My uncle, John Lynch, attended art school at Bradley University from 1946 to 1948. The art department had an exhibition on campus. My uncle, who saved much ephemera from his life, saved the comment book from that exhibition. I don't know how he got it, because it actually has the name of Frank P. Suto Jr. (another student) written on the inside cover. I find many of these comments timeless. Also note entry number 42 by P.R. Mc. He is P.R.McIntosh, head of the Bradley Art Department at the time. He is a well known Illinois artist.
1. Very interesting- there is evidence of great talent here. Very inclusive exhibit o f modern art. Especially good abstracts. A good start, I hope to see more.
2. Eliminate the abstracts. M.B.
3. Not educated to appreciate the abstracts but found all others interesting. V.W.
4. The Gouache pastel is charming. The “Keys made and Peoria Side 4” show talent. Mr. Lynch’s “First Man in” is fine.
5. The “First Man In” wonderful painting meaning easily grasped by onlooker- feeling captured by painter- excellent. S.M.
6. “Washington Square” very realistic, well illustrated, coloring excellent. S.M.
7. Are these students sure that theirs is a proper approach to true art, one that will create art, one that will create art acceptable to others and remuneration to themselves?
8. It is very helpful to have the notes from the artist giving his interpretation of the picture- otherwise to many of us it means nothing.
9. Some heathen tribes distort their necks with bands of jewelry. The Bradley students do it with oil paint.!!
10. John Lynch and Ray Howard (Still Life) seem to know where they’re going. I’ll take “First Man In” and you can have all the rest. R.C.
11. “Maybury Portrait”s, John Lynch portrait & “First Man In” very good. Some of the watercolor landscapes good- as for the abstracts- They look even better upside- down.
12. Pope’s “Landscape” & the “First Man In” appeal to my uneducated eye. Washington Square would if it had more depth. The abstracts offend me. W.B.C.
13. “Waterfall”, “Landscape” and “Still Life” by Greenwood- give evidence of both- study & talent- Some excellent paints in all others too- Thanks for this opportunity of viewing the results of these young peoples’ efforts- Success to you all! E.T.
14. This exhibition is one of the most enthralling exhibitions and exciting I have ever seen. Here is created the subconscious emotions of the artist along with the conscious. Each painting is brilliantly executed on the picture plane. Movement Is obtained by the plastic manipulation of color instead of the traditional molding of form. The statue form of reality is absent and in its place is put emotion, movement and expression as portrayed by the artists by use of plastic organization. True pictorialization cannot exist in our modern age. Hurray for the Bradley students. KRUPNIK
15. A mixture of trash, fairly good work and otherwise.
16. Abstractions, in painting, are somewhat a waste of time and material, except for the artist himself. Since they pretend to give his subconscious feelings, it would be (and is) meaningless to anyone else. B.F. Brem
17. “Kilroy was here too!” So was Donaldson.
18. Why teach these students to believe so whole heartedly that abstract painting is the best & only kind of art?
19. Where’s the art? You’re exhibiting?
20. Art….. Is that what you call it these days?
21. Art???????
22. Fine exercises! When do we see the finished products? I prefer John Lynch’s work.
23. Excellent display. Shows originality & force. Liked Suto’s self-portrait especially although resemblance isn’t striking. A Bradley student
24. If this is the best that Bradley can offer a student in art no wonder so many Bradley art student are getting transferred. A Bradley art student
25. A very impressive display of talent, some, however, have succeeded where others haven’t quite captured the essence of painting, as a whole very good, more work of this sort to enlightened the public in relation to modern art. J.F.
26. All I can say is ha, ha!! A Bradley student.
27. I wanted to take lessons in landscape painting at Bradley- Mr. McIntosh said that was not art- only calendar work- If this is a display of the art they teach at Bradley- I don’t think I’s care to be an artist- If this is art, Lord help us. A few paintings have merit.
28. I think that this art exhibit is a very talented one. I especially like the Mayberry paintings at the back of the room though very talented artists have made the others. Donald Reed, a Woodruff Student (Soph)
29. A very interesting exhibit to me who knows nothing about “art” the most pleasing thing in the whole exhibit was the portrait of the actor by John Lynch. I was revolted by “Enurantant (?) for the Eye”! R.V.H.
30. Some of them show a fine insight but many show that they are students’ work. – that’s all right but why be so obvious? Even in abstract work, it is not interesting when the imagination is bludgeoned instead of seduced. H.M.B.
31. Especially appealing were: Last Man In; The Medusa Tree& Sand Valley; The latter showed all the artist set out to do. As a whole the exhibit is mediocre”. C….
32. I agree on “Last Man In”, “The Medusa Tree” & “Sand Valley”; “Dark in New York City” Is pleasing- The pastel portraits seem suitable with covers of pulp magazines.
33. This exhibition shows how far true art has fallen in the present tyranny of instructors who tell them to exhibit their ignorance and call it their souls.
34. I think all of the art work exhibited here is a credit to Bradley University School of Fine Arts. Particularly impressing , I believe, was “Last Man In”. I believe there should be more of these exhibits and a greater number of paintings in each display.
35. The fact that this exhibit seems to be ridiculed proves beyond a doubt that it has started the public to think.
36. It’s about time people found a use for non-commercial art other tan a mere momentary glance that’s new product. I refer to and I do believe that this exhibit accomplished that to a certain degree.
37. Modern art is wonderful. It’s about time people started painting their particular mood and visions and painted what they SEE and FEEL instead. Shirley
38. I am not one to appreciate the modern moods. The Medusa Tree, Sand Valley and Portrait of Sis were especially appealing. Joy
39. There isn’t any modern art! There is no definition for art. Art is a feeling, deep-rooted. That unearthly feeling is produced by these pictures. These pictures are certainly a credit to Bradley, but more so to art. P.S. “The Lecture” picture will explain my comment. “Congrat”
40. Appreciate tags on each drawing. Often wished it was word in exhibitions. But first time I’d seen it done. Must take gumption. Intend to come back. Interesting & much variety like John Lynch and most of the others. – Also Suto’s self portrait. Having youse write comments Is clever too.
41. Since I am a watercolor enthusiast, I appreciated them more than the others. Elaine Walsh & Don White have that watercolor talent and paint on their pulses. They have captured the essence of water color transparency and would like to see more of their work. Contrary to the many opinions ridiculing modern art & abstractism, I believe these works of art should be admired, They show a complete change over from traditional “pretty” forms of art and offer new fields to conquer to the student. It offers new versatility to students. Congratulations to Bradley Art Dept. and all those Art instructors who helped incite these fine examples of student work! Let’s see more!! Charles Greenwood’s still life is reminiscent of Ivan Albright paintings, Very good.
42. I want to congratulate the Artagore Club of Bradley on its initiative and courage in arranging a show which is so characteristic of true reality; namely movement and change. The most positive thing around is change. Why indeed should art remain stationary? Perhaps you students are changing your visual expression more rapidly than some and hence the stimulation which causes these comments but in the final analysis, validity will depend on the degree to which contemporary events, all vital native uses its pas as a stepping stone not as a place to bide in security. P.R.Mc
43. You tell’em Mac! A.K.
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Changing Blog Directions
My vacation from my blog has lasted long enough. It's clear that I have been enjoying my time off, but am less productive (and happier) with my limited schedule. Since one of my major interests is fine arts, especially painting, I will devote most of my blogs in the near future to commenting in some way on "art". Since my last entry I have joined the Sebastopol Art Center and started volunteering there. I have taken a figure drawing class and plan soon to take one in painting. I have thousands of photos to review from my various European trips to museums. There is a plethora of ephemera from my uncle's productive life, including the comments book in 1947 when his Art department at Bradley exhibited student work. And of course always my sometimes informed and sometimes uninformed opinions on art.
Monday, October 18, 2010
Relaxation Mode
Have I lost all of my readers? I deserve it. I have been on a six week holiday away from this blog. I was so disciplined when I wrote as my students wrote in class. And now with oodles of free time, I have neglected this exercise.
I still work four nights per week at Empire College, but it hardly can be called work compared to teaching high school. I am accustomed to having Sundays for working out lesson plans or grading papers. Now my Sundays are entirely free, and Mondays until 6 PM. The life of Reilly?
Saturday night I stayed entirely sober and took photos at my friend, Rick's party. I thought there were a particular plethora of lovely women. If you want to check it out for yourself, follow this link.
What am I doing with all my time? Wasting away much of it... as well as doing some drawing, playing music, working on my Uncle John's art page, researching West Coast abstract expressionists, reading Malcolm Gladwell, photographing the Hubbub Club, and fixing and organizing my million or so photographs.
Topics for future blogs: I just bought a 32" HD TV with an Apple TV. Donna and I are watching with interest the Phillies- Giants series. I hope to get back to this soon.
I still work four nights per week at Empire College, but it hardly can be called work compared to teaching high school. I am accustomed to having Sundays for working out lesson plans or grading papers. Now my Sundays are entirely free, and Mondays until 6 PM. The life of Reilly?
Saturday night I stayed entirely sober and took photos at my friend, Rick's party. I thought there were a particular plethora of lovely women. If you want to check it out for yourself, follow this link.
What am I doing with all my time? Wasting away much of it... as well as doing some drawing, playing music, working on my Uncle John's art page, researching West Coast abstract expressionists, reading Malcolm Gladwell, photographing the Hubbub Club, and fixing and organizing my million or so photographs.
Topics for future blogs: I just bought a 32" HD TV with an Apple TV. Donna and I are watching with interest the Phillies- Giants series. I hope to get back to this soon.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
I Found a New Job
The first day of public school passed and I slept in for the first time in 22 years. Now it is September 1st and I still have not begun working. Nevertheless looming over my head is the specter of getting only half my salary in a pension, and the bills from my children's college education. I had been looking for a couple months and considered some diverse possibilities: musician on cruise ship, dealer in a casino, art dealer, wedding photographer, web page designer, starving artist and gourmet coffee cart entrepreneur.
Truly my best prospects were in teaching. Two years ago, one of the parents of a student in my computer skills class mentioned to me that when I got tired of public school I should apply to Empire College (business school). I did apply and came in a second time personally with a cover letter, resume and transcript. About 2 weeks ago I received a call to come in for an interview. The interview seemed to go well. I reintroduced myself to the dean of the day classes and met the dean of night classes.
Then 2 days ago I received an email, asking me to come to give a practice lesson (5 to 10 minutes long). In the interview we had discussed the possibility of teaching Business English as well as computer skills. The lesson I chose was: "all ready" vs "already" and "all right" vs "alright". Six members of the staff attended and I thought it went fairly well. (I won't bore you with details.)
I checked the message machine yesterday and the night school dean wanted to know if I was interested in teaching a night class- four nights a week. I certainly was. And would I come in this evening to look over the program. I certainly would. I met the present instructor, who is a musician soon to join a symphony and got a great overview of the curriculum. Linda, the dean, asked me if I would teach four nights a week, 6 PM to 10 PM and let her know in the morning.
