Eastern Europe retroblog: Brčko, part 2
(Brčko, part 1.)
Saturday 23 June 2007 Had a wonderful tour of not one but two mosques, both of which are new buildings. The original ones were destroyed in the war; a sheikh, a very nice man, showed us around, with Mujke [MOY-kuh] translating. I enjoy hearing the call to prayer, and not just because it sounds exotic. It's also simply a beautiful sound--even if it is often a recording. Counterpart to church bells, almost.
Coffee with Briony and Mujke afterwards, and then we finally got around to visiting the outdoor fruit and veggie market (also with B.) So glad we made it--dinner is going to be yummy tonight. Can't remember ever seeing such fresh and robust heads of garlic.
Briony is from England, and was conducting part of her doctoral research in Brcko in the summer of '07. I was hoping to see her while I was in London, but unfortunately our schedules weren't going to jive. Next time!16 June 2007 Our apartment here has a very lived-in feel, down to the eyeglasses and balled-up socks on the curio shelves, the rotten apple on the kitchen windowsill (Kate threw it out the window and busted out laughing--there's a wild apple tree in the courtyard outside, she wouldn't have gotten away with it otherwise. You can hear the occasional thump as an apple falls to the pavement), the cobwebs dangling from the eaves on the balcony (no view, but we hung up our laundry out there, and some coal-black cobwebs clung to our skivvies. Yuck), cologne bottles and half a dozen toothbrushes in the bathroom.The owner later paid us an unexpected visit at 6:30 in the morning, for no apparent reason.
Kate in the courtyard. Next and final post: back to Budapest!
Harmony Homestead Dispatch #2
As promised: puppypalooza! (I neglected to mention that they are Vizslas.) Most of them are going home with their new families tomorrow. It's going to be awfully quiet around here.
Grace (she's the pup Gail and Paul are keeping) and Lilypads (so named for her extra digits) have a tussle in the puppy pen.
Harmony Homestead Dispatch #1
The last week and a half has felt like an age in the very best way; I hardly recognize myself. I am sunburned, bruised, covered in midge bites, I haven't bathed since Thursday--and I couldn't be happier.
Planting bush beans.
A fragment of china, found in the garden, that may have belonged to the very first homesteaders here--a hundred and fifty years ago, Paul guesses. (It might be early 20th century, but it's so much more romantic to imagine it's that much older.)
I play with nine puppies every day. This is Bean. (All but one of the nine are spoken for, and they'll be going to their new homes this weekend. One of the new owners rechristened their puppy 'Uncle Peter,' which I found hilariously inappropriate.)
I had a feeling it would be this way, but I can now say for certain that manual labor has an amazing effect on one's creativity. I've gotten so many great ideas while gardening or doing dishes; I haven't been at the computer much, and yet I've been worlds more productive than I ever was at the library. I've made space in my head, and a lot of really good things are showing up.I have so much more to say about Gail and Paul and all their interesting friends, but it's getting late and I want to post this. More puppy photos in dispatch #2!
Eastern Europe retroblog: Brčko, part 1
Toward the end of our Eastern European adventure Kate and I arranged to volunteer at a children's summer camp in a Bosnian town called Brčko (pronounced 'Birch-ko'-- and if it's not then we were saying it wrong the whole time). There would be children of all religions and ethnicities here, and the idea is to foster friendship and cooperation between them. It was a very positive experience overall--thanks to our lovely volunteer coordinators Dina and Sanjin, other new friends Briony and Mujke, and a bunch of really sweet kids--but as with every other volunteer experience I've had, there were definitely aspects I found ineffective or at least inefficient.Monday, 18th June 2007 Thoroughly frustrated...yesterday we passed three boys rooting through the dumpsters at the far end of our block, and of course one of them approached us and asked for money. THOSE are the kids who need help, but as Dina pointed out, the Roma don't want or think they need any help. They don't want a better life for their families, and that is totally incomprehensible to me.We were there less than two weeks, but we quickly settled into a routine of workshops and coffee afterwards at Dina and Sanjin's favorite cafe, Jazzwa.
Wednesday, 20 June 2007The workshop this morning was quieter but still a success--we did the 'pass it on' story exercise and illustrated a few of the stories afterwards, and of course most of the kids got plenty of laughs when they were read out. We started with 'Once upon a time a brother and sister left home with their pet goat in search of adventure,' and though the goat dropped out of pretty much all the stories (never featured in Dina's quick translations, anyway), there were still a few gems. 'The boy squeezed the bird and mayonnaise came out'; 'they ate five kilograms of chocolate and had diarrhea.' Lots of farting too, naturally. Our favorite illustration was a marsupial dragon--a 'dragaroo.'At three we were treated to a tour of the town library, which is housed in a crumbling but wonderful imperialist Hungarian building dating to 1892.Two views of the library:
There's so much to say about Brčko that I should split it into two posts. Next time: fresh (and not so fresh) produce, other people's toothbrushes, and an unexpected early-morning visitor.
