Warm Evenings

There’s this quote I like, it’s by Henry Miller and he pithily lays out the true point of life.   And I happen to agree with him, which I suppose is why his statement exists as one of my three guiding lights–my so-called Holy Trinity of Livin’.

“The aim of life is to live, and to live means to be aware, joyously, drunkenly, serenely, divinely aware.” Henry Miller

Whether I’m in a Czech village or lounging on my couch in Austin, I try to live in direct observance of this tenet.  And while it is apropos for all of humanity, it is certainly apt for those plying a traveling road.  It was often on my mind during my month-long sojourn in Central Europe.  Now that I’m back, I’m forced to take stock of the adventure.  To process and categorize the joyously aware experiences of a life on the road.  But to truly do so is a difficult task.  It would seem that there is too much experience to fit into one short post in retrospect.

To help sort the mess of experiences that dominated my time in Europe, I’ve devised a series of favorites in the hope that they might effectively relate some semblance of my larger experience.

Top Five Visits

1. Petrovice

2. Budapest

3. Krakow

4. Slowinski National Park

5. Prague

Best Train Ride: Salzburg-Vienna

Worst Train Ride: Too many to list

Top Five Culinary Experiences

1. Ogniem i Mieczem – Krakow

A rustic establishment that hearkens back to the golden period of Polish statehood, before the partitions and domination of the 19th and 20th centuries.  Highlights: mead, succulent pork knuckle, mead, fat bread (thick slices of bread lathered in lard), honey flavored vodka, ribs, mead.

2. Prague

I leave it at Prague because there were two distinct dining experiences (both in Prague 3) and I can only recall one of the names, U Studaka.  Obviously the delicious and ridiculously cheap beer is a highlight of Prague, but these inconspicuous establishments know how to rustle up some lunch.  Prague is paradise for pork lovers.

3. A Konyha Barbara – Budapest

The beautiful power of home-cooked meals can never be understated on the road.  This Hungarian feast was no different.  I don’t know what was made, just that it was awesome.  Experiencing a Hungarian meal and homemade palinka? Magnifique!

4. Sausage Sandwiches – Petrovice to Prague

Simple pleasures are often some of the greatest.  Czech rolls filled with homemade sliced sausage and a beautiful, creamy white cheese of unknown origin?  Bliss inducing simplicity.

5. Langos – Budapest

This is one of the most caloric snacks I’ve ever had, but I’ll be damned if the calories weren’t worth it.  Langos is also a joy of simplicity, as it is a piece of fried dough, piled high with toppings like cheese, garlic and ham.  I’m told the ultimate experience is to have one with a beer after exiting the life-affirming bliss of the Szechenyi Baths.

Random High Points

-Watching soccer in a beer garden in Riegrovy Sady Park (Prague)

-Biking through a forest (Slowinski NP)

-Biking through a city (Budapest)

-Drinking an afternoon beer on a bench with Aga (Vysehrad castle-Prague)

-Getting off the train in Petrovice

Random Oddities

-Seeing a girl do a choreographed dance routine in a train aisle (Prague-Munich)

- Americans with KFC buckets on their head (England v. USA – Prague)

-Solid security guards (Warsaw)

-The haircuts. Still.

Best Views

Prague: Petrin Hill, TV Tower, Vysehrad Castle

Budapest: Margaret Bridge

Olomouc: Church tower

Best Beer: Czech Republic

Worst Beer: Weiner Festival, Vienna

Recapping a journey, whatever the length, is never an easy prospect.  Experience is a tricky concept to relate and this is doubly true for a traveler.  So much is encountered that it can never truly be conveyed properly. Upon return, your left with pictures and stories, but these tangible souvenirs are merely wall dressings.  As beautiful or funny or tragic as they may be, they will consistently fail one in their efforts to properly convey the essence of the experience.

So while I press on with the hope that the words may surprise me with their ability to bridge the gaps of human experience, I remain pragmatic. And thus, you have lists.

Before I left America, I had a small crisis when I couldn’t locate my quick-dry camping towel. Fortunately, my friend Ryan let me borrow his for my travels. When I left, he jokingly remarked that his towel was going to have a better vacation than himself.

But I’m here to tell you, life ain’t easy for a towel, even when it’s on vacation. The majority of its time was spent in the dark recesses of my backpack. And when it was lucky enough to glimpse the outside world, more times than not it was just getting a face full of my naked haunches. Afterwards, it was generally forced to air dry in some questionable accommodation while those haunches were out traversing the breathtaking cityscapes of Central Europe. To give some perspective, the best view ol’green towel got was of the Hungarian Office of Statistics as it patiently sat draped over a door in Budapest (pictured above).

