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March 1998 Trip

“A TRIP TO A FATHER’S FATHERLAND AND WHAT WE FOUND THERE”

By Sandra Nuti and Carl Korn

This is our journal of a trip to Germany-Czech Republic-Austria and they are Sandra’s notes with my editing in BOLD when rarely necessary—I hate when other people do this-but this journey deserved special treatment— to make sure you all remember Sandra is R.C. from Rhode Island and went to parochial Catholic schools—I am from W.L.A. and went to Fairfax Hi, which was parochial in my time.

Thursday, March 26

To Berlin, Dresden, Prague, Vienna, Salzburg, and Munich—no definite schedule really, just a departure and return date.  This time I feel like a seasoned traveler-more relaxed, more confident in packing-this time a small roller luggage, small duffle bag and back pack. Weather reports have been so variable; I take my wool black coat and my blue coat. (Ella, our “driver” says we look like some religious sect in our long black coats). We relax before take off with a lunch of yogurt and English muffins (courtesy of left-over from “Norm’s Diner”). Airline LTU-never heard of them-is a comfortable plane but very different from our other flights to London, Italy and Paris.  Passengers on this plane were very quiet, orderly (Even the children)-no nonsense-flight attendants picked up trash very often-as soon as one is done with peanut wrapper-”It must be picked up”-Carl says they act just like he does. And he’s right.  Images of blonde German dominatrix race through my mind. People on the right side of the plane only line up to use the right bathroom even if the left one is vacant. This sure will be a different kind of adventure-I’m sure I’ll learn about people from a different culture.

Dinner (diabetic for both-with a Hershey bar!?!) was good but without the German Goodies; lots of alcohol-beer, wine, cognac, Cointreau-orange liquor.  Attendants seemed miffed that We didn’t finish our booze.  Immediately after dinner, with the help of all that alcohol, the quiet, restrained passengers changed into a beer garden personna-gathering in the aisles, talking loudly and going into either bathroom line-The breakdown of society right before my eyes! The 60-year-old rich lady next to me lives in Manhattan Beach 30+ years—family from Germany- chatty once she had her quota of alcohol—what a diamond on her hand!  Carl says the bathrooms are spotless-everyone who uses it cleans up after themselves—now that’s a change from other airlines. Carl put on that smelly airline cologne-it sort of smells like “4711”—the key words being “sort of”. I’M VERY COMFORTABLE MIT MEIN LANSMEN.

Dusseldorf airport—stark, almost like bunkers. Short flight to Berlin—I slept most of the way. In Berlin we took a taxi-all taxis are Mercedes as are the mail trucks—older driver-Carl said he has the same blue eyes-must be a relative- First impression of Berlin:  I love the architecture of the new buildings since WW II—Carl doesn’t. Kaiser Wilhelm Memorial Church ruin stands in the middle of the newness-a reminder of the destruction that was-as if anyone here could forget-even if they try to.  Lots of graffiti-not surprising that the youth would want to rebel against the cold sterile world they are raised in.

Holiday Inn Crown Plaza Hotel is plush by our usual hotel experiences-owned by a relative of the man who mounts Carl’s tapestries.  Room isn’t ready-we have tea, espresso-warm cheesecake with whipped cream and blueberries-yum-while waiting-Down comforters! Complimentary robes, brownies, candy on the pillows.

After a brief nap on our first evening we start to walk. Go to the KaDeWe, a huge upscale department store-food floor is disappointing.  Display windows on Main Street have female mannequins in lingerie but in bondage poses wearing see-through lingerie. I enjoy walking the shopping district-Carl finds it uninteresting-decides we walk to the Deutches Opera House-far, far away.

On the way we ask directions to a synagogue shown on our map as a star—The book shop owners check us out and follow us as we leave them, with their stares. At the synagogue the usual security is in place, but they let us in for Friday evening services-The rabbi is praying-his papers are worn and yellow with age; organ and choir is singing beneath the ceiling-unseen -woman segregated-an interesting assortment of peoples-we were there for kaddush-Carl is quite moved by it all and understandably so.

WE HAD WALKED BEHIND A FACADE OF A NORMAL BUILDING TO ENTER A SMALL COURTYARD IN FRONT OF THE SYNAGOGUE’S DOORS. WE WALKED IN TO SEE A TWO STORY CREAM-COLORED INTERIOR, WITH WALNUT BALCONY AND PEWS. THE WOMEN WERE TO THE RIGHT.  SANDRA WALKED TO THEM AND SAT DOWN. I STARTED CRYING, WHICH HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH SANDRA—I LOOKED TO SEE IF ANYONE THERE WAS SOMEONE I KNEW OR HAD KNOWN—THE TEARS JUST FLOWED DOWN MY FACE. WE HAD NOT SOUGHT OUT THIS TEMPLE AS WE DID OTHERS IN ITALY—WE WERE JUST OUT WALKING TO GET OUR BEARINGS IN BERLIN AND BY HAPPENSTANCE I SAW THE STAR ON THE CITY MAP AND FOLLOWED IT—IN RETROSPECT I HAD “BEEN” THERE BEFORE, BUT WE MUST REMEMBER THAT THIS IS “ME” TALKING.  I HAD BEEN IN THAT TEMPLE, “ONCE”.  (THERE ARE THREE COLUMNS OF KORNS IN THE WHITE PAGES IN BERLIN, AND ONLY TEN THOUSAND JEWS IN GERMANY NOW).

 We arrive at the Deutsches Opera House at 6:50 PM and figure out the night’s opera is “Il Trovatore”-we get 1/2 price tickets in the 3rd row-or course we are typically underdressed and the lady to my left looks at us like we’re peasants—rich peasants to you lady!!   Boy, Carl spoils us.  The auditorium looks like the L A Ahmanson Theater.  We eat an awful piece of bread with cheese and salty ham and coke in wine glasses—how classy. Fabio Amarillo singing.  I can tell from the opening scene this will be very different, but I never imagined how different.  This could only play in Berlin and according to students we met later this production has been playing for over a year.  It gave me a very uneasy feeling-full of images of violence, depravity, inhumanity—men in Renaissance garb with long beards, black caps, and leather stocking; the father king kicking his lame son in the bad leg; beatings; rape; child and mother being incinerated in a glass gypsy caravan wagon; prison; poverty; nakedness; crucified Christ with Xmas Lights for Crown of Thorns; the Pope dancing with Christ; nuns in vibrant dresses; dead saint under glass altar coming to life and trying to break out of her coffin.  Bizarre!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Need to find this reviewed in the Opera News. Opera etiquette: people boo the pretty good baritone; tough critics and generally right-on. This is a B-cast who acts well.  Carl says there is a Mime going on while Verdi music happens to be playing and sung to. I THINK THE BOOING HAD TO DO WITH THE SEVERITY OF THE PRODUCTION, NOT JUST THE SINGERS.

Saturday, March 28

Next day—Saturday—we get up early- lots to do.  We have a wonderful breakfast filled with German foods inspite of the noisy Argentinean and Spanish tourists. We take a bus to Check Point Charlie—and try to find “The Wall”, which turns out to be a door-sized remnant of the Berlin Wall covered with butterflies-a sculpture really.  Next to it is a Museum with famous escape photos and memorabilia—A sense of evil- heaviness in the adjoining area is so intense that we decide to flee the area. We find out later that this “adjoining area” was the site of the Gestapo headquarters—that is, a part of the Berlin Wall area being rebuilt that we found overwhelmingly evil was the site of the Gestapo HQ’s and our feelings had nothing to do with Checkpoint Charlie.

This city should never be rebuilt.  It should stay in ruins-an appropriate legacy to the rampant evil and the community that knew and probably cheered it on, inside. The city seems to prove the theory that spirits linger, and here with the history of evil and mass killings, there is such a spirit of darkness and despair.  Carl says the Devil still lives in Berlin.

TWO WEEKS LATER, I SEE THE RED-SKINNED, BEARDED, HORNED, SPADE TAILED, PITCHFORK HOLDING SATAN OF DANTE DANCING ON THE TOP OF THE BLACK DOMED GOLD RIBBINGED ON THE OUTSIDE BERLINER DOM—THE PROTESTANT CATHEDRAL THAT DOMINATES THE SKYLINE OF OLD BERLIN. AND HE DANCES LOOKING TO THE SOUTHWEST IN AMIST OF SMOKE WITH FLAMES ENCIRCLING HIM.

We bus back to the Kaiser Wilhelm Church Tower remnant-the old part has a beautiful mosaic ceiling bearing a crucifix with skull at its base.  It is same grisly imagery as seen elsewhere.  The rebuilt section of the new church has multiple squares of vibrant blue stained glass and a huge gold Christ in the midst.

Charlottenburg Palace is next-and was nothing special...Across the street is the Egyptian Museum with the beautiful Bust of Nefretitti (couldn’t find a small souvenir bust-rats).  Then to the Picasso Museum, which is on a 10-year loan-quite impressive-”Harlequin” and the “Lecturer” were my favorites.

