Tag Archives: europe

Italian Piazza

“Race for a cure” through the cathedral Square, Brescia, Italy

“The beauty is in the eye of the beholder” is a saying but in Italy the beauty is as encompassing as the air you breathe. Any place in Italy envelops you in beauty that is exuded both by its generous nature but mainly by what humans created along history. And in spite of wars and destruction that raged for centuries along the Italian peninsula people, by the sheer love of their places always rebuilt and embellished their destroyed towns.

Brixia Archeological Park, Brescia, Italy

In Brescia we closed the loop we started in Bergamo, two cities that seem connected at the hip. They were together European culture capital in 2023 and all visiting fliers offered by their marketing offices show both city maps one near another, marking out their remarkable buildings. It makes you feel that you MUST see both cities situated actually pretty close to each other.

But more than the beautiful buildings, churches, museums and palazzo what radiates the charm of an Italian city is its piazza. The life of the city happens in the piazza that fills up with people since early morning and it will find them in the same spot at the wee hours of the night. Piazza is an Italian institution where gossip flies, deals are made, dating flourishes and local culture is crafted. For us it was no better time than coming to the piazza in the early hours of the morning when few were out sipping a coffee while reading the newspaper, relaxed sitting in one of the many chairs that line up the piazza’s pavement. We joined them and sat there waiting for the others to wake up and fill up the rest of the chairs, and always sad when we decided to leave, that we could not stay as long as them, having to live the life of travelers ready to discover a new city. And hoping that somehow, by miracle in the next visit we’d be able to spend hours in that same piazza. Just chilling.

In Brescia, like in all other Italian towns we enjoyed piazza – and there are many of them – watching how locals come, chat, read, smoke, admire, laugh and go on with their life. A life that apparently happens at a completely different pace than the one we are so used to in New York where time is translated in money and life slips through your fingers.

But walking uphill towards the Brescia Castle we could not avoid stepping on names etched in metal plates. A long row of plaques with names after names, citizens’ medallions, of local Brescians or foreigners, all with a date around 1974 or 1975. People were walking peacefully their dogs stepping obliviously over these medallions just to find out these were the names of the ones who died or were severely wounded in the 1974 terrorist attack with a bomb in the same piazza, Piazza de Loggia, where life seemed the most peaceful and cherished. “Far right, far left, fascists, communists are all the same” told us one of the locals whom we asked who put the bomb. “This year will be the 50th year anniversary of the bombing” (where 8 people died and 102 were wounded), he told us.

Our flight from Milan to New York was in the afternoon so we did not have enough time to delve into Brescia’s palazzos and museums. We walked the city streets making a point to touch all its square even devoid of the crowds that make them vibe in the evening. Also, we felt saturated by the Italian beauty. Even without a precise schedule of visits the towns are overwhelming in what they offer. A schedule may be for sure helpful but we were wondering how many days you really need in order to check all the venues marked on paper while we did not have a moment of respiro in a day without any trace of a schedule! And we strolled the entire city from archeological sites, to spectacular arhitectural jewels, to churches, statues, parks, fountains, museums, art galleries, painted chapels, collections, palaces, all loaded by beautiful art created in centuries of exquisite and refined flourishing of this part of Europe. At one point you cannot avoid noticing that you became saturated of this astounding art and its emanating beauty and stroll quicker, seemingly afraid in a way of more visits. And you realize in shock that can absorb no more the surrounding refinement that became, if this is really possible… too uniform.

Marble and sea

It is said that it took Michelangelo nine month to obtain the block of marble out which he shaped David. And it is not known exactly where from but the marble seemed that came from the village of Colonatta perched high in the Apaun Alps, near Carrara. Nowadays large blocks of marble are extracted using a technique developed by an Italian engineer, Adolfo Corsi, who used to cut bridges during the war. Using similar technique of bridge cutting he developed a machinery and a process of extracting the marble from inside the mountain, creating huge caves connected with the outside by tunnels where huge trucks and large machinery roar out the marble from the underground.

