Musings on Dresden

In his travel documentary on Eastern Europe, Michael Palin said that it was uncomfortable being an Englishman in Dresden. Having spent two days looking around the city, I think I would agree with him. The evidence that it was bombed to bits in February 1945 doesn't stare you in the face. In fact, if you knew nothing about the history, you might just think it was a very clean and tidy baroque town with lots of development going on. But delve a little deeper and the truth is that this is a city which is still in the process of being rebuilt, and almost all the buildings you can see in the Old Town are reconstructions of ones which were completely destroyed by the bombs of the Allies. As a result, the Neustadt (which is where we're staying) is in fact the oldest part of the city, something which is very bizarre to realise. The reconstruction has been incredibly good. The Opera House in particular, the Frauenkirche and the Zwinger Palace have been beautifully done, and the only give away that they aren't the original buildings is that the statues are bright and clean rather than stained with soot. Some of the statues look no more than a year or two old, and others are still in the process of being made. We only realised the full scale of the destruction when we saw some photographs taken the day after the bombs fell - it looks like a ghost city with just skeletons of buildings standing in the dust and the huge historic buildings completely flattened.

At least 35,000 people were killed in the night of 13th February, probably many more as the city was full of refugees fleeing the Red Army. This of course makes it a tragedy by any reckoning, as we knew before we came here. What I hadn't appreciated before was what a symbolic blow it was against Germany's very heart. Dresden was renown for being the most beautiful city in the country, the seat of the Bohemian and Saxon nobility, the centre of the arts for hundreds of miles around. To strike it was therefore not only to take German lives, but also to humiliate the nation as a whole. While we were in the Old Masters Gallery earlier today, we kept coming across the same apology on all the information sheets: there was only a copy or an early sketch surviving of this or that famous painting, as the original had been destroyed on 13th February. Immense ceiling paintings, which must have taken years to do, now only exist in tiny sketches done by 19th century tourists.

I appreciate of course the desire for revenge in nations which had been so horrifically bombed themselves, though I can't help feeling that to use the motivation of revenge to plan military strategy is highly morally and practically dubious. I'm no historian, and I don't pretend to know whether the British policy of carpet-bombing hastened the ending the war, or not. But I do know that the bombing of Dresden was an act designed to cause the utmost hurt and destruction not to the military bases or the industrial centres, but to the German civilians themselves, their homes and their entire cultural heritage. And we have a statue of Bomber Harris in London. Enough said.

We discussed whether or not we felt guilty as English women in the city, and decided that we didn't really, although there was a degree of discomfort which must have its roots in a guilt of sorts. How far should later generations feel complicit in evils done by their countrymen? I think we have a duty to remember Dresden, not to get too complacent about being on the right side in WW2, and certainly to remember that terrible things can be done in the name of right. But I don't think it's right for generations afterwards to feel that they are to blame for what was done before they were born. I've seen how crippling and unfair this can be with some of my German friends who feel that they are equated with the Nazis even when their families resisted and were persecuted by the regime, or simply when they were born far too late to have any choice in the matter.

In any case, Dresden as it is now is not a city to encourage guilt-ridden gloom. One of the things the inhabitants make most of, generously in my opinion, is that a lot of money was given by the UK and US to assist in its rebuilding, and the Frauenkirche is known as the Place of Reconciliation (can't remember the German, sorry, but it's probably a hugely long compound word of some sort). It's a city with a lot going for it and very friendly people. I have to say it's nice to get smiley and welcoming service in cafes and bars rather than the "service with a snarl" which is pretty much standard in Eastern Europe. And we're loving the fabled German efficiency. When we crossed the border from the Czech Republic we changed to a beautiful little commuter train with comfy seats, automatic doors (I think, the first on the trip) and announcements telling you what side of the train the platform would be on at the next stop. I know it's trivial, but Sarah and I have spent a lot of time on trains recently and so have become something of connoisseurs, aka geeks.

We spent yesterday exploring the Old Town, with all its obvious historic and cultural sights, and then today we were in the New Town, a very attractive area with a beautifully designed modern market place to replace the one which was destroyed, lots of quirky little bars and an artists' corner called the Kunsthof which is packed full of galleries, completely pointless but gorgeous arts and craft shops, hippy clothes stores and Aladdin's Cave-esque antique shops. We had a very happy couple of hours browsing and planning what we would spend our money on, if we hadn't needed to eat for the next month.

Tomorrow we go back to Poland again on a horribly early train to spend the day and night in Wroclaw before going to Warsaw on Saturday. It's been nice to be somewhere where we have at least some grasp of the language (though I can't say my A'level presentation on the importance of environmental issues came in very useful). Now it's back to the land where zs, ks and ws rule supreme....

The Bohemian Connection

We arrived in Liberec late on Sunday night and after the Prague experience, were grateful for a private room with an ensuite. Being hungry we tried to find somewhere to eat, but even though it is a fairly large city, the only place open was MacDonalds and after an E number filled dinner, we headed back for our first decent night's sleep.

Liberec was originally a German-speaking town, originally known as Reichenberg and signs of its German past are everywhere, from the style of buildings, to the prominence of German signs for shops and attractions here. As part of the Sudetenland, it had tried to gain independance after WW1, but became integrated into Czecholslovakia. As a result, it became a hot bed for Pan-German movements and was the birthplace of Konrad Henlein, the Nazi sympathiser and leader of the Sudeten German Party. Signs of this history can still be seen today; the modern library where Lucy and I used the internet is on the site of the old synagogue which was destroyed on Kristallnacht. After the war, due to the Potsdam treaty, the German population of this entire area were forcibly expelled unless they were essential to industry or could prove they were anti-fascist. They were also put on the same rations as Jews during the war and there are dreadful stories of starvation and suffering on the essentially forced marches into Germany. It is still a highly contentious issue and although both the German and Czech Prime Ministers apologised for their treatment in 2005, it is not something which is really referred to.