Another Adventure
Aaaaaand that's about all I got. Happy Sunday!
Eastern Europe retroblog: Mostar & Sarajevo
We arrived in Mostar pretty late--it's a pleasant town best known for its historic bridge (which crazy locals occasionally like to jump off of), but we were pretty much only there to break the journey to Sarajevo. We chose a restaurant in the old town where the waiter spoke Italian, and I managed to communicate that Kate and I wanted only vegetables on our plates.The next day we took the train to Sarajevo. Way too many pigeons, strong Turkish coffee for breakfast and delicious spiral-shaped spinach pastries and juniper juice for dinner, shops full of beautiful shawls and metalwork.(Below: the main drag of the old town, the Baščaršija, which dates to the 16th century; a fountain in the courtyard of a mosque.)
I don't know what this building is--or used to be--but it's a real shame to let such an amazing piece of architecture fall into disuse and disrepair.
Three goofballs at the Sarajevo Brewery. Elliot sampled the local dark lager, Kate got baklava and I had a campari and orange. This was before I became a (very occasional) beer drinker. I think this was Elliot's last night--he took a train back to Budapest to go home, and Kate and I went on to the volunteering part of the trip.
Inside the Orthodox Cathedral.Next: Brčko, Bosnia, where Kate and I volunteered at a children's summer camp.
Eastern Europe retroblog: Split, part 2
(Split, part 1.)I haven't felt like writing lately, let alone blogging, but sometimes the way to feel like doing something again is just to do it. I got some good writing done today for the first time in a week and a half, and now--back to the retroblog!One last post about Croatia. After Hvar, we spent another afternoon in Split before taking a train to Mostar in Bosnia.
This time we took a short bus trip out to Salona, the extensive ruins of a Roman city built on an earlier Greek settlement. It took us awhile to walk through the whole site, which has a bit of everything: streets, temples and early Christian churches, homes, public baths, aqueducts, a large amphitheater...
We met hardly any other tourists here—it was eerily quiet. The last picture reminds me a little of the ruined Emerald City in Return to Oz (kind of a bad film, I know, but a guilty-pleasure childhood throwback).Next up: Mostar and Sarajevo.
The Backyard Tourist, part 2
I'll never knock Philly for being grubby ever again. Can you believe these photos were taken inside the city limits? This is Wissahickon Valley Park, the north-west portion of Fairmount Park. If you can ignore the distant hum of air and road traffic and focus instead on the birdsong and wind in the trees, it really does feel like you're out in the middle of nowhere.One of the trails takes you under the Walnut Lane Bridge, which is pretty awe-inspiring from this vantage.
After leaving the park one day, I walked halfway across it before I realized where I was. This bridge is only a hundred years old, of course, but there's something so majestic about it, like a Roman aqueduct. You're so far below the traffic that it's easy to pretend it hasn't been used in centuries.Following the trail, there's a wooded ridge on one side and, on the other, Wissahickon Creek far below you. At the top of one of those ridges (Mom Rinker's Rock, according to Wikipedia) there's a statue of a man I took to be William Penn, with the word TOLERATION inscribed at the base (also according to Wikipedia: the statue isn't meant to be any Quaker in particular).
You know what this means? Seven years of good luck.
The Wind in the Willows, part 2
Especially for you, Paré:
And a better view of the stairs:
Can't even see the house from the street, but I want to live here so bad.
Eastern Europe retroblog: Split, part 1
The view from the train from Dubrovnik to Split (if I remember correctly, this landscape is technically in Bosnia).We found ourselves in Split (in Croatia) twice, before and after our trip by ferry to Hvar Island. (Oops--I should have posted 'part 1' before Hvar!) We didn't spend the night either time, but we had several hours to spend sightseeing each way, and on sojourn #1 we visited Diocletian's Palace, which dates from the late third, early fourth century A.D.
It's a huge complex, some parts below and some above ground, and it's so well preserved that there are actually shops and market stalls located inside it.Elliot at the entrance to...erm...I can't remember, even with the aid of Google. Cool shadow, though, no?
Below: the cathedral bell tower, which we climbed. Felt kinda woozy at the top--I'm not terribly good with heights but I always make myself go up anyway.