I certainly would and I certainly will. I still have not heard from the day class dean. This may not be the end of it.
Truly my best prospects were in teaching. Two years ago, one of the parents of a student in my computer skills class mentioned to me that when I got tired of public school I should apply to Empire College (business school). I did apply and came in a second time personally with a cover letter, resume and transcript. About 2 weeks ago I received a call to come in for an interview. The interview seemed to go well. I reintroduced myself to the dean of the day classes and met the dean of night classes.
Then 2 days ago I received an email, asking me to come to give a practice lesson (5 to 10 minutes long). In the interview we had discussed the possibility of teaching Business English as well as computer skills. The lesson I chose was: "all ready" vs "already" and "all right" vs "alright". Six members of the staff attended and I thought it went fairly well. (I won't bore you with details.)
I checked the message machine yesterday and the night school dean wanted to know if I was interested in teaching a night class- four nights a week. I certainly was. And would I come in this evening to look over the program. I certainly would. I met the present instructor, who is a musician soon to join a symphony and got a great overview of the curriculum. Linda, the dean, asked me if I would teach four nights a week, 6 PM to 10 PM and let her know in the morning.
I certainly would and I certainly will. I still have not heard from the day class dean. This may not be the end of it.
Saturday, August 14, 2010
Magic in Sebastopol
Tonight I saw an amazing array of entertainers in our little town and for the price of only $12. I hardly know where to begin. I will make a plug for the venue- Aubergine Vintage Emporium & Cafe and the town- Sebastopol, only 7,000 people but open to a wide variety of artistic outlets.
Think of an era without modern advertising, without the Internet and without any form of eletronic media. It was an era of person to person entertainment. The formal structures of theater and musical performance have existed as long. Yet these entertainment forms have a air of antiquity, unlike music and theater. Even more so these forms of entertainment appear on verge of being lost unless another generation takes on the duty of performing "magic". I say magic and I think of Robinson Davies "Fifth Business". This world we have almost left behind, except (sad to say) in venues like Las Vegas.
Frank Oliver, the juggler
Frank was the booked star of the show. He feigned incompetence with juggling, and jokes. He enticed innocent audience members into far more collaboration than they had planned. He had very funny patter accompaning all his stitchs. He began the second act as an eight foot drag queen. Hmmm, I am not sure drag queen is the correct term, but he was certainly eight foot. He performed acts on a unicycle, did an audience participation nutcracker, performed card tricks and scary juggling involving knives, flames and tazars. Only a highly practiced professional could pull off what Frank Olivier did at this show. (Frank's Promo Video)
Tom Noddy,the bubble man
Tom Noddy creates beautiful and complex bubble structures with only a bubble wand and some smoke. The beauty of his act is the simplicity of the materials as well as the delicacy and complexity of the shapes. I remembered his name from a long time ago and so I looked him up on the web. He has been doing pretty much the same act for thirty years. (on David Letterman)
Bob Hartman, the puppeteer
This man makes great puppets. He has a gentle voice, a gentle philosophy and an underplayed sense of humor. I loved this part of the show. My two favorite puppets were the baby, philosophizing on what it was like being a baby and the stand-up wolf comedian, shyly playing to a crowd of humans. Puppeterring to adults would make us gentler, less aggresive people especially if Bob is at the controls. (some San Francisco Bay Area Puppeteer History
Jay Alexander, the mentalist
Jay was the youngest of the group and perhaps the hippest. He sports a manicured beard and wears an outfit that makes him look like he is studying to be a rabbi. He was facinating. He performed some amazing card tricks. But what I found most amazing was that he guessed a woman's ATM password and told the audience how he did it. He told her to lie at first so he could hear how her "lying voice" and "body reaction" was different than when she told the truth. Then he had her answer the question: "Is it a one?" with a "no". "Is it a two?" with a "no", and so on until he guessed each of the four digits correctly with no mistakes. He also performed an amazing phone book trick. (Great card trick by Jay Alexander)
I am still a lover of magic and all four of these performers created magic for the audience. These days it appears that Las Vegas and children's birthday parties are the only places we get to come in contact with this kind of entertainment. I fear that it is going by the wayside in this media and Internet age. Here I send out an appeal to young people to take on one of these artistic forms and keep the fire of magic alive.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
AMTRAK
(This event happened immediately on my return to the US. I am a bit behind in my entries. I still have not written for a refund.)
If you read my blog from my trip to Russia last summer, you might know my nemisis was Citibank. You may have noticed that I had no such problem this year and have done very little railing on this blog, until now. The key word: AMTRAK
My plane arrive about 2:20 PM and I had a fairly easy time getting through customs and the passport check. By 2:40 PM I knew to get on the shuttle train to the Amtrak station. Strangely the shuttle stopped two stations short and we had to catch a shuttle bus the rest of the way. I heard a man telling his son that when it gets really hot that the something expands or contracts and that the trains do not fit on the tracks. Perhaps that is what had just happened.
I got to the station at 3:06 and the attendant said that unforntunately I had just missed the 3:05 to Philadelphia. He pointed to the place where I should buy a ticket. He said that the next train for Philadelphia would arrive at 4:45 PM, about an hour and a half wait. At 3:07 PM I bought the ticket. The ticket costed $51, more than .50 a mile. Strangely my ticket had the time of 3:05 PM on it. I thought that the clock on the machine was just off a little. ( I thought, "That ticket machine could not have sold me a ticket for a train that has already left.)
At 4:45 PM the announcer said that the train to Washington would be arriving in two minutes and Philadelphia was one of the stops. I went to the on the train the woman conductor looked at my ticket and said, "This is not your train." I tried to give her an argument, but she said, "Your train is the next train." Another guy gave her more of a hard time and successfully boarded the train, even though she said that it wasn't his train.
I waited 15 more minutes and decide to take the stairs up two flights and talk to the attendant who told me to buy the ticket.
He said, "That was your train. She was suppose to let you on. Come on with me and we're going to make a complaint to AMTRAK."
I met with the supervisor and he had another view on the matter. "You bought a ticket for a train that already left. I can't help that."
We tangled a bit and I got a little heated up. "How can the machine sell me a ticket for a train that has already left?" I said.
He answers, "Well, if the train is late, then people will need a ticket for that particular train. And all of the trains are usually late."
I say, "Well, my train wasn't late."
His answer, "Your train is never late. It's only the ones that come from Boston."
I say, "I paid $51 for a ticket and I can't use it for any other train."
Then he says, "I'm here to help you, getting upset is not going to get you where you want to go. But you're not going like what I'm going to tell you now. It's going to cost you more."
So he goes through all of the all of the reasons why I should buy tickets earlier and the earlier, the cheaper. He also says that I need to take another train back to Newark Penn Station and get on that train to Philadelphia- the cost? $91
If you read my blog from my trip to Russia last summer, you might know my nemisis was Citibank. You may have noticed that I had no such problem this year and have done very little railing on this blog, until now. The key word: AMTRAK
My plane arrive about 2:20 PM and I had a fairly easy time getting through customs and the passport check. By 2:40 PM I knew to get on the shuttle train to the Amtrak station. Strangely the shuttle stopped two stations short and we had to catch a shuttle bus the rest of the way. I heard a man telling his son that when it gets really hot that the something expands or contracts and that the trains do not fit on the tracks. Perhaps that is what had just happened.
I got to the station at 3:06 and the attendant said that unforntunately I had just missed the 3:05 to Philadelphia. He pointed to the place where I should buy a ticket. He said that the next train for Philadelphia would arrive at 4:45 PM, about an hour and a half wait. At 3:07 PM I bought the ticket. The ticket costed $51, more than .50 a mile. Strangely my ticket had the time of 3:05 PM on it. I thought that the clock on the machine was just off a little. ( I thought, "That ticket machine could not have sold me a ticket for a train that has already left.)
At 4:45 PM the announcer said that the train to Washington would be arriving in two minutes and Philadelphia was one of the stops. I went to the on the train the woman conductor looked at my ticket and said, "This is not your train." I tried to give her an argument, but she said, "Your train is the next train." Another guy gave her more of a hard time and successfully boarded the train, even though she said that it wasn't his train.
I waited 15 more minutes and decide to take the stairs up two flights and talk to the attendant who told me to buy the ticket.
He said, "That was your train. She was suppose to let you on. Come on with me and we're going to make a complaint to AMTRAK."
I met with the supervisor and he had another view on the matter. "You bought a ticket for a train that already left. I can't help that."
We tangled a bit and I got a little heated up. "How can the machine sell me a ticket for a train that has already left?" I said.
He answers, "Well, if the train is late, then people will need a ticket for that particular train. And all of the trains are usually late."
I say, "Well, my train wasn't late."
His answer, "Your train is never late. It's only the ones that come from Boston."
I say, "I paid $51 for a ticket and I can't use it for any other train."
Then he says, "I'm here to help you, getting upset is not going to get you where you want to go. But you're not going like what I'm going to tell you now. It's going to cost you more."
So he goes through all of the all of the reasons why I should buy tickets earlier and the earlier, the cheaper. He also says that I need to take another train back to Newark Penn Station and get on that train to Philadelphia- the cost? $91
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Last European Entry
More photos soon I hope
The flight from Milan to Rome is an easy one. We dropped into Fuimico airport and I was happy for the airconditioning for another hot day in Rome. I had tried to make a hotel reservation and the Internet listed a couple of them. The most reasonably priced was the Trani Rooms, Address: VIA BUONARROTI 39, Rome - Fiumicino, 00185, Italy I reserved a room and double checked the room location via Google maps. Surprise! The hotel is smack dab in the center of Rome. I canceled.
I thought about the possibility of at least getting a good meal at a nearby Hilton. Staying there was never a plan- $200 to $300 per night for a single. I asked about the possibility of walking to the Hilton and found that the path parelleled the path to the train station. I walked into the hotel with my three bags - suitcase, guitar, and "man purse". They politely checked in my bags and gave me a receipt so I could eat unemcumbered.
The buffet was the recommended fare for an all you can eat Italian meal- 38 Euro. I got my money's worth. I also ordered a glass of wine, which turned out to be one of the best Marche wines that I had ever tasted. My waiter was from Marche and I told him of the wonderful family that we knew in San Benedetto.
I could hear a crowd gathering in the nearby lounge. The semifinal Mondiale between Germany and Spain was about to begin. I saw a free seat next to a couple watching the game preliminaries on the large TV screen. "Posso?" (May I?). I said. "Si, certo!" the man responded. He was a handsome bald middle age man, who looked quite a bit like Andre Agassi. She was thin, young, stylish and beautiful. He motioned toward the sportcaster on the screen and said that he knew the man and that he had designed those glasses he was wearing. He made a gesture to sign that the glasses that I was wearing were "mezzo"- half, middle of the road. He apologized, but said that was his business- designing eyeglasses. His girlfriend had just flown in frm Belarus. He guessed that I was some kind of international real estate wheeler dealer. I confessed that I was only "un instructor" or "un professor".