Another bus ride across town to the Reichstag—from the bus—unforgettable—huge Nazi soldier on the dome—terrifying.  IN THE PARK ACROSS THE WAY THE FLOWERS ARE A DEADLY PURPLE GREY ON THE UNKEMPT GRASS.

We walk down the Unter den Linden to the Brandenburg Gate—-before the War it was a symbol of peace and now a reminder of war. P.S. throughout Berlin there are lots of sculptures-most smooth black, bizarre shapes, almost New World Art Deco, or human figures in Nazi Master Race stances or Hellenistic poses, or human figures in sexual poses. Bizarre and scary… TO ME THE PUBLIC ART WAS LINEAR ART DECO WITH AN ATTEMPT AT SENSUALITY SUCH THAT THE ROUNDNESS OF THE BODIES WAS PRESENTED IN AN ABORTED MICHAELANGELO-WAY.  WITHOUT SOFTNESS, ONLY A TIGHT RIGIDITY—EMOTIONLESS—AND METAL COLD. A GREAT NUMBER OF THE FORMS HAD DISTORTED FACES ON HUMAN FORMS, AS DOES EGYPTIAN STATUARY, BUT EVEN LESS SENSUAL THAN THAT. A VERY STYLIZED ART THAT TERRIFIES, AS IT’S MAJOR EFFECT.

P.P.S. Along the roads are billboard advertisements with a black girl with buckwheat hair, a slice of orange for her smile—advertising an orange soda. This would never be up in the USA.

Back to the Gate—near it is a “Room of Silence”- a room of “peace” with a rug hanging that Carl found very moving—nice group of young men from Lyon working in Frankfurt banks were visiting with us. THE RUG IS VERY DARK AT FIRST AND THEN FROM THE CENTER A LIGHT EMERGES ONCE YOU STARE AT IT AND YOU FEEL AS IF AN EXTRA-TERRESTRIAL ILLUMINATION IS POURING OUT OF THE HEAVY FIBER WEAVE.  BRIGHTENING AN OTHERWISE GLOOMY CIRCULAR ROOM IN, WHICH THIS DEEP BROWN TAPESTRY HANGS.

We stopped at the Hotel Unter den Linden for a traditional, but I thought terrible lunch.  Carl thought it was a wonderful lunch-of course he keeps throwing-up this “great food”.  He had a fishy-tasting chicken breast with boiled potatoes.  I had a beefsteak, which turned out to be meatloaf with pickles-highly salted boiled potatoes with diced salty ham. He’s had a few beers in Germany and says they are food, not drink.  I didn’t know he’d been a beer drinker—Coors for many years B.S.  (Before Sandra). Hung had given us a travel magazine with an excellent article on Berlin including a Map and text from Condé Nast that we used.

We saw the Russian Federation building covering one block; the Comic Opera where we got seats for what we thought was “Turandot” and returned them when it was “Macbeth”-it was built in 1740...The State Opera House where “The Magic Flute” was playing we passed on but peeked inside the lobby: creamy stone with gold chandeliers-sort of like San Francisco Opera House; the Humboldt University; we looked for and found the Neue Wache, so sadly moving: a small guardhouse-gray concrete building with a Pieta in the middle-dying bouquets at her feet-a Memorial to the victims of war and tyranny built in 1993—at first we felt it sacrilegious to take a photo, then we both realized it would be wrong not to—the world must always remember.

We saw the Berlin Dom, a Prussian Protestant Church restored in 1993-have to pay to get in-we peek a look at gilded wall altar and hear part of the 3 P.M. concert-the Wedding March from “Lohengrin”. Wander and eventually found the Bebel Platz, the site of Nazi book burning-in the courtyard ground are 2 Plaques inscribed with the words of poet Heinrich Heine: “Wherever books are burned, men will eventually be burnt”. And nearby a square of Plexiglas showing a room below ground of library shelves void of books-so moving—We met an American middle aged woman who didn’t get our feelings of Berlin-her daughter was an exchange student living in Bonne with a German politician’s family —she was from Near North Side Chicago and thought Berlin fine.

THE BEBEL PLATZ IS A SQUARE SURROUNDED BY THE STATE OPERA, A CATHOLIC CATHEDRAL, ACROSS THE STREET FROM THE HUMBOLDT UNIVERSITY AND THE NEUE WACHE—A FITTING PLACE FOR BOOK BURNING BY THE NAZIS.

We next crossed the Palace Bridge, which had been restored with statutes—in the distance were the TV Tower and the City Hall and the Berliner Dom. We buy a wooden Easter egg from a Polish woman vendor on the bridge after we see the Pergamon Museum, which has the huge Pergamon Hellenistic Altar, the Market Gate of Milet and the Babylonian Processional Walk and the Gate of Ishtar-a dazzling royal blue tile with daisies at the borders and huge brown bas-reliefed animals. We find the Jewish “New Synagogue” with its gold bulb steeple rising above the city—closed-we find an upscale kosher coffee shop—”Oren”-have tea and delicious apple pie (strudel) with ice cream and unsweetened whipped cream. Off to find a Memorial to the 55,000 Berlin Jews shipped to gas chambers-walk around Hackescher Market-a Greenwich Village-like place and finally find the plaque of Moses Mendelssohn, grandfather of Felix. Next to it is a park with a Memorial and wreaths-some low-life hippies hawking papers on the memorial-set back is a cluster of 16 short bronze human figures representing different ages-very moving. Take the bus back past the Tiergarten’s Victory Column.  While walking in the Palace Bridge area, we walked through an open air-market-Berlin antique and fleas; just junk. Had dinner at Imbiss, a stand-up fast food-deep fried shiskabob (pork) and fries.  Carl covered his with curried onions and I had to save the day.  Met 2 young people from Stanford studying in Germany-so young-so much life ahead of them—Carl and I both say “Have a good life” to them as we part—eerie how our minds are in unison.

We were in and out of the Zoo (Sioux), the bus-subway-train station trying to make plans for our next destination. I say nix to Potsdam and we should go to Dresden in the A.M. that means gettin’ up at 5:15 (spring time change, to make matters worse).

Sunday, March 29

We have breakfast-not as good-5 mark taxi ride around the corner costs 11 marks but the streets were too uneven to pull our luggage.  Carl’s suitcase looks like it’s headed for the graveyard, but he says he’ll have the metal posts repaired—”What use another suitcase!!!” Nasty clerk tells us there’s no escalator (of course there is) so we drag our luggage up 50 steps. (There are some very tall men here-7+ feet-children look sickly and pale.)  We take the wrong subway but manage to get to the train and head for Dresden.

The day is gray and gloomy, so we sleep most of the 2-hour trip in comfortable 2nd class compartment young blonde kid listening to Walkman dancing about-always with a bottle of beer.  So many young people in groups from school are traveling—bizarre hair colors (blue, orange), pierced eyebrows, platform shoes or sneakers, lots of hair in need of washing (Carl says he actually saw head lice on a student-Yuck!!). Don’t know what to expect in Dresden-not written up in our travel books.  Know they made china but all stores are closed on Sunday. Carl has fretted since 3 AM about where we’ll stay. Immediately outside the railroad station is a street with hotels-we stay at the first one-Hotel Mercure-room is white with beige wood-sort of like an insane asylum—white duvet covered comforters here as well-they use them as top-sheet/blanket-no bed spreads. Chambermaid has B.O.-need to spray the room. I’ve learned to pack Lysol.  No maps or material in English so we head out for parts unknown.

Dresden is a city with major reconstruction underway—most monuments and buildings are involved but there is a different feeling here than in Berlin. Here there is a sense of a great lady-a jewel rising from the ashes of war’s destruction. As we went through the day, we realized how right we were.  Gold painted outside murals of Saxony kings, sculptures on buildings-big, rough images like warriors on animals-nothing delicate-sharp contrast to the inside art style.

This is a city of smells-the smell of sausage everywhere (yuck) and rancid deep fry oil from Burger King. Lots of tourist walking.  Former Catholic, now Lutheran Cathedral being restored-pieces of original church intermingled with gray cement walls-marble floor at altar in pieces-Carl loves the “Met Opera” chandeliers. Starving-after much ado we have lunch at “The Four Restaurants” near the Semper Opera House.  Dining room has delicately painted ceiling with borders of angels and gods-stuffed heads of deer in the Saxony motif—”The Merry Widow” and Mozart music playing-beer and German wine in green-stemmed glass. I opt for a traditional German meal-goulash with dumplings-which are slices of bread with parsley.  Carl gets the special, which we were told was sauerbraten, and is a mild curried chicken and rice.

We then catch a tour of the Semper Opera House in German; of course-by an older lady who drones on-but the opera house, restored in 1972, is breathtaking.  Ceiling and moldings like the restaurant had copious marbled halls, gold, gilded gold everywhere.  Inside the theater are a beautiful-painted ceiling, elaborate chandeliers white and gold-not very big.   THE HAND DETAILING LOOKS AS IF A SINGLE HAIR OF A BRUSH WAS USED FOR THE PAINTING OF THE WALLS AND CEILINGS, BEYOND THE ELABORATENESS OF VERSAILLES.

