewn a pocket in my pants, large enough for our cash wad, credit cards, and passports.  It was impossible to get to without removing my pants.  When we made an ATM withdrawal I’d put most of the local money here also, and just keep enough to take care of incidentals.  We needed more than I had handy for the taxi, so I had to dig around, and get additional cash.  We got to the hotel and checked into the room.  A quick inventory of my pocket showed my Visa card was missing.  Panic time, but it hit me “Ellen, that card is lying in the driveway, I must have put it beside my leg, and it slipped out when I got out of the taxi.  Sure enough it was lying on the parking lot.  We ate dinner on the veranda, had a nightcap and trundled off to bed.

  Monasteries, CC Rider, and a change of PlanDay 15September 27^th 2006  

Our guides for the Monastery tours arrived promptly at 9.  “Chip” was the guide (and a very good one) and Christian was the driver.  After some coffee, and a pharmacological save (Ellen needed some Cipro, Chip’s girlfriend worked in a pharmacy and arranged it) we were off.  The Painted Monasteries of Bucovina are in a word jaw dropping.  Built and painted in the mid 1500’s they are listed by UNESCO.  Used (again) as defensive positions, they were painted with bible stories both inside and out.  Each is unique as to predominate color, and focus, but individually and collectively they are amazing.  It is almost incomprehensible that the colors have lasted 500 years, but through an alchemy of minerals and vegetables paints were created that have not faded.  While each is different, there is a definite common layout.  Certain things, such as a calendar, patron Saint, number of rooms, and certain stories are constant.  “Chip” was an outstanding communicator and teacher (I especially liked his laser pointer) and had obviously done his homework.  He also smoothly and intelligently added additional information from one to the other, so there was a seamless flow.  These monasteries were one of the highlights of the trip.  I think we saw five, had lunch, and the day was done.  Tomorrow we face a daunting 7 hour train to Bucharest, four hour wait and two hour train to Bulgaria.  “Chip” offered to drive us there for $240 US, and after some debate we agreed.  Dinner, drinks, bed.

Rain, Driving, Borders and BulgariaDay 16September 28^th 2006 

“Chip” and Christian arrived at 8:30 and off we went.  There’s really not a lot to say we drove, and drove and reached the Bulgarian border.  I don’t think “Chip” wanted to pay the taxi tax, so we posed as friends traveling together.  Crossing the border got expensive, we had to pay a departure tax, and an environmental tax, and this and that, and you have a name tax.  “Chip” isn’t cocky, but he’s pretty confident, but even he was wound tight.  He explained that that particular border crossing is very heavy into smuggling.  It sits at a juncture of Ukraine, Turkey, and a lot of gold, guns, and drugs are shipped through.  This was our first (and last) border transit by car, not exactly scary, but there was additional tension.  Conversely, the entrance into Bulgaria was quick.  We were now in the land of desperados, drug addicts and mafia assassins.  Our hotel was the best of the trip, the room was huge.  We had a few drinks with Chip and Christian and decided to get dinner together so we headed for the town center.  There we ran into two Bulgarian customs that confused us from time to time.  First, when you order food, especially in a group, you get it when it’s ready.  You don’t get your salad (which is traditionally served last) or entrée, or anything at the same time.  I might get my appetizer, and Chip his entrée, and then Christian’s soup might come out, and later Ellen’s entrée, and then Chips soup and then my entrée.  We learned to order in courses.  The other thing that messed us up is Bulgarians nod their head for no and shake their head for yes, but it’s not a shake like we do it’s more of a side to side with a dip in the middle.  I’d call it a “Whatever” movement.  I knew this before we left but when I first saw it my reaction was “And what side of the bed did you fall off this morning?”  We also got our first sense of costs in Bulgaria, with the lev translating to about .70 cents dinner for four cost less than $30 US (one night Ellen and I tried to spend $20 US for dinner and couldn’t).  After dinner we got lost going back to the hotel, found it bid farewell to Chip and Christian and went to bed.

 Final thoughts on “Chip”; Romania; and Communism

I really haven’t said as much about Chip as I should.  Chip is the new face of Romania, proud, confident, entrepreneurial, and focused on the future.  He learned his English through closed captioned TV, and is quite proud of it.  He asked me at one point if people in the US would be able to tell he was from elsewhere.  Yes they would, but I was astounded nonetheless, with his command of idiom and the vernacular. Financially focused he has dreams of opening his own hotel someday, yet he’s grounded in the fact he has to do a good job at his tour business.  This guy studies, and is constantly seeking reassurance, and critique. He works hard, and as a result makes five times the national average income.  Chip has a great sense of humor, a comfortable way about him, and will be one of the people who make Romania successful in the future.

 Final Thoughts on Romania

 

It is impossible to split Romania today from Communism.  As I mentioned Ceausescu was the most repressive of all the communist dictators, he left behind a legacy of environmental, human, societal damage that has to be experienced to be understood.  Entire rivers were redirected, and as they reclaim their old banks, entire villages disappear.  Radioactive waste from the rest of the Soviet Bloc was stored here for hard cash.  No attention was ever paid to factory exhaust or effluvia resulting in horrendous ground water and soil contamination.  Huge “make work” projects were undertaken which resulted in a decaying infrastructure, economic disaster, and population displacements.  To make the economy look good to the rest of the world, resources were exported while the population starved.  Countless people just disappeared, and his torture chambers were medieval with modern science thrown in.  He would subject his enemies with low level of radiation, and savor their deaths through bizarre forms of cancer.  It seemed to me a disproportionate number of people my age were crippled.  The trauma to the national psyche is such that there seems to be a national denial.  As I mentioned with one exception the only response to the question “Do you recall communist times?” was a lowered head, a slow sad shake, and muttered ‘It was very bad”  We speak of Post Traumatic Shock Syndrome in the US—it seems to me this country has Post Traumatic Shock Syndrome.  Having said that, there is also a lot of anger over the fact that nothing changed for 16 years.  We heard several times that “all presidents are robbers” the gist being, that those in politics get into to steal from the people.  Today I sense a nascent burgeoning of national pride, and recognition that it will be the “Chip’s” and Antonio’s that will change the country.  Common in our conversations in Sibiu, with Claude, Chip, Laurentii, and Antonio is what I call “immigrants in their own land” and that is a commitment to make things better for their children and grandchildren.  The difference being our ancestors choose to come to the US, they had no choice.  There is a lot of pride in the past, and a beginning of hope for the future.  One way this manifests itself is the visceral anger at the perception of Romanians.  In different ways, with different words disgust, anger, and resignation were all conveyed when the stereotype of “poor, dirty, thieving robbers” came up (which is definitely not true).  Funny thing about that; we never brought it up; those comments were initiated by the Romanians themselves.  Usually the conversation went like this:  blab, blab, blab (break the ice) “Romanian “I guess you heard we were all poor, dirty, thieving, robbers?”  Yeah we did, we were warned to “Be careful”.  Romanian (somewhat sheepishly) “Have you found that to be true?”  Us: “No just the opposite, we’ve found Romanians to be scrupulously honest, open and accommodating.”  Romanian—frustrated variation on “it’s not fair”.  To summarize, this is a wonderful country full of wonderful people who just want a fair shake in life.  Romania will join the EU next year, and there will be huge social, economic, and cultural upheaval.  I saw a few days ago that Britain has already set a quota on the number of Romanians (and Bulgarians) that will be allowed in once this happens.  The rich EU countries will swoop in and buy up property and business’s while limiting opportunity for those in their own countries.  The next 10 years are going to be hard here, but if they can hold on, and use the flow of money to build up the infrastructure, and a tourism base they should be okay, this country seems posed to have a nice trade balance, as they have natural resources to support a balance of agriculture, tourism and manufacturing.  Since they have ports on the Black sea import/export should be simplified.  In a word Go Romania.

   Padlocks, Cheap Meals, Bladder Pain, and what were those Commissars Thinking?Day 17September 29^th 2006 