It is into this complicated history that my family fit into, as they were Sudeten Germans, and our first port of call the following morning was to the village that my grandmother was from. It is now a ski resort high in the Jizera mountains called Bedrichov, but when my gradmother knew it it was called Freidrichswald. It is a short bus ride from Liberec and while we waited for the bus, we had a bit more of an explore around Liberec itself and found a beautiful lake, which at one point must have been for industrial purposes, but it now surrounded by school parties and people sunbathing which was very different to the massively industrial Bohemia that I had imagined.

The bus ride took us to the top of the mountains and dropped us by another little lake. The village was originally a centre for glass blowing, which is what my great grandfather Gustav did. Now there are only the ruins of the old factory and the village is mainly full of pensions used by skiers, even now there was still a bit of snow on the ground. It is very beautiful and peaceful. We popped in to the tiny Tourist Information Centre, to be greeted by a group of policemen, who seemed to be there for a bit of a chat. Armed with a map, we headed up to the church at the top of a hill. The building itself was locked, but we were able to get into the graveyard. We found quite a few graves with the name Hujer on them, but none that were names I was aware were directly related to me. However, we couldn't make all of the names out as they have been badly maintained, so they may well have been there. That, I suppose, is one of the unexpected side effects of a forced expulsion, there is no one to tend the graves.

We sat and had lunch by the church, overlooking the village, before heading back to catch the bus, via Jablonec back to Liberec. I was really glad that we had been, but I didn't really know what to feel. My family were not expelled with the rest of their village because my great grandmother was vital to the industry. However, extended family were and on the rare occaisions that my grandma spoke about her life before coming to England she mentioned the dreadful things which the Russian soldiers did there. In some ways, I think my main feeling is one of sadness; that at the end of what was a horrendous war where the full extent of racial hatred had been seen that it seemed legitmate to force people from their homes purely because they were ethnically German. That by putting Sudeten Germans on the same rations as Jews during the war, or by allowing it to happen, something of the moral cause was lost. Yet I suppose that knowing the history of what came next; communism, the gulags and Sibera it probably isn't much worse than other people suffered. I think that seeing the place were my grandma grew up has helped me to understand her better.

The following morning, we headed to Jablonec to the glass and jewellery museum to give a bit of context to the area. This area was and still is a major centre for glass jewellery, particularly beads and glass in general and the clearly loved museum was a great way of seeing this. Afterwards, we went looking for some beads as souvenirs before having a very stodgy lunch of dumplings and bacon. We then headed back to Liberec to get our bags before heading to Dresden.

The train journey to Dresden must be one of the prettiest journies we've done. The local train took us to Decin, where we changed onto a tiny one carriage train to Bad Shandau, through an area known as Bohemian/Saxon Switzerland which is just stunning. After that it was a super efficient German local train to Dresden itself, where we are staying in a really arty, studenty area in a really well set up and loved hostel.

Learning to love Prague

What with the crowds of tourists, mass of souvernir tat, pouring rain, extortionate charges to get into churches and fairly obnoxious German boys sharing our dorm, I didn't exactly love Prague at first sight. In fact it took a lovely sunny weekend exploring the castle side of the river to change my mind. I can now admit that it is one of the most beautiful cities we've been to, although I still think it is a place deeply scarred by too much tourism. We have heard far more English voices than Czech, and the extent to which Czech culture is trivialised in order to sell it to tourists is quite disgusting. I think Kafka is spinning in his grave at the sight of a grinning cartoon of him on t-shirts.....

On Saturday we crossed Charles Bridge, walked around the castle courtyards and went on to have a lovely walk around the monastery on the top of the hill and in the surrounding parks, wandering through orchards of apple blossom and taking in the breath-taking views. In the evening, we managed to get deliciously cheap tickets to see a Smetana opera at the National Theatre (only 3 pounds for a fabulous view high up in the gods). It was an opera we had never heard of before called "The Secret" which had some beautiful music, especially the overture and a stunning duet between the two young lovers which just kept soaring upwards. The plot however was distinctly dodgy and Sarah and I got very confused as to why strange dancers wearing green sequinned outfits were gyrating in the background throughout. After the opera we popped next door to an Art Deco cafe to have a quick Martini (oh dear, we are getting increasingly pretentious as this trip goes on...) and then walked back along the river all lit up at night back to the main square. We meant to go straight to bed, but we admitted to each other that we were starving, and so bought hunks of pork from a great haunch being roasted on a spit and ate them with our fingers. Glorious but greasy.

On Sunday morning we went to the 11am Mass at St Vitus Cathedral which is inside the castle complex. This is a stunning Gothic building which took nearly 600 years to complete and is fascinating because of all the different styles which the series of architects used over the centuries. The tower, for example, has a Gothic tower, with a Renaissance parapet topped with Baroque carving. Inside are a series of amazing stained glass windows, one of which is designed by Mucha, the Czech Art Nouveau pioneer - an exhibition of whose work we saw in Budapest. He contributed the window as a mark of his fervent Czech patriotism, for which he was to suffer later under the Nazi regime. It's also got a shrine to St Wenceslas in one of the side chapels, which is richly decorated with precious stones. The music at Mass was underwhelming to say the least in a city so associated with classical music as Prague, but perhaps it was because it was the Sunday after Easter. Afterwards we walked through the castle gardens to a beer garden for a cooling pint of Pilsner, which we hadn't tried yet, and then it was time to head back to the hostel to finish off all the food we had left in the fridge in a rather eclectic lunch of beans on toast, cheese, iceburg lettuce and pears.