Outside, the opera house is in a large plaza ringed with massive buildings-old, blackened from time and war. All being restored.  We wander about.  Catholic Church being restored-all clean and white inside but pictures of The Stations of The Cross are framed in gilded frames.    Palace gardens and the Palace Courtyard.  The River Elbe of Napoleon fame running by.  Too tired to walk to the other section of Dresden across the river so back to the hotel and sleep, sleep, sleep (4 PM to 6 AM).   Glad we came—a nice city should be magnificent when restored and it deserves to be.

My favorite image of Dresden was the huge area outdoors with rows and rows of remnants of buildings waiting to be put back together like a gigantic jigsaw puzzle.  (THE BUILDING RUBBLE WAS NUMBERED FOR REPLACEMENT, LIKE DINOSAUR PARTS).

A fabulous breakfast-Carl loves the food in Germany-his comfort food-the hearty grain breads are great and 82% butter and whole milk straight from Bossie the neighborhood cow can’t be beat.  Some tart red berries and fabulous jam.

Monday, March 30

The Dresden train station evokes memories of movies with soldiers packed on trains-Carl thinks   of Jews being taken to camps.  We both think of Impressionist paintings by Monet, Caillebotte of train stations.  At the end of the station is a huge Coca Cola sign.  Carl almost gets up on the wrong train to Cologne.  We have reserved seats on a near empty train.  The police women/girls look like “frou-frou” girls not like the butchy American lady cops.

The Czech police check our passports twice—look at Carl’s a long time—”I wonder why?”—The train moves along the Elbe’s strong current-sloping green hills on limestone cliffs-even a precarious bridge at top of the limestone cliff—house are utilitarian-boxy—lots of windows so probably inadequate electric supply—some house have Bavarian style of wooden beams...Charred bridge-posts near the border.  Check passports a third time.  Immediately notice the buildings are different—more ornate-older-not war ravage.  White statue of saint at river’s edge.  Some house windows have crosses as part of window glass beams-similar to ones we in Germany (I’m sure the crossed window frames were deliberate).  Carl seems to be a bit uneasy about not knowing the Czech language and not knowing where we are staying-I’m cool. Young girl on train with lots of gold rings looks similar to Carl’s old girlfriend Mimi—she looks like a very difficult woman I once worked with. Weather has been very cold in the AMs—glad I have a wool coat and scarf, but by afternoon all one needs is a light jacket.  We notice that young people are very different that German-Berlin youth—here they are open, relaxed, “normal”, and no sense of bizarre S&M modality of Berlin.

We pass Boomerang Bridge ///////C’s.

Castle on a hill reminds Carl of stories his father told him: Lord of the Manor on a rock overlooking the village below—built in the rock—does Count Dracula live there? Carl says the toilet on the train empties out directly onto the tracks—What!!??

Prague train station—seedy hotel hawkers—attractive female redhead and blonde guy try to convince us to stay in each of their B&B for $50.00.  We don’t know where to go—go on the Metro to the Don Giovanni Hotel—we don’t stay in it—very far from town center and very expensive—packed streetcars—packed subway trains that go so fast—lots of steps—few escalators-drag the luggage—cobblestone streets (get those blisters on my inside soles again), ladies wear wide heels and mini skirts—very cold in AM but spring in the afternoon.  Tram is an electric car that goes very fast and is so crowded.

It’s hard not knowing the bases of this language—the sounds are foreign.

We finally stop at an accommodation booth and a lady, who recently visited Laguna Niguel, directs us to a 3 star hotel—”5 minutes” away, which turned out to be a 30 minute walk again down cobblestone streets—I HAD ASKED HER NAME IN CASE OF A PROBLEM—SHE SAID IT WAS NOVAK—I SAID WE WERE GOING TO MY COUSIN’S KID’S BAR MITZVAH NEXT MONTH WHO’S NAME IS NOVAK-THE OLDER WOMAN SAID SHE WASN’T JEWISH HER GRANDMOTHER WAS. The hotel is off Wenceslas Square-the room is very stark-white except for the bright aqua chairs and drapes-the flooring is indoor/outdoor carpeting-the faucets are elevated over the sink and make a big mess—very hard bed—-one duvet to be used for cover, but we use it as a padding over the hard mattress. I ask Carl what would make things more comfortable and he says a new mattress—he then blows out the lights/fuse box trying to use a hair dryer.  He breaks a glass... The TV has CNN and English cartoons probably made in Russia—weird characters and Eastern Philosophy.

On a less delicate note, our B M’s stink, probably the culprit is the dark-grained breads, delicious but potent.

We walk to Wenceslas Square with its market booths-at far end is the Museum and Memorial to Slain Youth—we buy a whole chicken and bread and sit on a wall and eat—very good—two couples from England take our pictures and tell us to see the Astronomical Clock at the Old Town Square.  Again we walk and this Old Town Square is truly exciting—alive with youth and tourists—beautiful pastel buildings with ornate molding and statues.  Tyn Church with the Black Madonna and the Black steeples with old crown on them; huge monument of political hero (Jan Huss) with youths sitting around it in center of the square; Easter decorations; sidewalk cafes (very expensive); craft booths.  Astronomical Clock is fun but not so many moving figures.  Walk to Charles Bridge past shops of glass (Moser) and jewelry (Bohemian garnet-overpriced ring)—none of the glass strike us.  Charles Bridge has fabulous view of the river, Prague Castle, religious sculptures along the bridge-artisans, tourist-lots of high school kids on tours with teachers.

Tuesday, March 31

Morning breakfast is fair—off to Prague Castle—we go in the wrong direction on the tram but do make our way there.  St Vitus Church has fabulous stained glass windows in vibrant primary colors. THE SUN LIGHT BEAMS THROUGH THE STAINED GLASS LIKE WE HAVE NEVER SEEN BEFORE.  ILLUMINATING THE WALLS AND FLOORS IN BREATHTAKING DESIGNS OF COLOR.

St George Statue is Romanesque in style.  We meet  “Jean and Mary (‘Phyllis’) from Texas—We talk of angels and where to stay in Vienna.  We see the Golden Alley with the Kafka House, a tiny room. I CAN SEE WHERE THE PARANOIA CAME FROM

We buy Easter Eggs-10—will they make it to LA in one piece? And Carl gets a tin soldier (men never stop being little boys).  Buy a watercolor of the Castle—very nice. Campo Area at the foot of the Charles Bridge—eat in an out-door cafe: roast pork, sweet sauerkraut, dumplings (thick slabs of white bread-no parsley), and pancakes with jam.  Meet 2 tour guides who are teachers-one from Amsterdam, the other from Berlin who was living in Prague 25 years and still is haunted by childhood and young adulthood. Then to the old/new Jewish area—beautiful, wealthy, several (4) synagogues, most moving one has names of 80,000 (Carl finds 15 Korn names there) Jews from the area killed in the Death Camps. The Cemetery is one square block containing 20,000 grave stacked 12 deep with stones in front of each other-ravens nest in the bare trees—young girls putting tiny white papers with their deepest wishes at the tomb of a famous rabbi.

THERE ARE FOUR SYNAGOGUES IN THE AREA.  ON IS 800 YEARS OLD AND IS STILL IN USE.  IT HAS PLACARDS SHOWING THE EDICTS ALLOWING JEWS TO LIVE IN THE CITY. ANOTHER TEMPLE HOLDS JUDAICA THAT WAS SAVED FROM THE NAZIS AND WAS ACTUALLY TO BE USED BY HITLER IN A MUSEUM HE WAS TO OPEN SHOWING THE ARTIFACTS OF THE DESTROYED “RACE”.

We snack at a cafe on the Old Town Square-helpful waiter, George—sweet, awful desert of dough dumplings with tiny canned plum inside-covered with sugar syrup and poppy seeds.  A REGIONAL DELICACY.  Tram to The Church with the Infant Jesus of Prague—rather small about 12 inches in a gold encrusted altar.  LOOKS LIKE A LITTLE DOLL. To the Mozart Museum where he composed “Don Giovanni”—closed but we sit in the gardens—-On the walk to the Mozarteum we pass a run-down factory with a blue plaque on the wall to the Jewish people from the area that were killed.  Very Moving. Carl says he can imagine us living our ordinary lives here and he too could have been taken away.  IT FELT AS IF WE WERE IN A CITY THAT WAS NO DIFFERENT IN LIVING STYLE FOR US THAN L.A. WE WOULD GO TO OPERAS, MEET THE SAME PEOPLE WE DO NOW AND EAT AT THE SAME RESTAURANTS WE DO AND LIVE IN THE SAME TYPE OF NEIGHBORHOOD.  THE JEWISH NEIGHBORHOOD OF PRAGUE IS BY FAR THE WEALTHIEST I HAVE EVER SEEN.... IF IT WERE AS IT WAS IN THE EARLY THIRTIES IT WOULD BE THE FOREMOST JEWISH AREA OF THE WORLD.  ONE MUST REMEMBER THAT PRAGUE WAS THE CENTER OF JEWISH EUROPEAN CULTURE FOR ONE THOUSAND YEARS.