Now that I’ve returned, I thought it would be appropriate to let Ryan (and the rest of you folks) see bits of the trip through the eyes of a towel. If nothing else, it should set Ryan’s envy to rest. I’d hate for him and his towel to bicker about vacation time once they’re reunited in Austin.

Gdansk

Olomouc

The month long European excursion is finally winding down. Today marks my last full day on another continent. The weekend led me from Petrovice to Prague and then on to Munich. And after spending so much time in Hungary, Poland, and the Czech Republic, life in Munich is a bit strange in comparison. For one, everything is more expensive and much more commercial. If there was ever a good European location to help ease a transition back into America, it’s Munich. Though it’s a bit unfairly reductive for both, the wide-spread commercialism of the area is an American Jr. Yet, it’s not really America. Sure, there is a somewhat repulsive level of crass commercialism inherent in our society, but I know a truer and deeper America. One that isn’t readily conveyable to other nations and peoples through satellite images and news reports. That’s the America I miss and am ready to see again. The front porches, the dive bars, the baseball games, the barbecues, the redneck bumper stickers, the flat out diversity, the fireworks and swimming holes, the fish fries and plastic flyswatters, the drive-thru liquor stores…the passionately real America.

So, after four strong weeks in another land, I’m heading home to the land I love. And nothing quite holds my love like the south. I don’t know who sings this first song. It’s just titled “Goin South” and has been in my iTunes library for a few years now (I have a notion who sent me the track, but can’t quite recall who recorded it. So, if you recognize it please let me know so I can give this fellow his proper due).

Going South – Brothers and Sisters

It’s a lovely song and gives a proper voice to the sentiment I was trying to convey about America and the draw it, especially its southern reaches, has on me. I love the incongruity of the place and its siren song constantly rings in my ear wherever I go. **Thanks to Avan for keying me in to the artist**

Though he has since been relegated to an ignominious popular obscurity (save for some work with Massive Attack), once upon a time, Horace Andy was one of the more successful and influential voices in reggae. This is in no small part due to the unmistakable singularity of his voice. “I’ve Been Around” won’t win any awards for lyrical depth or creativity, but the song is affecting, especially for a traveler. If I’ve been anything of late, I’ve been around…and I’ll gladly take Mr. Andy on the trip with me for company.

I’ve Been Around – Horace Andy

Quite opposite the previous reggae tune is Bob Dylan’s “Boots of Spanish Leather.” Plainly speaking, the song is fabulous and would certainly find itself among my top 10 Dylan songs of all-time. It’s a complex song from a lyrical standpoint. The song features dual perspectives throughout and the perspective from which Dylan sings is not always obvious, but the crux of the song is of departure and the inconstancy of love in the face of distance.  In short, a lover departs for another land, but promises a return.  When asked what gift he would like, the lover replies  by his lover if he should want a gift, his reply is only that she should merely come back to him and it would be gift enough.  The song closes with the man realizing his lover will never return to him, so he asks for something material after all.  If it weren’t so sad, it’d be damned funny.

Boots Of Spanish Leather – Bob Dylan

A friend of my recently intimated that they had never been able to “get into” Bob Marley. I don’t understand this. Now, I realize that everyone has different tastes and yadda yadda yadda, but Bob Marley is the most universally appreciated pop artist after the Beatles (and though there’s really no use in arguing otherwise, please feel free to elucidate your contrary argument). So, while I can appreciate the different strokes for different folks thing, I was a bit aghast to hear such an avowed music fan to utter such blasphemy. Whether in his later work as a solo artist or as a member of The Wailers, Marley was continually involved with creating some of the most transcendental tunes of the 20^th Century. One of my personal favorites is “I Am Going Home.”

I Want Going Home – The Wailers

Certainly the subject matter is straightforward in its religiosity, but I tend to glean what I want from words and music. So I focus on the going home aspect of the song and choose to take it in a very literal context.

Day two in Prague started out a bit cold and overcast. It was an odd switch after record-breaking heat the previous day, but it certainly wasn’t unwelcome.