And now we're about to catch a train to Liberec in the north of the Czech Republic. I'm glad we were able to see a more attractive side of Prague before we left, but visiting here has given us both a bit of a jolt as we realise that the very tourist industry that has enabled us to do this trip can have such a destructive effect on one of the most beautiful cities in the world. I really hope that Budapest doesn't go the same way as Prague, as it felt like a much more genuine city and not full of quite so many drunken stag parties. It'll be good to get off the tourist trail and plunge into the villages and provincial towns, as we go on to find out more about Sarah's family, this time the Czech side rather than the Slovak.

Don Giovanni, a cenar teco m'invitasti, e son venuto....

I was sad to leave both Poets and Olomouc. After checking at the local internet cafe that we had actually got tickets to Don Giovanni, we headed up to the Archbishop's Palace for a brief look around the museum. It has obviously been very lovingly put together and it was a shame we only managed a couple of floors. After checking out with the lovely Poets staff, we headed for the train to Prague.

We travelled through beautiful Czech countryside and arrived in Prague in the late afternoon, with glorious sunshine to greet us. The hostel was right off the Main Square, a short walk from the station, although it took us ages to find and we were both glad of a shower before our evening at the Opera. The man who ran the hostel was a little bit grumpy, particularly as we told him that we wanted to be in a dorm rather than the 3-times-the-price single room (we think this might be why we got shoved with the German boys, but more on that later...)

Dressed in what passes for our finery on this trip, we headed to the Estates Theatre, which is where Don Giovanni was first performed. It is a beautiful little theatre, mainly gold and blue and as we had a box, we were able to see the orchestra really well. It was an entertaining and funny production, with lots of servants mucking around in the background; including at one point break dancing. The scene of Giovanni's descent into hell was was really moving though. Afterwards, we headed back to the hostel kitchen to rustle up some pasta and pesto, where we met some cool singing Italians, who we met from then on every time we went to the kitchen.

Breakfast the following day was a twisty pastry from the Easter Market which we have seen all over the place and had yet to try - yummy although very hard to describe. After breakfast, we headed out for a free tour of the city, a really good way of getting a general idea of Prague, but you do feel as though everyman and his wife is there with you. We saw all the obvious things; the astronomical clock, the Tyn church, the University, Wenceslas Square, the New Town, the Charles Bridge and the Jewish Quarter. Some interesting quirky things were also pointed out, like the little pictures which adorn some of the buildings, such as golden rings or elephants which were used before widespread literacy as a way of giving directions.

After the tour, we headed to a cafe for lunch in a shady courtyard before being good and heading out to find a laundry. What the people of Prague must have thought of us with our tatty Tescos bags of dirty washing is anyone's guess, but we felt quite proud. While that was being washed we did boring but important things like buying food and we went to the top of Wenceslas Square to see the monument to the students who set themselves on fire in protest of the communist regime. It is very moving, particularly when you realise that had they not set themselves on fire, they would have seen communism come to an end within their lifetime.

Having done all our washing and food shopping, we rewarded ourselves with a beer in the Main Square and put the worlds to right. That night we discovered that our four bed room was being shared with not two but three smelly German boys, who arrived after a night out at about 3 and proceeded to have a long, loud conversation before falling asleep, one of them on the floor, although they seemed to swap, loudly, in the middle of the night. Lucy and I were not impressed!

The following day, it poured down and so we thought we would go into the Synagogues of the Jewish Quarter. However, having queued for ages, we discovered that they wouldn't take card and deciding not to queue up in the rain again, we spent the rest of the morning in the wonderfully cheesy 'Kafka Cafe', drinking coffee and, in Lucy's case, reading The Trail. After lunch of a sausage under an umbrella and with it still pouring down, we decided to spend the afternoon updating the blog. Feeling very virtuous, we headed out for a reward in the form of coffee and cake in the Cubist cafe, a wonderful little place which is beautifully designed and does delicious cake.

Our evening was spent cooking veggie curry to have with our Australian friends, Kylie and Jason. We first met in Plovdiv in Bulgaria and this was the last time our paths were going to cross; they head west, while we go east. It was a lovely evening spent chatting, although both Lucy and I were sad when they left. It has been an unexpected blessing of this trip to get to know people who are doing a similar thing to you and they are so lovely, we keep trying to get them to come to England. The German boys will certainly not be receiving an invite after another disturbed night of loutish behaviour!

Bicycles, Nudists and Fountains

We did not catch the 6.55am train as dutifully planned for the night before. At approximately 5am, my alarm went off and I heard a groan above my head from Lucy. We came to the mutual decision that life was too short for such stupid times and promptly went back to bed. As a result we just missed the 9.47 train so had to get the 11.47. This gave us a lot of time to kill in a very silent Krakow. Thankfully, the Easter Monday tradition of boys throwing water at girls did not seem to be happening (I'd have thumped them if they had come anywhere near me with my giant rucksack on!) and we arrived at the station dry and in one piece. With so much time to kill,we persuaded ourselves that the only thing to do was to have a leisurely coffee in the station cafe.

Our train journey involved two changes,one in Katowice and one in Ostrava. It is a sign of how far we have come in terms of travelling that this prospect didn't particularly bother us. Both were fine, although we did make the error of having a station cheeseburger for lunch. That neither of us got food poisoning is a minor miracle! We arrived in Olomouc around 5 ish and jumped on the tram to the Poet's Corner Hostel. Although it is up 4 flights of stairs, it is an absolutely fantastic place to stay; small, brightly coloured, lovely rooms and bathroom and the nicest staff we've met on the whole trip, who really knew and loved the city. Greg, the guy who manages the hostel also gave me lots of book suggestions regarding my family history, which was really helpful and has helped me put their experiences into more of a historical context.

After a cup of tea with a guy called Sam from Montreal, we headed out to the supermarket for veggies and to have a quick wander around the town. It's very beautiful - quite like Krakow but without the crowds and tonnes of fountains in all the little squares, including one which the guidebook says is a woman and is certainly not female. We headed back for food and showers and had intended to go out for a drink at the micro brewery. However, we ended up talking to some girls from Wroclaw (a point later on in the trip), Beth and Maria who offered to show us round when we got there. Several hours later, we called it a day and headed to bed.