Working inside the caves is probably better than in the 40C+ temperatures outside where also it seems that you can cut only smaller blocks. The Carrara marble is of many types based on its various colors from the white-gray to the white-golden, its availability and clients’ desire determining its market price that varies a lot from $200 to $15000/ton.

The tradition credited Greek refuges of the 8th century to be the first inhabitants of Riomaggiore, the first of the five villages that make Cinque Terre. But contrary to the popular belief, in spite of being located by the sea, on the coast, the Cinque Terre villages were not fishing villages. The locals used to live deeper in the hills, afraid that the Saracens’ sea invasion would destroy their households. Around the 11th century, the danger seemed to subsided and they moved off the hills toward the coast for an easier hauling of their precious merchandise, their wine.

Cinque Terre is a lovely place inviting to explore. We chose to hike the hill that separates Riomaggiore from Manarola, a 600 steps up and another 600 steps down into Manarola. It’s a steep uphill hike especially if you don’t know what to expect but this route was taken many times a day by the locals who were carrying grapes from the vineyards.

Via del Amore, Riomaggiore-Manarola, Cinque Terre, Italy

You could see on the way walls supporting terraces sometimes extending the steps built into the hill on which we were climbing. The rugged and rocky trail passes near vineyards, olive and lemon trees and it takes about an hour to reach Manarolla.

Manarolla location may date from the Roman age, its name referring to Manium Arula that means “little altar of the Mani Gods”. But the current village was settled around the 12th century with people coming from Volastra, a village located higher up.

Corniglia is still hanging on top of the mountain. From the train station is a 20-30 minutes walk uphill to reach the village that is served also by a bus. Its name is probably related to Gens Cornelia, the Roman family who owned in antiquity the land.

Vernazza has a tiny harbor sided by the locals’ boats and closed on one side by the church dedicated to Santa Margherita di Antiochia whose relic, a finger of her hand, appeared, got lost and reappeared again at the same spot on the shore. So the locals interpreted it as a nudge to built a church on that exact spot. In my view besides Manarolla, Vernazza are the two most scenic villages in Cinque Terre. So we decided to linger in the harbor for a dinner of tegame, a baked casserole of anchovy, potato and tomato that is considered a piece of Vernazza’s history.

Portofino

Camogli stands on Riviera de Levante that skirts the beautiful Gulf of Paradiso on the western side of a small peninsula close to Genoa. It’s a charming location that invites to explore its winding streets that start from the port and climb the hill. It looks like a small ex-fishing village turned resort with colorful buildings lining up its charming shore of pebble beaches. Its name may have come from “Casa de la Moglie”, local houses where captains used to leave their wives when they departed in long sails across the Ligurian Sea.

But the tiny town seemed to have a way larger role in history, around middle ages mooring in his harbor hundreds of Tall Ships and later hosting a contingent of the Napoleon’s fleet ready for the battle with the Brits. The main beach lined up with the colorful houses ends up dramatically with the tower of Castle della Dragonara, ruined and closed at the moment that adds to the charm of the town. On the other side of the castle is the harbor full of boats glittering in the sun.

On the other side of the peninsula, 20 minutes away of Camogli, Santa Margherita stretches along the Tigullio Gulf. Its look is more of a larger town than the village-esque looks of Camogli. Statues of Garibaldi and Columbus adorn its promenade, a charming relaxing walk of the “Pearl of Tigullio” with large yacht moored by the shore.

The entire Portofino peninsula was contested in history, Santa Margherita becaming at one point in the 18th century capital of the third canton under the French orders that included also Portofino village and its harbor.

By the thirteenth century, the small fishing village of Portofino became part of the Republic of Genoa. This move change the fortunes of the tiny forgotten village turning Portofino into a refuge for Genoese rich merchants, that brought wealth to the village, a tradition that persists even today.

But history’s fluidity made the village change hands between Florence, the local noble families and Genoa tying up Portofino in regional power dynamics. The climax came in 1814 when the small fishing village became the stage of bloody battles between English and Napoleonic troops, who were eventually driven out of the castle. The English victory incorporated Portofino into the Kingdom of Sardinia, along with the entire territory of Genoa till they all joined the kingdom of Italy.