We tram back to Charles Bridge passing the closed funicular that would have given a view of the city. Final walk over Charles Bridge—see the Astronomical Clock again in the Old Town Square—I do, but Carl misses it as he’s getting me a hot dog and coke—go to the train station for a schedule. Later in the evening we go to the McDonald’s near the Museum at the top of Wenceslas Square and meet a 24-year-old boy sports teacher from England teaching in Prague…very interesting—he’s been traveling for 4 years.

Wednesday, April 1

We go to the Main Railroad Station via taxi—yes, he did try to rip us off—even more confusing than the other station in town.  Somehow we find the train to Vienna.  A 20-year-old girl from Canada has been traveling 6 months—friendly- has malaria as does her sub-Saharan lover...chatty—gives us her seats.

Other thoughts of Prague:  Men and women are tall, big-boned people generally rude and unhelpful—the waiters and taxi drivers do try to rip you off; the train stations are very seedy.  Nothing playing at the opera, ballet or concert halls.  Poor selection of hotels but that will probably improve.  Vegetables and dark breads good. St Vitus Cathedral stained glass, Jewish Area impressive and moving.  Transportation moves so fast. A picturesque city with beautiful buildings-a walking city around the Old Town and the Charles Bridge. Beautiful views along the river—must be breathtaking when the trees are green and the flowers in bloom.

Uneventful train ride marked contrast in the Czech and Austrian police—the Czechs are dressed in blue slacks and short-sleeved light blue shirts, in need of deodorant—crude mannerisms.  The Austrians are dressed in gendarme jackets; more refined manners and accents.  It’s still exciting to get one’s passport stamped—my book is filling up!!!!

Vienna—what a difference.................The train pulls in slowly, a man helps me off the train and handles my luggage.  The platform is clean; the station is clean—no graffiti—no bums.  Of course we are lost. People are helpful—Carl figures out how to use the phone with my help (2 coins) and he negotiates price @ the Hotel Austria recommended by Jean and Mary (‘Phyllis’) and their Angel Jason from Prague Castle—somehow we both feel the place will be O K.  Carl gets a taxi and a veteran driver of 40 years drives us the long way to the hotel.

First impression of the city: non-frenetic, wide pedestrian streets and squares, early spring flowers in bloom-everyone strolling-youth and adult—buildings a blend of Paris and Prague but with gentility.  We both agree we like this place and will stay quite a few days. EVERYTHING SEEMS TO BE CREAM COLORED WITH ACCENTS OF PASTELS, BLUE, PINK, GREEN, GOLD—ALL CREAM COLORED THEMSELVES.

We walk to St Stephen’s Cathedral after checking in—we catch a glimpse of Monet-like stained glass. Walk to find a place for dinner-every place in Frommer’s is closed but we do end up at “Gosse Bier Klinic” a famous rustic pub—we eat beef with gravy and Austrian noodles and Hungarian Goulash with great gherkins—each piece of bread eaten costs and Carl has a beer (of course I sip each one he has had on this trip).  Make it to a tourist booth to get “Vienna A-Z” guidebook that explains all the famous places marked with flags.  We’d passed quite a few including Hayden’s apartment and wanted to know the details.  There are lots of palaces, sculptures and shops, museums and gardens-huge buildings.  We stop by the Staat Opera—sold out for a few nights—may do standees tomorrow for Wagner’s “Rienzi”—I’ve heard excerpts and like it.  “Meistersinger” is Friday, but Carl says it’s too long—his loss.  I saw it in San Francisco and loved it. Who needs subtitles for Wagner?  Is Zubin Mehta the conductor!?  Tomorrow will be a long day—I keep pushing for leisurely, but Carl covers so much ground in a day. On the way back we peruse pastry shops—Carl selects Chestnut pastry.  IT WAS A SILVER DOLLAR SIZE ROUNDNESS OF MAROON PUREE COVERED WITH BITTERSWEET CHOCOLATE WITH A SHORT TAIL EXITING ON TOP. Tomorrow will do a Hotel Sacher torte.

We pass by the Holocaust Memorial—a split sculpture with a barbed wire-grave—horribly moving. Our hotel room looks like Carl decorated it-lace coverings (I WOULD NOT HAVE USED LACE, OR WOULD I?), and lace curtains, rose velvet chairs, brass clothing hooks, cherry wood, Lipperzaner prints on the walls.

When we crossed into Austria, Carl suddenly said he had to call his parents back in L.A.—it was an emotional moment—was he remembering this moment from the 60’s or is this as close as he’ll get to his parental homeland?   NO, I’M NOT LOSING IT, IT JUST SEEMED THE THING TO DO. Maybe there’ll be a trip to Budapest before leaving this area.  Carl doesn’t really want to go to Krakow.

The bed is comfortable—they even give a small pillow-like the one Carl brought from home.  He also said having a footboard helps relieve his knee pain.  I noted that in the USA we have a king size bed with ONE mattress and a couple shares sheets and blankets.  In Central Europe there is a “king size” bed, low to the ground with head and footboards, but it is really two single beds pushed together and two separate duvets. Sort of tells you how each culture views the bedroom experience—one encourages intimacy and one is function (we’re here to sleep) I DIDN’T SAY THAT

Thursday, April 2

I love Vienna-plain and simple—it’s one of my favorite cities.  I love the pace, the buildings, the gardens, the opera, the museums, and the ice cream.  In one day we did so much. I can only highlight: Breakfast was bad—the highlight was the corn flakes and good jam.  “Vienna A-Z” provides us with a walking tour and we do pretty well following it. We run into the Canadian girl from the train near the Naschmarket, which had an incredible mountain of Easter Eggs-more pastel and delicate than those in Prague.  We see the oldest pub and street near our hotel; the Anker Clock; Beethoven’s House; the Burgess Theater; lots of churches; the only surviving synagogue (it was in a residential area) where we were grilled by a security guard before being allowed in to see the sanctuary behind glass doors-very nice in powder blue; lots of Patrician Houses from the Middle Ages; City Hall where a well laid out park was across the street and we sat there among the trees and daffodils and tulips; fountains and statues....A PARK WHERE A PARK SHOULD BE, A BENCH IN THAT PARK WHERE A BENCH SHOULD BE—FLOWERS AND FOUNTAINS IN THAT PARK NEAR THE BENCH WHERE FLOWERS AND FOUNTAINS SHOULD BE—lots of signs “Keep Off the Grass”, but lots of benches;  the Toy Museum; the Church of the Capuchin Friars with the Imperial Vault—cold and eerie with caskets of Maria Theresa and all of her family—children and baby caskets—caskets with skulls and crowns—a lady vacuuming one—I wouldn’t have that job!!;  the Majolica House with its beautiful pastel floral tiles; a return to the Monument Against War and Fascism—Yesterday we had missed the most moving angle—the coffin turned out to be an old Jewish man scrubbing anti-Nazi slogans off the pavement—so horrific!!;  we wandered into a museum having Monet to Picasso showing—saw a few paintings but minor by our standards;  Henry Moore exhibit going on;  Dali exhibit;  the University of Vienna-the third oldest in Europe;  the Parliament, an awesome Greek Palace; the  Museum of Fine Arts where the picture gallery was O K but the special exhibit of Brueghel was fabulous—a once in a lifetime opportunity; the house where Mozart composed “Figaro”; ate raspberry strudel (fair) near the museum;  Argentinean Beef and Salad (good) near the State opera House; Sacher Torte (good) at the Hotel  Sacher; fabulous ice cream (Zanoni and Zanoni); strolled into grand hotels—The Bristol with its aromatic chocolate Easter Bunny; the good old boy’s club The Hotel ANA, which was the former Atomic Energy Commission Headquarters with its green leathers and oaks and fabulous chandeliers.

Carl splurged—$180.00 per ticket to the Vienna Staat Opera’s “Rienzi”—Wagner’s first opera success. Carl says it was “really quite good”—I say it was fabulously good-we had separate seats-front row #3 on the first box level each side of the auditorium—I sat next to Robert from San Francisco who traveled to Salzburg every summer, Carl sat next to a Nazi couple.  The Opera House is horseshoe shaped, fabulous acoustics; Mehta was scheduled to conduct and the substitute was in over his head—orchestra spotty, chorus was fabulous—they couldn’t put one more person on stage; the principals were good and Jerusalem, who was so awful in L A’s “Tristan” sang well, most of the time.  The production was very troubling: a Nazi terrorist theme, including crematoriums with body bags—along the lines of the Berlin Opera’s “Il Trovatore”—scary.  Before the performance we bought slices of pork and rolls with every grain on earth for our picnic dinner in our room—quite tasty.