Basically, Ruse (pronounce roo-see) is one ugly city, consisting of domino like rows of tall, decaying, weather stained Soviet Block apartments.  We came here for one reason.  To see the Rock Hewn Churches of Ivanovo.  Up in the hills overlooking the river, these churches were literally dug out of rock as a place of sanctuary.  Created in the 11^th century, the frescos date back almost 1000 years.  Listed as UNESCO sites, I knew it would be a short diversion, and one that took a lot more time to get to, and away from than we would spend seeing it.  But hey, rock hewn churches, 11^th century, we were in the neighborhood (not by accident).  We got a taxi from the hotel (this was one of those out of proportion cost/time/daily Bulgarian expense things 30 leva for the taxi 10 leva each for the admission was about 35 dollars or the cost of 45 beers, two suppers, 17 packs of cigarettes, ½ nights lodging), but that’s what we were there to see and we went.  After arriving the walk was up about 1/2 mile—straight up.  When we got there it was locked.  The gate had a massive padlock on it.  The only reason we went to Ruse, and it was locked.  I was not happy—getting here had been expensive, and time consuming, and nothing to show for it.  Suddenly our driver walked up with the caretaker, he’d searched him out and persuaded him to open up for us (desperate, drug addict, assassin). In we went.  This was probably less spectacular than I expected, but many frescos had survived and it was mind altering to think they were done 1000 years ago.  Especially when I thought that they were painted closer to the death of Christ than today.  Ellen bought a hand made wooden cross necklace.  We also saw the Bulgarian mountains for the first time, and internalized the historical barrier and influence on history they actually were.  Back to Ruse and Svoboda Square.  Ellen ate at the “Happy Bar and Grill” It was here she got the concept of grams and cost.  Each menu item had the number of grams listed by the entrée.  She ordered a salad (500 gms) and entrée (400 gms) and appetizer (400 gms) and a side dish (200 gms) so 1 ½ Kilos of food, total cost $4 US.  I took a picture.  Svoboda Square is pretty typical and nice but of no particular interest.  We went back to the hotel and began to work on transportation to our next stop Veliko Tornovo.  “Take the bus” we were told, the trains are bad.  So we let ourselves be talked into going by bus, the desk clerk even made reservations for us.  Off in a taxi and to the bus station.  Now we still had to buy our tickets (about 2.50 each) so I guarded the bag, while Ellen went into the ticket area.  I heard her saying “Reservation Robertson” several times when it hit me.  There is no town in Bulgaria named “Reservation Robertson” and she was confusing a lot of people.  I read Cyrillic so I went in and located the casa for Veliko Tornovo and we got our tickets for bus number 5.  Except none of the buses had numbers so we ended up going around saying “Veliko Tornovo” until finally a young woman shook her head and showed me her watch pointing at about ten minutes from then, then through sign language she indicated she was also going to the same place and to follow her, at which point Ellen took a 30 minute trip to the bathroom, and almost made us miss the bus.  We were told this would be an hour and a half trip, two and a half hour later we got to Veliko Tornovo. At which point, as there was no WC on the bus, I was sweating processed beer.  I truly thought I’d end up sick and vowed never, ever again to ride a Bulgarian bus.  Taxi and to the hotel.  This is one horrendous monument to Soviet ugliness.  It was horrible, clunky, dark, gloomy, ill kept, glowering, and depressing, and even worse inside.  So we left fast to explore the town.  Veliko Tornovo is famous as “the city of the Tsars” it was the seat of government in both the 800’s and 1100’s.  The river makes a very tight “U” through the city, and has cut steep banks on both sides.  Probably from street level the drop is 200 feet. The city then is perched on the side of the hills.  Famous for Tsarnets, the ruins of the old Bulgarian capital, it is also a college town and has a festive, active, busy feel.  That afternoon we just got our bearings.  The road up from the hotel to the main street was about 100 yards, and we found an excellent Bulgarian restaurant here.  The desperate, drug addled, assassins spoke passable English and we were able to enjoy a quiet, filling dinner. (15$ US).  We went back to the ugliest building I ever saw, and our creepy depressing room with brown linoleum tile in the bath, a sagging floor, dirty yellow walls, and an arch shaped mattress.  Adding to the fun of it was a bathroom the size of a telephone booth, water that ran cold, brown, and slowly—if it ran at all, and enough lighting to stargaze. So we went for a beer.  We heard a racket in the night club and decided to investigate, ah my favorite a tour group—we sort of crashed the party and drank a few of their gratis drinks and went to bed.  It seems this party continued for several hours and kept Ellen awake.  She called the front desk about 2, and they did break it up.  At which point the partiers went to their rooms.  Which happened to be on our floor and completely surrounding us.  And so it was at the Hotel Veliko Tornovo.

  A Number of Changes, Tsars, and a Superior RoomDay 18September 30^th 2006 

Due to the previous night’s room, noise, and bathroom problems, Ellen woke up in a less than happy mood.  We went to breakfast and then headed out to Tsarnets.  This was about 2 km from out room.  We really got a good sense of the city during and after this walk, and found the town growing on us.  Because of the steep hill, each parallel road was 15-20 feet higher up than the last.  On the southern edge of town most of these roads converged to create a “central area” not exactly a plaza, but a series of small parks, parking areas, and central eating and shopping, each slightly higher or lower, and separated by buildings.  We would later see significant traffic congestion in this area.  Along the roads leading to Tsarnets were additional stores and restaurants, all with terrific panoramas over the gorge.  Near the entrance to Tsarnets was another confluence of the streets creating a large paved flat area used as a small market, and parking area.  From this a single road led over the bridge into Tsarnets.  Punctuating the bridge were three gates, the last of which allowed entrance through the major wall.  Here we found “tourist” vendors with mock-ups of horses, knight clothing and basic picture props. I told Ellen to don a queens gown and jump on a horse (they even made sounds!).  Ellen refused, which I found lacking in the spirit of things.  We explored Tsarnets for about two hours.  Other than the monastery at the top, nothings remains here but ruins.  With a careful eye you can discern the old Roman, and medieval foundations, and begin to make out the roads, shops, houses, and general layout of the old city (remember this area was last used in 1100 AD)  near the top is the remains of the old castle, where it’s easy to make out the structure, courtyards, lanes, and walls.  Most walls stand 3-4 feet high so the general size, orientation and layout is evident.  Scattered throughout are older remnants of roman ruins (with several obvious columns) and even Thracian ruins. (The area was first settled around 2000 BC.  One of the high points of a visit here is the night time light show, during which multi-colored lights, lasers and sound create a phantasmagoric show.  This was not done while we were there, but the pictures are everywhere, so naturally we saw all the lights fixtures.  From here we went back to town, and had a discussion that went like this “I hate our room, and I’m tired of packing and re-packing all the time.”; “So what do you want to do?” “I hate our room and I’m tired of packing and re-packing all the time” “So what do you want to do?” “Do you not understand I hate our room?”  We decided to A) Check out and move and B) Forget Nessabar and add a day here and the next city Plovdiv.  We enacted a plan, where Ellen would cancel and re-book rooms, and I’d go back to the hotel and wait while she fixed things.  As soon as I walked into the hotel the bellman approached that I was needed at the front desk.  We were being moved to a “superior” room.  I told them it was not my decision, and tracked down Ellen who looked at the “superior” room and said okay.  So we moved, while she rebooked and cancelled Nessabar.  Funny thing her demeanor changed immediately.  From there we decided to explore some of the side streets and “off the beaten path areas” and found ourselves really letting the town grow on us.  Really not much else happened; we got some help with Bulgarian phone cards, had dinner and watched people, the day go by, and enjoyed the scenery from the bluffs.  It really hit me today how inexpensive Bulgaria is.  Meals, SFB, sundries, souvenirs, and admissions had cost us about 70 dollars in the last two days.

  Chillin’ Shoppin’ and Eatin’Day 19October 1^st 2006

Got up, and headed for a restaurant over the bluff for morning coffee, liked the restaurant and decided to return for dinner. Found a new street that headed up towards the top of the hill lined with slightly more interesting shops, handicrafts, antiques, and foodstuff stands.  Bought a few things, and headed down.  Stopped by the monument to foreign wars and the military club.  They wanted us to pay .20 lev to use the restroom so we moved across the street to Bogart’s and spent the afternoon watching the waitress give off an aura of “I’m mad at my boss for making me work, I’m mad at you for being here, I’m mad at myself for getting out of bed this morning, and I’m mad at my mother for having me—but other than that life is fine”  We took all of this we could, and went down the hill to the casino which operated 24/7, and checked out the bingo hall.  Realizing that would be an expensive way to learn numbers in Bulgarian and further decided since it was a “bonus” day we should rest.  We went to the hotel and crashed for a few hours, and then headed back for dinner.  This restaurant cooked everything is a wood oven, and was perched on the side of the hill.  The view was great and we enjoyed our 13 dollar meal, but soon it cooled off and we called it a day.

 Terror on the Highway—WHAT WERE WE THINKING?Day 20October 2^nd 2006 

Today we needed to get to Plovdiv, and the debate renewed.  Bus-four hours no toilet; train 5 hours-inconvenient time, slow, and not recommended; or private driver expensive.  I think the trip was beginning to wear on us, ennui had slipped in.  And so neither of us could decide.  We fooled around with a decision until the options available became less appealing as we’d be looking at a late arrival, so we settled on a car.  Big mistake.  I will minimize this.  We nearly had 2 head-on collisions in the mountains, he got lost on the way, by my count 5 times, and he hit a dog.  Then when we got to Plovdiv he didn’t know where the hotel was and the Plovdiv taxi mafia wouldn’t help.  He ended up unable to find the front, and had to drop us in the back, but only after backing into another taxi, which almost came to fisticuffs.  First stop—the bar. And never in the history of known man has a bar been more in order, both of us were frazzled.  It was here we met Nedelcho, a mid-20’s Bulgarian with good English skills.  Over the next few nights we were able to learn, discern, and share a lot of information.  Perhaps the first thing that really started putting Bulgaria in context for us was his comment that he made more money as a bartender than as a pharmacist.  He helped (?) us understand the effects of the Bulgarian mafia, he explained some of the difficulties of dealing with westerners (For example, smiling is not a typical Bulgarian custom when dealing with strangers-but expected when dealing with Westerners, he told us it was very hard).  He taught us more about the psyche of Bulgaria, and struggles of the people than we could have learned anywhere else.  Even his questions were enlightening.  He wanted to know about how often we ate fast food, and shared that KFC failed because it was too expensive, he asked about our leisure pursuits, and he asked about our educations.  We hadn’t met anyone since Blaji, who was as openly curious, or honesty forthright.  Spending time listening and conversing with him was a real treat and a highlight of the trip.  We asked for, and got his e-mail, and have conversed since.  This is why I travel. Sightseeing is great and I love it, the history is fascinating and I love it, but meeting someone who opens a window to the country is absolutely the best.  He directed to a magazin (small shop—and another story) and restraunt in the quarter.  With the admonition “be back by dark” we took the five minute (slightly seedy) walk to the restaurant. What was quite noteworthy were the grapes, huge vines 8 inches in diameter that climbed the apartment walls.  We got to the square with no problems and it was quite interesting, nestled between several ugly old Soviet apartments was a green space, full of restaurants, playgrounds, parks and benches.  It seemed the entire neighborhood was there.  Walking, playing, and visiting. It was here I ordered a “big spit” Kebobs are popular in Bulgaria, so I figured this was a larger kebob, and I was right.  What I didn’t expect is that it would be aflame and the presentation would take three people.  Oh yeah, I think I paid 4 or 5 dollars for it.  After spending 16 dollars on dinner we headed back, had a nightcap and called it a night.