Nowadays Portofino is a sleepy village, a retreat for the rich and famous. The road from Santa Margherita to Portofino, a 5 km stretch of narrow winding asphalt band is paced daily by crowds of tourists that enjoy the walk shared precariously by both humans and vehicles with no separation in between. Cars are parked occasionally on the side of the road avoiding to enter Portofino where parking is scarce. In town more upscale restaurants line up the charming harbor overlooked from the the top of the rock by Brown Castle that confer great views over the the colorful houses that embrace the harbor. Cruises sail at sunset from the harbor connecting the villages of the peninsula and Fruttoso Monastery located close to the promontory that has at its tip a romantic lighthouse.

Superba

When walking inside the mirrors’ hall of Genoa’s Palazzo Reale you feel a bit like in “Last Year in Marienbad”, where the images are reflected back to themselves, disorienting, multiplying like in the dream the movie wanted to portray. The museum and its remarkable art collection occupies a palace, that changed hands for about two centuries between the local patrician families Balbi and Durazzo till it came under the ownership of the House of Savoy that associated to it the Royal title.

Pupils in Palazzo Spinolla for an art lesson, Genoa, Italy

I found fascinating in all these palaces and art galleries in Bergamo, Torino and now in Genoa, the numerous groups of pupils from middle school and high school who came for an art lesson. They sat in circles on the floor while the teacher or a museum curator explained the paintings and the history or the religious facts associated with them. The explanations were sometimes way too long and the kids were drifting to their phones. But I could see that soon they put the phones back in their pockets and continue listening quietly, attentive to the explanations.

The ceiling of Santissima Annunziata del Vastato, Genoa, Italy

Squeezed between the mountains and the sea Genoa gives credit to Janus, the “two-faced” god, for its founding. The city even has a well, named Pozzo di Giano (Janus’ Well), built around 1600, that is said to be the exact spot where Genoa was born, a place where sailing lines and shrouds for the ships were made.

The fountain is pink for Giro d’Italia in Piazza Raffaele de Ferrari, Genoa, Italy

But Genoa’s history and its maritime prowess blessed the city with layers of civilization and a plethora of palaces, churches and squares that made Petrarch to name the city, La Superba.

And probably the most striking of all the city’s building is Genoa’s San Lorenzo Cathedral. Its facade and interior’s horizontal black and white marble stripes is a sign of the medieval nobility of the Republic of Genoa, only four families in Genoa having the privilege to decorate the buildings they founded in this manner, Doria, Spinola, Fieschi and Grimaldi. However the black and white stripes were also widespread in Tuscany, the color appearing on the cities’ coat of arms.

On the cathedral’s portico each column is decorated with sculpted motives. The interior shows the combination of the Gothic arches topped by Romanesque striped arches, proof of the mastery of the French artists who built it. It was consecrated as the cathedral of Genoa in 1118, more than a millennium ago. The financial success of the maritime commerce enabled the merchant families of Genoa to also establish one of the first universities in the world and the first credit bank in the world.

“Serge de Nîmes,” a blend of silk and wool used primarily for making sails and cover the merchandise on boats made its way to Genoa where the local traders, created a cotton version of it and dyed it blue using indigo traded from India. They marketed the new fabric as “blue of Genoa,” and soon the new fabric made its way across the Atlantic ocean following in the footstep – or better said sails – of Genoa’s native son Christopher Columbus. In the New World “Les Blue de Genes” ended up as fabric for a sort of very resistant pants for the working class, better known nowadays as … Blue Jeans.

Bruno Cataldo’s Khadine in Piazza Raffaele de Ferrari, Genoa, Italy

Geno’s inner city is made up of a fascinating maze of alleys named by the locals carrugi. The complex structure of these narrow streets, charming now for a stroll of discovery, helped once defend the city of the enemies that always seemed to come from the sea.

It is said that the carrugi were built to defend against the Moors’ invasions, complicating the advance of the enemy armies and allowing the Genoese to build barricades and setting up ambushes.

It was developed as a typical medieval labyrinth once developed in castles and fortresses or in the Arab medinas.