In one day we saw over 35 famous places-no wonder my feet hurt!! On the way home from the opera, a young couple on the street pavement next to the Opera House—she was giving him “coke” in his nose...What??     Really only drug use we saw here.

P.S. Brueghel painted in 1600-intricate detailed scenes of peasant life—often with deformed people.  In Central Europe, especially Prague, there were a noticeable number of people with orthopedic problems—using arm braces to walk, groups of mentally retarded people, skin maladies (scars, sores covered by makeup or poor quality bandages, or left for all to see).

Friday, April 3

Vienna

Breakfast bright and early. Tables have ceramic trash containers—not a bad idea to hold banana peels, tea bags, etc.  I WISH WE HAD THEM AT HOME. Early start to get to Lippizanner training session at Hofburg Palace.  Meet Esther, the attorney and her friend Ronny, gym owner from Israel. Esther turns out to be a kindred spirit and ends up inviting us to her Home in Israel—one day.  Horse training is very interesting—sneak a few photos. Take the tram, after a fashion—misinformation at the tobacco store, misinformation several times from the tram drivers—finally on way to Belvedere Palace to see Klimt.  One of the high points of this trip—“The Kiss” is fabulous and I get Carl to give me a kiss in front of it, albeit on the forehead. THIS IS VIENNA SANDRA NOT WEST HOLLYWOOD.  The other Klimt ladies are good too—“Judith” is small, several “Adele’s”—but “The Kiss” is the masterpiece. 

On the next tram we see a proper Viennese couple sitting perfectly straight in their Sunday best—he has ears and eyes like Carl’s—a possible relative? THE WOMAN IS SITTING LIKE MY FATHER’S SISTER SARAH—VERY STRAIGHT AND STERN WITH VERY WHITE SKIN AND VERY BLUE EYES. NO MISCHIEF THERE. VERY, VERY PROPER. THE MAN HAS HIS LEGS CROSSED, AS MY FATHER WOULD HAVE; AGAIN HE IS VERY CORRECT.  We are going, as are they to the cemetery where Beethoven, Strauss, Brahms, Schubert are buried—also a memorial to Mozart.

The Cemetery has wonderful tombstones—real works of art—on top of many of the graves are live flowers— Especially pansies.  The Cemetery is huge and very well kept.  There is a funeral going on for a politician—the older couple on the tram is in attendance—stairway to chapel is full of flowers in large wreaths.  An Honor Guard in Viennese garb and perfect boot steps (unnerving). THEY MARCHED PERFECTLY; IN WHITE WITH RED AND BLUE BANDANAS; IN PERFECT FORMATION AND UNISON: THE SOUND: CLOMP—CLOMP—CLOMP—CLOMP—CLOMP OF BOOTS.

As we leave the high-class area of the Cemetery, the graves of the more common folks are simpler, but as we approach the Jewish section we (especially me) are shocked to see the difference.  The main section had paved streets and well kept graves; the Jewish section has dirt roads, broken and rusty graves overrun with weeds. What a disgrace. I’d like to tell that upstart security Jewish man at the Synagogue to spend some time keeping up the Cemetery to honor Jewish ancestors. True the number of Jews in Vienna has been drastically reduced, but certainly this is a project worth doing—I’d do it if I were in Vienna—truly I would.

Lunch at a sidewalk cafe just off the Kartner near the Opera House—I have a good chicken kebab and Carl has a hamburger which is less like meatloaf but still not a U.S. burger.  Sitting next to us is an odd fellow living in Bulgaria—he’s from Canada and doing research on immigration of Yugoslavian ancestors.

Nap and then yet another trek—this time to the Prater, a renowned amusement park with a notable Ferris wheel.  We walk through a lower middle—class neighborhood—see the church where Handy was choir director and a gorgeous pharmacy of old.  Then we enter a seedy section but far less seedy than most other cities we’ve been in—even a few sex shops.  The amusement park also looks seedy, so we leave and walk back on a different route—also seedy, so we hop a tram.  Carl treats us to Viennese coffee with whip cream (MELANGE) and so/so pastries (IT WAS AT THE HOTEL SACHER, GEEZE) and a tiny glass of water.

Finally we make it home—rest for tomorrow’s adventures.

P.S. the lobby sitting area in our hotel has figurines with same face as my lady of the musical trio at home.

MY FATHER’S MOZART TRIO MADE IN OCCUPIED JAPAN.

Saturday, April 4

Off to Schoenbrun Palace—the subways are so clean and laid out so simply——it would be hard to get lost. The palace is the most beautiful one we’ve seen in Europe. There was an excellent self—guided audio tour—each room was more beautiful than the one before.  The Large Gallery for banquets—where Kennedy and Kruschev met—The Hall of Mirrors where the 6 year old Mozart played, the Chinese Rooms, the Million’s Room of parchment miniatures, the dresses of Elisabeth (Sissy), the wife of Franz Joseph II —the gift shop even had a Barbie doll of her. Paintings, furniture, the simple quarters of Emperor Franz Joseph II, the stuffed pet bird of a son of Napoleon who died at age 21.  The gardens were vast and there were early signs of the beauty spring and summer will bring; the tree line is perfectly cut.

We take a subway and tram to Freud’s house. Even on the tram, all the orange hand holders above sway in perfect unison. We get in free at Freud’s Museum and it is very interesting to see his “couch” and the door listing his office hours.  This is the mecca of every student who took Pysch 101. Lunch at Nordsee—a very good fish restaurant chain from Northern Germany packed with more noise and frenzy than any place we’ve experienced in Vienna.

Off to the Hofburg Palace again, the winter palace of the Habsburgs, to see The Treasury—a most extensive and first class collection of crowns with big raw precious stones and pearls including the Holy Roman Empire Crown, the Austrian Empire Crown.  There are altarpieces with pearls/jewels and lots of relics of The Crown or Cross (could there be so many pieces in the world, now really?!); coronation robes, the Agate Bowl once thought to be The Holy Grail and a huge tusk associated with Christ. We peek into the Imperial Palace and see the royal china, candleholders and crystal.

After days of nagging, Carl agrees to souvenir shopping before the stores close at 5—we’ve looked at lots of porcelain but nothing hits us.  Finally select a cheap Lippizanner horse statuette, an embroidered cloth which I’ll use as furniture scarf—it has the colors and delicate floral feeling of Vienna.  Also get a few gift pieces for relatives.

End the day with fabulous tortes at The Gerstner—black forest for me and poppy seed—apple—nut for Carl, plus 2 Viennese coffees (I’m beginning to like this coffee with whipped cream drink). An early night since we’re off at 7 AM to Budapest.

It becomes clearer to me that life back home will become more difficult—as I experience more of the world than most people have, what can we talk about—or have in common—thank God, Carl and I have each other and our common memories.  I’d be lost without him...DITTO

P.S. We had also wandered into Palace Dorotheum—a former pawnshop, now an upscale auction house.

Vienna is a city of cream colors—pastels and gold, a city of delicate wild flowers growing on lawns of parks where no one walks on the grass—a city of vibrant colored plants and pansies, tulips and daffodils.

P.P.S. No wonder we were grilled at the synagogue. World news has trouble in Israel over the death of Palestinian terrorist and a Nazi war criminal was convicted in France.  I’m surprised they let anyone into the temple.

Finally we make it home and rest for tomorrow’s adventures.

Sunday, April 5

What can I say about the day excursion to Budapest—Carl was so excited to be going—we never even thought about this city on this trip. The hotel recommended and it was a good choice, Royal Tours.  One other couple from Lisbon and a driver, age 26, Muslim from Algeria. The drive on the autobahn through the Vienna Woods was uneventful. Buda and Pest were two cities separated by the Danube. Gellert Hill has a panoramic view of Buda and Pest.  The Citadel is on it—a fortress built by the Hapsburgs—a nasty old man charged 3 schillings (50 cents) to use the bathroom.  There is a statue erected during Soviet occupation to honor soldiers killed while liberating from the Nazi Occupation; the guide said the statue overlooking the river used to hold a propeller and now holds wheat—in stone—all of the Soviet names have been removed from the monument.  We see the Old Chain Bridge crossing the Danube in the distance.

Buda is on a hill overlooking the river with Pest to the south.  Castle Hill has the Palace with 3 sections—an old fortress, a section from Franz Joseph II and a section from Maria Theresa.  EACH SECTION IS A DIFFERENT ARCHITECTURAL STYLE BUT BLENDED TOGETHER WELL, AROUND A LARGE COURTYARD FOR PROCESSIONALS.  We walked in the courtyard. Along the way was a park with pieces of an old church embedded in the ground.  A monument to the Plague (we’ve seen several in various European cities). Palm Sunday at St Matthias Church—Gothic, porcelain tiled roof—then it became a mosque—the Neo-Gothic. Inside every area of the ceiling, walls, floor is decorated—painted in the Turkish Style.  There were four stained glass windows surviving from the 1400’s—they had been removed during times of war. It was strange for tourists to be walking about during Mass on this solemn Sunday—ladies carried signs in multi—languages saying “Silence” which tourists rejected.  Ritual is an interesting thing. Here I am on the other side of the world at a religious service in another language—Hungarian—and yet I know when everyone suddenly kneels that it’s part of The Passion Reading where Christ dies and everyone kneels for a few moments.  Since palms are not readily available in this area, people carry pussy willows or spring twigs.