     Of Romans, Thracians, and One Missing HillDay 21October 3rd 2006 

I woke up and peered out the window, where was another smallish Soviet era factory.  What struck me was the soot at the top of the brick chimney.  I could imagine it belching pervasive coal soot all over the neighborhood.  The skylights were broken and the place appeared abandoned except for the school children who used it as a short cut to school.

After a quick breakfast, where we saw our first real evidence of the hotel mafia (scrawny guy in an expensive suit and 180,000 car surrounded by big guys in black suits), we got a taxi to the main city.  First settled around 5000 B.C. Plovdiv is a fascinating spot in which cultures built on top of cultures.  Alexander the Great’s father ruled here and expanded the walls in 342BC, while the Romans took over in 46AD. Bounced around in the early millennium by Goths, and Huns, it became an important outpost during the first Bulgarian Empire (circa 800 AD)  It then traded hands between Byzantium and the Ottomans, and having finally been controlled by the Turks became an important staging ground for Turk invasions into points further west.  The Sultan Mehmed used this city as his staging ground for the 1462 attack on Dracula, which resulted in a stunning defeat.  The city remained part of Ottoman Bulgaria, and was left with the Ottoman Empire after the Berlin Congress of 1888.  Considered by the rest of Bulgaria to be snooty, it is the most cosmopolitan and storied city in Bulgaria.  Originally built on seven hills (one of which the Soviets bulldozed to build apartments) the original Thracian ruins, Roman Walls, and old town sit atop, or spiral down from the largest, Nepet Tepe.  So it was here we headed.  Our driver dropped us off close to the top, and we proceeded to head straight down.  We passed several old churches, and wandered the meandering lanes, until we hit the main thoroughfare and market.  In the center of this market is an opening to a few remains of the old 30,000 seat Roman Stadium.  This sport is the center of the old town retail district. A pedestrian mall runs north and south from here, ending to the south at a large plaza, and to the north at an uncrossable street (too much traffic). Now I say this is a pedestrian mall, but that only applies if you’re not an overweight, dyed redhead with a handicapped sticker driving a Lada.  If you meet that exception, you can zoom up and down the street scattering pedestrians at will.  I know, I saw it.  This town again confounded our north/south for awhile.  We discussed this and decided a beer would reorient us.  It did.  Next stop the Roman amphitheater.  This required several trys.  It seemed we could find it, but we couldn’t get to it.  Up we went, then detoured back down.  Around we went until we realized we were headed in the wrong direction. Up again, sideways, and back and forth.  Until about forty feet from where our driver dropped us that morning we found the entrance.  This theatre was built in the second century, covered by nature and subsequent generations it was rediscovered in 1972 after a landslide exposed it.  It is now used for performances of opera, and symphony music.  You can also pay and just walk around, including going to the stage and checking out the acoustics.  We did all that, and the picture taking thing.  Just outside the gate was a beer drinking joint so we stopped, and then headed up to the top to see the Thracian ruins.  Along the way we again marveled at the Bulgarian National Architecture, the narrow lanes, and the exposed sections of Roman walls.  It was literally in your face, the civilizations building one atop the other, and in many cases (as in Split) into and melding with prior structures.  Here again, the amount of construction and reconstruction was impressive.  The Thracian ruins were a jumble of unrecognizable piles of rocks.  There was a barely discernable order but no symmetry, and it was quite impossible to date, or place anything as Thracian, Roman, Soviet (other than the graffiti).  After looking out at the “modern” city (read Soviet ugly) we went back to the main drag and decided to eat, drink and rest.  We watched people wander through the market, when one of those odd epiphanies hit me.  Seeing something I hadn’t seen, made me realize I hadn’t seen it in a long time. A tattoo, I had read that tattoos were passé’ in Europe and it’s true you just do not see them.  Then we whiled away a few more hours in companionable silence (read: the trip is winding down, and we’re wearing down) and headed back to the hotel (Note: hotel arranged taxi 2 leva, on the street walk up back 5 leva) We headed back to the same restaurant, where I had trout, we were besieged by cats and we blew another 18 leva ($13.50 US).  On the way back we stopped at the magazin and although we couldn’t communicate with the lady owner we had a great time.  First of all letting her know what we wanted (cigarettes, razor, shave crème, a few snacks etc.) and then doing the “How do you say this in….” game.  Fortunately a few words of Bulgarian are very similar to Russian so we got through this.  She really took to us, and us her, there was a lot of laughing and smiling.  While Nedelcho had said that Bulgarian find it hard to smile at strangers, we found once the ice was broken they are very open and love to joke, and laugh, and share.  I think this trait was what I expected in Russia, not true, but very true in Bulgaria (the desperate, drug addled assassins).  Back for another long conversation with Nedelcho and off to bed.

 Bonus DayDay 22October 4^th 2006

Bonus days are okay, but when you plan an agenda with things on it and find an extra day, sometimes you’ve seen what you wanted.  That was the case this day, we wandered around the quarter and found nothing of interest, and out of shear boredom went back to town. Up the street down the street, stop for lunch.  We ordered a hamburger (do NOT do this in Bulgaria), up the street down the street stop for a beer.  Ellen went to the market and bought three sets of earrings (9 leva) when she tried to leave the lady grabbed her and kept pointing at the stand.  Ellen demurred, and the lady grabbed her arm and squeezed a bracelet on her wrist.  Only then did Ellen understand she was being given a volume buyer gift.  Up the street down the street, back to the motel.  Off to dinner, back to visit with our magazin lady, who seemed to understand we were leaving and was sad but posed for a picture with Ellen.  Nedelcho was off this night so we went to bed early

  Bad Train, Good Lobster AdviseDay 23October 5^th 2005 

So the taxi is out, and the bus is out, so it’s the train to out last stop Sophia, the capital.  Now we’re not stupid we can learn.  We got the desk clerk to write us a note stating we wanted two first class tickets to Sophia.  That made buying tickets a snap.  We got on the train (Which car is first? That one—no no that one, get on before it leaves)  and rode to Sophia.  The train was old, and slow, and had a bathroom, and missed all the dogs, and was just fine.  Most of the views were great, and gave us a great chance to enjoy the mountains.  Again we saw a lot of left over ecological damage.  You could clearly make out that the train followed a small river.  Obviously following this route facilitated the building of the track.  You could also see that factories were built close to the track to facilitate transfer of goods.  And if the river was where the factory needed to be—well by golly just move the river.  It doesn’t seem this plan worked to well; several factories had the river running through them and were abandoned.  I suspect the downstream water is safe to drink.  We arrived at Sophia, taxied to the hotel, freshened up and headed to the old town.  I had five missions here. The golden bricks of downtown, the Cathedral and Old Russian church built to honor Russian help after the Russian-Turk war, the flea market and the Roman ruins in the courtyard of the Presidency. We decided to walk, and after getting downtown stopped for lunch.  Just around the corner we found the gold bricks.  Obviously, they’re not real gold, but made of a substance that dries goldish, so we followed the yellow brick road to the main city park and viewed the surrounding buildings, including the Opera House, and then down the road to the church and cathedral.  This is an extremely busy street, where we saw observation posts used by traffic control to manual change the stop lights.  We came to the old Russian Church first.  Notable for its copper sheathed onion domes, green façade, and icons (some dating from the 11^th century) it was built in 1912 for the Russian diplomatic community.  From there we went to Aleksandar Nevski church.  Built in 1882 as a memorial to the Russians who died in the Turk-Russo war it is one of the symbols of Bulgaria.  The architect was the same man who designed the GUM department store in Red Square Moscow.  Its domes are covered in copper and gleam in the sunlight with almost a glow of their own.  These domes, along with the Presidency spire dominate the skyline of Sophia.  Inside is another Orthodox sensory overload collection of icons, frescos, and statuary.  The onyx and marble thrones are amazing.  From there we visited the market, filled with antiques (everything from old clunky calculators to Cyrillic typewriters) clothing (fur hats, peasant blouses) to jewelry, knives, icons, Soviet and Communist Bulgaria military knock offs, regimental pins, coffee pots, samovars, teas sets and even antique irons and musical instruments.  We went back to our lunch spot, had a few beers and went by taxi back to the hotel.  During the late afternoon we tried to schedule a day trip to Rilla Monastery (probably THE symbol of Bulgaria) but the only offer we got was 240 dollars with an Italian speaking guide, so we decided to skip this trip (if they’d found us an English speaking guide I would have gone).  We had a little time and went to the “quiet” bar for a few pre-dinner drinks.  It was here I again noticed the Bulgarian mafia.  Twenty four year old guys, in thousand dollars suits with two thousand dollar girlfriends, and a real aura of entitlement.  They were being waited on by exceptionally neat distinguished looking gentleman.  This annoyed me greatly.  We cleaned up and headed for dinner.  This was to be our “last night” as we needed an early night come tomorrow because of such an early start Saturday.  We went to the fish house.  Again, the place was full of mafia types (we soon found out why)  The prices were steep by Bulgarian standards, but reasonable to us—until I decided to order lobster—cost on the menu 11 leva or 7.70 US.  I went to pick it out and the waiter asked “You do understand that’s 11 leva per 100 grams?” We weighed it at 1.5 kilos. Quick math told me I was looking at a 100 dollar lobster.  Quick as ever I said “Put it back” and ordered a fixed price sea bass.  The bill came to 100 dollars (150 leva with tip) for the meal.  Since we’d been eating well for 25 dollars a day, this seemed a bit extravagant.  Back to the hotel to wait for the nightclub to open (it was our last night) we returned to the “quiet” bar and then headed up at 10 p.m.  This was our chance to see what we’d missed in Veliko Tornovo, a real Bulgarian nightclub; it was also on the top floor so we anticipated a pretty view of the city.  We entered, found seats, and realized that on center stage was a naked woman.  Ellen immediately left, I followed. So the night ended back at the “quiet” bar and finally bed.