I was particularly partial to Spain. Two German gentlemen sat in front of me. When Spain scored their goal, the Italians in the room cheered. The two Germans turned around with a look of part surprise and part fear. Oblivious of history I supposed they were thinking "What did we ever do to them?"
Once the game was over, I collected my gear and walked back to the airport. A young Frenchman joined me on the way back saying that he thought that 200 Euros at the Hilton was a little steep. I agreed. I said that many people spent the night in the airport, and that I would help him find a place. We found a nice quiet and flat spot for him to crash. I proceeded to walk around for a little while, then found a free rack of seats in a quiet corner.
I rose at about 4 AM for my 6 AM flight to Lisbon. Lisbon airport was as I remembered it, clean and bustling. I purchased a nice bottle of port and waited for the plane. Security was especially tight. Many people had to open their bags. There was serious questioning and body searches. Three young men carried only a few plastic bags as luggage. The guards found rocks. I assumed from some hiking trip. All the bags were confiscated. The flight to Newark was very pleasant; after that, another story.
The flight from Milan to Rome is an easy one. We dropped into Fuimico airport and I was happy for the airconditioning for another hot day in Rome. I had tried to make a hotel reservation and the Internet listed a couple of them. The most reasonably priced was the Trani Rooms, Address: VIA BUONARROTI 39, Rome - Fiumicino, 00185, Italy I reserved a room and double checked the room location via Google maps. Surprise! The hotel is smack dab in the center of Rome. I canceled.
I thought about the possibility of at least getting a good meal at a nearby Hilton. Staying there was never a plan- $200 to $300 per night for a single. I asked about the possibility of walking to the Hilton and found that the path parelleled the path to the train station. I walked into the hotel with my three bags - suitcase, guitar, and "man purse". They politely checked in my bags and gave me a receipt so I could eat unemcumbered.
The buffet was the recommended fare for an all you can eat Italian meal- 38 Euro. I got my money's worth. I also ordered a glass of wine, which turned out to be one of the best Marche wines that I had ever tasted. My waiter was from Marche and I told him of the wonderful family that we knew in San Benedetto.
I could hear a crowd gathering in the nearby lounge. The semifinal Mondiale between Germany and Spain was about to begin. I saw a free seat next to a couple watching the game preliminaries on the large TV screen. "Posso?" (May I?). I said. "Si, certo!" the man responded. He was a handsome bald middle age man, who looked quite a bit like Andre Agassi. She was thin, young, stylish and beautiful. He motioned toward the sportcaster on the screen and said that he knew the man and that he had designed those glasses he was wearing. He made a gesture to sign that the glasses that I was wearing were "mezzo"- half, middle of the road. He apologized, but said that was his business- designing eyeglasses. His girlfriend had just flown in frm Belarus. He guessed that I was some kind of international real estate wheeler dealer. I confessed that I was only "un instructor" or "un professor".
I was particularly partial to Spain. Two German gentlemen sat in front of me. When Spain scored their goal, the Italians in the room cheered. The two Germans turned around with a look of part surprise and part fear. Oblivious of history I supposed they were thinking "What did we ever do to them?"
Once the game was over, I collected my gear and walked back to the airport. A young Frenchman joined me on the way back saying that he thought that 200 Euros at the Hilton was a little steep. I agreed. I said that many people spent the night in the airport, and that I would help him find a place. We found a nice quiet and flat spot for him to crash. I proceeded to walk around for a little while, then found a free rack of seats in a quiet corner.
I rose at about 4 AM for my 6 AM flight to Lisbon. Lisbon airport was as I remembered it, clean and bustling. I purchased a nice bottle of port and waited for the plane. Security was especially tight. Many people had to open their bags. There was serious questioning and body searches. Three young men carried only a few plastic bags as luggage. The guards found rocks. I assumed from some hiking trip. All the bags were confiscated. The flight to Newark was very pleasant; after that, another story.
Saturday, July 17, 2010
One Night in Milan
Link to photos of Milan
I love Milan- big wide streets, giant flats, the gorgeous Duomo, but especially the Navigli neighborhood. I stumbled on this neighborhood about five years ago and have revisited it ever since. Apparently Milan used to be filled with canals but now there are only a couple and they are in Navigli. I quote the trip advisor. "There is only one neighborhood in Milan that is worth knowing by name and that is the Navigli."
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If you happen to go to Milan, just look on your city map a little south of the Duomo for a small Y shaped waterway. That is the place. I took the long way from my lovely little hostel for a dinner (unfortunately) alone. Restaurants line the canals and the best seats are taken or reserved. This was a Tuesday night and chairs were filled as if it were a weekend. Happy hour (really 6 PM till 11 PM) is a bargain. Restaurant put out mounds of free food, so all one has to do is buy a beer or glass of wine, then go back to the buffet as many times as the appetite demands.
Since I wasn't driving, I ordered a one liter glass of Lowenbrau, enough for a one man party. I helped myself 3 times to the buffet and took the shortcut back to my hostel. I returned early enough for a conversation with my Argentinian room mate. I set the clock for early rising. In the morning the hostel hostess was setting up breakfast. I told her that I could understand Italian if it was spoken slowly. She proceeded with a continuous stream of conversation of which I understood about half. I stumbled on the word "scorsa"which means last, as "last night" = "la notte scorsa". Perfectly common word but I had to admit: l'ho dimenticato. I forgot it.
At 8:30 AM I left the hostel, took the subway one stop to the North Train Station and hopped on the train to Malpenza, about ten miles outside the city. My next evening was to be spent at Fiumicino Airport in Rome.
I love Milan- big wide streets, giant flats, the gorgeous Duomo, but especially the Navigli neighborhood. I stumbled on this neighborhood about five years ago and have revisited it ever since. Apparently Milan used to be filled with canals but now there are only a couple and they are in Navigli. I quote the trip advisor. "There is only one neighborhood in Milan that is worth knowing by name and that is the Navigli."
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If you happen to go to Milan, just look on your city map a little south of the Duomo for a small Y shaped waterway. That is the place. I took the long way from my lovely little hostel for a dinner (unfortunately) alone. Restaurants line the canals and the best seats are taken or reserved. This was a Tuesday night and chairs were filled as if it were a weekend. Happy hour (really 6 PM till 11 PM) is a bargain. Restaurant put out mounds of free food, so all one has to do is buy a beer or glass of wine, then go back to the buffet as many times as the appetite demands.
Since I wasn't driving, I ordered a one liter glass of Lowenbrau, enough for a one man party. I helped myself 3 times to the buffet and took the shortcut back to my hostel. I returned early enough for a conversation with my Argentinian room mate. I set the clock for early rising. In the morning the hostel hostess was setting up breakfast. I told her that I could understand Italian if it was spoken slowly. She proceeded with a continuous stream of conversation of which I understood about half. I stumbled on the word "scorsa"which means last, as "last night" = "la notte scorsa". Perfectly common word but I had to admit: l'ho dimenticato. I forgot it.
At 8:30 AM I left the hostel, took the subway one stop to the North Train Station and hopped on the train to Malpenza, about ten miles outside the city. My next evening was to be spent at Fiumicino Airport in Rome.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Last of Bucharest
Here are many more photos of Bucharest
The wonderful Peasant Village with some photos of the Peasant Museum
More photos of the Peasant Village
Ceauşescu's Folly; House of the People, Romanian Parliament
The highlights of my trip have always been the people that I meet, rather than the places I see. I visited Ioan (pronounced "ee- WAN") at his clothing shop on Str. Lipscani. Lipscani is the central street in the old town district, lined with restaurants, shops and drinking establishments. I met his two employees and proceed to buy a couple of scarves. The his mother, dad and another relative came in. B oth his mom and dad are both handsome and sharp minded. They were were warm and friendly. The woman's clothing shop had a steady stream of customers. When things died down a bit, Ioan suwent suggested we go out for a beer. We went to the Brothel, a formal brother with riskee menus and apparently really used to be a brothel.
The next day I took a full day trek to both the Peasant Museum and the Peasant Village. Both are outstanding sights and I hope to devote more time to them in another blog. As I was walking through the Peasant Museum, it struck me that I had not eaten in 24 hours. From then on all I could think about was food. The neighborhood, upper end and green, devoid of eating establishments. The houses were embassies and former embassies, some past their prime but most absolutely in mint condition with manicured gardens. I moved close to the fence of house I found interesting. "Whoof, whoof, whoof..." Fortunately the guide dog was on the other side- and I got a good shot (camera) at him.
A little farther north is Piata Aviatorilor, Charles de Gaulle Circle and the other Arc de Triumph. Just at the corner a little Italian restaurant sat, Quartro Stagioni. It appeared to be taken over by a large wedding party. Nevertheless the hostess urged me in and gave me a seat. First I needed an obligatory two cups of espresso. Also I needed just enough food to assuage my hunger antepasto: marinated mixed seafood salad with a glass of white wine. Also I ordered a lovely traditional desert- (the name escapes me) whipped sweet egg whites with a light carmel sauce. The screaming little boys running around and chasing each other kept the place quite lively.
I will move on to the next day, early evening. I stopped by the clothing shop and Ioan wasn't there but his employee said she would be glad to call him, for he was out having a drink with some friends. O'Hara's she thought. I found it and and had a very friendly reception from Ioan, his girlfriend, Alexandra and Polly, another friend. They were all nice enough to speak English. The young women had just come back from a hiking trip, were very tired but also celebrating the end of their school year. They were all a bit, geekish- like me. I forget what Alexandra studies but she has a great interest in languages. She knows many things about word origins in many languages and was a natural teacher when it came to teaching me to pronounce a little Romanian correctly.
Polly studied programing. And although Ioan is going to graduates school in Linz, Austria, majoring in art- he has decided to specialize in designing adaptive technology for the handicapped. We were talking about computer things and I said that in my little town was one of the chief publishers of technology instructional books, O'Reilly and Associates. "O'Reilly?" Ioan says. And he laughs. He opens the bag on his lap and pulls out an O'Reilly book- Interactivity. "I had so much trouble getting this book." He says. "That's what you should do, help distribute O'Reilly in Romania. I know so many people who use these books. They are the best." I showed him the name of my town, Sebastopol, on the inside and told him I would look into it.
It was my last night in Bucharest. It was a sweet ending with some very nice people whom I felt that we somehow clicked. I suggested dinner, but Ioan, Polly and Alexandra were all tired. So we strolled off to our respective domiciles- mine very temporary.
The wonderful Peasant Village with some photos of the Peasant Museum
More photos of the Peasant Village
Ceauşescu's Folly; House of the People, Romanian Parliament
The highlights of my trip have always been the people that I meet, rather than the places I see. I visited Ioan (pronounced "ee- WAN") at his clothing shop on Str. Lipscani. Lipscani is the central street in the old town district, lined with restaurants, shops and drinking establishments. I met his two employees and proceed to buy a couple of scarves. The his mother, dad and another relative came in. B oth his mom and dad are both handsome and sharp minded. They were were warm and friendly. The woman's clothing shop had a steady stream of customers. When things died down a bit, Ioan suwent suggested we go out for a beer. We went to the Brothel, a formal brother with riskee menus and apparently really used to be a brothel.