We woke up reasonably early the following day and after an interesting breakfast of toast with garlic cream cheese, we spent the morning exploring more of Olomouc. One of the most impressive sights is the Holy Trinity Column in the central square (we think erected after a plague, but we aren't entirely sure), a huge mass of dark stone and gold. Inside there was a very cool nun who pointed all the reliefs to us, including a presentation of the Crucifixion where instead of Jerusalem, the background is Olomouc, we also popped into the church for a little bit of a wander which was beautiful.

Leaving the main square (and its slightly underwhelming astronomical clock) behind, we headed up to the University area. Again we popped into a pretty baroque church, although I found it unsettling due to the seemingly anti-Semitic paintings of the Stations of the Cross which were displayed in the cloisters,particularly given that they were only painted in 1937. Perhaps we were both over-sensitive to it given our recent visit to Auschwitz.

The University itself was beautiful; we pottered around the quad where everyone was getting ready for the film festival which was starting that night and had an awesome astronomical sculpture to Copernicus and then dropped down to the gardens which surround the city. It was very reminiscent of Durham which perhaps explains why we loved it so much. Greg had advised that we try some of the chocolate cake, particular to Olomouc, so we headed for coffee and cake, before going back to the hostel to grab bikes and go for a ride.

The lovely thing about Olomouc is that it is surrounded by very beautiful countryside and there is a very easy 5km cycle to a lake which can be done from the hostel. Having spent most of our time in cities, getting out into the countryside really appealled. However, neither of us had been on a bike in years,and this proved interesting... Lucy's bike was very low, whereas my seat was very high and, being us, we couldn't work out how to adjust the seats. This had added hilarity given that because of a slightly dodgy hip, I could only get on the bike from one side. We must have looked a little bit peculiar, heightened by the fact that neither of us could quite summon up the courage to cycle anywhere near other people and so wheeled the bikes for an exceptionally long time...

However, it's true what they say, you don't forget how to ride a bike and once we finally got on, it was brilliant - sunny, with the wind in our hair and beautiful surroundings. We ended up spending ages just cycling round the lake and accidentally ended up cycling through the nudist beach. It was quite a surprise and I'm quite proud that neither of us fell off the bikes. A bird also pooed on my head, but Lucy tried to assure me that it was tree sap which magically appeared miles away from any trees. It was a lovely gesture, but I wasn't convinced!

The evening was spent with tea and books and good company, in the form of Francie, who worked at the hostel and a mother and daughter team from Australia who were travelling round Europe. After a really lovely evening we headed to bed, ready for Prague the following day.

Triduum in Krakow - part 3

There was a very cheerful holiday feeling in Krakow on Holy Saturday as everyone was hurrying to church in their best clothes with Easter baskets of food to be blessed. While Sarah went to do a bit of necessary shopping, I did a tour of the churches in Krakow in an attempt to find confession in English. This was ultimately unsuccessful thanks in part to the huge queues at confessionals which meant you couldn't really pop in quickly to see if the priest spoke English. However, it meant I could join hundreds of Polish people in paying a number of visits to the beautifully decorated Easter gardens set up in churches with the Host on display inside the tomb surrounded by spring flowers. In one tiny church: St Giles, near the castle, the Host was being watched over by boy scouts who were evidently very proud of their responsibility and were determinedly standing to attention with eyes front.

Meeting up back at the hostel, Sarah and I bought a bunch of daffodils to bring some spring cheer to our dorm, and had a big lunch of pizza and tea in the kitchen before spending the afternoon doing washing, blogging and generally sorting things out. Later, we rewarded ourselves by a coffee on the main square, watching the horses and carts drive tourists around at extortionate prices. Learning from our mistake on Maundy Thursday, as we thought, we arrived at the Dominican church an hour early for the Easter Vigil, which was scheduled to begin at 9pm. There was still standing room only. In fact, we were lucky to get a place inside the church at all. As the darkened church got fuller and fuller, with every aisle packed full, including the central one, we didn't know how on earth the procession was going to get down. But somehow they managed it with the flames of the Easter fire flickering in the background, and the Paschal candle making its way down the church with people pressed to either side around it clutching little candles which were gradually all lit too until the whole place was illuminated.

It was an even longer Mass than before, lasting nearly five hours, and again, obviously, entirely in Polish. We managed to follow the first couple of readings thanks to the give-away repetitions of Old Testament names like Abraham and Moses, but after that we were pretty lost. Again, the atmosphere was just incredible with the whole congregation seemingly intent and enthusiastic, even those having to stand for the whole thing. We managed to nab a kneeler which helped, serving as a useful seat during the long Polish sermon. At the end of Mass there was a procession in which the Host was brought from the tomb back to the tabernacle with lots of singing and ringing of bells. As it passed by, somehow everyone managed to kneel down, despite the fact that even standing up you had your nose pressed into the small of someone else's back. The whole thing ended with lots of cheerful hymns. We decided it was time to lose all reserve and threw ourselves into singing along with the Polish, much to the amusement of the guy standing next to us, who helped us out from time to time with pronunciation. I defy anyone to sing "Zmartwychwstania pryzklad" with success. Luckily, pretty much every line ended with "alleluia" which we sang with gusto, feeling a bit like Mr Bean on his one foray into church....

We finally got back to the hostel at around 2am and found the gates locked and no one answering the doorbell. Time for Sarah's rock climbing skills to prove their worth. Her elegant scaling of the gate was most impressive and we managed to get inside with no bones broken and dignity pretty much intact. As we were by now very hungry, we celebrated Easter in the hostel kitchen with hot chocolate and bananas before creeping into the dorm full of sleeping bodies to our beds. An amazing way to see in Easter 2009.