  Day 24Divine InterventionOctober 6^th 2006  

We caught a cab to Boyana Church just outside Sophia.  Another UNESCO sight this church was built in the 13^th century.  Probably one of Bulgaria’s most treasured monuments, it’s notable for the icons from 1239, and it diminutive size.  By the time we paid the admission and cab this was one of the most expensive tours we took.  Over fifty dollars for about 45 minutes total.  We were dropped off back downtown, where we re-visited the market (and bought a few more souvenirs) and the Presidency, where we saw the Roman ruins—so Project Sophia complete.  The rain started and we ended up in an Irish Pub for lunch.  They had English TV, and this was where I learned the Tigers had made the playoffs.  Remember this place it’s important latter.  We walked back to the hotel, but along the way noticed several “sundry” stores at street level.  They sold magazines, phone cards, cigarettes and the like from the basement.  You had to crouch down to street level to talk to the clerk who was standing on a stool, and who would then pass your items through the window.  We packed and prepared for the next day.  Remember that with a 6 a.m. flight (11 p.m. EST) we had to get up at 3:45 local to make the plane.  Funny thing we narrowed our dinner choices down to Italian, or Russian, I think we needed a change.  Okay Russian we decided, and off we went in a taxi.  This driver took us to Greece before dumping us off and dismissively flicking his had at the door.  Before we could close the door he was gone.  And of course the restaurant was locked up.  So here we are, in a narrow side street or alley in downtown Sophia.  We got to the main cross street and started walking, when something registered and we knew where we were, just a block from the Irish Pub.  Off we went.  Now, I have to mention the beggars in Bulgaria.  I’ve avoided talking about this due to the pervasive nature of panhandling.  Especially in Sophia.  What strikes you is the beggars are very young or very old.  These are people with a broken social contract.  When communism collapsed, so did the economy, pensions, and healthcare.  It is the people who were 60 when it happened that have lost the most, along with the young whose parents couldn’t handle the change.  Orphans, displaced elderly, homeless people are very common.  Perhaps the saddest are the old babushkas.  Beautiful people dressed in native country garb stare imploringly for enough money to survive another day.  These people are without recourse, without hope, and without alternatives.  Unlike the US, begging is not looked down upon or frowned upon, but seen as a national embarrassment.  Many times I said to Ellen “We can’t help them all, but I’d love to find a way to help one”  Our waitress Mira spoke good English, was taking lessons, and seemed to enjoy practicing with us so we were all yukking it up, when suddenly a small girl appeared at my side and laid “lucky cards” on the table.  I sort of shushed her away, and Mira motioned for her to leave.  This was a little odd, as most restaurants in Bulgaria are very quick and abrupt in running beggars off.  Then Mira explained.  Dessie is an orphan, who lives with her alcoholic grandparents, she is very bright, and sells these cards to make enough money to by paper and pens for school.  Generally they don’t let anyone in, but Dessi had stolen her and the manager’s heart and they made an exception.  She and the manager had pooled their resources to assure Dessi had books for the school year.  And that was it.  I had found my one.  We gave Mira 50$ to help out with a promise of more for coats and boots and Christmas.  Mira cried, Ellen cried, the manager cried, hell, I cried.  We exchanged contact information, and left to wet eyes, hugs, and heartfelt promises.  Now I knew we needed cigarettes before we went back, but this proved impossible we just couldn’t find any.  So we went back to the Irish Pub for directions and asked them to call us a taxi.  The manager walked with me to “make sure you’re safe” and when we got back Mira had her friend “Big Kris” ready to take us back Back to the “quiet” bar where we agreed this was the best night of the trip.  Maybe not the last night in Prague for sheer pageantry, but certainly the best we’d felt. 

  Day 25It EndsOctober 7^th 2006  

3:45 came awfully early, it took us no time to dress and go.  We stopped at the “quiet” bar for coffee (we’d noted it was open 24 hours) and then grabbed a cab to Sophia airport.  Check-in was mercifully easy as was passport control, and security.  We grabbed some coffee (later I had a beer) went to the smoking lounge and zoned until our flight.  Two hours later we were back in Frankfurt, and this time stayed where we were supposed to.  We went to the Envoy lounge and zoned.  From there it was a 2 minute walk to the USAir gate.  We waited until the last second, and boarded out 8 hour (actually 10) flight to Philadelphia.  This was a bumpy crossing and generally debilitating flight. Our ground time in Philly was short due to the Atlantic flight being overly long, adding to our dash through the airport, were ponderously slow customs, passport control, and having to go through domestic security causing us to have about five minutes to spare.  We made it, and a little over an hour later landed in Raleigh.  We stopped at the airport bar and spoke with the same bartender, Frank, who was working the day we left.  And a taxi, and home.

 

One final story; we’d left our wedding rings and jewelry at home.  Ellen mixed them up; boy did I think I’d gained weight on the trip.

 Reflections

(I wrote this in my journal on the plane waiting to leave Germany)

What a mind altering experience. I went to this area to better understand the events and people, the influence of events on the people and the people on events.  These events touched off the 20^th century as we know it.  I wanted to sense the ebb and flow of domination and repression, the effects of language, religion, and ethnicity, on the common and uncommon.  I wanted to meet people and understand who they are, what they are, and how they feel.  I wanted to understand their national pride and pathos.  I wanted to hear their dreams, hopes and sense of the future.  And I failed.  I found instead that the region changed me.  I went with a detached, cerebral interest, and found instead an emotional reality.  I found extremes of optimism and despair; wealth and crushing poverty. Even more so than in Russia, I felt the gloom and emptiness of communism, and saw the lost generations of the 50’s, 60’s and 70’s.  And so my education experience changed from mind altering to life altering.  Because, despite the lingering gloom, and national nightmares I found beautiful people.  I found immigrants in their own land, who are willing to sacrifice their hopes for the next generation, despite the end of communism creating anarchy filled by hoodlums, and despite squandered national resources that mortgaged the future the beauty of the people shines through.  From the first conductor on a Romanian train, to the magazin clerk in Plovdiv everyone seemed ready to help.  From the caring of Mira, to the commitment of Antonio, to the nation building of Chip, everyone seems ready to contribute. When people could give up, and blame the past, surrender and blame their leaders, become victims, and blame fate, they’ve chosen to stand up and make a difference  When I backdrop this with my desire to see horse carts, and peasant rural ways, and to see old squares before they become “Westernized” I feel petty. I saw victims of Ceausescu, and a land stuck in time on the backs of its people, and I went from cerebral spectator to visceral participant.   I saw it, I experienced it, I lived it, and it changed me. As we entered Sophia I saw graffiti that said “Does anyone even care?”  Perhaps in a small way my commitment to Dessi, says “Yes someone does”

 

Top 5 places/moments

 

1. Hooking up with Dessi and Mira
2. Trogir
3. Painted Churches of Bucovina
4. Dubrovnik
5. Hungarian goulash, Elvis guy

                                                                                                   

Older stuff before I blogged Sunday e-mails

October 29 2007

I didn’t write last week because I didn’t want to.

My top 4

OhhowIhateOhioState (Ohhhhh these gas pains)

LSU

Boston College

Oregon

My prediction OhHowIHateOhioState will lose to Mich, BC and LSU in the title game, LSU National Champs

The TT’s went 1-2 yesterday bring their scintillating record to 6-18. 

My Bottom 4

Duke

UNC

Arkansas

Carolina Panthers (who get to get smashed by Indy this afternoon)

I have been thinking (really) about this presidential election stuff.  Seems to me a president should have a last name that ends in the letters O-N. (Jefferson, Harrison, Nixon, Clinton, Johnson) so that means Clinton, but not really because everyone calls her Hillary. How come is that?  Everyone else gets called by their last name but her.  Is this some kind of gender plot thing?  Maybe Rudi, but that’s because no one wants to spell his last name.  Then there’s this Obama guy.  He needs help, so I thought I’d give him a free idea.  He needs a catchy jingle for his campaign.