The next day I took a full day trek to both the Peasant Museum and the Peasant Village. Both are outstanding sights and I hope to devote more time to them in another blog. As I was walking through the Peasant Museum, it struck me that I had not eaten in 24 hours. From then on all I could think about was food. The neighborhood, upper end and green, devoid of eating establishments. The houses were embassies and former embassies, some past their prime but most absolutely in mint condition with manicured gardens. I moved close to the fence of house I found interesting. "Whoof, whoof, whoof..." Fortunately the guide dog was on the other side- and I got a good shot (camera) at him.
A little farther north is Piata Aviatorilor, Charles de Gaulle Circle and the other Arc de Triumph. Just at the corner a little Italian restaurant sat, Quartro Stagioni. It appeared to be taken over by a large wedding party. Nevertheless the hostess urged me in and gave me a seat. First I needed an obligatory two cups of espresso. Also I needed just enough food to assuage my hunger antepasto: marinated mixed seafood salad with a glass of white wine. Also I ordered a lovely traditional desert- (the name escapes me) whipped sweet egg whites with a light carmel sauce. The screaming little boys running around and chasing each other kept the place quite lively.
I will move on to the next day, early evening. I stopped by the clothing shop and Ioan wasn't there but his employee said she would be glad to call him, for he was out having a drink with some friends. O'Hara's she thought. I found it and and had a very friendly reception from Ioan, his girlfriend, Alexandra and Polly, another friend. They were all nice enough to speak English. The young women had just come back from a hiking trip, were very tired but also celebrating the end of their school year. They were all a bit, geekish- like me. I forget what Alexandra studies but she has a great interest in languages. She knows many things about word origins in many languages and was a natural teacher when it came to teaching me to pronounce a little Romanian correctly.
Polly studied programing. And although Ioan is going to graduates school in Linz, Austria, majoring in art- he has decided to specialize in designing adaptive technology for the handicapped. We were talking about computer things and I said that in my little town was one of the chief publishers of technology instructional books, O'Reilly and Associates. "O'Reilly?" Ioan says. And he laughs. He opens the bag on his lap and pulls out an O'Reilly book- Interactivity. "I had so much trouble getting this book." He says. "That's what you should do, help distribute O'Reilly in Romania. I know so many people who use these books. They are the best." I showed him the name of my town, Sebastopol, on the inside and told him I would look into it.
It was my last night in Bucharest. It was a sweet ending with some very nice people whom I felt that we somehow clicked. I suggested dinner, but Ioan, Polly and Alexandra were all tired. So we strolled off to our respective domiciles- mine very temporary.
Calderucani Monastery
I am typing this while riding on a small bus just outside the Calderucani Monastery. I got up early to catch the 7:30 AM bus from the Press Building bus stop. When I got there a bus driver pointed to me a #451 bus instead of a #452 bus as the Lonely Planet instructed. Fortunately I had a friendly bus driver who spoke a little English. He took me about 8 miles outside of town. It doesn't take long to get into the countryside outside Bucharest.
When we got to his final stop, he said to wait here of for 20 minutes and my bus would come. I thought he said bus #460, and I am grateful he was there with me when I hailed the bus. This new bus driver would not give me the time of day. Fortunately a few of the riders told me when my stop came. A long, straight, one kilometer road led to the monastary. The road was deserted except for a little yapping dog. As I walked further the loud high buzz of caicadas drowned out the once silent road.
The first sign that I saw was an icon of "NO PHOTOGRAPHS". Two bearded monks stood in front of the white walled gate and spoke to a man in a blue Dacia. I decided that I would walk around the vast white outside first. To the left I passed a small Orthodox cemetery. Surrupticously I snapped a photo. I came to the other side of the building and a view of the lake came in sight, but obstructed by trees. Another younger bearded monk came out from a white building near the lake. I said, "Do you speak English." Simply, "no" was all he said. I follows him to the front of the Monastary. The other two monks were still there and I asked if I could enter through the gates. They gestered me to go in more friendly than the other younger monk.
Two story white stucco walls with a series of porch arches on both floors surrounded the monastary. On the right hand side there appeared to be common rooms, refectory and other common living spaces. The satelitte dishes on the outside in the same corner seemed to reinforce my conjecture. On the right hand side on both floors were the rooms of the monks. One even had his laundry hung out to dry. At the center was a large church, or basilica (which is what Romanians call Orthodox Churches of any size.
Some think that I have noticed here is that the Orthodox churches are small and compact, not like the vast cathedrals of Europe. I walked inside this basilica, just behind that first young monk that I had "met". I stood in the back trying to be out of the way. I heard a snort and I think that I must have woken the grey bearded monk sitting behind me. I hadn't noticed him. A priest was saying Mass and I could hear the antiphonal singing of the a few monks responding to the priest's chanting- beautiful sound. The decorations were characteristicly Orthodox, dark varnished woods, multiple gold and painted icons all around the space. A series of regular, repeated icons in the front.
The first thing that struck me about the basilica were the classic Orthodox large mural of saints on the walls, drawn in muted browns and reds. The priest was in a gated chamber in the front. At one point to show the monstrance, he opened the gate and raised it. He wore a light blue vestment with a decorated white cross on both sides. I notice that several of the monks were with me in the rear part of the basilica. The structure of the interior had three chambers, the back where I stayed, the center where the monks chanted and the front where the priest, behind the gate, said mass. There were two large support columns in this back part of the church, a wide entrance to the next part. The two gigantic pillers on each side divided this anteroom into thirds. A set of small pews, maybe four on each side, attached themselves to the back wall. Each of the three rooms had its own set of decorative work. In the first anteroom was a large mural on the small dome. The singing monks in the second chamber were out of sight on the sides with pews perpendicular to the pews in the back. As I mentioned before the priest was in front just to the left.
Just after I walked out I admired the tan basilca building. I also suripticiously snapped a photo, probably not a very good photo. Despite the prohibitions on photography I took about four. Ironically I lost my camera case on the grounds of the monestary. I walked out of the monastary down the straight one kilometer road, past the buzzing cicaedas and the baking little dog. Soon the bus had come.
Despite the beauty of this quiet place, I felt like an invader. I had not come for prayer or a person seeking advice. I had come as a tourist. Had I made prior arrangement to meet with monks, perhaps stay a night or have a meal with them, it might have felt as if I belonged there more than I did. There were no sweeping beautiful views over the lake, no other tourists and real notice taken of a American tourist like me.
When we got to his final stop, he said to wait here of for 20 minutes and my bus would come. I thought he said bus #460, and I am grateful he was there with me when I hailed the bus. This new bus driver would not give me the time of day. Fortunately a few of the riders told me when my stop came. A long, straight, one kilometer road led to the monastary. The road was deserted except for a little yapping dog. As I walked further the loud high buzz of caicadas drowned out the once silent road.
The first sign that I saw was an icon of "NO PHOTOGRAPHS". Two bearded monks stood in front of the white walled gate and spoke to a man in a blue Dacia. I decided that I would walk around the vast white outside first. To the left I passed a small Orthodox cemetery. Surrupticously I snapped a photo. I came to the other side of the building and a view of the lake came in sight, but obstructed by trees. Another younger bearded monk came out from a white building near the lake. I said, "Do you speak English." Simply, "no" was all he said. I follows him to the front of the Monastary. The other two monks were still there and I asked if I could enter through the gates. They gestered me to go in more friendly than the other younger monk.
Two story white stucco walls with a series of porch arches on both floors surrounded the monastary. On the right hand side there appeared to be common rooms, refectory and other common living spaces. The satelitte dishes on the outside in the same corner seemed to reinforce my conjecture. On the right hand side on both floors were the rooms of the monks. One even had his laundry hung out to dry. At the center was a large church, or basilica (which is what Romanians call Orthodox Churches of any size.
Some think that I have noticed here is that the Orthodox churches are small and compact, not like the vast cathedrals of Europe. I walked inside this basilica, just behind that first young monk that I had "met". I stood in the back trying to be out of the way. I heard a snort and I think that I must have woken the grey bearded monk sitting behind me. I hadn't noticed him. A priest was saying Mass and I could hear the antiphonal singing of the a few monks responding to the priest's chanting- beautiful sound. The decorations were characteristicly Orthodox, dark varnished woods, multiple gold and painted icons all around the space. A series of regular, repeated icons in the front.
The first thing that struck me about the basilica were the classic Orthodox large mural of saints on the walls, drawn in muted browns and reds. The priest was in a gated chamber in the front. At one point to show the monstrance, he opened the gate and raised it. He wore a light blue vestment with a decorated white cross on both sides. I notice that several of the monks were with me in the rear part of the basilica. The structure of the interior had three chambers, the back where I stayed, the center where the monks chanted and the front where the priest, behind the gate, said mass. There were two large support columns in this back part of the church, a wide entrance to the next part. The two gigantic pillers on each side divided this anteroom into thirds. A set of small pews, maybe four on each side, attached themselves to the back wall. Each of the three rooms had its own set of decorative work. In the first anteroom was a large mural on the small dome. The singing monks in the second chamber were out of sight on the sides with pews perpendicular to the pews in the back. As I mentioned before the priest was in front just to the left.
Just after I walked out I admired the tan basilca building. I also suripticiously snapped a photo, probably not a very good photo. Despite the prohibitions on photography I took about four. Ironically I lost my camera case on the grounds of the monestary. I walked out of the monastary down the straight one kilometer road, past the buzzing cicaedas and the baking little dog. Soon the bus had come.
Despite the beauty of this quiet place, I felt like an invader. I had not come for prayer or a person seeking advice. I had come as a tourist. Had I made prior arrangement to meet with monks, perhaps stay a night or have a meal with them, it might have felt as if I belonged there more than I did. There were no sweeping beautiful views over the lake, no other tourists and real notice taken of a American tourist like me.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Sibiu
Photos of Sibiu
Photos of the Transylvania countryside and mountains
I must say something about the beautiful countryside of Romania first. Just north of Burcharest the land is flat and green. These are two lane roads almost the whole distance. There are really only 2 highways, one coming from Pitesti to Bucharest (which I took partially on my way back home and the the one to the Black Sea coastal city of Constanta. What strikes me most is the numbers of people out on the road. Some are walking, some are pulling carts with wood, some are just standing around talking.
The most surprising thing is the number of horses and wagons on the road. Drivers just pull around them. The wagons are of all types: simple open wagons carring wood, decorated wagons, and covered wagons. I watched a team of two horses pull a wagon on a mountain road up hill, followed by a semi tractor trailer only a foot or so away. The horses were booking as fast as they could. I've spoken to a couple of Romanians about this, especially one bus driver, who said that it is a real hazard on the road. Horses sometimes freak out or wagon drivers sometimes drive drunk. Ordinary cars and trucks just pass them when they can, but on narrow windy roads they can really back up traffic.