Easter Sunday itself was a day of sheer pleasure. On getting up we exchanged Easter presents, had boiled eggs for breakfast courtesy of the hostel, and wandered round the main square in the sunshine singing English Easter hymns to ourselves and getting some rather odd looks. We then had a coffee sitting on the main square, followed by a gin and tonic, which was in turn followed by a lunch of hot sausages and ketchup from a market stall. By now we had eaten and drunk the day away sufficiently that it was time to meet Dr Kloczowski again, who had offered to give us a walking tour of the city. He showed us the old university buildings, a couple of churches built in a range of architectural styles from baroque to Art Nouveau, Kafka's house and the Jewish quarter of Kazimierz where we visited a tiny synagogue and an ancient Jewish cemetry lined with wall plaques from survivors of the Holocaust remembering family members who had died. We finished off with another cup of tea and a long talk about European history during which Sarah and I both felt rather as if we were in a tutorial for which we hadn't prepared - absolutely fascinating but a tad scary! We then said goodbye to our friend, who had given up so much of his Easter weekend to us, and walked back along the Vistula in the evening light to meet up with two other friends: Jason and Kylie, the Australian couple who we first met in Bulgaria, who were following a similar route to us and had just arrived in Krakow. We all went out together for an Easter meal in which I had lamb pierogi which were gorgeous, and Sarah had a simply enormous knuckle of pork which was the size of her head. We finished off the evening eating chocolate and playing Scrabble with a mixed Polish/French set, which made scoring rather interesting. Around midnight we said goodnight and turned in, as we were planning an early start for the Czech Republic the next morning.

Triduum in Krakow - part 2

We were up early on Good Friday in order to catch a local bus to Auschwitz. We had some difficulty deciding whether or not to visit, especially as Sarah had been before with a school group, but in the end we did. It's very hard to know how to write about it, as anything you say is inadequate. A few of my personal impressions are as follows: the feeling of how strange it was that the sun was shining, the blossom was growing in the trees and the birds were singing; the ironic words written in friendly curvy writing over the gate: Arbeit Macht Frei; the wall after wall of photographs taken of the prisoners on arrival, some with tears in their eyes, and some trying to smile; the heaps of hair, shoes, toothbrushes, suitcases and spectacles; a single broken doll among a pile of children's clothes; the unmitigated horror of Cell Block 11 - the punishment block where Maximilian Kolbe starved to death; the signs at the edge of the barbed wire saying "Halt!"; the first gas chamber to be built; the place where Rudolf Hoss, the camp commandant, was finally hanged at the end of the war.

Shuffling round with the crowd of other tourists, I felt desperately unsure as to whether or not I should be there: are we all indulging in a macabre voyeurism, or is it really important that we should have to face what other people had to live? How can you respond to the fast food vans parked around the entrance, or the souvenir shops? What about the hordes of school children who are clearly not old enough to deal maturely with what they're seeing? But what else can you do with the place? How else can the memory of the survivors be honoured? The Nazis tried to destroy Auschwitz at the end of the war, to cover up their crimes. But they didn't succeed, just as they didn't succeed in eradicating the memory of their victims. And we can't let them succeed fifty years later: these people must and will be remembered as the individuals they were, and we can't forget their sufferings just to make life easier for ourselves.

As we left the camp and caught the bus back to town, it was impossible not to feel some kind of bizarre survivor guilt, that we could just walk out and return to normal life when so many thousands couldn't. I think we both still feel deeply ambivalent about going there. I think it will take a long time for our impressions of it to fully sink in.

On arriving back in Krakow, we hurried straight to the Good Friday service which was even more poignant than usual in its starkness and bareness after being at Auschwitz. Kissing the feet of the crucifix meant more than ever, as I realised that it was not just a quaint slightly sentimental medieval tradition, but a mark of reverent compassion for all those who suffer in the world.

As you can imagine, the rest of the evening was very quiet, and we were glad to go to bed after the intensity of the day.

Triduum in Krakow - part 1

Any city founded on the slaying of a dragon was bound to be a hit with me, and our first impressions of the city on a relaxed Maundy Thursday were certainly favourable. We spent the morning pottering around Krakow in the sunshine, exploring the main square and the markets, and making our way up to the Wawel Castle and Cathedral. We didn't go in to either, as the entrance prices for the castle were pretty high and the cathedral was closed, but we had a good look round the various courtyards and admired the view of the Vistula curving through the city. A quick visit to the place where Smok the Dragon was allegedly killed was irresistible, although we managed to resist buying a nauseating fluffy version of him. Making our way back to the centre through the winding streets, we noticed how many priests there were hurrying to the castle, and realised that they were on their way to the Chrism Mass at the cathedral, which would also explain why we hadn't been able to go in. Lunch was fresh tomatoes and apples purchased from a local Polish market just outside the city centre, and we ate them sitting in the shade in the Planti (the park that surrounds the old city centre and protects it from the noise of the traffic) - a wonderfully cheap way to get a vitamin kick!

In the afternoon we were taken out for coffee on the main square by a family friend of ours, Dr Kloczowski, who teaches Philosophy at Krakow University. He proved to be great company and wonderfully welcoming. On hearing that we were arts students, he recommended us the best Polish authors to read and took us to some English language bookshops where we could buy Polish poetry in translation. He kindly offered to write the authors' names down for us, as we were having some difficulty in remembering how to say them, let alone spell them. We both found Polish probably the most difficult language we have yet encountered (possibly apart from Bulgarian, but then that is in a different alphabet)! Remembering how to pronounce a few crucial words was hard enough, but understanding anything anyone said was practically impossible as it all sounds like a big slur of zs. Apart from of course the chorus of "tac tac tac tac" (the Polish word for yes) which can be heard everywhere! Poles don't seem to be able to say yes just once.