Nowadays the carrugi still are beaming with life with locals playing volleyball in tiny squares…

…small stores selling great food and migrants and prostitutes finding cheaper housing.

Prosciutto and more in a *carrugi* store

Secrets and caves

The history of Torino seemed always connected to the House of Savoy. Since 1563 it was the capital of the Duchy of Savoy, morphing further as capital of the Kingdom of Sardinia under the same House of Savoy. It became the intellectual and political heart of the Risorgimento—the movement that led to Italy’s unification becoming the first capital of the newly unified Kingdom of Italy from 1861 to 1865 .

But what stayed in mind it’s the recent history of post-war industrialization depicted in the italian neorealist movies of 1960s, a city of recent Italian migrants coming to a big city to find work in the newly built factories that made Torino a major European nexus for industry, commerce, and trade.

But what you find in Torino is far from the cliches of neorealism, the Italian migrants being replaced recently by African migrants that clog Piazza de la Republica right near Il Duomo and Palazzo Reale whose resplendent collections may keep you busy for an entire day. Galeria Sabauda, Palazzo Reale’ painting collection is a cross section on an impressive array of artworks spanning from the 14th to the 20th centuries with masterpieces by Piedmontese, Italian, and Dutch and Flemish artists. It was perfect visit for our rainy day.

But if you dig a bit in the history of the city you end up on a completely unexpected page: the secrets of the caves on which the palaces, both Reale and Madama, are apparently built, caves where once alchemists were searching for the Philosopher’s Stone under the tutelage of the kings of Savoy. The entrances to these caves remains a deeply preserved secret till today, shared only once by the alchemists with Maria Cristina, wife of Vittorio Amadeo I of Savoy at the suveran’s death.

Why were all these alchemists once congregate in Torino? Most probably because the Savoy kings gave them a pass. But the legends mention Torino’s magical location, situated on the 45th paralel at the confluence of Po and Dora with its tributaries. And to add a little muscle to the story, Appolonios of Tyana, healer and Greek philosopher and a capable talisman crafter somehow left one of this precious magic stones in the Roman colony “Augusta Taurinorum” that became later known as Torino. And of course if you throw a bit of Knight Templars and a whiff of Nostradamus in the mix, you get a fully concocted, well balanced conspiracy that is potent even if we don’t mention the Turin shroud that hides in Torino’s cathedral, also part of the story.

And to make the conspiracy juicier in Piazza Statuto, at the end of the elegant Via Garibaldi. a monument built for the termination of the Frejus tunnel is considered the nexus of a malefic triangle that connects Torino with London and San Francisco ( probably Silicon Valley ahead of its time..). The monument is topped by Lucifer himself whose star, the obvious pentateuch according to the conspiracy, disappeared mysteriously one night. The monument made out of rocks excavated from the tunnel has on it fallen angels that could have inspired Wim Wenders in “Wings of Desire”. Or not… There is also a legend of a white magic triangle that connects Torino with Prague and Lyon that overlaps with the black magic triangle around the church of Gran Madre di Dio and Piazza del Palazzo but its story is less sexy than the malefic one’s.

For sure these stories are way more exciting, even if they are made up, than the Italian neorealism of Torino’s factories! In any case when the rain stopped we were able to walk the streets at night where the light reflections on the wet pavement of the boulevards and squares conferred a real magic to the city. Glitter of silver and gold that may make you start believing in legends.

And if the above mentioned triangles seemed a bit far fetched this cannot be said about the St Michele churches that are lined up along the globe on a straight line. One of these locations is Sacra de St Michele is a religious complex on Mount Pirchiriano, close to Torino.

The Saint Michael’s Line is considered to be the Sword of Saint Michael stretched across the Christian Europe when He killed the dragon. The line links a number of monasteries and sacred sites situated on prominent hilltops, adding to their grandeur, and all dedicated to the Archangel Michael, stretching from the Holy Land across Europe.

The line starts at Stela Maris monastery on Mount Carmel, continuing through Symi island in Greece and further to Italy’s Monte San Angelo in San Giovanni Rotondo in Puglia, to Sacra di San Michele and Mont San Michel in Normandy going through England’s St Michel Mount and ending in Ireland’s Skelling Micheal. A remarkable alignment that intrigues and inspires.

