Prague: Cobblestones and sculpture

This has taken forever. Writing about this trip that happened nearly a month ago. Prague was the final stop. A city I've wanted to visit since Kathleen was abroad there. Thanks to phenomenally cheap flights from Paris, this was my chance. The city is infinitely walkable, from the castle to the T.V. tower across town in an hour, winding through backstreets and small parks. My gracious host sometimes narrated stories about the Jan Hus, Kafka's abode and the fall of communism which gave some otherwise inconspicuous sites newfound intrigue. 

Prague as seen from hilltop monastery.

What'd I do in Prague? A few churches, one modernist cathedral -- Church of the Most Sacred Heart of Our Lord (seriously) --, a bunch of lovely sculptures, river walks, sausages. The Castle Cathedral is extraordinary inside and out, elaborate gargoyles outside, stained glass by Alfons Mucha (who does those frequently calendarized seasonal ladies). I saw some of David Cerny's sculpture, and went to his studio space for a concert of sorts. When the Communists overthrew the Nazis, they created a monument to themselves -- a tank -- and Cerny, however long after the fact painted it pink to make a mockery of the fact that it was essentially one regime glorifying it's overthrow of another. Most of this work has this incendiary tone, or if not exactly incendiary, at least irreverent. 

Cerny's babies crawling up the T.V. tower.

The city itself was beautiful, split by a winding river, edged by forests and fields of flowering trees. The Charles Bridge lined with looming statues of saints; Bukowski's, a windowless bar with delicious cocktails that felt very post-Sovient chic; Petrin Forest's steep hills and blooming orchards. Too many impressions. Pictures will attempt to say what I haven't.

Resentment still lingers, it would seem.

In other news, I'm coming home from Greece a month earlier than I'd planned. The program changed from what it was initially, and I decided to flee the Mediterranean in hopes of celebrating national independence in the homeland. I am excited to see you all!

Lonely statue at dusk.

Paris: Wine and Cheese for breakfast!

One of my two gracious hosts in Paris assured me that wine and cheese, however typically French they may be, are not the usual breakfast fare. This did not prevent us from enjoying it at an outdoor cafe (Le Baron Rouge) where you can bring your own liter bottle and leave with French wine from one of the many barrels in the shop. One huge plate of cheese later we left, walking through the Marche d'Aligre a huge open-air produce market where apparently all the grandmothers of Paris do their shopping. 

Breakfast of Champions. 

Let me rewind for a second. I love Paris. I've been here twice before -- once as a twelve-year old visiting a friend who had moved to England (we took a trip to EuroDisney while I was with her), and once at the end of an exchange program after I'd spent a few months living in Brittany. I was here for four days staying with a friend from college, dear Isabelle, for the first two nights (11th arrondisement, near the Marais) and a family friend for the last two night (16th arrondisement, near the Eiffel Tower). It was beautiful. The people were incredibly friendly. And after however many years (3) away from the study of French language, mine held up remarkably well (plus-que-parfait need not apply). By the end of the trip I had resolved to return to Paris to live whenever I next decide to move shop from the U.S. of A. -- not even back yet and already planning my next time away. 

Pont Alexander III in front of the Grand Palais 

Anyhow, I'll try to cover some of what we did without sounding too list-like. The night I got there Isabelle and I took the metro (efficient! punctual!) to the Eiffel Tower and walked back past Les Invalides which has a nice garden full of soldier-looking shrubbery, the Grande Palais, a stunning building with a lit up glass dome that currently boasts simultaneous Andy Warhol and Dali exhibitions (why didn't I buy tickets ahead of time?). Crossed Alexander the third bridge -- gaudy, gold gilt, views of the Eiffel Tower -- actually, crossing as many bridges as I could was a goal, but I stupidly stopped writing down their names after this one. We continued walking through the Marais, Jewish neighborhood with astounding fallafel by day, gay neighborhood with raucous bars by night, a wonderful combination. Having walked until our feet ached, we settled into Isa's cozy apartment for the night.

Green flowers, white lady, the Tuilleries.

The next day (wine and cheese breakfast day!) was again walk-heavy, strolling along Le Coulee Verte which is garden walkway planted on an out of use raised rail system. Just in time for the first blooms of spring, everything smelled of lilacs, honeysuckle, and rain. From the walkway you have a perfect view of the rooftops of Paris: cue pipe dreams of a quiet life sitting on a tiny balcony reading books in the sun. From here we decided that wine and cheese were insufficient and we went to a small cafe on L'Ile St. Louis called La Charlotte de l'ile where we had chocolate cake and hot chocolate. It was out of the way, somewhere I'd never have found on my own, which is probably the exact reason I loved it.