Just past Ploiesti, about 50 miles north of Bucharest, the hills become rolling and roads with more curves. Every few miles there is a village where drivers must slow down. I have been warned about the police speed traps here, just like in the U.S.. By the time I came to Slanic the hills are must taller. Soon in the distance one can see tall snow covered mountains. These are the "Alps" of Romania or the Bucegi Mountains, the highest in Romania. Still snow covered until June, there is slow road through the mountains that is only open for about four months of the year. For Romanians this is a big recreational area: skiing, hiking and biking especially.
The road to Brasov and into Transylvania follows this mountain range though smaller mountains and thick forests. I got out of the car at the top of one of these mountains to take a little stroll into the forest when multiple dive bombing flies started attacking me. My trek was cut short. Brasov sits in a beautiful valley between starkly rising mountains. It is a dramatic site from a distance. Although a large city Brasov is clean and industrious. Of the entry into this city as into most former Socialist eastern block countries is lined with massive rows of identical apartment houses.
The rolling hills to the west of Brasov follow the same Bucegi Mountains but on the other side. Again we see rolling hills, dotted by little towns along the way. Sibiu comes into view suddenly, a small sweet medieval town with a preserved wall, cobble stone streets and many cafes. Saxon Sibiu is west enough to be part of the old Austria Hungary empire and so feature foods such a goulash. According to Lonely Planet: "Founded on the site of the former Roman village of Cibinium, Sibiu (Herbenstadt to the Saxons, Nagyszeben to the Hungarians) has always been one of the leading cities of Transylvania.) During the peak of Saxon influence Sibiu has some 19 guilds, each representing a craft, within the sturdy city walls protected by 39 towers and four bastions. Under the Hapsburgs from 1703 to 1791 and again from 1849 to 1867, Sibiu served as the seat for the Austrian Governors of Transylvania.(169)
The Museum of Art certainly show contributions of several German and Austrian artists from the 17th and 18th century. Again it had many pieces of wonderful Romanian art especially from the 19th and early twentieth century.
My biggest adventure in Sibiu was to climb the Gothic Evangelical Church tower. I feel compelled whenever I see a tower to climb it, for it affords the best views of the city. Most old towers are spiral staircases which anyone can climb without fear. But the in this tower the spiral staircase ended about one third up, followed by open wooden stairs inside the large open square tower. I found myself a little frightened climbing up. But the views given the stout of heart were well worth the climb. Four tower rooms give a 360 degree view of the city.
By the time I climbed down the tower, it was time to head back to Bucharest, a four or five hour ride, I had been told. The road from Sibiu to Pitesti follows a river and a narrow mountain gorge- very beautiful the entire way. But also this is a road with many trucks and few passing lanes. The traffic builds behind the slow trucks, until finally relieved by the occasional double lane up hill.
By nine fifteen I was in Pitesti to catch the highway moving at 130 to 140 km./ hour. I magically found my way to the flat in Bucharest an hour early. I called the rent-a- car man and he was pleased not only with the condition of the car, but that I have given him more gasoline than he had in the beginning.
Photos of the Transylvania countryside and mountains
I must say something about the beautiful countryside of Romania first. Just north of Burcharest the land is flat and green. These are two lane roads almost the whole distance. There are really only 2 highways, one coming from Pitesti to Bucharest (which I took partially on my way back home and the the one to the Black Sea coastal city of Constanta. What strikes me most is the numbers of people out on the road. Some are walking, some are pulling carts with wood, some are just standing around talking.
The most surprising thing is the number of horses and wagons on the road. Drivers just pull around them. The wagons are of all types: simple open wagons carring wood, decorated wagons, and covered wagons. I watched a team of two horses pull a wagon on a mountain road up hill, followed by a semi tractor trailer only a foot or so away. The horses were booking as fast as they could. I've spoken to a couple of Romanians about this, especially one bus driver, who said that it is a real hazard on the road. Horses sometimes freak out or wagon drivers sometimes drive drunk. Ordinary cars and trucks just pass them when they can, but on narrow windy roads they can really back up traffic.
Just past Ploiesti, about 50 miles north of Bucharest, the hills become rolling and roads with more curves. Every few miles there is a village where drivers must slow down. I have been warned about the police speed traps here, just like in the U.S.. By the time I came to Slanic the hills are must taller. Soon in the distance one can see tall snow covered mountains. These are the "Alps" of Romania or the Bucegi Mountains, the highest in Romania. Still snow covered until June, there is slow road through the mountains that is only open for about four months of the year. For Romanians this is a big recreational area: skiing, hiking and biking especially.
The road to Brasov and into Transylvania follows this mountain range though smaller mountains and thick forests. I got out of the car at the top of one of these mountains to take a little stroll into the forest when multiple dive bombing flies started attacking me. My trek was cut short. Brasov sits in a beautiful valley between starkly rising mountains. It is a dramatic site from a distance. Although a large city Brasov is clean and industrious. Of the entry into this city as into most former Socialist eastern block countries is lined with massive rows of identical apartment houses.
The rolling hills to the west of Brasov follow the same Bucegi Mountains but on the other side. Again we see rolling hills, dotted by little towns along the way. Sibiu comes into view suddenly, a small sweet medieval town with a preserved wall, cobble stone streets and many cafes. Saxon Sibiu is west enough to be part of the old Austria Hungary empire and so feature foods such a goulash. According to Lonely Planet: "Founded on the site of the former Roman village of Cibinium, Sibiu (Herbenstadt to the Saxons, Nagyszeben to the Hungarians) has always been one of the leading cities of Transylvania.) During the peak of Saxon influence Sibiu has some 19 guilds, each representing a craft, within the sturdy city walls protected by 39 towers and four bastions. Under the Hapsburgs from 1703 to 1791 and again from 1849 to 1867, Sibiu served as the seat for the Austrian Governors of Transylvania.(169)
The Museum of Art certainly show contributions of several German and Austrian artists from the 17th and 18th century. Again it had many pieces of wonderful Romanian art especially from the 19th and early twentieth century.
My biggest adventure in Sibiu was to climb the Gothic Evangelical Church tower. I feel compelled whenever I see a tower to climb it, for it affords the best views of the city. Most old towers are spiral staircases which anyone can climb without fear. But the in this tower the spiral staircase ended about one third up, followed by open wooden stairs inside the large open square tower. I found myself a little frightened climbing up. But the views given the stout of heart were well worth the climb. Four tower rooms give a 360 degree view of the city.
By the time I climbed down the tower, it was time to head back to Bucharest, a four or five hour ride, I had been told. The road from Sibiu to Pitesti follows a river and a narrow mountain gorge- very beautiful the entire way. But also this is a road with many trucks and few passing lanes. The traffic builds behind the slow trucks, until finally relieved by the occasional double lane up hill.
By nine fifteen I was in Pitesti to catch the highway moving at 130 to 140 km./ hour. I magically found my way to the flat in Bucharest an hour early. I called the rent-a- car man and he was pleased not only with the condition of the car, but that I have given him more gasoline than he had in the beginning.
Sunday, July 4, 2010
Transylvania
Ploiesti
Transylvania
Slanic
Brasov
I mentioned to Radu that I wanted to take a two day trip into Transylvania. He wrote up a very specific time table. Leave Bucharest at 7:30; 120 minutes to Simaia; 45 minutes from Simairi to Bran (9:30 to 11:30- home of the "Dracula's Castle" perhaps visited by Vlad the Impaler but once); In Bran eat lunch at Wolf Supermarket. One hour and fifteen minutes in Bran. Twenty five minutes from Bran to Brasov. Arrive at 3:30 before the closing of the Black Church. I actually arrived in Brasov at 5:30 PM after all the attractions had closed. (There is a little "c" hook under the s which gives the "c" an "sh" sound and the last letter sounds a little more like an "f" to me- so like Bra- shoff.) I am getting a little ahead of myself.
Because the rental car arrived late, 9:30 AM, I got a late start but the car deliverer (another Radu) dropped off the car and actually drove the card though the worst traffic in Bucharest. My first stop would be Ploiesti, wealthy city of oil refineries. I parked near the center and like most Romanians- half on the sidewalk. I was with just a few yards of the at museum. I have written little about Romanian art up to now and saving it for another blog. But I am simply crazy about Romanian painters, very loose, painterly style. They paint with thick liberal impasto. They paint with confidence. My friend Euwen, said, "Yes, they are different, because they never made any money when they paint."
One of the things that I love about going to place like Russia and Romania, is that I see works of art that I have never seen before. My favorite thing is to take photographs of the paintings and then study them later on. Unfortunately there is either a charge to photography or photography is banned. I paid 100 Lei (about $30) to photography in the Romanian National Gallery of Art and it was well worth it. But it also cost 100 Lei to photograph in this little museum. I was tempted. There were some really beautiful pieces by Ion Tuculesu (1910- 1962), Francisc Sirato (1877- 1953), Conelu Baba (1906- 1998 Jean Alsteriadi, Nicolae Darascu (1883- 1995), Iosif Iser (1881- 1958), Stefan Dimitrescu (1886- 1933), Nicolae Tonitza (1886- 1940), Nicolae Grigorescu, Stefan Popescu, Ipolit Strambu and Gheorghe Petrascu (1872- 1948).
I specifically asked in my best Romanian "Unde este..." OK, my Romanian is not so hot. And I did not realize that I had such a good map of Ploiesti in my Lonely Planet guide. But two people pointed in the exact opposite direction. I wanted to see the Muzeul de Istorie si Arheologie (get it?). The Clock Museum was really not on my list. And I would have loved the open market but directions gave a place somewhere off the main drive and I was on a mission, to get to Brasov before 5 PM.
I knew that the next place I was headed for was a city beginning with the letter "S". I saw a sign for Slanic and it sounded familiar, so I follow those signs. The city that I was really looking for was Sinaia. What I missed was Peles (hear "Palesh")Castle, a palace, with great turrets and grand halls- recently begun in 1875 and completed in 1914, in time for World War I. Quite pituresque I have heard.
Where I ended up, and I am glad that I did was in the town of Slanic. I had mentioned this place to Radu. He was afraid that I would probably get lost, but it wasn't really very difficult finding it- the largest underground salt mine in the world. The elevator down is the original 1945 elevator that brought the miners down- small, rickety, noisey and shaking the whole 10 stories down. I thought the cavern was manificent- despite it being man-made. It reminded me of large cathedrals with vast arched ceilings. The 23 Celcius temperature mixed with the salt air was to have salutary effects. Dotting he underground-scape playgrounds, benches, swings, venders, and various kinds of salt sculptures. I went on a photo-taking mania trying to capture something that caught the massiveness of the mine. (One other thing- This public tourist attraction had possibly the nastiest toilets I had ever seen in my life. I will spare you the description.)