When we had finished browsing the bookshops, we just had time for a quick freshen up before going to the Dominican church which Dr Kloczowski had recommended as having the best liturgy. The Maundy Thursday Mass was to begin at 7pm and he advised us to be early so as to get a seat. Not having yet encountered Polish Catholicism head on, we naively thought 6:30 would be early enough. Not a hope. When we arrived, more than half an hour early, there was already standing room only, and even the standing room was about two thirds full. We found a spot by a pillar which proved useful to lean on as the nearly 3 hour Mass progressed. We could barely see anything, and could understand even less, but there was such an amazing atmosphere that it didn't matter. The church was just crammed full of people with lots of groups of young nuns and a strong presence of students and young professionals. The music, though nothing like so grand and impressive as that in Vienna, was very moving because everyone clearly knew all the hymns and joined in with gusto. At the end of Mass, we paid a visit to the beautiful Altar of Repose in a side chapel which again was crammed with people on their knees and filled with meditative Taize music

Returning to the hostel, we were glad to sit down with a late supper of chicken stew (now a firm favourite on the Sarah-Lucy menu) before crawling into bed.

Plans 'til Warsaw

We thought we should update everyone on the changes to our itinerary from here until Warsaw. We left Krakow yesterday and are now in Olomouc in Moravia (Czech Republic). We're spending two nights here before heading on to Prague on Wednesday which we'll leave on 19th April to go to Liberec. After two nights in Liberec, we're going on to Dresden for three nights and will leave on 24th. We'll spend the night of 24th in Wroclaw and arrive in Warsaw on 25th as planned.

More blogging soon!

HAPPY EASTER

And now we are experiencing a proper Polish Easter in Krakow which we will write up properly for you all later. Much love and a very happy Easter to everyone, we are thinking of you all. xxx

Do they have sheep in Australia?

After the hectic sightseeing in Vienna, we all enjoyed having a lazy day back in Bratislava on Monday. We went out for an early lunch at a local restaurant which specialised in all sorts of different pancakes. Everyone then split up to do shopping and have a wander. Rob and I planned to go out to dinner before we would all meet Jason and Kylie, the friends we made in Bulgaria who also happened to be in Bratislava for cocktails. But first we all watched some episodes of Jonathan Creek and managed to get Lucy hooked!

We joined up with the others at a Jazz Cafe and had a hilarious evening. Poor Jason and Kylie were subjected to a grilling from Keira about the state of the nation of Australia, with such classics as 'Do they have sheep in Australia?' However, they and we seemed to enjoy it and most of the rest of the evening was spent giggling with cocktails.

The following day, we decided to go to Schonbrunn Palace, the summer residence of the Hapsburgs in Vienna, designed by Fischer von Erlach to matchVersailles. Poor Lucy had a cold and so couldn't join us. The Place itself is just awesome, absolutely beautiful and opulent. We looked round 44 of the rooms and learnt a little of the history of the Hapsburgs, absolutely gorgeous. We then headed back to the centre of Vienna and the beer garden we had been to at the weekend. A lovely afternoon was had, sitting out in the sunshine, drinking home brewed beer and eating hearty Austrian fare, including the goulash my grandma used to make.

We headed back to Brastislava reasonably early to have a quick bite to eat before the opera Eugene Onegin. Thankfully Lucy was feeling up to going. It was a very bizarre production with apparently lots of symbolism, although I didn't get why they were all wearing socks . Much hilarity ensued during the supposedly tragic death scene as Onegin wasn't quite up to the job in terms of acting ability, it looked like he was having a fit. There were also some very interesting things going on in the strings section...We all had a great time seeing it, although I was glad that Lucy's first professional opera was the Donizetti. We all headed home for a Slovakian sweet wine tasting before heading to bed for the early start to see Nikita off.

Again, I'm not sure what Milan thought when he arrived at 7 the following morning to be greated by one clothed Nikita and the rest of us still in our pyjamas looking half asleep. Very sad to say goodbye to Nikita, but the others weren't leaving til 12 so we had an opportunity to head out for breakfast and some souvenir shopping. Lucy and I weren't leaving until 3, so after another very sad goodbye to everyone, we had a last check of the flat and had a cup of tea before walking the 1km to the station in absolutely blistering heat.

The train journey to Krakow was a bit of an epic... I'd gone to get the tickets that morning and been informed that we only needed to do one change at Breclav in the Czech Republic. Hoping off the train, we headed to the right platform, only to discover that it looked like we would have to do another change at Katowice. In the end, it all became slightly clearer; the last carriage on the train split with the rest and did head to Krakow, so all we could do was hope that we were on the right half. Thankfully at quarter to 10 we arrived in Krakow and headed to the hostel, which is in a lovely location right on the main square. There were still some food stalls at the Easter market open, so we had some lovely polish sausage for tea and finally crashed ready to explore Krakow more tomorrow.

Viennese whirlings

We had selected Bratislava as a base, partly so that we could get easily to Vienna while paying Slovakian, rather than Austrian prices. So on Saturday we headed off to Vienna, catching the bus just down the road from the apartment, which took about an hour, and then the metro into the centre of the city. Vienna really does live up to all the cliches - coffee, cakes, opera, the Hapsburgs, horse-drawn carts: you're bombarded with the lot as soon as you arrive. We emerged from the underground into Stephansplatz - the heart of the city, and marvelled at the huge Gothic cathedral which dominates the square. A quick trip to the tourist office, and we were sipping (very expensive) coffee in the shade while browsing the information leaflets and deciding what to do. The unmissable place seemed to be the Hofburg, the imperial palaces which are now a complex of museums and galleries, so we wandered in that direction, pottering through its stately gardens full of people lying in the hot sunshine, children playing games, and a myriad of ice cream stalls. The best bet seemed to be a combi-ticket for a couple of galleries, so we all bought one and headed to the Treasury of the Hapsburgs. This is best described as a banquet of jewels, from which you emerge completely drunk on colour and blinking in the sunshine. Nikita had her eye on a rather nice sword (presumably to slay any dragons which might be lurking in the shadows), while Rob revealed a latent ambition to be a royal herald, complete with a bejewlled tabard.