A railway station converted. Beautiful.

I did manage to go to a few museums, yes. The first was the Picasso which I found disorienting, with mirror paneled walls, labyrinthine corridors and hidden rooms. Although I did love the portraits of Picasso frolicking in his studio, playing with his children, jumping rope. In other words, I much preferred the art to the museum. Not so at the next museum. The main hall of the Musee d'Orsay is without a doubt in my top five favorite rooms on earth -- that clock! Their collection is incredible, so many pieces of art that you recognize, so many more that you don't. When I was there they had a huge exhibit about the various influences of Rodin on the sculpture world. Here, I felt the architecture at least rivaled the art. Next up was L'Orangerie where Monet's water lilies are currently housed in large, oval rooms. It is a very calming experience to be surrounded by blue and green on all sides. 

Making a run for it, L'Orangerie.

I could go on forever. Eiffel Tower, Champs Elysees (only the strong survive: Louis Vuitton, Gucci, McDonalds), the Tuilleries (see Minotaur picture below), Notre Dame, Hotel de Ville (in typical French fashion -- full of protestors). Instead of going on and on, I'll post pictures.

One entry away from being caught up!

Stockholm: An Archipelago

Stockholm was breath-taking. My favorite new city on the trip, with Prague a close second. The entire capitol city is comprised of small islands (one only has a single building on it) connected by bridges. When we were there it was still officially winter, and it was cold. I bought mittens and wore them daily. In addition to being cold, it was light. The sun rose at around 5:30 every morning and at midnight still seemed like the tail end of dusk. 

View crossing the bridge from Old Town.

We stayed in Old Town (Gamla Stan) among beautifully painted apartment buildings, looming churches, and narrow cobblestone streets. The rest of the city is surprisingly bustling -- I had expected Copenhagen to have more going on, but Stockholm is huge in comparison. We ate meatballs, sipped hot chocolate in front of the Nobel Museum, took ferries to the farther parts of town. Apparently, the city's population triples during the high tourist season, and I can really see why. As charming as it was from beneath mittens, scarves and winter coats, I can only imagine how nice of a place this would be to visit in the warm season. 

Orange church, blue sky.

The people, and this applies to both Copenhagen and Stockholm, were tall, blond, sturdy. The height struck me more than the blondness -- all that viking ancestry still shows. Overall, Stockholm felt very livable, it is an easy city to wander. From Stockholm, Erin and I went our separate ways, she to a whirlwind tour of Italy for the final week, and I was off to Paris and Prague to visit old and new friends.

One at a time: Copenhagen

Writing these is proving to be a daunting task. But don't worry, I took notes.

First stop was Copenhagen, sparkling bit of Scandinavia that it is. There Erin and I stayed at a nice 2-star hotel near the train station, which is basically near downtown. The city was sunny and seemed to be just coming out of hibernation. People were very helpful, traffic was ludicrously well-managed (especially in contrast to my fair Athens, birthplace of Democracy and road rage), and bike paths lined every street. Everything works really well in Copenhagen, that was my impression at least. 

Nerd alert at the royal palace

The royal palace (Rosenborg Slot) is seated on a beautiful lawn where we ate delicious bagels with the rest of the under-30 population of the city. Beautiful scenery, beautiful people. Inside the palace, however, was underwhelming, especially in comparison to the lavish palaces of France. And let me tell you something, no offense to any Danes out there, but the Danish royal family has to be one of the most unfortunate-looking royal families of all time. And it wasn't looking up from generation to generation: talk about foreheads. But kudos on the lawn.

Glorious Nyhavn Street in the sunshine

Beyond the palace, the city is definitely manageable by foot. We strolled down Nyhavn Street for coffee, a small waterfront pedestrian street lined with cafes, daffodils and colorfully painted apartments. The daffodils were a recurring theme in Scandinavia -- growing in parks, along streets, sitting on tables. We walked across the river to Christiana which is the location of old barracks that have long since been taken over by anarchists and weed aficionados. It exists as something of a commune thanks to some peace-keeping legislation passed in the late 80s. Grungy, largely dilapidated, young population. And a long walk. 

We didn't go in, but it seemed beautiful.

Overall, the city was beautiful. The people were friendly, welcoming, there was lots of good food to be had (Erin and I skipped a park called Tivoli for a huge Indian dinner), scenic back alleys to stroll. But, buyer beware: this is most expensive place I've ever travelled to. From Copenhagen we set off to Stockholm...