(More later)
Transylvania
Slanic
Brasov
I mentioned to Radu that I wanted to take a two day trip into Transylvania. He wrote up a very specific time table. Leave Bucharest at 7:30; 120 minutes to Simaia; 45 minutes from Simairi to Bran (9:30 to 11:30- home of the "Dracula's Castle" perhaps visited by Vlad the Impaler but once); In Bran eat lunch at Wolf Supermarket. One hour and fifteen minutes in Bran. Twenty five minutes from Bran to Brasov. Arrive at 3:30 before the closing of the Black Church. I actually arrived in Brasov at 5:30 PM after all the attractions had closed. (There is a little "c" hook under the s which gives the "c" an "sh" sound and the last letter sounds a little more like an "f" to me- so like Bra- shoff.) I am getting a little ahead of myself.
Because the rental car arrived late, 9:30 AM, I got a late start but the car deliverer (another Radu) dropped off the car and actually drove the card though the worst traffic in Bucharest. My first stop would be Ploiesti, wealthy city of oil refineries. I parked near the center and like most Romanians- half on the sidewalk. I was with just a few yards of the at museum. I have written little about Romanian art up to now and saving it for another blog. But I am simply crazy about Romanian painters, very loose, painterly style. They paint with thick liberal impasto. They paint with confidence. My friend Euwen, said, "Yes, they are different, because they never made any money when they paint."
One of the things that I love about going to place like Russia and Romania, is that I see works of art that I have never seen before. My favorite thing is to take photographs of the paintings and then study them later on. Unfortunately there is either a charge to photography or photography is banned. I paid 100 Lei (about $30) to photography in the Romanian National Gallery of Art and it was well worth it. But it also cost 100 Lei to photograph in this little museum. I was tempted. There were some really beautiful pieces by Ion Tuculesu (1910- 1962), Francisc Sirato (1877- 1953), Conelu Baba (1906- 1998 Jean Alsteriadi, Nicolae Darascu (1883- 1995), Iosif Iser (1881- 1958), Stefan Dimitrescu (1886- 1933), Nicolae Tonitza (1886- 1940), Nicolae Grigorescu, Stefan Popescu, Ipolit Strambu and Gheorghe Petrascu (1872- 1948).
I specifically asked in my best Romanian "Unde este..." OK, my Romanian is not so hot. And I did not realize that I had such a good map of Ploiesti in my Lonely Planet guide. But two people pointed in the exact opposite direction. I wanted to see the Muzeul de Istorie si Arheologie (get it?). The Clock Museum was really not on my list. And I would have loved the open market but directions gave a place somewhere off the main drive and I was on a mission, to get to Brasov before 5 PM.
I knew that the next place I was headed for was a city beginning with the letter "S". I saw a sign for Slanic and it sounded familiar, so I follow those signs. The city that I was really looking for was Sinaia. What I missed was Peles (hear "Palesh")Castle, a palace, with great turrets and grand halls- recently begun in 1875 and completed in 1914, in time for World War I. Quite pituresque I have heard.
Where I ended up, and I am glad that I did was in the town of Slanic. I had mentioned this place to Radu. He was afraid that I would probably get lost, but it wasn't really very difficult finding it- the largest underground salt mine in the world. The elevator down is the original 1945 elevator that brought the miners down- small, rickety, noisey and shaking the whole 10 stories down. I thought the cavern was manificent- despite it being man-made. It reminded me of large cathedrals with vast arched ceilings. The 23 Celcius temperature mixed with the salt air was to have salutary effects. Dotting he underground-scape playgrounds, benches, swings, venders, and various kinds of salt sculptures. I went on a photo-taking mania trying to capture something that caught the massiveness of the mine. (One other thing- This public tourist attraction had possibly the nastiest toilets I had ever seen in my life. I will spare you the description.)
(More later)
Friday, July 2, 2010
First Days in Bucharest
Photos from the first day in Bucharest
I must write these things down before I forget. Radu, my landlord, picked me up at the Bucharest Airport and gave me a tour of the city as we drove in from the north. The north of the city is full of large parks and lakes and an ideal place for bicycling. In the largest park on the right traveling south there is a series of peasant houses taken from all parts of Romania. Radu says, "So, if you don't get to Sibu, you can always come here and see the peasant houses" Just a little farther on the right is the peasant museum. Apparently on some weekends you can go in the back of the museum and taste different kinds of Romanian food, or look at certain kinds of traditional crafts. Nearby are the streets with wealthy government bureacrats and embassies. Also we see the American Embassy, easy to notice with the giant American flag As we come down Calle Victorie we come to the Plata Victoriei, a network of streets feeding into the plaza and the dividing line between the north side and downtown.
Numerous building, statues and plaques now commemorate the 1989 Romanian Revolution. One of the largest building in Europe is now the parlaiment building, build by Nicolae Ceausescu, but only 80% finished when he was executed. It took ten years to get that far under communism. It took another ten years to finish the last 20% (under capitolism). Radu told me that he wanted to keep an eye on all of his employees.
The city is abuzz with construction, torn up streets and half built office buildings. It appears that half of the infrastructure is torn up, and it is an enormous city, with an enormous job. When Romanians ask me what I think of their city, I tell them that I love it. I say, "It reminds me of the city where I was born, Philadelphia. I also add that they used to call it "Filthy-delphia". There are more wild dogs here than there ever were in Philadelphia, but they are docile and quite a few only have three legs.
Close to where I am staying is the University District and Old Town. This section is a weave of several dozen streets, all closed to traffic with cafes and restaurants on both sides and awnings and seating in the middle of what used to be the street. There are several of the streets that have cobble stones, but most of them are norrow with board porches where dinners eat and sightseers stroll. But nearby these cafes I have also seen tremendous poverty.
I have already tried two of the restaurants and four of the dishes that Radu recommended. Sarmale- wonderful meat stuffed cabbage leaves, with polenta and sour cream. Ciorba de Burta is a smoked bean soup. I ate at Caru'Ce Bere. They advertise "probably the best food in town." A take off of a beer ad that I have seen used in other places. Caru'Ce Bere is large and beautiful beer hall type building, all in decorative woods with a Bavarian flavor. There was a great band there that night. A violinist and accoustic base player went though a steam of tunes, all done with passion and competence.
At Vatra I had Ciorba de Burta (Tripe soup), rich and delicious- lots of cream and butter in the soup along with the tripe. Then my main course was Tochitura, a delicious red sauced stew with several different kinds of meats, delicious. Last night I had some form of beef boilded on a bone, servered with polenta and delicious horseradish. I don't think that they have a word for vegitarian in Romanian.
I must write these things down before I forget. Radu, my landlord, picked me up at the Bucharest Airport and gave me a tour of the city as we drove in from the north. The north of the city is full of large parks and lakes and an ideal place for bicycling. In the largest park on the right traveling south there is a series of peasant houses taken from all parts of Romania. Radu says, "So, if you don't get to Sibu, you can always come here and see the peasant houses" Just a little farther on the right is the peasant museum. Apparently on some weekends you can go in the back of the museum and taste different kinds of Romanian food, or look at certain kinds of traditional crafts. Nearby are the streets with wealthy government bureacrats and embassies. Also we see the American Embassy, easy to notice with the giant American flag As we come down Calle Victorie we come to the Plata Victoriei, a network of streets feeding into the plaza and the dividing line between the north side and downtown.
Numerous building, statues and plaques now commemorate the 1989 Romanian Revolution. One of the largest building in Europe is now the parlaiment building, build by Nicolae Ceausescu, but only 80% finished when he was executed. It took ten years to get that far under communism. It took another ten years to finish the last 20% (under capitolism). Radu told me that he wanted to keep an eye on all of his employees.
The city is abuzz with construction, torn up streets and half built office buildings. It appears that half of the infrastructure is torn up, and it is an enormous city, with an enormous job. When Romanians ask me what I think of their city, I tell them that I love it. I say, "It reminds me of the city where I was born, Philadelphia. I also add that they used to call it "Filthy-delphia". There are more wild dogs here than there ever were in Philadelphia, but they are docile and quite a few only have three legs.
Close to where I am staying is the University District and Old Town. This section is a weave of several dozen streets, all closed to traffic with cafes and restaurants on both sides and awnings and seating in the middle of what used to be the street. There are several of the streets that have cobble stones, but most of them are norrow with board porches where dinners eat and sightseers stroll. But nearby these cafes I have also seen tremendous poverty.
I have already tried two of the restaurants and four of the dishes that Radu recommended. Sarmale- wonderful meat stuffed cabbage leaves, with polenta and sour cream. Ciorba de Burta is a smoked bean soup. I ate at Caru'Ce Bere. They advertise "probably the best food in town." A take off of a beer ad that I have seen used in other places. Caru'Ce Bere is large and beautiful beer hall type building, all in decorative woods with a Bavarian flavor. There was a great band there that night. A violinist and accoustic base player went though a steam of tunes, all done with passion and competence.
At Vatra I had Ciorba de Burta (Tripe soup), rich and delicious- lots of cream and butter in the soup along with the tripe. Then my main course was Tochitura, a delicious red sauced stew with several different kinds of meats, delicious. Last night I had some form of beef boilded on a bone, servered with polenta and delicious horseradish. I don't think that they have a word for vegitarian in Romanian.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Bratislava and the last of Vienna
Click here for photos of Bratislava
More photos of Vienna
I took a lovely day trip to Bratislava, only an hour away by bus. The town was dead quiet when I arrived, but picked up a little more as the day wore one. It was one of those days where I walked and walked. There is a lovely old town, an area by the Danube with lots of people sunning and a gorgeous castle.
As I sit here in my apartment in Bucharest, I think about the friends that I made at that great hostel- Ruthensteiner. It has a lovely garden, a lounge, a bar and lots of friendly people from all over the world. I met a young guy from Norway who blew my socks off with his guitar playing. (The hostel also had two guitars for use by the patrons.) We jammed quite a bit. Then he tells me that he is coming to UC Berkeley to study- in a year. He will contact me then.
Also the group with whom I shared a room were wonderful. On my last night we shared pizza and drank wine and just talked. A clothes designer from Bucharest. He gave me many tips on visiting Bucharest and I will see him at his shop on Saturday. Two young women from Calgary, a gentleman from India, two Americans and one Korean girl who traveled alone but spoke very little English or German. We discussed politics, religion and world events. It was the kind of night that every traveler should have and the kind of bond that I will keep for a lifetime.
More photos of Vienna
I took a lovely day trip to Bratislava, only an hour away by bus. The town was dead quiet when I arrived, but picked up a little more as the day wore one. It was one of those days where I walked and walked. There is a lovely old town, an area by the Danube with lots of people sunning and a gorgeous castle.
As I sit here in my apartment in Bucharest, I think about the friends that I made at that great hostel- Ruthensteiner. It has a lovely garden, a lounge, a bar and lots of friendly people from all over the world. I met a young guy from Norway who blew my socks off with his guitar playing. (The hostel also had two guitars for use by the patrons.) We jammed quite a bit. Then he tells me that he is coming to UC Berkeley to study- in a year. He will contact me then.
Also the group with whom I shared a room were wonderful. On my last night we shared pizza and drank wine and just talked. A clothes designer from Bucharest. He gave me many tips on visiting Bucharest and I will see him at his shop on Saturday. Two young women from Calgary, a gentleman from India, two Americans and one Korean girl who traveled alone but spoke very little English or German. We discussed politics, religion and world events. It was the kind of night that every traveler should have and the kind of bond that I will keep for a lifetime.