Aga had been on a trip in southern Bohemia and returned late the previous night. She met us out in front of our hostel a bit before 11AM and set off with us in an exploration of the Jewish Quarter. It was a pleasant start to our day, as the weather was pleasingly cool and we were able to catch up a bit while strolling along.

From the Jewish Quarter we angled back to the main square to walk to the top of the Town Hall’s tower and see the famous Astronomical Clock in action. Climbing the stairs to the top of the tower I could feel the previous day’s steep excursions. Upon reaching the top, we realized that there was an unbelievable crowd with the same idea as our own. The last bit before the top is reached by an old, winding cast iron staircase. We sat at its base while upwards of 50 people descended. When we finally reached the top, we couldn’t fathom how it could still be so undeniably crowded after witnessing the exodus of so many people. If there was a fire, it would have been a mad house. I was struck that a) so many people were allowed up there and b) that they hadn’t devised a more efficient way to get people in and out. Hell, just having an entry stair way and an exit instead of just ONE for both would have been a start. But what do I know, I didn’t major in logistics.

All of this aside, I don’t handle confinement too well, so after a few seconds out on the viewing balcony, I went back down the stairs and was soon joined by Aga. We bounded down the expanse of stairs to the bottom just minutes before the clock did its little song and dance. It’s neat, but it’s a bit underwhelming.

From the center we went off in search of food and thanks to Aga, we found an amazing feast. I quickly realized that Prague has great food if you get off the beaten path a bit. We were in Prague 3 (Prague is divided into districts like Paris), not far from Aga’s university (she’s there chaperoning UT students). I hesitate to go into much detail about the food because I’m hungry at the moment and I know I won’t be able to find anything near as good here in Munich. However, I can tell you it was amazing. The way the Czechs handle pork is a feat, one that reminds me not just of Arkansas, but of the south in general. So with cold beers in our hands and vasts amounts of food in our belly, we watched Slovenia knock off Algeria 1-0.

A bit sleepy after so much food, we went in search of this odd TV tower that is usually visible from anywhere in Prague. Kyle had first noticed it from Castle Hill and then again at Petrin, so we were quite curious about it. And doubly so after Aga mentioned it was covered with these weird babies.

I still don’t know what those babies were doing up there, but the tower is a cool site. And offers some of the better views of Prague available.

After our panoramic, we went back towards the city center via the National Theater, walking around a bit, popping into a shop or two along the way before finding ourselves watching the last twenty minutes of the Ghana v. Serbia match in the city center. I was rooting for Ghana (I like their style of play) while Aga and Kyle were rooting for Serbia. Aga’s predilections were based in her travels there and her friendship with Serbs, while Kyle’s was based in a general sense that we had somehow wronged them by invading their country to stop a genocide. The reasoning seemed strange, but I became a Cubs fan because I (mistakenly) thought the Cardinals traded Jack Clark (he left as a free agent) so who am I to judge, right?

Anyhow, after this game we went back out towards Prague 3 to meet some of Aga’s Ukrainian friends that were watching the games in a beer garden in a park near the university. As fate would have it, they were sharing a table with two guys they didn’t know, one of whom was wearing a University of Texas hat. Turns out, the fellow was from Austin, but practiced law in LA and was in Prague on a sabbatical of sorts (later we made another Austin connection there as well).

All of these Ukrainians were quite nice. One was visiting from Brussels, the other three were living and working in Prague (though I do think one was technically a Russian-American. Semantics). So it was indeed a pleasant evening, made ever more pleasant by the wild, cheering antics of the German fans as they watched their team destroy Australia (though I did notice that the first three goals were scored by two Poles and a Brazilian. Aga claims that Poland is winning the World Cup right now as a result. This remark at the table led one of the Ukrainians to glibly add, “yeah, I bet Hitler is rolling in his grave right now.” Whatever the case may be, I’m going to start calling the German squad “the Mercenaries”).

Parenthetics aside, it was a grand way to spend an evening in Prague. And I made it the entire night without once referencing the fact that “the Ukraine is weak.” I take pride in the small victories.

Prague is one of those cities that is built up in your imagination. With the onslaught of books and visitors, the picturesque quality of Prague has transformed it into a new Paris. Hyperbole, perhaps, but the center sections of Prague is definitely swarming with people. And for good reason, the city is beautiful, the beer is truly cheaper than water, and if you go to the right places, the food is just as spectacular as any thing being churned out at the finer brasseries in Paris.

