Vienna

The place where I felt sure I was no longer in the Czech Republic, the destination I'd been looking forward to for a very long time.

Vienna felt much more metropolitan, much more Western. (Better shopping, lolz!) The art history was what held my interest (no way!), as Gustav Klimt lived and worked and created and started things in that city. To the right, the Secession building, home to the movement Klimt was a founder of, housing his Beethoven Frieze (which our tour guide tried to tell me wasn't there, the dolt). I visited two museums with Klimt's work with others, then when nobody wanted to see him I set off on my own to find two more I knew of. I didn't get to it all (there was not enough time) but was happy that Vienna was relatively easy to navigate and that I had independent museum time with the art and artist I'd looked and thought and written about so much.

Vienna was also a beautiful city (lots of white and gold, it seemed) and the weather was beautiful as well (excepting a couple sudden bouts of hail). It had a more open, organized feel than Prague, which I liked, but it was such a comfort to return to the more cramped winding streets.

Strange that it was comforting to return to a place where I cannot understand ninety-nine percent of what is said or written around me. The traveling made me realize how widespread English is, and you can get by on that if you really need to. But numbers are the same, visual language is largely the same (though if you're getting deeper, learned meanings might differ), sometimes gestures can suffice, and that's what I had to rely on what little time I spent in Austria and Slovakia. And actually what I have to rely on a lot of the time here -- understanding numbers and images and not much beyond.

Once more enveloped in the familiar unfamiliarity of the Czech language, in what has been my norm for the past two months, I think of how easily I'll be distracted trying to read in coffee shops at home this summer, how annoyed I'll get at stupid things people say, what snickers I might get from the overheard English conversations that will welcome me back. There are many things I've known I've missed, but I didn't realize till now that eavesdropping is one of them. For now, I'll be good and abstain (I have to) and rely on people-watching, but listening in on others is one more pleasure I can look forward to upon my return.

Bratislava

Truth: This is not Bratislava. This is NATURE. I believe we saw it on our way to Bratislava. (I could well be wrong.) Not true nature, rather man-made. An English garden built out of bog and romanticism. Either way, I'll take it.

We strolled in the sun (some without coats!) and a few climbed to the top of a minaret erected to agitate surrounding Christians and that is where I found this view.

In Bratislava we stayed in a botel (boat + hotel, pure class) on the Danube and had a brief tour. Though the Czech Republic and Slovakia were once the same country(in a sense), you could feel a difference with currency and discrepancies in language (apparently the Czechs and the Slovaks can understand each other, but the language is not the same; I can understand neither). I wish I had seen more of how much these countries share and how much they distinguish themselves from each other.

Brno

Truth: Brno (the capital of Moravia) was nothing special. Its good points: it is on the crown (not the euro, thank God), and it is a good place from which to embark on many day trips.

To the right, a photograph from the Jewish cemetery in a town whose name I don't remember. Most of the stones were from the nineteenth century on. The town was sunny and quaint, with winding streets that had our guide walking in circles (he was not very competent or well-liked). We saw some castles, palaces, and caves.

During our stay we also visited the museum of Roma history and culture. "Roma" is the politically correct (...as far as I can tell) term for "gypsy." There's a good deal of prejudice against the Roma. The museum visit illustrated the persecution the Roma suffered during WWII. With my terrible history education (probably largely my own fault) I always think of the Jews as target group, but my time here (with visits to Dresden, Terezín, and Moravia) has reminded me that others suffered greatly, too. At the museum they actually had us do an activity that was perhaps childish but really underlined a lot of what I've been thinking about this whole semester: what would I have done if I were living here about 65 years ago? How far would I go to protect my family? Would I have done right? What was right? No answers, just questions.

Back in Bohemia

More about my trip to Moravia, Slovakia, and Austria a little later on in the week. For now, some illustrations. (Castle from Slovakia, I think. A few from Vienna.)

Commentary to come!

Nashle, Praha

A few favorite photos from Prague before I stuff my backpack and bus it to Brno, Bratislava, and Vienna.


Ahoj, Bohemia, until next Thursday.

Let there be light.

Today I walked around for quite a long time. It started out cloudy but ended with sun, and so was pleasant. Before heading away from the river toward the center of New Town I got a picture of this piece I'd been intrigued by since the first week I got here. It's part of a project focusing on "light art" (your guess is as good as mine) called Transparency in celebration of the Czech Republic's EU Presidency which will last until the end of June. I think I have missed a couple of Transparency installments already, but am going to do a little research and try and visit other light art. Having passed this on many a cloudy day, the glow it had in the springy sunlight was something new, illuminating this fractured figure, and entirely welcome. I can't wait for more light (art) in the days to come.

Bohemian Bones

Sunday was our mandatory day trip to Kutna Hora, a town about an hour's drive from Praha, known for its importance and affluence while its silver mines were prosperous. We visited St. Barbara's Church. It had some still in-tact Gothic frescoes, which was cool to see. We covered the few sights the town offered on a cold day. The best was the Sedlec Ossuary.

About 40,000 people were buried in the spot where church construction was supposed to take place. Naturally, they dug up all the skeletons. This was in the early 1500s and the bones were stored in the chapel where they are found today. But it was not until 1870 that a single man was put to the task to arrange the remains.

The result? Vaulted ceilings laced with chains of dangling bones, a chandelier featuring every bone of the human body, a coat of arms constructed of -- guess what? -- bones. Pyramids of bones, stacks of skulls. (I wish there were synonym of "bone" I could employ here.) Impressive, creepy, meant to remind us, as my professor told us, what we are now, they once were, and what they are now, we shall become. Morbidity entwined in the artistry. Or maybe the other way around.

Terezín

This past Sunday I was lucky enough to snag a last minute spot on a group trip to Terezín. Terezín was built as a fortress in 1780. It held Franz Ferdinand's assassin, Gavrilo Prinzip, earlier in the 20th century. In the World War II period, it served as a concentration camp, while its Small Fortress was a work camp for prisoners of war. The concentration camp was not an execution camp, however tens of thousands died there from the terrible conditions. Hundreds of thousands passed through Terezín, and relatively few survived. The guide for the Jewish Studies group from my program had not only survived Terezín but had escaped Auschwitz four times. I only got to hear him speak on the bus rides there and back, but it was awe-inspiring just to be in his presence for a bit, really.

Terezín's role in the Nazi campaign and propaganda is particularly fascinating. It was essentially known as the town that Hitler 'gave' to the Jews. Cultural figures--actors, artists, musicians, etc.--were kept in Terezín to create the appearance of a community creating and thriving. When the International Red Cross caught wind that Terezín might not actually be so swell, they scheduled a visit. The Nazis pulled the wool over the eyes of the Red Cross by spiffing up some buildings, scripting some Nazi-Jew encounters, and making Terezín appear much better cared for and quaint by driving around in circles. It is really astonishing how much the Nazis were able to get away with--convincing international authorities that hundreds, rather than tens of thousands, were absolutely walled in.

In a way, Terezín was quite desolately beautiful. The green-brown grass glowed against the grey of the sky and the red of the endless walls. It was difficult to imagine the atrocities committed there, and the terror that circulated through the brick corridors constantly. And, really, such a short time ago.