Sunday, September 26, 2004

I attended the Lithuanian National Philharmonic last night, and had a wonderful evening. Only one of the three pieces was by a Lithuanian composer, rather than all. Edwin Geist, a Jew, had fled nazi Germany when he was forbiddent to compose. He died three years later in 1942, murdered. His piece was reminiscent of Shostokovich: here memories of national folk tunes, there seeming mockery of the government, disturbing yet interesting--surely reflecting what was happening in his world.

A solo pianist, Petras Geniusas played a Schumann piano concerto with the orchestra. The lady sitting next to me was the pianists neighbor--she had known him some forty years, and was daily treated to his music wafting through the neighborhood. At the intermission, those not lined up for drinks were promenading with their spouse or partner around the upstairs lobby balustrade--a wonderful tradition!

Following the intermission, the orchestra present Saint-Saens Symphony no. 3, "Organ", one of my favorites. They played it very well, if occasionally with a martial sense of rythm. The director, Juozas Domarkas, had a sensitive hand and knew his orchestra and the music. His appearance was that of P.D.Q. Bach, albeit with heavy eyeglasses.

The hall was smaller than I had expected, and had been renovated several years ago. Last night was the opening night of the season and was nearly sold out. They were also inaugurating a new Steinway grand piano for the hall. The people of Vilnius and Lithuania have much to be proud of in their national orchestra.

The cab picked me up at the edge of the construction zone at 6:45 this morning. Looking at the odometer, I saw that his newish model Mercedes had 645,000 kilometers on it--I calculate it right at 400,000 miles, if what I saw was correct. The morning was hazy, and we flew out in heavy fog. Warsaw was clearer, but there was again haze landing in Krakow.

I had a pleasant and not so pleasant experience on the way to the hotel. Taxis had doubled their fees for Sunday, so I took the bus in at an easy $1.85. On the way, passing homes adjacent to the airport with chickens and roosters loose in the yards, a number of people got on the bus clearly on their way home from Mass. When an elderly lady got on (I was standing with my luggage the entire way), a young man instantly got up and gave her his seat. I was deeply impressed.

What wasn't impressive was receiving misinformation from the information kiosk regarding using my bus ticket for a transfer onto the tram. A $20 fine later for not having a proper tram ticket, I was not feeling so welcome in Krakow. I could say a lot more, but I won't. Still steaming at 2:30 in the afternoon, I did what any rational person would do: sat down for coffee and ice cream.

Every city's cathedrals seem to outdo the last, and Krakow is no exception. St Mary's Basilica was beyond words: deep blue ceiling broken by golden stars, gigantic crucifix in place beneath the joining of two vaults, everything covered in artwork and gold. Next door, a much smaller church was lined inside with scaffolding, the ceiling obscured by a rough wood floor suspended above. A harpsicord was rehearsing with a flute and violin: disjointed and disarray at first, but ending with sublime music. I saw a second church lined with scaffolding as well. Ten years plus out, there is still much work to do.

The interior of St Francis was at once a smaller replica of St Mary's, but was done in an art nouveau that through dark was refreshing. The stained glass windows are in the same stye, and are world famous. Most interesting was a side chapel that contained a Shroud of Turin. Note that I saw "a" Shroud of Turin--a search of the internet indicates the famous shroud is safely tucked away in Turin (home to Fiat) and won't be seen again publicly until 2025. I did find reports of a second shroud turning up in Czechoslovakia several years ago, a perfect copy of the original. Perhaps this is the same one, but I have been unable to find any solid information on it.

This city has it's share of accordian players. Maybe it's just because it's Sunday, but they were on many street corners. Many played the classical piece that Barry Manilow used a snippet of to open "Could this be the Magic at Last". (Anyone correctly naming the classical piece gets a free cd of "Stefan plays Manilow") Most impressive was the gentleman playing Bach's Toccata and Fugue in D minor, a big pipe organ piece, with convincing accuracy--did Bach really compose it for the accordian?

Arranged my train ticket to Nysa for tomorrow, where I'll see Ewa Michalek Drobic and her family. Plans are for me to speak to her english class on Tuesday--that should be a lot of fun!

Readers may have noticed that up to now, I've taken busses through eastern Europe rather than trains. It has not really been by choice: most destinations are better served now by busses than trains. I'm guessing that the trains remain government-owned and have lacked for an infusion of funds, meaning aged Soviet era equipment. The busses are owned and operated by private companies, are modern, timely and comfortable, and are turning a profit here. We'll see how the train ride goes tomorrow.

Had a knock on the door as I began writing: a maid bringing house slippers, more bathroom goodies, and a chocolate that melted in my mouth. This five-star stuff is good.

I didn't think I could recommend Krakow earlier today, but I must. It dodged the bombs of WWII, though suffered the same indignities of communist rule. The old town is a treasure, as are the old towns of Tallinn, Riga, and Vilnius. All are worth seeing, and their stories are ones that we need to hear. Auschwitz is near here. A park in Vilnius was renamed "the killing fields" after a KGB mass grave was found there several years ago. Abandoned watch towers loomed over the railroad tracks out of Riga. Perhaps I experienced a vestige of the Soviet era today. Krakow is magnificant, and we are fortunate it is here for us to enjoy and explore.


Monday, October 04, 2004

I took a taxi to the train station in Krakow, rather than try and lug my suitcase on and off a couple of trams. The Sheraton offered their own cabs, new Mercedes, but the price was double or triple a regular local cab, so I called for one of those. I’m sure the ride I had was more exciting than I would have enjoyed in the luxo car! The train arrived and left promptly and was reasonably comfortable, though I would date the cars to the 1960’s or earlier. I grabbed a compartment in the non-smoking end of a car, and shared it with one man who said almost nothing, and another who spoke some English, was from Romania, and was traveling to Warsaw to work on a Master’s degree in computer science.