After the defeat

St Michael’s Tower, Bratislava, Slovakia

From Budapest the plan was to fly to Bucharest but in order to keep up with the flow of history I changed plans and took a train to Bratislava. As a kid in school I remember learning about the Hungarians’ defeat in front of the Ottoman’s armies at Mohacs in 1526. But there were way more pressing things to explore at that age than to study the aftermath of that battle. Nor, many years later when I backpacked through Czechoslovakia in 1980s I found any emphasis in Bratislava of its glorious aristocratic past, unwelcome otherwise in the workers’ paradise.

Main pedestrian street seen from St Michael’s Tower, Bratislava, Slovakia

The Ottoman victory in 1526 signed the end of Hungarian kingdom. Its western territorial remains forced the court to move to Bratislava, named by the Hungarians, Pozsony and by the Austrians, Pressburg. The city’s new latin name was coined in 1919 but its roots go back to the first millennium when it was mentioned as Vratislaburgum, Braslavespurch or Preslavasburc by Slovaks, Czechs or Germans.

The remaining Hungarian territory, a third of the original Hungarian kingdom was incorporated in the Habsburg empire and Bratislava/Pzsony/Pressburg served as the Hungarian capital from 1526 until 1784. The Hungarian parliament continued to meet there until 1848.

During this time 19 Habsburg rulers were crowned kings of Hungary in the city’s Gothic Cathedral of St. Martin, the city becoming a coronation place not only for kings, but also for archbishops and nobility. Maria Theresa, the famous queen of the Habsburg Empire was crowned here in 1741.

The city, named Pressburg in those time flourished during the reign of Maria Theresa, and became the most important city in the Hungarian Kingdom. It became also the largest, its population tripling.

But enough with history. Bratislava ended up as the last stop on my European foray before I reach Bucharest. A totally unplanned trip that started with a whimsical desire to stop in Budapest before I arrive in Bucharest, and for which I planned for logistical reasons to fly into Vienna. But the plan evolved organically and ended up porting me in 6 countries and 5 capitals, crossing Europe west to east by train, avoiding as much as I could flying. I hoped the train would slow down my OCD of intense travel and it sort of did, maybe not enough but always it’s a beginning for everything.

But my travel-by-train plans stopped at the Romania’s borders where train travel is painfully slow, even slower now than during the communist period. So I searched flights to Bucharest from one of these Eastern European’s capitals just to find that the connections between these ex-brotherly countries are atrocious. There is only one direct flight from Budapest to Bucharest and none from Bratislava. Besides the price of these flights exceed a high-tier intercontinental flight. There are even less expensive flights from New York to Budapest than to fly TAROM from Budapest to Bucharest (!)

The Bratislava Synagogue was demolished in 1961 to make space for the SNAP bridge, Synagogue Museum, Bratislava, Slovakia

But Bratislava is just one hour away from Vienna, either by train or by boat cruising over the Danube. I hopped in one of the trains that brought me back to Vienna and flew from there to Bucharest for an insignificant cost. And now I can relax a bit after the long walks I put in these countries that averaged 14 miles/day.

Castle Hill

Fishermen’s Bastion, Buda-Budapest, Hungary

While walking in Pest you could see from many locations the palace perched on the hill across the Danube. Buda Castle was the seat of the kings of Hungary ruling from Buda established as capital in 1361. Buda and Pest were separate cities. They united and formed Budapest in 1873 making it the second-largest city of the Austro-Hungarian Empire after Vienna. Pest got conquered by the Ottomans in 1526, and 15 years later Buda fell also under their rule becoming capital of the Budin province during the Ottoman rule and they stayed like this for almost 150 years when the Habsburg took over defeating the Turks.

In the middle of the square topping Buda hill, Mathias Church, founded in 1015 was used for centuries as a coronation site by Hungarian kings. It was rebuilt in gothic style in the 14th century and restored in the late 19th century. Near the church is the statue of St Stephen statue the founder of Hungarian kingdom, credited also for christianizing the Hungarian tribes. As a result he got promoted from king to saint.