Return.

So many travelogues to follow. But for now: even when I was away, I was here. 

Or here was there.

Minotaur gets got in front of purple tree, Louvre. 

In anticipation of travel.

The time is nearly here for our two-week Easter break. Classes end this Friday, and Erin and I take off Saturday afternoon. We will travel together to Copenhagen and Stockholm for the first week, and then I'm embarking on a solo journey through Paris and Prague for the final week. Everything is booked, mental packing lists are already in the works, and with five days of work ahead of me, I am already antsy with anticipation. I feel so lucky to be setting off on this adventure. I think there is something about being a stranger in a strange land that not only helps to make you more self-aware, but also encourages faith in some sort of human connectedness. Don't get me wrong, there are assholes in the world, but by and large when you are lost in the back streets of a place whose language you cannot speak, someone will happily point you in the right direction. At least, that has always been my experience. 

And continues to be here.

We met a Danish friend-of-a-friend two months ago for only one night, and she has agreed to show us around Copenhagen when we are there. Two other friends-of-a-friend are traveling with us during the first week. A good friend from college, and a friend of my parents are taking turns hosting me in Paris. In Prague, I might be staying with someone I've only met once or twice in my life. I think what I'm getting at is that when you are "away" -- away from your usual home, your usual language, maybe even your comfort zone -- people's generosity of spirit emerges more than ever. Hospitality. The welcoming reception of strangers. 

All this talk of "away" has somehow (predictably) reminded me of home. The epitome of Maine hospitality: "You can't get there from here" -- the resigned condolence given to lost tourists who are trying to find their way. I've actually heard this said, yet it is more often than not followed by succinct directions that make a lie of the first statement. The hospitality of my home state may not exactly be coddling, but beneath the wintery disposition rests a sincerity and generosity extended even to those "from away." 

And what of Athens? It continues to emerge from what brief and mild winter season it had. This week there was one of the strangest meteorological sign-posts for spring that I've ever experienced. For about three days, the sky turned bright white, and the air became heavy and clinging. The culprit? Saharan sand blown across thousands of miles and over the Mediterranean. Apparently this happens every year, an annual beacon to the warmer months. And if it rains when this sand is still in the air, it rains red. 

Other than bizarre weather forecasts ("widespread dust"), Athens is starting to come alive for the summer. Everyone says that Greece is truly a summer country and as the sidewalk cafes overflow, the clubs move shop to the beaches, and bikinis emerge in shop-windows, I'm starting to see why. Greeks love leisure. Getting a coffee is a social institution that takes hours; businesses still close for siestas and Sundays. Summer is just one long, extended excuse for later nights out, more weekends away and longer coffee dates. And why not? 

My apologies for the fragmented nature of this post, too many thoughts to get down to worry about transitions between topics. But whether it's the summer months or a chance to get away you're longing for, keep in mind, you can get there from here. 

Spring blooms, and so: Istanbul.

It's starting! I keep my coat unbuttoned, I leave my windows open to breathe fresh air into the house. Sure, sure, nothing about the Greek winter really made me work for it, but it's still here! Springtime! To celebrate the inaugural daffodil blooms around school, six of us took off for a long weekend in Istanbul. About an hour's flight from Athens, and about half as expensive once you're there -- it was incredible. We stayed almost (almost!) in the shadow of the Blue Mosque in Sultanahmet, the historic part of Istanbul. Since we had only a few days we didn't venture out of the city, but that'll just be a reason for a return trip. 

The city is beautiful. Manicured gardens, none of the graffiti that colors the cityscape while in Athens -- just beautiful, clean, welcoming. The people, similarly, were some of the friendliest I've met here (in Europe), very willing to help, very eager to start conversations. One man walked with us for fifteen minutes to practice his English. We managed to see the Blue Mosque, the Aghia Sophia, Topkapi Palace, the Basilica Cisterns, the Grand Bazaar, the Spice Bazaar and ASIA in four short days. In addition to all that we managed to drink endless glasses of the sweetest apple tea you can imagine and have our fortunes told by a chicken (with the poetic aid of three rabbits). A chicken picked my fortune from a tray of fortunes for the low, low price of 5 TL. 

"You should give up your previous anger and make friends again with your beloveds. The person who offended you regrets for what he/she has done and is looking for a chance to apologize to you." My chicken-rabbit fortune was the only one that didn't really apply. That said, if it's referring to you: all is forgiven. I can't go against the wisdom of interspecies interaction. 