The reasons behind Prague’s success as a destination lie most squarely with the first two. It is a wonderful city. Unlike many other cities in Europe, Prague largely escaped the ravaging effects of the two world wars. As a result, it boasts an inordinate number of (original) beautiful buildings and quaint cobblestone streets. And, as I mentioned, the beer is cheap. Which perhaps in and of itself isn’t much an attraction for anyone outside of a stag party, it is indicative of the larger economics of the city, i.e. the cheapness extends into the food and the lodgings as well. It is almost like a city or state offering tax breaks to lure a business. These factors make Prague an enticing siren for visitors.

All of which is to say, I was a bit nervous about the experience. I can be a bit snotty and this quality surfaces when faced with a large body of like-minded folks seeking to snap pictures of the same damned things that I wish to experience in (relative) calm. Counter-balancing these subterranean fears were the company I would be sharing in Prague. Kyle is great, of course, and was coming in for the weekend. However, I was quite keen to see my pal Agnieska.

We’ve known each other for about nine years now. And that seems like a damned long time to me. My freshman year doesn’t seem so far away until I realize things like the length of my friendship with someone like Aga. At any rate, I was excited to see her. While I can’t really speak for her, she’s one of those friends that I might not see all that regular (despite living in the same city, usually), but I feel like we understand one another. Perhaps the bonding nature of the college experience or that we share a close, close friend, but I am always at ease around her. I feel like she knows me for who I am and not for any silly bullshit or pretense or whatever. There’s a honesty in our friendship that I feel is often a bit lost in others due to heightened consciousness. I hope that makes some semblance of sense, but the gist is that I was excited to see Aga in Prague. She’s good people.

I was arriving in Prague from Petrovice. Naturally, my train from Petrovice to Pardubice was late and I missed the connection to Prague. There was another one shortly thereafter, but by the time I got to the station in Prague, Witty had given up on me and departed for our hostel.

After a quick internet search to determine the location, I set out with my load on foot. And was I ever bogged down. My one bag dream had devolved into two bags, which was necessitated because I happily turned into a gift-bearer for Mr. Wittenberg. On top of this, I also had a giant sack full of food and beer courtesy of my cousin, Josef. Did I mention that Prague was the hottest place in all of Europe that day? By the time I reached the hostel, I was hot, tired, and nasty. Not to mention hungry, so as Witty and I got settled into our room, we broke into the foodstuffs Josef packed for me. The gem of gems? Homemade Sausage and cheese sandwiches that were absolutely divine. Between those and the delicious cherry tomatoes and the sweets, my attitude quickly improved.

Witty and I spent the next few hours hoofing around Prague, battling the masses. We saw the main square, then cruised across the crowded Charles Bridge, before making our way up Castle Hill. The highlight of the Castle Hill experience is the cathedral. It is a marvelous work of art.

After the castle experience, we decided to continue the upward climb to Petrin Hill. Of any place in Prague, Petrin resonated the most with me. Not solely because it was hilly and beautiful, but because of the various associations I have with it via Czech literature (Kundera & ???! especially). So while it was tough sledding walking up to the base of the mini-Eiffel Tower in such heat, and then even tougher making it up to the top of the tour on foot, it was all well worth the trip.

From Petrin we meandered our way down and back across the bridge towards the hostel. Witty was worn out from the train ride and wanted to shower and take a nap. I was in for the prior, but not the latter. I’ve never been much of a napper, so I used the time to get on the internet. As one hour turned into the next, I became quite ravenous so I went up to wake Witty and go off in search of food and watch the USA v. England game.

The main square in Prague has been transformed into a giant soccer viewing party. To my chagrin, we opted to eat at a place right on the main square that was close to the crowd, but offered no viewing options. After this overpriced meal, we got some beers from a Budvar tent and were able to watch the last twenty minutes or so of the match. The fact that it ended in a draw sent the Americans in the audience into ecstatic fits (even in soccer I still can’t cheer for a tie), turned the massive English contingent into a churlish mob, and created delighted anti-English cheers from a vast array of nationalities, mainly German.

Once the crowd cleared out a bit, we went to an Irish pub called The Dubliner. It was thick with Brits, but seemed to be a good time as a decent cover band was pumping out the music. Which we realized at first consisted solely of songs from British Isle bands (U2, Radiohead, Oasis, etc). These predilections were soon turned on their head, however, as the band pumped out a decent version of Proud Mary and Mustang Sally, amongst other R&B classics.

Eventually, the evening came to a close. It had been a long day, but a decent one certainly.