Hammin' it up, as usual. We found a good pastry shop on the quay, and sat on a bench under those palm trees where we spilled powdered sugar all over ourselves.Next: Split, part 2.
Eastern Europe retroblog: Hvar
Hvar was probably my favorite stop on our Eastern European adventure. Lavender fields (which we did not actually get to see, but we picked up plenty of soap and sachets to bring home), azure sea, perfect weather, atmospheric old town...
Sunday, 10 June 2007Hvar is going to be the highlight of our trip, I just know it. We arrived on the ferry from Split last night (at 6pm, still plenty light out) and found a guy who brought us back to an adorable little apartment with an ivy-draped terrace for only 80 kuna per person per night. That's about $15. (Most hostels cost more than that!)
I'm sitting at the table on this terrace and a little lizard just darted across the rough stone wall. I'm drinking Earl Grey, waiting for K&E to return from shopping for breakfast and feeling content. We got pasta, bread, and white wine and ate out here last night--more satisfying than many of our dining-out experiences here. When it got dark we lit a pillar candle and listened to the strains of the music festival down in the town square--there was some sort of choir performing (it sounded more like a barbershop quartet, with more than four), and cheesy pop and U2 and Sting playing at break-times. There were ten-year-old ballerinas (all in pink, of course) hanging around outside the supermarket--free food and red balloons.There is a very eloquent little sparrow sitting on a wire nearby...
(That's Kate's underwear on the line right over Elliot's head, by the way.)Next post: Split!
Eastern Europe retroblog: Dubrovnik
Again, photographs of a beautiful place render description rather unnecessary. Dubrovnik is touristy and therefore everything is relatively expensive, and the walkable old town wall doesn't seem quite so marvelous when you realize it was recently reconstructed...but my, what a lovely place! After we walked the walls we went to the nearest beach and had ourselves a soak.
You'd walk around more than once, of course, which meant you'd be passing the same tourists two or three times. I remember walking by a couple of middle-aged English ladies in sensible shoes, and smiling every time I caught a snatch of their conversation--they were SO happy to be there. Everything was a delight to them. Man, I love people like that.
"Mosquito bites all over, including my face...Kate's all bitten too--we joked we have the plague...Been sniping them, and when I do there's a smear of blood on my palm. My own blood--the little bastards! One just dive-bombed onto my thigh. Smack! Serves you right."
(Detail of a fountain just inside the old town entrance.)
We'd arrived late in the day, and while we walked a quiet street right by the city wall we spotted a sign for a bar. We passed through the wall, and found this outdoor spot literally perched on the cliff. It was touristy, of course, but over drinks we enjoyed one of the most beautiful sunsets of my life.Next installment: Hvar Island.
Eastern Europe retroblog: Montenegro
This is going to be one of those posts where the pictures speak for themselves. Kotor was really, really beautiful, and the hike up to the fortress was good exercise and very rewarding. As I recall, the food was pretty meh, but with views like these, who cares?
Next up: Dubrovnik.
Eastern Europe retroblog: Belgrade
We were only in Belgrade for a day—but what a day! We visited the Tesla museum and hung out in the fortress-slash-park; and while we were having dinner in a very charming old part of the city, it started to pour like crazy. Our table was outside under an awning, so the whole thing was rather dramatic from where we were seated. 
(Isn't this the loveliest wrought ironwork you've ever seen? It's the front door of the Tesla museum.) 
(I don't remember the name of this church, if I ever knew it.) Next installment: Kotor, Montenegro.
Happy Easter!
Here's a postcard I found at the Christkindlesmarkt in Nuremberg (seasonally appropriate, I know. The Christmas ones are even cuter). On the back:221 Osterkarte, um 1900@Verlag L. Däbritz, MünchenAlleinvertrieb ART H. HilscherPrinted in Germany.
Eastern Europe retroblog: Bucharest
(A grave marker in the courtyard of the folk museum.)Everywhere we went in Romania, people seemed incredulous that we would want to spend a night in Bucharest. Truth be told, we were only there to have lunch (which turned into just drinks--alas, there was a misunderstanding with the dates) with my Romanian publisher, but we ended up really enjoying our visit to the folk museum, and the weather was great (which always improves your opinion of a place, no? can't help it.)
And of course, the architecture and vaguely Byzantine holy art were highlights.
We watched a restoration artist high up on the scaffolding, touching up these frescoes (are they actually frescoes?) And the courtyard of another church building nearby:
(Ornamental caryatids outside the arcade where we had dinner for Elliot's birthday.)Next up: a whirlwind visit to Belgrade, complete with a flash flood.