But the main structure that can be seen on Buda hill is the Fishermen’s Bastion, a romantic reinforcement built at the beginning of the 20th century. There was no defensive intent in its construction but for beautification of the town on the place where it seemed that the fishermen guild brought their products to the market around Mathias Church. But the story goes that for this benefit the fishermen had to defend the thick walls of the citadel at this specific location.

The funicular descending to the Danube from Buda Hill, Budapest, Hungary

A short walk from the Fishermen’s bastion is the Buda Castle that host the Hungarian National Art Museum and just nearby is the newly renovated palace of the Hungarian president.From the hill you can descend by a funicular with amazing views over Széchenyi Chain Bridge, the famous chained bridge of Budapest.

Parliament and Pest city. Budapest, Hungary

Elisabeth Bridge, Buda-Budapest, Hungary

It was a long walk around the Buda Hill’s sites and I was rushing at one point because I had to catch a train to Bratislava. I walked the Chain bridge in Pest and in the last hour I had available I went to visit the House of Terror, the museum dedicated to what the Hungarians call, the two occupations, the Nazi and Communists, identical brothers in ideology. The museum was developed in the building once occupied by the Nazi party just to be taken over after the war by the Hungarian Secret Police. Conveniently, they just changed labels and applied the same terror to the people.

House of Terror Museum, Pest-Budapest, Hungary

On the museum’s first floor is a tank used by the Soviets in quashing the 1956 revolt of the Hungarians zesting for freedom. The museum exhibits are spread on two floors before descending into the basement where the torture chambers and the jail were preserved intact together with the torture devices. But what strikes most is the chagrin the museum’s films and regular folks’ interviews exude, all explaining how the communists will destroy the country. It’s a sentiment of powerlessness combined with anger and rage for the crimes those people committed and total disgust for the communists that brought the enslavement and emasculation of an entire country.

Ruined Pubs

St Stephen Cathedral, Pest, Budapest, Hungary

Somehow I always ignored visiting places close to home. Irrelevant what that home might be. I traveled from Ushuaia to Fairbanks and from the tip of Sri Lanka to northern Japan but I never went to Ruse, and implicitly to Bulgaria, 60 km from my original home town, Bucharest. The same happened with Kishinev, Belgrade or Budapest. At the beginning of the 1980s I spent probably around 8 hours in Budapest, a short stop between two trains while backpacking in Eastern Europe, the only countries we were allowed to visit in our extended jail, “the paradise of workers and peasants”

I remembered vaguely Budapest of those times with imposing buildings and decrepit facades, a gray city of communist poverty but way more opened to the western culture that our Romanian dictatorship would allow. And in those time this opening manifested through music and consumer goods completely lacking in Romania was obsessively more important for us that any other cultural aspects. So I wanted for many years to revisit Budapest and I kept postponing probably because …it was too close.

Vajdahunyad Castle, Pest, Budapest, Hungary

Coming from Vienna my old-life misconceptions shaped in my mind a toned down Budapest just to be startled by its new look. I found a monumental city with large boulevards lined up by lavish villas hidden behind leafy trees, houses owned once by the Hungarian bourgeoise, taken over later by the Communist apparatchik and now by the nouveau riche. A city that strives to prove that is still an important capital of a once powerful but now vanished empire, the capital of Hungary that history made it smaller and smaller, always choosing the wrong side of history as they chose today a path against the entire Europe.

The roof of the Ethnographic Museum, Budapest, Hungary

However Budapest is amazing through its conservation effort, a city where old architecture is preserved with intense energy on an accelerated rhythm giving the feeling that everywhere people are working non-stop on renovating their city most probably with European funds. The newly opened museums like the Ethnographic Museum and the House of Music from the City Park are splendid newly built architectural jewels.

So a stroll in Pest, on the Eastern bank of the Danube, is a walk of discovery strolling the roof on the new ethnographic museum, to the cathedral and the gorgeously renovated palace that houses now the public library filled with students studyIng.