A quick sandwich and a much needed cold drink, and then the party split for the afternoon to explore different parts of Vienna. Nikita, Keira, Becky and I went on a bit of a park crawl - wandering through four of the city's parks, and ending up in the Stadtpark which is beautiful, full of flowers and families enjoying the sunny Saturday afternoon. We basked for a while in the sunshine, before returning to the centre of town to meet Rob and Sarah at the Hotel Sacher for authentic Sachertorte and tea with real milk: Sarah's and my first proper cup of tea since leaving England. We were rather afraid we wouldn't like it, as we've got so used to drinking black tea, but you'll be relieved to hear this was not the case! Over our terribly civilised afternoon tea, we discussed our impressions of the city, and agreed with Rob's comment (which I think he may have plagiarised from Salim) that it feels like the capital of an empire, not the capital of Austria. In the context of the country, it feels ludicrously overblown - you really have to get into the 16th century groove....

Full of cake, we tottered back to the bus stop and got back to the flat in Bratislava in time to cook another veggie curry with all the left over vegetables and more wine. The next morning was a very early start, as we wanted to make Palm Sunday High Mass in St Stephen's Cathedral. Thanks to everyone's Herculean efforts in getting out of bed, we arrived with enough time to arm ourselves with pussy willow branches, which are used here instead of palms. The Mass was amazing, with a packed cathedral, an impressive procession of clergy, and a wonderful choir who sang some lovely motets as well as the Bruckner Mass setting. The singing of the passion was especially good - the big German bass singing "Mein Gott, mein Gott, warum hast du mich verlassen?" sent shivers down the spine.

After Mass it was time for a much needed coffee and panini in a nearby cafe, and we then walked back to the Hofburg to the National Art Gallery (via an irresistible ice-cream shop which served up the most delicious "Mozart" ice-cream. Yes, I know it's horrible touristy, but the combination of marzipan and chocolate ice-cream was just too good to miss.....) The Art Gallery was overwhelmingly packed with a great selection of international art, including some wonderful Breughels and a few Carravaggios. A few hours later, we left feeling very square eyed and in need of a sit down. Which was just as well, as we then had to sit for an hour and a half in a queue for standing seats (surely a contradiction in terms?) at the Opera House. Lured by the promise of tickets for only 4 euros, we were stuck in a darkened stuffy corridor for what seemed like an age, while a rather alarming man in a gilt edged uniform patrolled up and down and told us that if we moved at all, we would lose our places in the queue. Once the queue finally got moving, we were shepherded through several different spot checks, stood in a couple more random queues, apparently for no reason at all, and physically moved around by the now female but equally alarming woman manning the queue, to ensure that we were standing two by two shoulder to shoulder to enter the Opera House. When we finally got in with very frayed tempers on all sides, we were informed that we could mark our places by tying on to the railings, either a scarf or a ribbon. No other item of fabric was apparently appropriate. It being a boiling hot day, we didn't really have many scarves between us, and none of us are in the habit of carrying around lengths of ribbon. So we had to stay in our places for the remaining half hour before the opera began to make sure that the hard earned spots weren't lost. To add insult to injury, the third alarming person in charge of queueing chose this moment to inform us that we weren't allowed bags inside the Opera House, meaning that we would have to go back to the beginning of the queue and do the whole bally thing again. The only possible response to tyranny being subterfuge, we all united by sitting on our bags to hide them, denied all knowledge of suspicious bulges and felt very like oppressed peasants.

It has to be said however, that we had a fabulous view and very much enjoyed the opera. It was L'Elisir D'Amore by Donizetti which is a very enjoyable farce, involving a foolish peasant who is conned into buying wine which he thinks is a love potion which will make the beautiful local land lady fall in love with him...you get the general idea. The singers were great, although the music wasn't much to write home about until the second half, which included the beautiful aria Una Furtiva Lacrima. The brilliant tenor performing it was just unbelievably good. Keira and I were both in tears, and the audience clapped and shouted so much that he had to perform it again (to the surprise of the soprano lead who came on to continue the opera and had to make a precipitate exit). After the second time, he had a standing ovation from the entire house. Unforgettable. I have definitely been converted to tenors. Go and look up the aria now - you won't be disappointed.

It was a very late ending to the day, as we had to wait nearly two hours for a bus back to Bratislava in the bus station God forgot in the less than lovely suburbs of Vienna. Finally arriving at the flat around 2, we crashed out in bed. A weekend of non-stop culture and luxury can be terribly exhausting, darling.

A late Chad's invasion....

Milan, the guy who dropped the others off at the flat looked a bit frightened at the manic hugging which occured as soon as the front door opened, and left us to get on with it. Nikita arrived an hour after the others and after the obligatory cup of tea and chat, we headed out to explore the city.

Although technically a city, indeed a capital city, Brastislava (particularly the Old Town) feels very town like. There isn't a huge amount to do, except sit in the sunshine in one of the many cafes which line the streets. Nevertheless, we had a wander to the main square, with a little minature Easter market and around all the ajoining squares, past all the embassies and the opera house before having a genuine (i.e melted chocolate) hot chocolate in a cafe. The result was six people all on a slight sugar high...


We headed back to the flat so that people could get settled in and tried the Tokaji wine Lucy and I had lugged from Hungary. To say it was the SPAR shop own brand, it wasn't half bad, although incredibly sweet. Afterwards, we headed out to a locals restaurant. It turned out to be an ideal place to try new things; Nikita tried snails and vension and I tried smoked trout. We also tried a Slovakian wine (apparently the best) which was, as Rob put it 'hideous' (althoughit tasted better if you added water as Lucy and I did - heathens). After lots more chatting we headed in for the night.