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Donauinsel Music Festival Vienna
Click here for some photos from Vienna
I am staying in a great little hostel near the Westbanhof (West city train station). My ticket from Santa Lucia Station to Vienna came right here. I guess that I was lucky. After spending the day in the city, I went back to Ruthenhauer Hostel, met some of my roommates and found out about a three day free concert. Billy Idol is playing for free. I know the name Billy Idol as a performer, but I really can't think of one tune that he has done. Nevertheless we hopped on the Underground and made our way to Donauisola, a several mile long island in the middle of the Danube. I had heard that 3,000,000 people would be there, whether that was over 3 days or a one time count is difficult to tell. I don't know what 3 million people looks like, but if the size of the crowd at that time was 3,000,000 I can believe it, especially on the second night, where at time the slowly moving crowd stopped several times in a crush of people, literally body to body.
It took me about five minutes to completely lose my accompanying hostel mates- just as well- I am sure that we do not share the same musical tastes. Early on the route are the more accoustic venues and rap artists on small stages. Country music is obviously popular here by the size and enthusiasm of the crowd for a couple of hayseeds from rural Austria. I 've taken some movies of some of the acts but I first must reduce the size of the files and then see if I actually got any audio.
Many of the stages seemed like pure spectical, flashy light show with less than first class rock and roll. I am always immediately attracted to bands with horns. I went over the one stage and heard about the worst assemblage of horn players. The slide trombone could barely pop out one ugly note on his break. The trumpet play had about one decent note and the sax player was all over the place, never worried about what key he was in. I vote these guys "worst band" but I probably won't ever hear from them. But who knows?
The high point for me was a loud tight eastern European sounding group, with some klezmer and Russian songs thrown in. The trumpet player announcer assured the crowd (in some of the few English words that I heard) that all of these tunes sounded traditional but they were completely original. As the Austrian crowd was screaming, dancing and rocking with the band, I thought that there was some irony in the enthusiasm showed especially for some of the characteristically klezmer sounding tunes. I bought the CD at the end of the set and to my surprize the name of the band was "The Amsterdam Klezmer Band". On the cover of the CD was a sketchy drawing of a banjo player, an accordion and a bass player. But this was not the same band. I wonder if this was the beginnings of the band. All players were top notch- an accordion player, slide trombone, tenor sax, trumpet and bass. I highly recommend that you hear this band.
On the second night the crowd at times was overwhelmingly dense. I will mention two bands and again I am mostly at a loss for names. Perhaps someone out there with more knowledge of the contemporary music scene can tell me. The stage was enormous and the waiting crowd thick, several smokers made the wait even more unpleasant as I tried to push myself into smokeless refuge out of range. I pushed into the audience just as the previous act was finishing and then listened to a polished woman MC stir up the crowd. During ten minutes I watched Austrian ad's on giant TV screen, obviously sponsors of the event. This crowd on the whole was closer to middle age with lots of children intersperced. The band began with a crashing big sound. The singer, slick in a white suit, belted out a tune that obviously everyone in the audience knew- Gloria (or Glory Hallahluia), not the Leonard Cohen song. The music for me was a bit too smooth and techno for my taste. But the full impact of the sound was impressive- loud - with the regular tom tom beat vibrating my chest, the synthesizer sounding like a full ochestra and the singers harmonies clear and clean. - I rate these guys slick but impressive.
The other band was American. The singer spoke not one word of German to the audience, which I think is shameful. The crowd was enormous, enthusiastic and quite a bit younger than the previous group. The singer's image was projected on an enormous screen, but also I had a pretty good view of him and his group. I found them particularly underwhelming. A nerdish looking singer songwritter in black glasses (a younger version of Elvis Costello) playing guitar with a rock band back up and two pretty good female back up singers. The announcer called them something like "Wheata?" "weete?" Anyway the younger set was pleased.
Just one more thing. There were many stands selling food and drink. By far the one I thought the best in every way was group of fruit cocktails- maybe 20 to 30 different cocktails presented in very large glass pitchers. The presentation attracted attention immediately. All had some kind of fruit with a mixture of ingredients. I actually watch the woman make one of them: Lots of friut, fruit juice, syrup, sugar and vodka. I had the cherry one- delicious and also one with these red fruit that look a little like cranberries, also delicious.
I am staying in a great little hostel near the Westbanhof (West city train station). My ticket from Santa Lucia Station to Vienna came right here. I guess that I was lucky. After spending the day in the city, I went back to Ruthenhauer Hostel, met some of my roommates and found out about a three day free concert. Billy Idol is playing for free. I know the name Billy Idol as a performer, but I really can't think of one tune that he has done. Nevertheless we hopped on the Underground and made our way to Donauisola, a several mile long island in the middle of the Danube. I had heard that 3,000,000 people would be there, whether that was over 3 days or a one time count is difficult to tell. I don't know what 3 million people looks like, but if the size of the crowd at that time was 3,000,000 I can believe it, especially on the second night, where at time the slowly moving crowd stopped several times in a crush of people, literally body to body.
It took me about five minutes to completely lose my accompanying hostel mates- just as well- I am sure that we do not share the same musical tastes. Early on the route are the more accoustic venues and rap artists on small stages. Country music is obviously popular here by the size and enthusiasm of the crowd for a couple of hayseeds from rural Austria. I 've taken some movies of some of the acts but I first must reduce the size of the files and then see if I actually got any audio.
Many of the stages seemed like pure spectical, flashy light show with less than first class rock and roll. I am always immediately attracted to bands with horns. I went over the one stage and heard about the worst assemblage of horn players. The slide trombone could barely pop out one ugly note on his break. The trumpet play had about one decent note and the sax player was all over the place, never worried about what key he was in. I vote these guys "worst band" but I probably won't ever hear from them. But who knows?
The high point for me was a loud tight eastern European sounding group, with some klezmer and Russian songs thrown in. The trumpet player announcer assured the crowd (in some of the few English words that I heard) that all of these tunes sounded traditional but they were completely original. As the Austrian crowd was screaming, dancing and rocking with the band, I thought that there was some irony in the enthusiasm showed especially for some of the characteristically klezmer sounding tunes. I bought the CD at the end of the set and to my surprize the name of the band was "The Amsterdam Klezmer Band". On the cover of the CD was a sketchy drawing of a banjo player, an accordion and a bass player. But this was not the same band. I wonder if this was the beginnings of the band. All players were top notch- an accordion player, slide trombone, tenor sax, trumpet and bass. I highly recommend that you hear this band.
On the second night the crowd at times was overwhelmingly dense. I will mention two bands and again I am mostly at a loss for names. Perhaps someone out there with more knowledge of the contemporary music scene can tell me. The stage was enormous and the waiting crowd thick, several smokers made the wait even more unpleasant as I tried to push myself into smokeless refuge out of range. I pushed into the audience just as the previous act was finishing and then listened to a polished woman MC stir up the crowd. During ten minutes I watched Austrian ad's on giant TV screen, obviously sponsors of the event. This crowd on the whole was closer to middle age with lots of children intersperced. The band began with a crashing big sound. The singer, slick in a white suit, belted out a tune that obviously everyone in the audience knew- Gloria (or Glory Hallahluia), not the Leonard Cohen song. The music for me was a bit too smooth and techno for my taste. But the full impact of the sound was impressive- loud - with the regular tom tom beat vibrating my chest, the synthesizer sounding like a full ochestra and the singers harmonies clear and clean. - I rate these guys slick but impressive.
The other band was American. The singer spoke not one word of German to the audience, which I think is shameful. The crowd was enormous, enthusiastic and quite a bit younger than the previous group. The singer's image was projected on an enormous screen, but also I had a pretty good view of him and his group. I found them particularly underwhelming. A nerdish looking singer songwritter in black glasses (a younger version of Elvis Costello) playing guitar with a rock band back up and two pretty good female back up singers. The announcer called them something like "Wheata?" "weete?" Anyway the younger set was pleased.
Just one more thing. There were many stands selling food and drink. By far the one I thought the best in every way was group of fruit cocktails- maybe 20 to 30 different cocktails presented in very large glass pitchers. The presentation attracted attention immediately. All had some kind of fruit with a mixture of ingredients. I actually watch the woman make one of them: Lots of friut, fruit juice, syrup, sugar and vodka. I had the cherry one- delicious and also one with these red fruit that look a little like cranberries, also delicious.
Friday, June 25, 2010
To see my Venice photos click here.
I stayed in a hostel in Venice. Some very nice things about this hostel. One was that I could see the Grand Canal from the front window terrace. As you probably know I am usually a little older than the average age in a hostel. I was warned this time. She said something like, "You know we have to warn people over 40..." I replied that I've stayed in hostels since I was young. This hostel had a group dinner every night at 7:30 PM. The first night we had pasta carbonara and fig cake for desert. The hostel is owned by an Italian guy, a little younger than me, who hangs out with everyone. As far as I can tell, the place is run by Yael, an Israeli, who seems to enjoy the life she leads in Venice. There is a guy who just recently arrived and is working there. He is a recent college graduate from North Carolina, and has a pretty strong North Carolina accent.
The first night when I arrived with the guitar, Yael suggested I play it after dinner. It is always somewhat of a problem choosing tunes and I usally am not prepared for the young set that is in a hostel. But I know what my students like, so I tried "Hey Jude", "Like a Rolling Stone" and a couple of other. They went over very well. In fact so well, the guy from North Carolina comes over to me and says with great enthusiasm, "Man, when I'm your age, I wanna be just like you." I was a little taken aback, but flattered nevertheless.
Then came the moment for requests. As the twenty-somethings try to figure our something from era "Stairway to Heaven" perhaps. Sorry. And I tried to think of something that they would know or like. It actually fizzled on its own after about a half hour. This was perfect for me. The group goes out together in the evening and drinks- some to excess. But it is a friendly safe crowd and everyone makes sure everyone else gets back.
The place we met, I think, was the Palo, a nice little square. We met two Australian guys, about 25 to 30 years of age who work on a rich person's boat. They seem to like the work and have traveled all over the world. They get about 4 or 5 hours on shore to eat or party or do whatever they want.
Many of the young people in the hostel have been traveling for a while, but frankly they don't know much. They remind me of high school students and it obvious that some are just extending their childhood. They know nothing of the culture or the language and seem to have no desire to learn anything about it. They are generally friendly and good tempted and maybe a little "overloved". They find most of their joy in hanging out with people similar to themselves, even though they may not be from the United States. I suppose that I was much the same when I was their age. I had my eyes wide open, but really didn't know much. In fact I remember someone asking me if I was stopping in Florence. At that point I didn't know that Florence was a cultural center of the Renaissance.
Other than the evenings my days were spent alone pursuing the churches and museums that I had not seen on my last trip to Venice. I relaxed a little the last day and decided to sit down at one of the local outdoor bars and watch the World Cup with a bunch of Italians- it was an exciting game but I am sorry to say, the Slovakians looked good from the beginning- coming near a goal in the first 3 or minutes. It is a sad thing, but Italy is officially out of the World Cup Competition this year.