The sun setting behind Buda Hill drowns all Pest buildings by the river in a magical orange hue inviting for a stroll and admire the glory of the divine light.

The shoes monument on the Danube, Pest, Budapest

In the godly hue of the sunset the shoes memorial of the Jews murdered towards the end of the war is even more powerful. They were executed along the river bank by the members of the Hungarian Arrow Cross party police around December 1944 and January 1945. More than 20,000 jews taken from the ghetto perished in that short period.

I found Budapest swamped by tourists buses, everywhere you went you could see groups after groups herded by guides telling stories in all languages. I was wondering how crowded may be the city in summer if it were packed like this in the whimsical April.

And nowhere you see more people that on the night Danube cruises – a must do in Budapest – that were fully packed.

Szimpla Kert Ruined Pub, Pest-Budapest, Hungary

And after such a long walk in Pest the best place to chill is in one of the Ruined Pub, great hang out places about which I heard lots of praises. These places are bars built in former abandoned buildings that became the cool places to go in Budapest, most of them developed in the Jewish Quarter. I read that the one such bar opened in 1999 but the one considered the first pioneer ruined bar in Budapest is Szimpla Kert opened in 2002.

The bar takes over an entire building that is large and mainly deep, on two or more floors embracing the building’s natural decay, decorated with old furnishing and bizarre decor, many times a pastiche of weird elements that are visually striking.

The chill images should be augmented with the music that pumps in each and every room, with people dancing and changing rooms depending on their mood. The electric atmosphere of the place kept me there till midnight in spite of the almost 20 miles that I walked that day.

Marathon

The rain that deluged Vienna the day before I welcomed because I was able to time it with some museum visits. But you need a lot of rainy days to cover Vienna’s treasure trove of museums, one seemingly better than the other.

So when I woke up in the morning and saw clear skies I left for an extensive walk in a city that I did not see till 1990. And the marathon was for sure the unexpected surprise because when you travel you worry about many other things than the next marathon.

The beauty of it is that you can watch the marathon from various point of the city and admire its monumental architecture in the same time. And it’s no effort to detour your walk because the organizers marked the running path to follow the beauty of this fabulous city.

The arrival was in front of the city hall after the runners followed the ring and were welcomed by pumping music, lots of crowds and of course a lot of police who were watching the crowds.

Locals and lots of tourists were packing the avenues, many caring posters encouraging the runners while others had cow bells banging them continuously. But overall it was nice, sunny Sunday morning and people went out with families and lots of babies and toddlers having just a relaxed time in a very quiet, relaxed and safe city.

My last day in Vienna in my European periple. I wanted for a long time to travel in Eastern Europe by train. In the USA we always fly from one point to another and train seems to be there a thing of the past. Of course there is no incentive to improve trains like in all things in the States where business trumps the interest of the people. And more than anything I wanted to travel in Eastern Europe since I have been in Croatia many years ago. It’s more lively, less stressed, people feeling that even if they may earn less, live a more relaxed and connected life. Of course when you come from New York it seems that everybody in the world seems relaxed 🙂 When I descended in Budapest’s Keleti lots of young, nice guys and girls stayed behind. Were they going to Ukraine or maybe they would stop somewhere along the way to the border? Or maybe they were going to enroll to defend their country of the invasion created by the maniac (Ras)Putin? Or they were just visiting the country they love but they cannot live in it because of the terrorist disaster created by the Russians? I could not know their intentions and all I followed was those stupid debates in the American congress to give them arms to defend their country and with it our way of life. And this war is also a marathon, a marathon of life and death but at whose end you don’t win a medal but a country and a way of living.

Modernism

Most of the people know Friedensreich Hundertwasser as a remarkable painter. An artist whose graphic designs seem to dive into a more profound spirituality of the visible and inspire the viewer that admires his work. His colorful spirals dominate his many collections, twisting and turning, like delving in an absconded realm that he could effortless see even if we try pointless to figure it out its meaning.