To the tune of “The Farmer in the Dell”

Obomba Osama

Obomba Osama

Hi Ho the Dairy-oh

Obomba Osama

What’s a dairy-oh? Why would you want to Hi Ho one? Is Hi Ho a verb? The Lone Ranger used to Hi Ho Silver, but not Hi Ho THE Silver, is this different?  This is confusing.  I just googled Dairyoh and there is a dairyoh.com.  They sell milk with enhanced Omega-3 acids.  I still don’t know how to Hi Ho that.  Didn’t the seven dwarves hi ho a lot? I think these kids songs have secret meanings.

Friday night Ellen and I went out for a semi-quiet evening to unwind after the week.  Off to Buffalo’s for some chicken wings and hockey.  Nice quiet relaxing evening at out favorite watering hole.  It was not to be.  First we ran into Mike.  Mike had been there since lunch and was a bit “happy” except he wasn’t because he’s getting married next weekend and the planning had gotten the best of him.  So he complained about everything.  But then a friend of his came in, Bob.  Bob decided he should do straight shots of jagermiester. Bob became semi comatose.  Then Lori (the bride to be) came in.  Bob told me she was 95 pounds of whup-ass. He was right.  Mike and Lori got into it right from the get go.  Then another guy came in who was also happy.  He wouldn’t stop singing “Devil with a Blue Dress On”  By now, Bob was dancing with the bar, and falling down about every 10 minutes.  Then Lori and Mike made up and played “kissey face” and started buying rounds for everyone (more Jagermiester for Bob) who fell down some more.  Then the singer started playing old folk songs like Alice’s Restaurant.  Then Lori and Mike started kissing everyone.  And of course the music sounded like “You can get anything you..Devil in a blue dress, blue dress, blue dress…kiss…kiss…plop goes Bob…at Alice’s Restaurant…Blue dress..blue dress…plop goes Bob kiss kiss..we’re buying another round…devil in a blue dress…you can get anything you want…Bob goes plop…kiss kiss..devil with a blue dress on.  Somewhere in here was a hockey game.  I was alright with everything until Mike kissed me on top of the head.  He was kind of slobbery.

We had pictures taken at work for our web-site and promotional material yesterday.  I think that the photographer was a mean tricky guy.  He would take my picture and then get me to come over and look at it.  Sometime between taking the picture and letting me look at it he kept switching it out for some picture of this old guy.  I told him to stop but he wouldn’t.  He just kept on doing it.  I told the boss to get rid of that photographer and get someone who didn’t play practical jokes so much.

I see in the paper that the English people have told their Miss Britain to gain weight.  She’s not sure how but it has something to do with healthy fat like nuts and stuff, and then to work out so she doesn’t gain weight in the wrong spots.  I don’t think her plan is so good.  She needs to get Brittany as a coach.

We had a good rain this week, nearly 4 1/2 inches which was and is badly needed.  Cooler temps and a feel of fall.  That of course means leaves, but it feels like time to get the jackets and sweaters out.  I got all 3 “hard” sudokus this week so I think I’ll quit.  I stopped today’s crossword because it was stupid.  It was by Joyce C. Clark.  I’m against last names that sound like first names.  In Jr high school the guy in front of me (all the time) was Robert Cecil Roberts.  He went by Cecil.  What were his parents thinking?  Wasn’t Cecil some kind of sea monster in the cartoons?  I wonder what Archie Manning was thinking.  Why would you name your kids Peyton and Eli.  Are there any famous Cecils? I guess Cecil D Mill.  What does the D stand for?  A few weeks ago I railed about the Dewey Decimal guy.  Turns out he had four names at birth.  But he got rid of three of them because he thought it was inefficient.  Like the Dewey Decimal System is efficient.  If it’s so efficient why do they have to teach it before you can find anything.  It’s easier to find books a Border’s than at the library.  I have two library cards now.  There is a library in Durham that I pass to and from work.  So I went in and bought a Durham county library card.  It’s copper colored.  I tried to pay our bill with it Friday night, but they wouldn’t take it.  I didn’t mean to, but she didn’t have to be so huffy.  Bit of housekeeping, I’ve had two people tell me that they’ve written me an e-mail that didn’t go through.  Don’t know if it’s on my end or not, although I got e-mails from Chip in Romania and Coach Wade this last week.  Anyway if you’ve written and I haven’t replied it’s not because I’m rude, I didn’t get it.

After reading this I’ve decided that my e-mails continue to take on a dumber tone.  Have a great week.  I’ll write next week if I feel like it.

November 4 2007

Have I ever mentioned that I really hate winter?  I especially hate the end of day light savings time.  Well I’ve decided to be positive about it. So here are my top five reasons for liking winter

1.  All the leaves fall off the trees making it easier to look through the neighbors windows

2.  Al Gore has to shut up about global warming for awhile

3.  All the ladies at work quit talking about “private summer moments”

4.  No flowers and stuff ergo I don’t have to worry about the deer eating them

5.  Our crazy neighbor won’t mow her yard 5 times a week

One thing I am worried about, I have to reset my clock so I’ll probably have those sick Chinese birds back for awhile.  My lawn chairs were made in China and give me a back ache.  I’m also wondering about the Chinese space program.  They want to go to the moon.  The Russians had to land their space capsules with parachutes and on land because their navy wasn’t big enough to cover the area they would come down in, and they weren’t exactly sure where their capsules would land anyway.  Where do the Chinese land their space capsules?  I’m serious about this.  How do they use an abacus in zero gravity?  Wouldn’t the little bead things just float around and get goofed up?  I understand the Chinese sent pig sperm into space. Why?  Who thought that up?  I like some Chinese food, but not that General guys chicken.  Can chickens lay eggs in space?  How would the rooster know when to crow?  Maybe that’s where the sick Chinese birds on my alarm clock came from.

I am done predicting this college football season.  I still have LSU there at the end but that’s it.  The Panthers get to lose to Tennessee today. 

What’s going on with those French people?  They decided to rescue a bunch of orphans from Africa, except they got the wrong plane or something.  Turns out all the kids had parents.  Somebody mixed up the paperwork I guess.  A headline in today’s paper said “Rice at odds with Turkey” I agree, everyone knows potatoes go better (and some dressing with lots of gravy)  I think it’s funny that everyone got worked up about the extended daylight savings time and their computer clocks were goofed up.  Didn’t they know?  My sneaky Chinese coffee pot hasn’t leaked in awhile.  Hillary says people are sniping at her because she’s in the lead, I think it’s because she’s an idiot.  There is a movement to get Al “I won a prize” Gore to enter the race.  I think this would be funny, because Hillary and Tipper “My husband won a prize” Gore are good buddies.  Once I saw them singing and dancing during a campaign.  They shouldn’t do that. 

Yesterday I started the fall clean-up around the house.  I brought plants in, and pruned others.  Now Ellen wants me to clean up all the debris.  I’ve tried to convince her that it would turn to dirt and make grass grow better in a few years. She’s not buying it.  She says it looks “trashy”.  So? I am boring myself with this today.

11-07-07

Okay so what’s up with this Korean toilet guy?  He thinks he’s the king of commodes, but he kinda bugs me.  He’s on a mission to improve toilets worldwide.  Among his designs is the “Hansel and Gretel” toilet.  Here, if a kid flushes right they get a cookie.  This is wrong!  Then he comes up with the tea party toilet, where everyone sits on the commode and drinks tea.  I’m still waiting for my invitation to that, I can think of nothing better than drinking tea on the pot with a bunch of other people.  He tore down his house and had a new one built that looks like a toilet.  I know I saw a picture.  Somehow I can’t imagine this

Mr.. Toilet Bowl Guy     “I want to tear down my house and build a new one that looks like a toilet”

Mr.. Architect Guy        “                                               “

Mr.. Toilet Bowl Guy    “I’m serious, I’m Mister Toilet Bowl Guy”

Mr.. Architect Guy        “                                              “

Mr.. Toilet Bowl Guy    “Leave a place for a garden in the middle, it should be round with a hole in the middle”

Mr.. Architect Guy        ” Tongue Sue, call the cops”

But here’s the best part, he’ll let you stay in his house for 50,000 dollars a night.  Or you can just visit for a buck.

What going on in Wisconsin?  First they have the municipal toilet paper thief and now suicidal cows.  A cow jumped off the cliff and smacked into a mini-van.  Now I don’t particularly like mini-vans myself,  but this is a tad extreme.

People keep asking me about my new job so here’s the skinny.  I get to work about 7:50, eat lunch at noon and leave about 5:15.  The boss and I are in perfect synch, he doesn’t know what I’m supposed to do and neither do I.  So we run around all day acting like we’ve got a plan.  This keeps everyone else fooled, which I think is the essence of American business these days.  If we really get worried we have a meeting.  Next week I planned three.  I can then spend several hours before each one preparing and a few hours after each telling other people about the meeting I didn’t invite them to.  This allows me to appear busy and important.  So as long as I look like I’ve got a plan, have meetings to “noodle” said plan, and then tell people I’m busy getting ready for a meeting, and the boss is clueless as to what it is I should be doing I think I’ve got it licked.  The best part is when I leave for the day and/or weekend NO ONE calls me with a crisis.