I stayed in a hostel in Venice. Some very nice things about this hostel. One was that I could see the Grand Canal from the front window terrace. As you probably know I am usually a little older than the average age in a hostel. I was warned this time. She said something like, "You know we have to warn people over 40..." I replied that I've stayed in hostels since I was young. This hostel had a group dinner every night at 7:30 PM. The first night we had pasta carbonara and fig cake for desert. The hostel is owned by an Italian guy, a little younger than me, who hangs out with everyone. As far as I can tell, the place is run by Yael, an Israeli, who seems to enjoy the life she leads in Venice. There is a guy who just recently arrived and is working there. He is a recent college graduate from North Carolina, and has a pretty strong North Carolina accent.
The first night when I arrived with the guitar, Yael suggested I play it after dinner. It is always somewhat of a problem choosing tunes and I usally am not prepared for the young set that is in a hostel. But I know what my students like, so I tried "Hey Jude", "Like a Rolling Stone" and a couple of other. They went over very well. In fact so well, the guy from North Carolina comes over to me and says with great enthusiasm, "Man, when I'm your age, I wanna be just like you." I was a little taken aback, but flattered nevertheless.
Then came the moment for requests. As the twenty-somethings try to figure our something from era "Stairway to Heaven" perhaps. Sorry. And I tried to think of something that they would know or like. It actually fizzled on its own after about a half hour. This was perfect for me. The group goes out together in the evening and drinks- some to excess. But it is a friendly safe crowd and everyone makes sure everyone else gets back.
The place we met, I think, was the Palo, a nice little square. We met two Australian guys, about 25 to 30 years of age who work on a rich person's boat. They seem to like the work and have traveled all over the world. They get about 4 or 5 hours on shore to eat or party or do whatever they want.
Many of the young people in the hostel have been traveling for a while, but frankly they don't know much. They remind me of high school students and it obvious that some are just extending their childhood. They know nothing of the culture or the language and seem to have no desire to learn anything about it. They are generally friendly and good tempted and maybe a little "overloved". They find most of their joy in hanging out with people similar to themselves, even though they may not be from the United States. I suppose that I was much the same when I was their age. I had my eyes wide open, but really didn't know much. In fact I remember someone asking me if I was stopping in Florence. At that point I didn't know that Florence was a cultural center of the Renaissance.
Other than the evenings my days were spent alone pursuing the churches and museums that I had not seen on my last trip to Venice. I relaxed a little the last day and decided to sit down at one of the local outdoor bars and watch the World Cup with a bunch of Italians- it was an exciting game but I am sorry to say, the Slovakians looked good from the beginning- coming near a goal in the first 3 or minutes. It is a sad thing, but Italy is officially out of the World Cup Competition this year.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Venice
For my first set of photos from Venice click here.
A link to the Churches of Venice
Certainly one of my favorite cites in the world, I decided to concentrate on seeing Tintoretto's. Tintoretto is the father of Venetian Renaissance painting. He lived here his whole life and painted an enormous number of works, most hanging in churched throughout Venice. This brought me to my pilgrimage to the Churches of Venice. Unfortunately all of the churches that I visited had a "no photographs" policy. So I searched the Internet to give some idea of his body of work. What I cannot reproduce is the scale of some of these pieces. Mary are 16 feet high, but a couple of works in the Church of Modonna dell' Orto are as high as 36 feet, towering works. Here is a very small photo of one of these paintings.
The Scuola Grande di San Rocco was a charitable institution set up in the early 1500's to help pay for care to the sick. San Rocco (or Saint Roch) is the patrol saint of contagious diseases. His life is portrayed in many of the huge paintings hung in the Scuola. In 1564 Tintoretto was commissioned to decorated the walls and the ceiling of the Scuola. Again- no photos and one of the most important rooms was closed- some "professionals" were taking photos with big flashed no less. Fortunately the doors were wide open and I could see the Crucifixion, an enormous canvas by Tintoretto. 1565
Oil on canvas, 18 feet high and 40 feet long
A link to the Churches of Venice
Certainly one of my favorite cites in the world, I decided to concentrate on seeing Tintoretto's. Tintoretto is the father of Venetian Renaissance painting. He lived here his whole life and painted an enormous number of works, most hanging in churched throughout Venice. This brought me to my pilgrimage to the Churches of Venice. Unfortunately all of the churches that I visited had a "no photographs" policy. So I searched the Internet to give some idea of his body of work. What I cannot reproduce is the scale of some of these pieces. Mary are 16 feet high, but a couple of works in the Church of Modonna dell' Orto are as high as 36 feet, towering works. Here is a very small photo of one of these paintings.
The Scuola Grande di San Rocco was a charitable institution set up in the early 1500's to help pay for care to the sick. San Rocco (or Saint Roch) is the patrol saint of contagious diseases. His life is portrayed in many of the huge paintings hung in the Scuola. In 1564 Tintoretto was commissioned to decorated the walls and the ceiling of the Scuola. Again- no photos and one of the most important rooms was closed- some "professionals" were taking photos with big flashed no less. Fortunately the doors were wide open and I could see the Crucifixion, an enormous canvas by Tintoretto. 1565
Oil on canvas, 18 feet high and 40 feet long
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Ravenna
To see all of my photos from Ravenna click here.
I was not prepared to for the age of the Churches and mosaics in Ravenna. Most of the places that I visited were built between the years 400 and 600 CE. Constantine had barely set up the Holy Roman Empire by this time.
I had booked a sweet little room in a place called Hotel Byron. My Italian is not good but I only had to lapse into English once trying to clarify how they charged for Internet service. The breakfast they served was enough to keep me going all day.
There has been a continuous gentle rain for three days and it is a good time to enjoy the indoor sites. The city charges one price for a ticket that allows entry to all the major places. The one thing that I missed was the Ravenna Museum, closed on Monday.
The Basilica of San Vitale was my first stop, enormous church, built in the mid 500's. So modern and so secure to my eyes. The mosaics were so strong and sophisticated that this artistic culture must have been a strong part of Ravenna even before the Christians. We know that the Romans and Etruscans both had wonderful traditions of mosaics, but I suspect that this area must have been the center.
The second stop was a small masoleum, created for one of the top leaders of Ravenna, in the late 400's. One sarcafocas was created for the wife of the leader but she died while away and was buried in a different place.
The museum of acheology that I visited had wonderful stone tributes from Roman times to the dead, the equivalent of our tombstones. With the bit of Latin that I remember I could pretty much decipher most of the stones. Things liked "to my most faithful husband", "to my wife who took care of the family", "to Felix Gracius, nobleman and loyal servant of the people." Most were simple and warm.
These stones were found in the 1500's when one of the churches built in the 500's was refurbished and partially rebuilt. When they took the floor stones out, they found on the other side were all of these stone monuments with the tributes on the other side. I would have photographed many of them, but photography was not permitted in the museum.
The Basilica of Saint Apollinari (the new) was my last stop and again a great treat for me. a sixth century building, very long with three tiers of mosaics. The top one, hard to see, excerpts from the life of Christ. The Second and the one closest, figures of men and women, the wall of Ravenna. Next to the Basilica was a mosaic workshop. It is studio where people take classes and work independently on mosaics. Many lovely mosaics were on the wall for sale. Most went for 100 Euro for small ones all the way to 2000 Euro for larger pieces. Most were copies of classic pieces from the city. But I saw the Mona Lisa in mosaic, the city of New York, several famous Ravenna Basilicas and other modern subjects. One woman was working on a large traditional mosaic as were there. I wanted so much to snap a few photos of the more interesting pieces, but alas, "no photos".
Exploring the city I found little places that were not in my guidebook. I found a cute litte baptistry, a little below ground, in a little nook behind some stores. It was free to visit and two women (probably volunteeers) sat there. I asked if could take photos and she said only "no flash".
And the Church of the Blessed Apostle, St John the Evangelist. There were few people inside, but Gregorian Chant played through the speakers. Along the sides of the Church were beautiful little mosaics, very old and no sign that I could find (or translate) that told me how old.
Actually as I left a busload of people began to enter the church.
I was not prepared to for the age of the Churches and mosaics in Ravenna. Most of the places that I visited were built between the years 400 and 600 CE. Constantine had barely set up the Holy Roman Empire by this time.
I had booked a sweet little room in a place called Hotel Byron. My Italian is not good but I only had to lapse into English once trying to clarify how they charged for Internet service. The breakfast they served was enough to keep me going all day.
There has been a continuous gentle rain for three days and it is a good time to enjoy the indoor sites. The city charges one price for a ticket that allows entry to all the major places. The one thing that I missed was the Ravenna Museum, closed on Monday.
The Basilica of San Vitale was my first stop, enormous church, built in the mid 500's. So modern and so secure to my eyes. The mosaics were so strong and sophisticated that this artistic culture must have been a strong part of Ravenna even before the Christians. We know that the Romans and Etruscans both had wonderful traditions of mosaics, but I suspect that this area must have been the center.
The second stop was a small masoleum, created for one of the top leaders of Ravenna, in the late 400's. One sarcafocas was created for the wife of the leader but she died while away and was buried in a different place.
The museum of acheology that I visited had wonderful stone tributes from Roman times to the dead, the equivalent of our tombstones. With the bit of Latin that I remember I could pretty much decipher most of the stones. Things liked "to my most faithful husband", "to my wife who took care of the family", "to Felix Gracius, nobleman and loyal servant of the people." Most were simple and warm.
These stones were found in the 1500's when one of the churches built in the 500's was refurbished and partially rebuilt. When they took the floor stones out, they found on the other side were all of these stone monuments with the tributes on the other side. I would have photographed many of them, but photography was not permitted in the museum.
The Basilica of Saint Apollinari (the new) was my last stop and again a great treat for me. a sixth century building, very long with three tiers of mosaics. The top one, hard to see, excerpts from the life of Christ. The Second and the one closest, figures of men and women, the wall of Ravenna. Next to the Basilica was a mosaic workshop. It is studio where people take classes and work independently on mosaics. Many lovely mosaics were on the wall for sale. Most went for 100 Euro for small ones all the way to 2000 Euro for larger pieces. Most were copies of classic pieces from the city. But I saw the Mona Lisa in mosaic, the city of New York, several famous Ravenna Basilicas and other modern subjects. One woman was working on a large traditional mosaic as were there. I wanted so much to snap a few photos of the more interesting pieces, but alas, "no photos".
Exploring the city I found little places that were not in my guidebook. I found a cute litte baptistry, a little below ground, in a little nook behind some stores. It was free to visit and two women (probably volunteeers) sat there. I asked if could take photos and she said only "no flash".
And the Church of the Blessed Apostle, St John the Evangelist. There were few people inside, but Gregorian Chant played through the speakers. Along the sides of the Church were beautiful little mosaics, very old and no sign that I could find (or translate) that told me how old.
Actually as I left a busload of people began to enter the church.
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