There were about a dozen young men in our car finishing their term in the army and heading home. By ten in the morning, the beer was flowing, and they were standing in the hall outside our compartment smoking, throwing cigarette butts and beer cans out the window. They returned to their compartment, grew louder and louder, then began singing. Others on the train seemed embarrassed by them, and by the time I got off in Opole to change trains, they were hanging out the windows yelling at people and singing. I was glad to be changing trains.

The train from Opole to Nysa was older—maybe the 1940’s or 1950’s, maybe earlier—and was slow. We left about 50 minutes late: I was beginning to think I had crossed a time zone, but the departure was simply and inexplicably delayed. It felt like we never exceeded 30 mph, and stopped at a number of boarded up brick railway stations to pick up and drop off passengers. One stop was in the middle of an open field that had been recently planted, no buildings in sight save for a metal shed open on one side to shelter waiting passengers. Nysa lies in the south of Poland maybe 20 kilometers north of the Czech Republic, and mountains in that neighboring country can be seen in the distance.

Upon my arrival, my friend Ewa (Eva, like Gabor) was there to greet me. We returned to her apartment building, lugging my suitcase up the steps to the top floor. The inside was nicely decorated and comfortable, and they had prepared both some chicken noodle soup and a Polish dish made of cabbage, meat and spices (vigo?) for lunch. There, I got to meet Ewa’s husband Urich, an ambulance driver who is studying to be a paramedic, and their two year old daughter Marta.

After our lunch, we drove to the center of Nysa to visit their 1,000 year old cathedral and to tour the city center. The cathedral was beautiful, and boasted the steepest or second steepest roof of any cathedral in Europe. It too had been bombed out in the Second World War and rebuilt. About half of the buildings in the center were original, the rest built in the last few decades. Nysa looked like a town that people enjoyed living in and taking care of: Soviet era buildings painted with bright colors, flowers planted and tended, people sweeping the sidewalks, shops proudly displaying their wares. We headed to supper in a restaurant located in the basement of an older building, full of ambience, heavy wooden beams, and a fireplace. We enjoyed soup in bread bowls, and a Polish beer made with apples, perhaps what we would call “hard cider”.

That evening, I enjoyed sitting with their daughter Marta on their couch, holding a Polish children’s book and having her tell me what the animals were.

The next day, I visited the school the Ewa teaches at, sitting in on one of her English lessons, then talking to four classes of high school aged students. The school is named “Carolinum”, began as a Jesuit school, and is 400 years old. When we entered the first class, all of the students stood because their teacher was entering the room—very impressive! My first question from a student was “Have you seen Fahrenheit 911, and if so, what did you think of it?”. It was the most important question I received that day, and a variation of the question I have been asked everywhere on this journey. People around the world are afraid of our President and the administration that is in power in our country, and are deeply concerned about what another four years would bring.

A question that I wished I had answered better was from the young man that said that he had heard that Polish women were the most beautiful in the world, and asked if I agreed. A loaded question for sure, but I wish I had said more in regards to the beauty of a person that lies within, and how looking only at the exterior can turn people into objects.

The school building was fantastic, with vaulted ceilings in the hallway, a library that looked like a room out of Oxford, and an auditorium that could have been a small concert hall in Vienna. I did ask one group what their greatest challenge or concern as young people in Poland was, and they instantly replied “jobs”. Most of the factories in Nysa have closed in the past few years, and unemployment there is soaring. Their main hope seems to lie in their participation in the European Union, and their soon to be received right to look for jobs in other countries.

Ewa left me to explore Nysa for another hour or so while she wrapped up at school. Meeting me at the cathedral with Marta in tow, she drove me out to their lake, and then to her father’s house. It was great to meet him—he and Ewa seem to be cut out of the same cloth, and he obviously enjoyed his granddaughter very much. He had been a carpenter, and examples of his handiwork were throughout his home. We then met Urich at the hospital, where he enjoyed showing off his ambulance. More than that, he obviously enjoyed setting two year old Marta in the driver’s seat and turning the lights on.

That evening, they prepared some more traditional Polish food for me, including stuffed cabbage and some wonderful Polish bread. We had a nice visit with Magda, one of Ewa’s co-teachers, watched a video about Nysa, and watched part of “Shrek” in Polish—it seemed pretty natural!

The next morning, Urich drove me into Opole to catch the bus, worried that the train from Nysa could again be delayed and I would miss my connection. We shouldn’t have worried—the bus arrived 30 minutes after our departure time, and we lost another 30 minutes in road construction. Miraculously, we arrived in Warsaw only a few minutes late, making me think that train and bus schedules there involve a fair amount of fiction and creativity. Plan accordingly. Ewa had generously prepared me a wonderful lunch for me to enjoy on the way, including sandwiches, fruit, juice, and a traditional salad made with egg, carrots, and other good stuff. I caught a cab to the airport, arriving well before the time Air France opened their counter for flight check-in.

Poland was a fine country to visit, and I was very fortunate to have friends to help host me for part of my visit. My visit to Nysa was a highlight, especially to stay in a home, visit a school, and see a town that is off the radar screen of American tourists. It once again reinforced my interest in visiting out-of-the-way places that most tourists don’t get to. The word I get from Ewa on the trains is that many more people own cars now, and so the call for trains is declining, and with it the number of trains and connections available. I have to wonder if they’ll enjoy a revival there and will match the service available in western Europe, or if the trains in the Baltics and parts south will die out all together. On my way out, Urich drove me through several more scenic towns en-route to Opole, and each would be worth spending some time in. So, get going, get out there and explore!