The Backyard Tourist
The Betsy Ross House at 239 Arch Street.
It was really neat to tour an unrenovated 18th-century house, and until you go you don't realize just how little you knew about the lady who designed and sewed the first American flag. I don't remember ever learning in school that she ran an upholstery shop, and that was why she was chosen for the job. Betsy Ross was an incredibly resilient woman: giving birth to seven daughters, widowed three times (twice before the age of thirty!!!), running her own business and surviving wartime Philadelphia and continual economic hardship.
Just around the corner is Elfreth's Alley, the oldest continuously inhabited street in the city (and it very well could be the oldest in the country). All the townhouses on this quaint little street were erected between 1728 and 1836. It's a magical place—very much like a mews I invented for Petty Magic.
And afterwards we went to Marra's, a South Philly institution. Marra's pizza is far and away the best I've ever had. The service is indifferent, but the atmosphere is wonderfully old-school Italian-American. Our dad used to take us here when we were kids.
(Best to get a plain pie though--the veggies are okay, but it's the plain pizza that's really excellent.)
Eastern Europe retroblog: Sinaia
(This photo was taken in Braşov, where we had dinner at a pizzeria after the Piatra Craiului trip—hooray, no more polenta and sour cream! The little Germany Belgium flags came with dessert.)
There is one thing that sticks in my head about Sinaia--the architecture. Holy cow, what amazing architecture, and not only at Peleş Castle. There were lots of houses like this in Sinaia:
If I were going to live in this house I would have to become a mad artist and adopt at least three dozen cats.
Peleş Castle is really spectacular, inside and out. It was built in the late 19th century to serve as the summer residence of King Carol I. It's one of Romania's biggest tourist attractions, and you can see why.
In the next installment, we are pleasantly surprised to find that Bucharest isn't the craphole everyone's been telling us it is!
Eastern Europe retroblog: Piatra Craiului
From Sighişoara we took the train to Braşov, a medium-sized town we used as a jumping-off point for a hiking trip in the Piatra Craiului mountains. (Pee-AH-trah Cry-OO-lee.) We also made a day trip to Rasnov, and spent a very wet afternoon at the fortress there:
While we were in Braşov I also got my first (and last) taste of polinka. If the bartender had served me battery acid I wouldn't have known the difference.
So, the hiking trip. We left our extra stuff at the hostel in Braşov and took a train to Zărneşti, a rather frightening little place--ramshackle cement huts, muddy unpaved roads and way too many stray dogs--and hiked to a cabana we'd found in Lonely Planet. We weren't sure what to expect, because the guidebook description was pretty vague (which is a sure sign the author hadn't actually been there; don't ask me how I know); but we were pleasantly surprised to find the place was basically a hotel--rustic but clean and comfortable. In the restaurant Kate and I ordered more polenta with sour cream and defrosted veggies (and we were lucky to find that much!), while Elliot got, ahem, adventurous. To this day I bet he still isn't precisely sure what he ate for dinner.
This dog followed us out of Zărneşti all the way to the cabana. It became such a nuisance that Kate and Elliot named it Sophia, after Kate's crazy freshman-year roommate, and we only got rid of it the following afternoon (yes, it hung around outside the cabana overnight) when some farmers' dogs went after it.Anyway, we spent most of the following day on a walk deeper into the mountains. When we passed farmsteads with people outside we felt quite awkward, but fortunately nobody laughed at the dumb tourists, or yelled at us to get off their land. We didn't encounter any other hikers, as far as I can recall.
It was getting pretty nippy as we climbed; towards the end we were walking in snow.
Me: "I can't feel my butt!"Elliot: "Don't worry. It's still there."
We were going to climb this. Then we decided we'd rather just go back to the cabana and watch Elliot eat some more cat intestines under a giant moose trophy (why didn't I get a picture?)
On the walk back we played GHOST. I insisted that "xylophonic" is a word, but Elliot was having none of it.Next installment: Sinaia.
Eastern Europe retroblog: Sighişoara, part 2
(Sighişoara, part 1.)
The torture and weapons museums were a barrel of laughs and all, but my favorite sight in Sighişoara is the Church on the Hill. It is the most picturesque graveyard I have ever had the pleasure of wandering through. To get there, you climb a covered staircase dating to the 17th century:
And at the top there's a church (locked, when we went), and a rectory:
(Lucky priests!)And then there's the graveyard, with all the old headstones tucked into the hillside.
Elliot: "Give me some of that coconut chocolate."Kate: [farts]
Next: Piatra Craiului.