Okay we did it, I made BBQ sauce yesterday and we put it in jars.  This was rather amusing in that neither Ellen or I had a clue what we were doing.  This lead to exchanges of virtually no value

Ellen    “That pot over there it’s making noises”

Me      ”And…..?”

Ellen    “Should it be?”

Me       ”I don’t know”

Ellen    “What if it blows up?”

Me        “KABOOOM”

Ellen    “You are not funny and you scared the cats”

Me        “Is that thing there supposed to be leaking?”

Ellen    “Probably not, where do you see a leak?”

Me        “KABOOM”

Ellen    “When are you going to turn it off?”

Me        ‘What?”

Ellen    “That thing over there that’s leaking and making noises”

Me        “Before it blows up”

Ellen    ”How will you know”

Me        ”If it blows up I’ll know it’s too late”

Ellen    ”You’re making me nervous”

Me        ”Kaboom”

Mom sent me an e-mail saying she and my sister might go to France next year.  I say buy your money now.  The dollar stinks.  I think the Chinese have something to do with it.  Yesterday, when I went to get the jars for the BBQ sauce I thought I’d go to Wal-Mart(s).  While I was there (where they didn’t have any bottles and so I got mad and left, and I’ll never go to Wal-mart(s) again) I started looking at all the stuff.  After about twenty minutes I found something NOT made in China.  The Chinese are threatening to sell all our money they have.  I hope they do.  Then they won’t have it and it’ll go down even more, and then all the stuff made in China will be too expensive and we’ll get stuff made somewhere else and Wal-Mart(s) will be in big trouble and maybe they’ll get some bottles made in the USA.  I like those Ball jars.  I think Ball is a good American name.  Those jars are made in Muncie Indiana, that’s where jars should be made.  I don’t think they can stuff in China.  Maybe those little bitty corns.  How do they do that?  I tried to grow corn once and ended up with little bitty corns, but they were green.  I think the Chinese cheat at making those little corn things.  I don’t like them anyway.  I like fortune cookies, they are made in New Jersey.  Who thinks up those fortunes?  Most of the time it’s not even a fortune, usually it’s some lame piece of advice.  I hate it when it says stuff like ‘A wise man knows to stay out of toilet like house” I already knew that.  I want them to say something like “Buy Nortel”  How do they make those fortune cookies have that shape?  Do they have a fortune cookie shaping machine?  Probably made in China.  I got a haircut yesterday, it’s short.  I made the lady show me the clippers to see where they were made -GERMANY.  I was good with that, but then she wouldn’t give me a “baldness” discount when I asked for one.  I asked her ”Hey haircut lady (that’s what I call her) how come I have to pay as much as some guy with lots of hair?” She told me I had too much hair for a discount.  She got a good tip. Today I have to put the net over the fishpond for the winter.  I don’t want to because that job is hard, wet, cold, and dirty.

We will be going to Savannah for Thanksgiving to see Cyndi and Lance BALL.  Just like the jars.

I am off sports 

  12-02-07

ave I ever mentioned I hate winter? Generally speaking I like leaves when they stay where they’re supposed to–on the trees. This time of year they have an annoying habit of falling out of the tree. The thing is after much study I’ve figured out then when you rake or blow them they end up somewhere else. This is an annoying characteristic. Much like snow which also ends up somewhere else. I detect a pattern. I have begun referring to that pile of leaves you get that you can’t move because it’s too big as leafdrifts–I want everyone to use this phrase and see how long before we hear it on TV or somewhere.I want to talk about Butt Paste. Ellen brought some Butt Paste home from work so I have a packet. Now at first I liked it. It is called Boudreaux’s Butt Paste. I thought ‘Good for those people in New Orleans who have got things going. Then I read the packet “Made in Columbus Indiana. Now I’m okay with jars being made in Indiana, but not Butt Paste. With a name like Boudreaux’s Butt Paste it is natural to assume it’s from bayou country. I think those Indians are trying to trick us. Then it gets worse. Somebody wrote directions. Number one “Change wet diaper immediately”, this is probably good thinking, I get grumpy when my diaper is left too long. But then there’s instruction number 3. “….especially when exposed to a wet diaper for a prolonged period of time, such as bedtime.” Now wait a minute if you follow direction number one then number three makes no sense! And what’s this bedtime nonsense. Do they mean you can use Butt Paste to “apply liberally” overnight? I don’t get it. One good thing, ButtPaste is made in the USA (not China) it has a little American flag and everything. Look it up at www.buttpaste.com, it says right there that Oprah loves Butt Paste. How does she know?What’s up with those scientists in Amsterdam? They invented a robot to trick cockroaches. They got the robots to smell like pheromones and tricked the bugs into going to a well lit spot. BREAKING NEWS—”Scientists Fool A Bug” Wow, they had to build a robot to do that? What a break through. Wonder if they got a grant?Putin is running for Dictator today. He is quoted as saying “We will not allow anyone to poke their snotty nose into our affairs” How did he know they had a snotty nose? What if they took an antihistamine? I think that was uncalled for.

The clothing designers in New York are complaining about the weather. Seems they can’t predict when to put out winter clothes. It is messing up their Christmas and fall pricing strategy. Again “Global Warming-What’s so bad about it?”

Then there’s this nut in Philadelphia. She is worried about lost gloves. So she goes around picking them up and putting them on her web site, so the owner can find them. This is nuts. First of all if she picks up all these gloves how does she know the owner isn’t coming back? I mean maybe they weren’t lost in the first place. They only became lost after she rescued them. If I ever go to Philadelphia in the winter (fat chance) I’ll get some of those string things I has as a kid. Remember that annoying string thing that went through the back of your coat and had clips for your gloves. You know you’d have it on and then you couldn’t get you gloves off to unbutton your coat, and because it went through your sleeves you couldn’t get your arms bent to use one hand to reach the other to get the glove off, so you were trapped in your gloves and coat until a teacher came along and freed you-I hated that string thing–BUT if I ever go to Philadelphia in the winter I’m getting one. Would you go on the web to find a lost glove? She has them all displayed on the wall of her art gallery. I think she’s a glove kleptomaniac who is using this as an excuse to steal gloves. Global warming would fix her wagon.

We went to Savannah for Thanksgiving. Miz Florence cooked and enough said, if there’s a better Southern cook around I don’t even care. I ate again on Saturday. Ellen enjoyed all the food so much she asked for extra to take home. This became a pattern. First she got Miz Florence to make extra to take home, then she wanted to buy extra pizza’s at Vinnies to take home, then she begged some stranger for macaroni and Cheese to take home, then she begged Frank for some extra hot sauce to take home, then she wanted to take some Greek food home. None of the food got home because she ate it the same day. I like the beer from Savannah but I just drank it all there and bought some more when I got home. This seems more normal.

As my buddy Jonathan does, I’ll give a disclaimer–This next paragraph is a football commentary so skip it if you want. Change the name of the National Championship game to the National Survivor Game. What a whacky season. Last night capped it off. My picks for the “Survivor Game-New Orleans” Oklahoma and LSU. OhHowIHateOhioState doesn’t belong because of strength of schedule, playing in the ‘We can’t count but have a sneaky logo” conference. Georgia probably has a good argument, but not playing shouldn’t help them. If conferences are going to have a Championship game it should mean a lot, after all you’re playing top flight competition at the end of a long season, as opposed to sitting home, or scheduling a patsy. I still say a playoff could work. Take the six major conference champs, add the two highest ranked teams after that (make the conference championship really mean something) seed them and use the existing bowl structure for a three round playoff and viola. You could even put the Big Ten, and Pac Ten in the Rose, ACC-Big East natural rivals in the Tostados, and let the Big Twelve and SEC have the Orange and Sugar Bowls which would restore those traditions. Then we can argue about who’s number nine.

On the home front, things are quiet and normal. Both girls are gone and making their way, work remains non-eventful, and somehow we stumble through it all.

12-09-08

Boy is this global warming good stuff!  I think we need more of it.  This week the forecasters say we’ll be in the upper 70’s and I’m for that!

Leaves are all down, I spent most of yesterday pushing them from one place to another, today I get to do it some more.

We went to our favorite “watering hole” Friday night, kind of boring. Last night my buddy Mac was in town seeing Jeri (again) so we got together for dinner. Jeri fixed a great meal, but somehow the conversation turned to politics, and the candidates.  This evolved into a high level discussion of how stupid everyone else at the table was.  Phrases such as “You’ve turned ignorance and stupidity into an art form” and “Where did you learn to think–Watching Gilligan’s Island?” became the base of most arguments.  In the end the only thing we could agree on was everyone else’s opinions were an equal mixture of ignorance, misinformation and poor parenting.  Next time we get together I think I’ll introduce religion as a talking point.

The Chinese in preparation for the Olympics have now introduced classes in the work place on how to cheer appropriately.  The cheer everyone is learning is something to the effect of “Go China Go China HA HA HA” this is dumb.  Why would you go HA HA HA–are you laughing at someone?  I can hear it now “Go Mets Go Mets HA HA HA” that would be ridiculous.  They are also learning how to do the wave.  Each business has to send one leader to learn this stuff and then go back to work and teach everyone else. 

Chinese Cheer Teacher    “Okay Hai Gzianni (they have names like that in China) Stand up and wave your arms”

Hai Gzianni                    Stands up

Chinese Cheer Teacher    “Okay now sit down”

Hai GziannI                    Sits down

Chinese Cheer Teacher    “Okay Gai ZhiannI, stand up and wave your arms”

Gai Zhianni                    Stands up

and so it goes until everyone has stood up and sat down.