We wander the shops—rare to be open on Sundays in Europe—but obviously this is a city in desperate need of tourist dollars.  The colors are bright primary red, blue, green, yellow—the lace and pottery cheap quality—the costumed dolls ornately garish.  We did find a lovely delicate souvenir plate.  Also took photos at the Fisherman’s Bastion—an old fish market rarely used because of the odor.

We cross over into Pest, drive through sections where clean—up of buildings has begun.  We’re told each building was an aristocratic home—a mini—palace.  Some of the statutes are monumental art—deco style. THERE IS A SENSUALITY TO THE FULL BODIED FIGURES OF HUNGARIAN ART THAT WAS MISSING IN BERLIN, BUT IT IS MUTED.  HOWEVER, THIS FEELING OF LIFE WAS MUCH GREATER THAN THE SOVIET ERA STATUARY THAT ONLY DOMINATES ONE’S SENSES BY OVERPOWERING SIZE. The Opera House is a smaller version of the Vienna Staat Opera.  There are several museums all closed on Sunday, so we don’t get to see the restored Museum of Fine Arts with its old masters.  We pass the world’s oldest “stay—in—one—place” circus and a carnival amusement park.  We pass one of the public thermal baths— a big tourist draw since over 125 thermal springs are in Budapest.  There is a park in this area but nothing like those in Vienna.

Hero’s Square had a monument with seven Mongolian Tribe statue and statues of famous Hungarians. There was a memorial site to Stalin, which had been removed after the liberation.  St Stephen’s Basilica is closed on Sunday mornings—how respectful.  The first King of Hungary was made a saint when his tomb in this cathedral was opened many years after his death and his right hand was still covered with flesh—I’m glad it was closed—I don’t think I could handle seeing these hand bones for 20 cents!!! We have lunch at a place recommended by our guide—the food was great.  I had my first full beer— Hungarian—pretty good, tipsy all afternoon.  Traditional food: chicken paprika in a mild sour cream paprika sauce and special pasta for me and Hungarian goulash with tine pasta circles for Carl.  For desert—pancakes with dark chocolate pudding flambé and cake with same chocolate pudding, whipped cream and nuts—Yum!! WHO CAN EAT ALL THIS STUFF AND SURVIVE LONG???

There was a discussion on life with the young Muslim guide—by the end he learned Carl was Jewish and Carl “half” jokingly remarked to me that we would be left behind...I WASN’T JOKING, I WAS SCARED.  THE YOUNG MAN WAS VERY PASSIONATE IN HIS BELIEFS.

We had too much free time in Pest—the main shopping area was seedy and the people walking, both local and tourist were generally unattractive.  Again the quality of goods was poor and garish. We did see young Hungarian dancers in native costumes in one department store. We ended our Pest visit by sitting in front of a McDonalds’s—no Hungarian coins to buy a drink—playing cards and smelling the sewers of Pest.

On the way back to Vienna, we stopped at a “Tijuana truck stop” complete with even worse quality knick—knack—knacks and a special hotel/brothel for truckers.

The beer had made me quite chatty so I expounded on Clinton, morality and art (once I found out our tour couple guy was an art historian from Lisbon and his wife was a pre—school teacher).  We ended by exchanging addresses including his e-mail (how the world has changed) in case we ever travel to Lisbon.

Budapest is definitely not the Paris of the East as it is referred to.  WELL, A RIVER RUNS THROUGH THE CENTER OF TOWN AND THE MAJORITY OF THE BUILDINGS ARE 18—19th CENTURY. I’m glad we saw it, but we’d never return.  The city is only seven years into its new government and renovation, but it doesn’t seem laid out for success.  The area around St Stephen’s should be turned into a pedestrian area as the cars and tour buses are already creating confusion and pollution.

Time to leave Vienna, but first a last walk to Zanoni and Zanoni for ice cream.  Carl wants to get standee tickets for the opera—“Marriage of Figaro”—we think it’s at 8, it really started at 6.  Turns out it is a big sell out—a memorial performance to Van Karajan and a cast including Bryn Terfel, someone I’ve wanted to hear.   We don’t know this until later.  Three American girls working for the Peace Corps as teachers in Bulgaria give us their standee tickets—for free—we go to the very top of the house and see 45 minutes of Mozart—where else to hear his Opera. That night Carl gets to be dinner for some bugs—but he survives once I suggest he change his T-shirt!!!! IT WAS CLEAN—MAYBE???

Monday, April 6

We pull our suitcases to the subway—it starts to drizzle big drops—Viennese people are so helpful—a young woman helps straighten out Carl’s rollers, another older woman takes us to the elevator.  Sadly, Carl’s American Tourister from his college journeys doesn’t survive this trip.  Half of the handle pops off—not even the Swiss Army knife of the young Australian traveler can save the day, nor can the ticket puncher of the trainman, which Carl tried to use as a hammer.  What to do?? Fortunately, later at the hotel in Salzburg, the maintenance man repairs it.

Salzburg:  nothing like I had mistakenly imagined.  In my mind Salzburg was a city of Mozart and of gold and palaces with young people dressed in Mozartian garb as they sold tickets for Mozart Chamber Music. But, that’s Vienna!! Salzburg is like a Solvang tourist town with lots of tourists.  We were ripped off four times in less than 2 hours:  by the car driver; by the hotel clerk overcharging; by the waitress charging us for beers we never ordered; and by the elevator operator taking us to the top of the Monchberg.

The city seems fake and contrived.  True, there are some original buildings and monuments but so many are newly built to look old—a rather clever duping of the tourist.  Except now that I’m a seasoned traveler, I can be a bit savvier.

Salzburg is nestled at the foot of the Bavarian Alps.  People wear Tyrolean felt hats—they truly do.  Our hotel was on the outskirts of the city but at least the 10-minute walk to town really was 10 minutes. The Mercure Hotel chain here is like any nice American hotel except there was no English TV station and the breakfast buffet was a poor quality. (I’m glad we saved a piece of egg bread and jelly from yesterday to fight over).  I did eat Wiener Schnitzel finally and we had an interesting expensive dinner of Tyrolean soup—minestrone with slices of pancake, beef, chicken and fresh vegetables—Carl had a very cheesy pasta dish. The salad used dark oil and vinegar—quite tasty. We tried in vain to find the local McDonald’s which everyone kept saying was just down the street—we walked in a heavy rain—saw a group of High School orchestra kids from Visalia, California who’ll perform at the Salzburg Easter Festival—what a thrill.

Now for the sights of Salzburg:  we saw the house where Mozart was born; the Dom with 4000 pipe organ where Mozart was baptized and played the organ; the Cemetery at St Sebastian’s Church where his wife and father are buried.  The Dom is beautiful inside—early Baroque—balconies on the walls (where the choir sang?); paintings—no stained glass, but three bronze doors.  We walked across the Salzach River to the busy tourist street—the Getreidegasse—lots of wrought iron shop signs.  We walked to the Monchberg lift and went up to the Cafe Winkler (closed on Mondays) and saw a panoramic view of the city.  We decided to walk down—down a slippery path in the woods (Carl’s big adventure) which was the wrong way—then down the backside of the mountain, also wrong but we saw beautiful green hills with the Alps in the distance—wild flower in bloom and a Buddhist memorial on a bench.  We took a tunnel through the mountain—carvings in the mountain at either end. We strolled the Gruner Markt where fruits and vegetables as well as Mozart Candy (“Venus Nipples” according to Carl)—we bought 18 pieces which Carl will probably eat up before we return are sold, and stalls of Easter decorations. Nearby, we saw the University, the Residence of the Archbishops and always n the distance The Fortress and Convent.  We tried to get tickets to the Salzburg Festival  (the Berlin Philharmonic doing Mahler with Claudio Abaddo conducting)—the concert hall wanted 1000 Schillings ($82.00) per ticket but a ticket booth wanted 2500 Schillings—needless to say we didn’t go—for opera maybe, but classical music is not our passion.

Tuesday, April 7

Dragged our luggage, once again, to the train leaving for Munich after only one afternoon and night in Salzburg—enough time for us—I doubt if we’ll pass through here again—pleasant enough, but not worth a return.  Salzburg is the place of “Sound of Music” fame—it has the feel and if we were so inclined, which we weren’t, we could have done The Tour. The train ride is quite picturesque—we see the snow covered Alps, lush green valleys, Bavarian houses, sheep, beautiful horses running through green meadows—these are truly post card scenes.  It seems like a wealthy country. Carl is sleepy this morning on the train. We both know why...On TV last night we saw the Salzburg version of “Wheel of Fortune”—unattractive contestants—a guy in flannel shirt with earring, blonde with long teased hair, brunette with ponytail and an average Vanna White in mini—skirt.