It's difficult to choose impressions out of a hat when trying to sum up a place in non-novel form, but I'll try (and then I'll attach pictures, because you know... 1,000 words and all that). The Blue Mosque is striking from the park in front of it. We were lucky enough to pass through this area daily, and were perpetually in awe of the booming calls to prayer.

The Blue Mosque, viewed from across the park. 

The Aghia Sophia, across the park (and the original place of worship there) hides it's beauty a bit more, it's outside having deteriorated over the years. But inside: unbelievable. Aside from the fact that these two buildings are some of the most dramatic pieces of architecture I've ever seen, it is remarkable that they're in such a stand-off. The ultimate showdown between Christian and Muslim faiths. Interesting historical note: The Blue Mosque was built with the intention somewhat in mind to outshine the Aghia Sophia, and so it erected six looming spires (to Sophia's four). However, at the time Mecca had six spires, and competition with Mecca would not stand. The solution? A seventh spire for Mecca. 

Inside the Aghia Sophia. Swoon.

Oh! My goodness! I nearly forgot. The Hamam! Stripped to our underwear we were ushered into a gigantic room built in 1584 -- domed roof with light shafts to the outside, centered around of massive, heated marble slam. You lie there until you can't take the heat any longer, then you move over to one of three or four Turkish women who scrub off every flake of dry skin, soap you, shampoo you, and on at least one occasion, burst into song. It was unlike anything I'd ever experienced. In a good way. 

If ever you are in this part of the world, please visit Turkey. Your wanderlust will thank you. 

Magical lighting at the Grand Bazaar.

An album for your perusal.

Long time gone.

All of February without a post? Poor form. But at least it's the shortest month! Sometimes there's just regular life and not much new information to send out into the interweb. February was rainy and cold, every teacher in the department got a flu at one point or another and one hellish week there were five teachers out sick. But things are looking up! This past week was sunny and warm and even the Greeks left their parkas at home. 

And! My parents and Katherine came to visit! It was her spring break, and they all flew over for ten days of sight-seeing and dolmades-eating. It was wonderful having them here, especially getting the chance to become a tourist again. We did so many things! It was exhausting but, of course, I'm glad to be able to check a few things off my list. The first two days were spent on Aegina, which is the closest island and which had just opened for the season. Things pick up on the islands only around Orthodox Easter, so we were the early birds, and were there for clean Monday (marks the end of Carnival and the start of not being allowed to eat red meat 'til Easter). The island was beautiful and quiet and dreamy. As soon as my sister got of the boat she said "This is like no where we've ever been" which says a lot for a travel happy family like the Dobson-Driscolls. Farmers were starting to tidy up their olive orchards and octopi were hanging from lines like drying clothes. 

Temple of Afea on Aegina: Older than the Parthenon.

Octopi hanging outside a restaurant: More delicious than the Parthenon.

Among the other festivities during the week of family: Acropolis, National Archaeological Museum, Monastiraki flea market, Delphi, Plaka, Lycabettus Hill, Folk Art Museum. Too many to go into in much detail, but it was a wonderful week seeing the city from a fresh perspective again. I realize I've only been here for five or six months, but I've settled in to the extent that I don't exactly feel like a tourist any longer. I still often feel like a confused foreigner, but I do feel like I'm living here, not visiting. 

Wise dog sleeps in the shade of a beachside table.

However, in the upcoming months I will be visiting an absurd number of countries I've never been to before. Up next: a long weekend in Istanbul, staying in a hostel directly opposite the Blue Mosque and Hagia Sofia. Looking forward to the culture shock and Turkish baths. A few weeks later, I'm off for the big whirlwind trip through Denmark, Sweden, France and the Czech Republic. If all goes well, I'll also be able to visit Austria and Hungary before I leave this varied continent. Is Russia the only country that spans two continents? Did you know that Scotland is actually from a different land mass than England? Geography day! 

Thinking about all this upcoming travel is making me crazy! I'm (to a small extent, and probably because my family just left this morning) already starting to get the transition itch. It's what happens when you realize you're going to leave a place or change something drastically. Mostly its symptoms are innocuous: too much time on craigslist looking at apartments, day-dreaming of the settling-in process in a new place. But occasionally it can result in premature mental departure from a place, going against the whole "Be here now" philosophy I've been working on. I feel like that phrase is something Woody Allen would mock, but hey! he married his adopted daughter -- to each their own. 

In conclusion, dear readers, try to be where you are. At least some of the time. 

Where I am. Sunset over Halandri.

Weekends.