Chinese Cheer teacher “Okay now do it again and say HA HA HA”

Hai Gzianni                    “Most Exalted Cheer Teacher, when do we do this stand up sit down HA HA HA thing so as to          bring  respect to the Motherland?”

Chinese Cheer Teacher    “I will refer to the official cheering instruction manual”

Chinese Cheer Teacher    “It says here that waving and going HAHAHA is appropriate for sporting events”

Some time later during an Olympic gymnastics event

—well you get the picture—

I can’t wait for the Olympics-it’ll be funny

I didn’t know this but apparently world leaders give each other Christmas and Birthday presents-some of this stuff is goofy.

President Bush got

A CD titled “Junichiro Koizumi Presents: My favorite Elvis Songs” from Japanese Prime Minister Junichiro Koizumi.  So here’s the thing–Does the prime Minister sing these songs? Or did he just pick them out?  Does Bush listen to this (it would explain a lot”  When we were on a Hungarian train the conductor was listening to Elvis, but this is different, are the words in Japanese?  How do we really know it’s Elvis music if it is, or maybe it’s the Japanese Prime Minister singing Elvis in English–I think I’m glad I don’t have this CD

He also got a white porcelain cake plate from the President of El Salvador.  Why would he need that? Don’t they have any cake plates at the White House.  Maybe Laura has to make her own cakes and use her own plate.  I don’t know.

Speaking of Laura she got a book called “Moroccan Textile Embroidery” Wow

Cheney got a sword from the President or King or whatever of Saudi Arabia, good thing it wasn’t a gun

Condi got a large red jewelry box full of dates, olive oil and wine from the President of Tunisia.  What’s she gonna do with that?

I think Best Buy gift certificates would be better.

Rumsfield got a saber, a case of wine and ten boxes of dates from the president of Algeria.

What’s with all these Arabs giving out wine? And what’s up with those dates, are they like figs? I like Fig Newton’s, except for the part where that gooey figgy stuff gets stuck between my teeth.  Sometimes I just nibble off the cookie part and then smash up the gooey stuff in a ball, and then after five or six I got this nice big ball of figgy, gooey stuff.  The cats won’t eat it.

I wonder what Bush sends these other guys?  “George W Bush Presents: My favorite Haiku”

And of course my favorite Condi got a “hand painted decorative orb with a picture of herself inside” worth 800 dollars.  I don’t get this.  If it’s painted how can she see the picture?  Maybe they’re just telling her there’s a picture inside.  Or is the picture inside hand painted and the “decorative orb”  is clear.  Good thing it wasn’t an “undecrative orb”  If it’s an orb how do they keep the picture upright?  I wouldn’t want a picture of myself in an orb.  This present is from the Chinese.

Watch out for Putin

Castro is STILL alive

I don’t get today’s crossword

FOOTBALL PARAGRAPH

I’ve been on LSU all year and it appears I could be right

Predictions

LSU beats Ohio State

Georgia beats Hawaii

Oklahoma beats WVU

USC beats Illinios

and V Tech beats whoever they play

Final Rankings

LSU

Oklahoma (leapfrogs by beating a more highly regarded opponent)

Georgia (no problems with Hawaii, but Hawaii’s rank hurts)

SoCal (Illinios? ComeON)

V-Tech-who is it they play?

I think the Cotton Bowl is a very interesting match up, and the folks in Missouri have every right to hate the BCS.

12-16-08

Okay folks, I don’t know if I can stand the pressure.  My brother-in-law Mark wants me to put these e-mails in a blog–says I remind him of Dave Berry.  Cyndy wants to be my agent.  I get these calls and stuff to “keep ‘em coming”  I didn’t start out to create a Sunday institution but…… Now, thanks to you all I have to think of something to write every weekend.  What if I don’t want to? What then? HA HA HA.

Here’s some good news.  My sneaky Chinese coffee pot bit the dust.  It stopped that trick where it would leak coffee all over the floor, but then started only making about half the coffee.  This made me mad.  So I put it in the burn pile.  It made a lot of black smoke.  This creates more global warming.  So that’s good for New Years resolution number one from last year.  Melissa is coming for Christmas again.  Check off having more multi-millionaires at the house for Christmas.  I haven’t eaten any tofu this year so that’s number three.  I think I should get a star for sticking to my new years resolutions.  Now I have a new coffee pot.  It’s a Cusinart made in–you guessed it–China.

There was this article about how the rich Chinese won’t buy toys for their kids made in China because they don’t trust them.  They buy their toys from other places.  It even had a picture of some woman buying toys at the Disney Store.  I know this is true because there was a sign behind her that said “The Disney Store”.  I thought they were communist and everybody got the same stuff. How come some lady can go to the Disney store but others can’t? Then some Chinese guy finds a fish with 200 pounds (English money) in it.  he said it was kind of rotting, but his dog was eating it and found the money.  he said he’d give the money back if someone could describe the fish.  How would he know–the dog ate it.  I think this is another Chinese trick.  The Russians sent canned meat and rye bread to the space station for Thanksgiving.  I guess gravy would be a problem in zero gravity.  But couldn’t they send a pie or something.  Don’t they have pumpkins in Russia?

Two Chinglish Phrases of late

If you are stolen notify police immediately

Keep waluables near to chest be aware of close persons designedly

I am still not over the Chinese preparations to cheer at the Olympics (Go China Go China HA HA HA)

I have this idea that the HA HA HA happened this way

Chinese Cultural Minister:  My comrades we need to develop a plan for proper cheering at the Olympics

Chinese Super Spy: Yes I have been to America and they have cheer with “Go Team”

Chinese Minister of the Environment: What is “Team”?

Chinese Super Spy: In west is bunch of people with one leader

Chinese Cultural Minister: Like China with great comrade leader?

Chinese Super Spy: Yes

Chinese Cultural Minister: We should go–Go China Go China

Chinese Great Comrade Leader: HA HA HA

Chinese Cultural Minister: That is very good write that down for people

Chinese Minister of Writing things down–Writes

-and then about those presents_

George W.  Hey Condi; how about sharing some of that Liberian Wine

Condi R. Gorgy, you know I don’t like being called Condi

George W. Don’t call me Georgie

Condi R.  Georgie Pordgie puddin’ and pie kissed the girls and made them cry

Dick C.  HA HA HA good one Condi

Condi R.  You listen here Dickey

Dick C.  Don’t call me Dickey, Ms. Bucky Beaver Teeth

George W.  HA HA HA good one Dickey

Laura B.  Stop it all of you

Dick C. and Condi:  Laurie, Laurie, Laurie the Tory

Laura B. George make them stop

George W. You all be nice

Dick C. and Condi: It’s a rainy night in Georgie

Laura B. That’s it I’m taking my cake plate and going to bed

Dick C. and Condi: Laurie, Laurie bo borri bonana fanna for forri fe fi mo Morri–Laurie

George W.  I’m putting on that guy from Japan signs Elvis-nah nah na na nana

Laura B. HA HA HA

Condi Hey Laurie where’s you get that hairdo=Jimmy Johnson?

Dick C. HA HA HA good one Condi

Condi Don’t call me that Mr.. Dickey the Hickey

Dick C. Bucky the Beaver Teeth, Bucky the Beaver Teeth all you need is goggles and you’d look like Rocky the Flying Squirrel

Laura B.  HA HA HA

George W. Hey I wonder what this button does?

Mark was here this weekend to see his Mom so we got a chance to visit, other than that things are quiet.  We got some rain yesterday and it continues cloudy, drizzly, and cold today.  A good day to do as little as possible.  Thanks to the rain no leaves got moved around this weekend, but they appear to have to be in the same place.  I was going to put out some more stinky egg stuff deer repellant, but had to stay in yesterday.  Our Christmas plans are in flux this year, as we know Melissa is coming on Friday, we have a “family” get together at Cheryl and David’s next Sunday, we’re not sure what the kids are doing, and bluntly we’re being more economical this year because of the five months I didn’t work.  Somehow we’re both having trouble getting into it this year.

Other than that——

Oh one more thing—What’s up with that Gaddafi guy?  Anyone seen his bodyguards?

1-12-08

I am bothered by a number of things this morning.

1) We have a new editor for out local paper.  This guy needs to go back where he came from.  The biggest change he’s made so far is to add a bunch of comic strips. This is a big deal to him with votes and reader forums and all kinds of interactive involvement from the readership.  We now have 62 comic strips every day!  This takes too long to read.  He also re-designed the gossip page and the Sunday puzzle page.  This brings me to another point, on the gossip page instead of two or three blurbs he kept those but added this section called “Tidbits”.  This is in little writing and hard to read.  It is also filled up with stuff that goofs me up.  On Thursday there was this tidbit which states (and I quote) …they caused a ruckus in Sherman Oaks when Brit (Spears) paraded around buck naked…”  I always thought it was butt naked.  What does buck mean? I know what a naked butt is, but not a buck.  I don’t think I have a buck, so how could it be naked?  I think we need our old editor back.  Also an actual headline “Drinking Listerine can be toxic”  Why did the Chinese make it?  According to the label it says “Do not Swallow” There’s a Bill Clinton joke in here somewhere.