Poor Becky who is an early riser, was up and ready to go at a reasonable time. The same cannot be said for the rest of us. After a very delayed breakfast, we headed out to visit some of the museums of the old town. The main site of Bratislava is its castle, which of course being this trip was 'under renovation'. Instead, we went to a quirky art museum, with a mirrored bookcase walk way and lots of very cool modern art as well as lots of older paintings by Slovak painters. It was really interesting to see how European art movements; impressionism and cubism especially, had affected these artists whose work is not really displayed outside Slovakia.

We then wandered to St Martin's Cathedral , a beautiful if dark building which backs on to the motorway, so its quietness surprises you. It is where several of the Austro-Hungarian monarchs were crowned (including Marie Theresa) due to the Turkish invasion. Afterwards there was a photo opportunity where Rob taught Keira how to use his very high tech camera. Photos continued while we sat in the square and drank beer. Discovering that you had to have a big meal rather than a snack to eat there, we headed to a bagel bar for a yummy smoked salmon and cream cheese bagel.

The group then split, some on the look out for ice cream; a mammoth task as I understand it as Slovakians seem to think it is bad for you. Rob and I wandered to the UFO bridge for a look at the Danube, stopping on the way there at a wine shop to see if we could get some better Slovakian wine to have with dinner. We came back to discover that the makings of a fantastic curry had already begun. A very civilised evening of listening to music and chatting, bar Keira and my mad rush to Tesco for yoghurt to cool the curry down a bit. The curry was fantastic, the wine better than the night before!

Friday was another beautiful day of sunshine. Making a slightly earlier start, we headed out to the UFO bridge, the main bridge which crosses the Danube in Bratislava. It is known as the UFO bridge due to the structure at the top which houses a viewing platform at a restaurant. You get incredible views at the top; it gives you a visual history of the city - a beautiful Old Town with a castle, combined with the huge Soviet tower blocks of the communist regime. Far in the distance you can see Austria, which brings home the extent to which Brastilava really was at the very edge of the communist block.

After a lovely coffee looking out over the view, we wandered through the park, back to the Old Town and had paninis by the (under renovation) fountain. We then headed to the Archbishop's Palace, a candy pink building with wonderfully preserved festures and a huge number of mirrors and British tapestries. While there we met a hilarious guy on the information desk who struck up quite a rapport with Keira. He advocated Christian Socialism as an economic system and complained about the damage western capitalism had done...the evils of the British Empire etc.

We then went on a hunt for ice cream. The guy serving was a bit of a show of; pretending to drop them or throw them at you - very entertaing to watch. Absolutely delicious! Then it was time to put the gladrags on; Rob and I headed out for a quick bite to eat. While we were having a lovely dinner, the others were having a slightly stressful time as they had realised that the ballet was at the new theatre, a drive away. Cue the arrival of more conmen taxi drivers, but we all arrived with five minutes to spare. Sleeping Beauty was lovely, and we had really good seats which was wonderful, although the acting is absolutely terrible! After leaving the ballet, a search for food was required for the others as Tesco which is allegedly 24 hrs isn't. Nikita and Becky gave up, poor Lucy and Keira were stuck with the delights of a fish burger in MacDonalds. However the E number overdose did prove hilarious for the rest of us. A lovely evening!

Not our finest hour

Part of our last day in Kosice, which was a Sunday, was spent sitting in the Catholic cathedral wondering where everyone else was. The congregation turned up about half an hour later, and we tut tutted about how disorganised it was, and how the notice on the front door giving Mass times hadn't been kept up to date. It was several hours later before we realised that the hour had in fact gone forward. So we had caught the 10;30 Mass rather than the 9am. You'll be glad to hear that we felt suitably foolish. We had read that the Slovaks are a deeply religious people, and it definitely felt like that at Mass. The church was packed, with people kneeling in the aisles (and this was the third Mass of the day). The congregation was a real mix: young families with lots of children, teenagers, students, elderly people, and the atmosphere was very devout. After Mass, pretty much the entire congregation transferred next door to an ice-cream parlour. Being good tourists, we felt that we ought to blend in with the locals, so we followed them in to have coffee and cake.

As the day wore on, we really had run out of things to do in Kosice, so the evening was spent in the youth hostel singing as many things in harmony as we could remember: three years in a college choir were not spent in vain! The next morning, we packed up and hopped on a train to Bratislava, which took 5 and a half hours as it went all round the country in two sides of a triangle rather than directly across. We did manage to glimpse the snow covered Tatras on the horizon, which was about as exciting as the journey got.

On arriving in Bratislava, we walked a long way through the industrial and commercial outskirts of the city to get to the apartment we had booked. After about two miles, the poor armadillo and tortoise were feeling their shells rather, and as we were completely lost, we decided to give up and take a taxi. The taxi driver, carefully selected for being a cuddly looking grandpa figure with a white moustache, welcomed us cheerily, smiled from ear to ear, and drove us 30 seconds round the corner to the address we had given him! He then proceeded to charge us 5 euros for the privilege, assuring us that this was the minimum charge. We attempted to argue the case, but his English mysteriously dried up, and our Slovakian wasn't really up to the job. Another triumph for the ILTDC (International League of Taxi Driving Conmen).

The flat, though looking rather shabby and decrepid on the outside, turned out to be spacious, clean and modern, and about five minutes walk from the old town and a local supermarket - perfect for our purposes! Sarah and I had the rest of the day, and the whole of the day after in the flat by ourselves before everyone else arrived on Wednesday so took the opportunity to sleep a lot, wash clothes, eat baked potatoes and watch a lot of very odd Slovakian tv (there was some international tennis on too which made me very happy, and which Sarah tolerated with much patience). Then on Wednesday, it was time for Bratislava to become Durham for a week, as the Chadsians arrived......(imagine the Dance of the Capulets in the background).