Last weekend was a bit too much weekend, if that's possible. Erin and I were out until the wee hours of dawn both nights and even though I managed to wake up before noon both days, I didn't exactly get the most out of the blissful two-day hiatus. So this weekend is a weekend for weekending. Which mostly means reading, and being outside. 

Last night we went out with some "old friends" -- of the I've Known You for Five Months variety -- and met some new ones. Communication isn't really a boundary any more, certainly not because I've become fluent in Modern Greek, but because most people our age speak some English. But when you're with a group of people half of whom are more comfortable speaking Greek, it creates a strange dynamic. At one point one of the Greek-speakers mentioned that they were being rude to speak Greek when not everyone could understand. I tend to disagree. Sure, it's not the thing most conducive to conversation, but I feel like the burden of language is on the visitors, not the natives. But, clearly, this way of thinking when flipped back into an American context is what leads to ignorant comments toward people for whom English is not native language. Who knows, the real answer is probably just not to be a dick. Ever. 

Speaking of Change We Can Believe In (I wasn't), check out the new President! Way to go, America! Here we watched the ceremony live at an event hosted by Democrats Abroad. It was surprisingly high-profile, with something like representatives from 22 foreign nations present. But the whole crowd went wild at the first glimpse of Obama. Sure, it would have been incredible to be in the United States for the day, but it was also wonderful to see the impact this election is having on the global community. There's a new found sense that progress at least stands a chance and that the world superpower is finally back in its right mind. In conclusion, if you haven't seen it yet, please check out Beyonce's performance at the first inaugural ball. 

Other thoughts... well, let's see. Read some children's literature. I'm teaching A Wrinkle in Time still and it is fantastic! I also just read the first Sherlock Holmes novel and will be re-reading To Kill a Mockingbird soon for a high school class. Sure, Lee's novel isn't exactly children's literature, but it does cater to a younger audience in its clarity and candor. I haven't exactly been able to pin down what makes children's lit. something special, but it has something to do with those two ideas -- clarity of speech, of ideas, and a straightforward use of language. Even in the science fiction realm of Wrinkle in Time, unusual ideas are presented with concise logic, namely that time is a material subject, which is explained like this:

 "Mrs Who took a portion of her white robe in her hands and held it tight.

        'You see,' Mrs Whatsit said, 'if a very small insect were to move from the section of skirt in Mrs Who's right hand to that in her left it would be quite a long walk for him if he had to walk straight across.'

         Swiftly Mrs Who brought her hands, still holding the skirt, together.

         'Now, you see,' Mrs Whatsit said, 'he would be there, without that long trip. That is how we travel."

Lovely. 

And, speaking of travel (I was), I've just recently booked my flights for spring break. Erin and I are going to Copenhagen and Stockholm during the first week and then I'm heading to Paris and Prague for some solo exploration. If you know anyone in any of these cities who would like to host an American girl or two, let me know. 

That's all for now, I hope all you New Englanders are keeping toasty and remembering to take your vitamins. 

Back in action.

First full week of post-break work behind me and I'm finally over the jet-lag that had me turning form side to side until three every morning. Work was slower that normal last week just because I had to reschedule for the new semester. I've started teaching A Wrinkle in Time with a precocious 7th grade class, and I'm really happy with how it's going so far, happier still that the first book I teach on my own is a good one. The kids are really into it, although the brief instances of romance ("romance") are unanimously found to be revolting. So it goes. 

What else? Not much, really. Everyone is in budget mode to save up for our various spring-break trips. My roommate and I (I've already written this, haven't I?) are hoping to fly from Athens to Copenhagen, then Stockholm for the first week and then she's heading to Italy while I jet off to Paris and train to Prague. Looking forward to it, especially the second week, getting a chance to travel on my own. Being stranded in a foreign country with all decisions up to you. Is there a word similar to "stranded" that lacks the negative connotation? That's what I'm after. 

But because of the cost of the spring trip, we're spending the next two months nestled in Athens, without any real travel, though the possibility of going to Turkey for a long weekend is still in my thoughts. So many places, in such close proximity! My head is going to explode. Though, as an experienced driver of long road trips from Maine to the Midwest, there is something to the American brand of travel. That something is probably road-side diners and local routes. Has anyone been to the new Miss Portland? 

I've been instructed to post some photos, though haven't really gotten a chance to take many around town my neighborhood yet, but here are some from earlier this year!

Darling roommate and I basking in the shadow of the Parthenon.

Early September dinner on our apartment's balcony. Delicious!

Rapture at my first Greek island trip.