2) Zanzibar-What’s up with this country?  First I read they introduce a 150 Million dollar bill (Worth $4 US) because they have a lot of inflation.  Then I read this is a HOT tourist destination.  Then I find out they have bad ferries (lots of cockroaches).  Then I find out they are discriminating against fat people at hotels.  I think Zanzibar has a lot of problems. 

3) I think Ellen is getting that Alzheimer’s disease.  First it was the country music thing, and then the other night I caught her watching “Deal of No Deal”  I declared after 45 seconds that a) the people on that show are genetically predisposed to idiocy, and b) anyone who watches it is supporting the dumbing down of America.  Ellen immediately switched to America’s funniest Home videos, which allowed me to see even dumber people get hit in the crotch, fall off things and general create massive destruction of self and property. 

4) Mike Huckabee seems to be doing okay in the primaries.  I don’t think a guy named Huckabee should be president.  Too many syllables.  A president should only have two or less syllables in his name.  And that Mike business has to go to.  Just not dignified enough.  ‘I like Mike”  Some how that reminds me of a cereal commercial, and his last name reminds me of Huckleberry Hound.  Whatever happened to Huckleberry Hound? Except why was he purple? Are huckleberries purple? I don’t know, I don’t think I ever saw a huckleberry, where do they grow? Anyway I thought Huckleberry Hound was funny I liked him, Bullwinkle too.  Whatever happened to Mighty Mouse?  Here is another problem with this name–when I run a spell check it wants me to change it to Chickadee, see some smarty-pants will start calling him Mike Chickadee.  This is the problem with too many syllables.  First name-1 syllable, second name no more than two.  John, George, Abe, —Adams, Lincoln, Reagan.  You can mix those names up and have a dignified name.  And too–NO NICKNAMES, look at Jimmy (nickname and two syllables) Did Reagan call himself Ronnie-NO NO NO

5) And then there’s Spain.  They have a national anthem with no words.  They are having a contest to come up with the words, but like our local comic strip wars they can’t come up with a winner.  They came close last week, but then someone got mad because the first line was Viva Espania.  Okay……. Someone got mad because Franco used to say that a lot  Okay…… So I guess they just hum it.  How do they start a soccer match?  Here in the US we get a singer, what do they do there get someone with a kazoo?

6) NASA (thanks Mac) has a problem.  They have designed the new Orion rocket, but according to the computer models it will shake to pieces at lift off.  I think this is bad.  They should make a rocket that doesn’t shake so much.  They say they’ll solve this by March.  What’s the hurry since they don’t plan to use it until 2012.  I think they should take their time and fix it right.  Bush says we’re going back to the moon by 2020. Why?  We’ve already been there.  The Chinese have challenged us to a space race and are trying to go to the moon.  Don’t they have their hands full with the Olympics? 

We had snow last night.  It’s cold and supposed to get to single digits here tonight.  I think that’s because of global warming.  NASA says that global warming is making ocean currents in the Southern Ocean change and causing problems in Antarctica.  How do they know-they can’t even make a rocket that won’t shake to pieces?  Betcha a Russian was involved.  Anyway back to the snow.  We went to the Florida room I built on the side of the house and watched it.  I bet we got 1/4 of an inch.  This was a major disappointment as we had stocked up to be snowbound for days.  Beer, cigarettes, and Beefaroni.  Beefaroni–that’s made by Chef Boy-R-Dee.  Shouldn’t he be dead now?  I remember when he invented Spaghetti-O’s.  My mom used to put hot Spaghetti-O’s in a thermos for my lunch.  Sometimes she’s put a hot dog in there (but not with the Spaghetti-O’s)—I bet spell check can’t do Spaghetti-O’s—even though later Chef-Boy-R-Dee did.  Anyway it was a Hector Heathcoat lunch box.  It had a picture of Hector Heathcoat shooting a cannon at a bunch of Redcoats, who were laying down with X’s for eyes and stars over their heads.  This was a violent lunchbox. Whatever happened to Hector Heathcoat? 

Yikes  

1-27-08

Okay I’ve been corrected–

First Jonathan writes and I quote (actually paste)

>>>Actually, I’ve heard “buck naked” all my life (or nearly so).  Also “stark naked” and “bare naked,” which is rather redundant.  I seem to recall that an obsolete usage of the word buck, was an adverb meaning “fully or completely.”  Such as, “I am buck famished,” meaning, “completely hungry.”  It’s sole use anymore is an adverb for naked.  Why, I’m not sure, unless someone can be partially naked.  The “buck” meant completely, as in birthday suit.  By the way, I think “butt naked” is just a corruption of “buck naked.”

Well, isn’t he a MS. BOB? (Mr. Smarty britches Oklahoma Boy) Amazing what a University of Oklahoma education will teach you.  Well, how about this–BUCKWHEAT.  The only guy I know who can take the inane seriously and create a greater degree of goofiness.

Then Mom writes and I quote (actually paste)

You forgot to tell everyone how you got the hot dog out of the thermos.  I tied a string to the end of it, and let the string dangle over the top.  I think it worked. You always ate it.  You were crazy about that Hector Heathcoat lunchbox.  It is probably worth $1000 now, but I……

Yeah but here’s the thing, the string slipped off all the time, so I’d sit next to Clifford Ray, and pour the water on the floor.  Since Clifford was “slow” everyone thought he peed in his pants.  One day I said “Hey Clifford I got a hot dog again” He said ‘Oh no..your gonna sit next to me and make everyone think I pee’d my pants”  So he wouldn’t sit by me.  So I had to make it look like Lisa Bhanke (sp) peed her pants.  Then the teacher asked how come when I had a hot dog someone always peed their pants so I had to quit.  So then I tried to get it out with a fork, but the hot dog was kind of waterlogged by lunch so it would break up in little pieces, so then I just got parts of the hot dog so I told Mom to give me Spaghetti-Ohs

Now over in Sweden, some scientists have declared that global warming will actually decrease the amount of hurricanes and their severity, in that there will be more wind shear and hurricanes won’t form.  What does this do to Al “I won a prize’ Gore?  He’ll have to change the cover of his book, and movie.  Well, since he won all that money for his prize maybe he can afford it.  Global Warming–What’s wrong with it?  I’ll tell you, we don’t have enough yet.  It’s cold here. I hate it.

Looks like the army lost control of one of their spy satellites.  It’s going to crash to earth, they think in March.  They said it wouldn’t do any good to shoot it with a missile, it would still crash to earth.  Uh-DUH.  They don’t know where it’ll land.  I can think of a few good places. Al’s house, Hillary’s bus,……–why do all the Democrats have funny names?

Well, the comic controversy continues in Raleigh.  One of the new comics is “Fillmore” Fillmore is a duck.  Apparently some people are upset because Fillmore makes fun of the media and liberals, and Doonesbury has to be on the editorial page but Fillmore is not.  There was a whole explanation in today’s paper as to why this is so.  I’d rather read about the Chinese.

I’ve been on my new job for about four months, I think I’m bored.  Don’t know what I’ll do yet but…..

We haven’t done much recently, and I’m getting itchy.  Yesterday (I think I mentioned Ellen got me a fancy-shmancy weather station for Christmas) I put the wind meter on top of the house.  This involved heights, ladders, and generalized terror.  I’ve also replace most of the outside lights.  Now Ellen wants me to do other stuff involving work.  I think her Alzheimer’s is making her pushy, last week I caught her watching “Desperate Housewives”  She sure watches a lot of TV.  This past week she had annual inspection at the building she works at.  I told her I understood how hard that was and I’d take care of dinner.  Tuesday we had take out Chinese, Wednesday Subway sandwiches, and Thursday I went out with some co-workers.  She says I’m not so good at meals.  See Alzheimer’s

Jonathan asked me to comment on the TV show “American Idol”  This is hard for me in that I have religiously avoided watching this show.  This is because I know a few people who actually think it’s important.  They will discuss the contestants, who’s in who’s out and on and on ad nausium.  Prior to any discussion about the show I had categorized these individuals as losers.  Therefore by association… plus isn’t Clay Achin’ kind of a Barry Manilow impersonator.  How come he got famous for that?  Barry Manilow was coming to Raleigh so there were a bunch of articles about the fans, and anti-fans.  In one a guy was dying and his wife was staying with him.  She loved Barry so his music was in the background all the time.  Finally the dying guys brother said “I hope you die soon so I don’t have to listen to this anymore”.  Boy, did people get mad about that!  It ranks right up there with “Fillmore” for raising peoples hackles.  By the way the concert was cancelled because of weather.  We had 1/4 inch of snow which didn’t stick.  All the fans were mad so he rescheduled, which means a few more weeks of discussion.  I’ll keep you posted.

They hung a picture of the Colbert guy at a museum in Washington.  Between the bathrooms, it’s real popular but people are complaining they can’t get to the bathroom because of the lines.  This was bad planning.  I wouldn’t like it if they hung my picture by the bathroom.  Speaking of bathrooms–why aren’t the presidential candidates talking about the proliferation of confusing bathroom labels.  “Seagulls” and “Buoys” that’s just not right. I also think they should address grocery store layout.  This is as confusing as the Dewey Decimal system.  Why can’t stuff be alphabetical.  Put the beer and bread and bagels and bananas on the same aisle.

I spent a bunch of time looking for bread yesterday because it was by the coffee.

I need to quit writing these things