Munich

Huge train station. Walked to the Ibis Hotel—close by—hotel full of young travelers—room very utilitarian—amazing how a tiny space can have so many nooks and crannies.  Walked to Karlsplatz, a town square with arch leading into the main shopping street.  McDonald’s with stone seats around the square—too hot to eat inside. I don’t think the stores in Munich have air—conditioning and I know no hotels in this part of the world, which have heat at night!!!  Ate a chef salad outside—a juggling act.  Spilled dressing on shoes. Some demonstration going on by the Palace of Justice.  Pass through the archway, Karl’s Tor, to Neuhauser Strasse, a pedestrian street with lots of department stores and boutiques.  Go into the Frauenkirche, Munich’s largest church—Carl likes the wood crucifix— I love the stained glass windows—the few intricate ones in front were saved during the last war, the new ones near the entry are beautiful modern designs and colors.  THIS CATHEDRAL IS THE SEE FOR THE ARCHBISHOP OF MUNICH AND IS GERMAN—GOTHIC WITH THE INTERIOR WALLS A LIGHT STONE COLOR AND THE RIBBINGS FOR THE VAULTED CEILINGS A DARKER CREAM—THE CRUCIFIX FLOATS OVER THE CENTRAL PORTION OF THE NAVE WITH THE OLD STAINED GLASS WINDOWS BEHIND IT—IT IS THE SAME DARK CREAM AS THE RIBBINGS.

We pass the Natural History Museum with the famous Bear Statue in front.   Go, to the New Town Hall with ornate sculptures—lizard going up the side—decorating the building and a wonderful clock—THE GLOCKENSPIEL—figures on the clock move at noon and at 5 PM —we sat in the rain—of course this was the one day we didn’t take umbrellas and the day I took the hood off my coat—still we sat on the plaza next to a young woman holding a penis and testicle balloon.  AQUA—COLORED NO LESS.

The clock had courtiers, a jousting duel, and a May Dance, topped off by a cuckoo clock.  We saw the Old Town Hall adjacent and the next day went to the Vikualienmarkt, Munich’s oldest market—sort of like the Farmer’s market in L A, around the corner.

We set out to see if any opera tickets were available—went to the Residenz, the former residence of the rulers of Bavaria.  It’s being converted into a theater district—the palace’s livery stable is a theater and there are beautiful Rococo theaters inside.  After much misdirection, we find the box office and get two tickets $36.00 total for “Aridane auf Noxos”—PERFECT FOR BAVARIA.

We stop in at the Hofbrau Haus—famous beer—a great hall—Carl drank there in the 60’s.  I’m sure its quite rowdy when beer starts flowing. On the way back through the Residenz Platz there is a small group of Neo—Nazi skinheads with Mohawks and tattoos (first we’ve seen). They have 3 dogs, which begin to fight—they don’t break it up until one dog has his throat ripped open—scary.  THE PEOPLE IN THE PARK WATCHED DID NOTHING.  THE STREETS LINING THE PARK WERE HOME TO THE MOST EXPENSIVE BOUTIQUES IN MUNICH AND THE NATIONAL THEATER OPERA HOUSE WAS AROUND THE CORNER.  NO ONE DID ANYTHING, AS ONE DOG WAS RIPPED APART BY THE OTHER.

We keep recalling Munich as the place where Nazism began.

After changing into dry long coats, we eat at a famous German restaurant—Nurnberger Bratwurst Glockl am Dom—long wooden tables—upstairs’ room of deer antlers—good food: potato pancakes, pork, potato dumplings, cabbage salad.  The next day we again eat here and have pork with mushroom cream sauce, Austrian noodles, fried pig knuckles.

The National Theater—the state opera house is BEAUTIFUL—the anti-rooms are small, made to seem larger with mirrors—some are deep baby blue with white and gold and crystal chandeliers; one is a deep rose with white and gold and crystal chandeliers; one room has a huge floral chandelier in clear glass.  The auditorium is done in rose velvet, horseshoe—shaped with railing of beige and gold.  The ceiling has a huge gorgeous chandelier surrounded by beige and white Wedgewood inlay.  THE FOYER ROOMS’ CHANDELIERS DRIPPED WITH THE MOST PERFECT CRYSTALS I HAVE EVER SEEN—DRIPPED AND DRIPPED AND DRIPPED, REFLECTED BY THE MIRRORED WALLS.   THE HUGE FLORAL CHANDELIER WAS THE ONLY DECORATION IN ITS ROOM AND WAS HAND—BLOWN PERFECTLY CLEAR AND FORMED WITH MATCHING SCONCES, EVER—SO POLITELY WALLED.

The production was bright with cartoonish costumes—good singing.  We left at intermission, but first walked around the lobbies.  People walked from room to room, most dressed rather frumpy, and quite unattractively. They served a big bowl of strawberries with vanilla ice cream—we didn’t get any.  In that area, an usher stopped Carl—he spoke to us in English, which meant he must have been following us, and questioned our presence in the opera house.  We were quite chagrinned—showed our tickets—we figured people were bent out of shape by our white tennis shoes—and as we left, Carl said loudly: “How can people wearing cheap— fake rhinestone earrings give us looks about our white Reeboks!!” Of course everyone else had checked his or her coats and umbrellas and I was carrying my hot pink umbrella!!

P.S.—Carl—not one bit paranoid—keeps reminding me of how many times our pictures were taken in airports. We noticed in our hotel, the inexpensive one, that the head maid was cleaning the metal grooves on the elevator landing—not that’s German cleanliness!! Tomorrow is up for grabs.  Carl is tired of museums, so he decided to take the trip to Dachau.

Wednesday, April 8

Subway then a bus——so far we’ve gone free on the subways but do have to pay for the bus. We really don’t know what to expect. The city of Dachau is quite charming and we get no sense of foreboding at the camp.  The museum has an informative but sanitized version of the history of the camp.  I find the application questionnaire interesting, as is the display of badges, including ones for homosexuals (pink). We see barracks, the crematoria, the shower—gas chamber (never used)—we run into an old man who survived the camp—there are memorials of the major religions and a Carmelite Convent on the border.  The most moving things to us were the overgrown ditches bordered by barbed—wire where prisoners were shot— THEIR BLOOD DRAINED INTO THOSE DITCHES, and the Memorial with ashes of the unknown prisoners who died there with rocks placed on top—a living memorial. The weather there is cold and windy, but the skies are blue with white clouds—Carl finds the poplar trees outlining the Camp moving. There are many young people visiting this camp—we like that—each generation must learn to forestall this happening again—and we both feel it’s inevitable—it will occur again——hopefully after we die. We meet two college guys studying in Brussels—nice, bright.

TWO NIGHTS LATER I AWAKEN IN A SWEAT SEEING THE BLACK AND WHITE   PHOTOGRAPHS ON DISPLAY OF THE PREGNANT MOTHER WALKING WITH HER THREE CHILDREN TO EXTERMINATION.  THE PICTURE OF THE MIDDLE—AGED MAN WITH HIS EYES POPPING OUT OF HIS HEAD WHO WAS BEING USED IN HIGH PRESSURE EXPERIMENTS; OF THE VERY HANDSOME YOUNG MAN ATTACHED TO AN IV AND DYING; THE MASS GRAVE PICTURES WERE AFTERTHOUGHTS ON THE WALLS OF THE ADMINISTRATION BUILDING HOUSING THE MUSEUM IN DACHAU... THE CREMATORIUM AND GAS CHAMBER ROOMS HAD SIGNS SAYING IN SEVERAL LANGUAGES “DON’T WRITE ON THE WALLS”. THERE WAS AN ABSENCE OF FEELING WHEN WE WERE THERE, OTHER THAN OF ANTI— SEPSIS.  BUT THERE WAS A RESIDUAL.

We spend the rest of the day wandering around the Marienplatz in Munich—doing a little souvenir shopping—get a cute miniature beer stein and buying pastries for the airplane (rhubarb and cherry strudels with Bavarian cream and a loaf of bread—ABOUT $18.00). The plane leaves Munich at 6 AM, so we have decided to leave the hotel at 3 AM and take the subway for the 40-minute trip.  

Thursday, April 9

It’s only a little scary at this hour walking the two blocks to the Central Station. We make it to the airport. Our flight to Dusseldorf is uneventful except for a delay to de—ice the wings and someone else is in our seats!! People everywhere are the same—we all have assigned seats but long before departure people line—up— why? The Munich Airport is quite technological—glass and white metal tubing, primary colored neon lights. We read that this area’s airport and transportation system was redone for the 1972 Olympics—am I surprised that Israelis were killed during those games and that the games went on like their lives didn’t matter—not after what I’ve seen in Germany.

The flight to LA was uneventful.  It’s always exciting to see the USA as we fly over Fargo, deserts, the Rockies, Las Vegas and LA.

Friday, April 10

It is 4 AM. and I’m re—reading this journal and reflecting on my personal highlights.  Carl’s may be different—I’ll ask him to write his down if he wants. What I remember most about Berlin is the over—riding sense of evil that permeates the city—it should never be rebuilt—it should stay a ruin, a reminder of the evil rampant on earth.  I will never forget the Reichstag, the Berlin Wall, the Nazi—esque “new” sculptures, the Bebel Platz site of book burnings, the opera (“Trovatore” that epitomized all we felt in Berlin), the Neue Wache Pieta, the 16 human figures of the Holocaust

Memorial in a deserted park in the Hackescher Markt, the lingerie bondage mannequins at the upscale department store KaDeWe, the order and the cleanliness of the city contrasted with the graffiti, the great desserts—according to Carl, in the “land of his comfort food”—Carl would also add Nefretiti and his emotional reaction at the synagogue to this list.  And I’d add the way bedrooms are laid out with 2 mattresses and a down comforter duvet for a top sheet. Dresden: a small city rising from the ashes of war—gorgeous opera house in the Saxony motif, smell of sausages, everyone needing their hair washed, storage yards of the remnants of buildings waiting to be put back together like a giant jigsaw puzzle, disappointment that the shops are closed as I wanted to look for Dresden china.

The train ride to Prague along the Elbe—picturesque.  Young people on train more relaxed and animated than German youth.  Castle on hill reminds Carl of stories his father told him. City of Prague—seedy train station with hotel hawkers, things move “so fast” (escalator, buses, subways), 5 minute walks really mean 30, blowing out electricity including circuit for automatic toilet, eating a whole chicken from street vendor, astronomical clock in Old Town Square (Carl kept missing it as he looks for coke or sausage for me), fabulous view of Charles Bridge lined with religious statues, expensive Bohemian garnets, Prague Castle with the vibrant primary colors of the stained glass in St. Vitus Cathedral, Jean and Mary from Texas (and the Angel Jason) who direct us to a fabulous hotel in Vienna, Easter eggs and tin soldiers and watercolors from artist on bridge, wealthy Jewish section with moving Pincus Synagogue bearing the 80,000 names of Jews from the area killed during war (Carl finds some KORN names), cemetery with bodies 12 deep and ravens circling overhead, young girls putting “wishes” on small pieces of paper on the Rabbi’s grave.  Prague was a nice city to visit—But—the Plaque of Jewish people killed in camps from the area on the abandoned factory—we get feelings this could have been our story.  The hunt for the famous statue of the infant Jesus of Prague—much smaller than I had imagined.  Lots of people with deformities, cleft palates, orthopedic problems, scars or sores on face, groups of mentally retarded people—what kind of medical care did people get—or not get! (These are the people shown in Brueghel’s exhibit in Vienna).

Vienna was my favorite city this trip...I could stay here for awhile and it’s on my list of places to return to.  I like the pace of the city—there are huge pedestrian areas, lots of parks with benches to sit (and lots of Keep Off the Grass signs), there’s lots to see and the people are a bit more gracious than other Central European cities.  It’s also very clean and organized—it would be hard to get lost here.  The “Vienna A—Z” book tells you about every important place marked with flags (and there are lots of them throughout the city).  Memories of Vienna include being grilled at the synagogue just to see the sanctuary which was behind glass and my anger at the Jewish Cemetery being disrespected by the Jewish community and allowed to be overgrown with weeds, rusted wrought iron and broken graves.  That Jewish young man should use some of his energy pulling weeds!  The rest of the cemetery was beautiful and it was fun to see the graves of Beethoven—Brahms—Strauss and Schubert but the state funeral was eerie when the honor guard passed with the Gestapo boot sounds.  The Imperial Vaults with caskets of Maria Theresa and family were spooky including the young woman vacuuming them.  The incredibly moving monument against war and fascism especially the old Jewish man scrubbing the street.  Going to the world—renowned Vienna State Opera—paying $180.00 per ticket!! One night and getting free standee tickets from Peace Corps teachers the next—seeing “Rienzi” in its masked fascist production and realizing fascism is alive and well in this part of the world (and realizing that both productions of “Trovatore” and “Rienzi” would never be allowed in U.S.)—The thrill of finally hearing Bryn Terfel in “Marriage of Figaro” (and yes, he is good).

The best ice cream we’ve ever tasted (including Florence) at Zanoni & Zanoni.  The fabulous once in a lifetime exhibit of Brueghel paintings.  Seeing “The Kiss” by Klimt and realizing my framed scarf at home is a near perfect reproduction—Klimt’s other ladies are very good too.

Attending a training session at the world famous Lippizanner Academy (part of the Hofburg Palace). The scary walk to the Prater amusement park and the seediest part of town (no we didn’t go into the park). World—renowned Sacher tortes, but we really like German bread and pastry better. The Hotel Austria so much like the Hotel Dauphine in Paris and decorated like Carl’s house and we loved the ceramic “trash can” on the dining table. Schoenbrun Palace, the most beautiful palace we’ve ever seen and an audio self—guided tour laid out perfectly.

Freud’s Couch—a feeling of real history there. The jewels in the Treasury of the Hofburg Palace. Carl recalls Vienna as a city of cream and pastels and gold colors and he thinks about the elderly couple on the bus sitting perfectly straight in their best clothes.

Budapest—a surprise day tour—we never thought we’d get so far in Central Europe. The Danube River separating the city into Buda and Pest. St Matthias (mosque style) on Palm Sunday—no palms but twigs or pussy willows and the ritual of Catholicism so familiar to me even though the country and language are different. Hero’s Square with the monument of Mongolian tribes and the memorial where Stalin’s statue has been removed.  Fabulous food—my favorite—of chicken paprika and desert of cake—chocolate pudding—whipped cream and my first very own beer!!  Budapest, especially the Pest side is a poor tourist city with poor quality lace and ceramic. It was the only city where shops were open on Sunday—so desperate are the residents for tourist dollars. The shopping area near the border is like Tijuana.  McDonald’s everywhere in the world, but this one on a sewer line whose odor permeated the street. Our 26 year old Muslim guide who caused Carl to wonder if we’d make it back safely to Vienna (we did). Carl’s luggage handle pops 1/2 off on the train to Salzburg—the Australian girl tries to help with her Swiss Army knife but the maintenance man at the hotel repairs it. Whew!!!  Carl might have had to buy a new one after 30 years.

Salzburg was a disappointment—it’s like Solvang—an upscale tourist town where you’re never sure if what looks old is really that way or contrived for tourists.  The city is nestled in a green valley with The Alps in the background—we hiked down from the Cafe Winkler area.  Salzburg Easter Music Festival going on—want $85 to 175 for the cheapest ticket to hear Claudio Abaddo and the Berlin Philharmonic (we passed). The working class “Wheel of Fortune” on TV.  We passed on “The Sound of Music” tour.  Wouldn’t return to this city.

Munich—our hotel full of students and the room the most efficient use of space I’ve ever seen—New Town Hall with The Clock—sitting in a heavy rain (without umbrellas) to see the figures move (worth it!).  Beer halls and beer gardens (Hofbrau where Carl drank in the 60’s) and a wonderful family style hall with fabulous potato pancakes. National Theater, part of the converted palace where we see a part of “Aridane auf Naxos”—the most beautiful opera house with gorgeous chandeliers—Wedgewood beige and blue ceilings—deep baby blue or deep rose and white rooms—the opera house where we were approached by an usher because we were wearing white Reeboks and everyone else was in frumpy polyester clothes and “fake rhinestone jewelry” (Carl’s line)—the one time I should have had my camera but didn’t bring it and the place where I would love to have their intermission dish of strawberries and vanilla ice cream.  This is the city where we see a group of skinheads in a small park near the Residenz (palace) area whose Nazi breed dogs attack each other and one dog’s throat is ripped apart while men look on.

Dachau—not as moving as I had thought it would be—a cold day with bright blue skies—the sanitized photos of the camp—the shower and crematorium—the ditches where prisoners were shot—the memorials—the Carmelite Convent on the edge—the moving memorial of ashes of prisoners with rocks on top left by visitors (a common practice in places where flowers would die in the weather).  Surprisingly there is no feeling of death or evil in this place—just nothingness—I wonder if the prayers of the Carmelite nuns have made peace with the spirits of the dead.

I’m very glad we traveled to this part of the world. It was truly a life’s adventure. We saw lots of wonderful things.  But this time we experienced the day—to—day life of people with different languages, cultures and history.  My biggest impression is that Berlin is a place of Evil with a pervasive feeling throughout the city—the Devil still lives there Carl says—the city is rebuilding itself but it’s Evil can never be covered over—the city should have never been rebuilt but rather kept as a memorial to the ravages of Evil.  The scariest part is that in both Berlin and Munich there is a feeling that history could easily be repeated—the Germans do feel they are the Master Race; I believe they not only knew that Hitler was rounding—up people but were glad that those “undesirables” (whomever they happened to be) were being taken away. And I believe it could easily happen again to whomever they define as “undesirable”. This is the scariest and biggest lesson I learned and one I’ll never forget...