Hundertwasserhaus Museum, Vienna, Austria

His architectural designs try to avoid straight lines – “the straight line is God less”, he said – embedding in the rooms unregulated irregularities. He strives for a humanity in harmony with nature, with trees growing in windows and flowers coming out of the floors. These trees are called tree tenants and he had an entire manifesto regarding their use and right to be there, cohabitating with humans in windows and balconies.

Besides, Hundertwasser was a philosopher and mainly an activist for ecology in a time when this was not a cool thing to do. He wrote letters and manifestos, speeches and public performances criticizing the doctrine of permanent growth that is so alive mainly today, the wasteful society and the ridiculous conformism of the society. Probably he would die again to see the fake corporate culture spread across the world.

The Romanian poet Eminescu lived here during his stay in Vienna

Not far from Hundertwasserhaus Museum is the place where another modern, this time the Romanian poet Mihai Eminescu lived while studying in Vienna where not having yet the baccalaureate exam he was accepted as an extraordinary auditor. The word went that Eminescu seemed to lack money. I don’t know how the neighborhood looked in his time but for sure now it is a very spiffy location.

Modernism in Vienna’s turn of the 20th century arrived on top of ruins and devastation caused by the war. The empire collapsed forced by huge inequality and poverty of the masses and acute tensions among many of its nationalities.

The exhibit at Leopold Museum presents this remarkable advent of the new modernist current in all its aspects, a wealth of artistic and intellectual achievement. At the time of this explosive movement towards modernity Vienna was the city of contradictions that lived side by side: nobility and liberals intellectuals, magnificent building and the squalor of the slums, Zionism and anti-semitism.

The remarkable Secessionists and the concept of the Gesamtkunstwerk, or universal work of art brought art to all areas of life. The Austrian Expressionism started exploring the soul extracting feeling that showed a dissolution of the self, a subject kept tabu for generations by exactly that conformity of the society that I mentioned above. A lot of these artists were part of the new bourgeoisie, many of them Jewish who later on had to flee Vienna, leaving behind them a vacuum of creativity.

From painting, to furniture to architecture to sculpture to jewelry and poster design the exhibition passes through all forms of art that made Vienna what was renown for in its heydays. But what is impressive of this exhibition “Vienna 1900 Birth of Modernism” is the breadth of art of all kinds, from paintings to decorative and home use objects brought from private collection to fill three floor of this remarkable museum.

I passed by at the Kinsky auction house in Vienna where it was the pre-auction viewing of a number of Klimt drawings and a portrait of Margarethe Constance Lieser, the daughter of Adolf Lieser. Actually the auctioneers were not sure if the painting depicted her or one of the two daughters of Justus Lieser and his wife Henriette but no matter who the woman was the guy who won the auction paid 30m for it days latter. Anyway I planned to be in Budapest for the day of the auction so I decided to pass on bidding against whatever Arab sheik or a rude Russian disguised as a gentleman. Better a goulash by the Danube…

Wachau

Somehow I was obsessed with Melk. First time I’ve been to Austria way too many years ago I stopped at the monastery mentioned in Umberto Eco’s “Il Nome della Rosa”. In writing his novel Eco found its inspiration in Melk’s library that he depicts vividly with intricate details. His mention of Egypt, a large slice of the library adds the desired element of mystery hidden in the encompassing collection of volumes. One interesting note in the library is the globe that shows America as a continent but with with a separate California as an island. Geological or political prophecy? Walking through the library, you can imagine spotting among the tourists the young disciple Adso di Melk, navigating the intricate labyrinthine of corridors looking for hidden treasures within the shelves.

The story goes that St Benedict left Rome disgusted by the opulent and deprived life that was the norm of the empire’s capital and went to live in isolation where he crafted his theological doctrine. His doctrine was adopted in Melk and for centuries was loosened and tightened with the coming emperors and current philosophies but somehow was able to be steadfast in preserving the catholicism in this area.

But the promised austerity does not show in the palace inherited from the House of Babenberg that established the dynasty that reigned over Austria, then known as the Imperial Margraviate of Austria. Margrave Leopold II made the decision in 1089 and bestowed Melk Abbey upon Benedictine monks. Melk Abbey Museum consists of 11 exhibition rooms richly filled with artifacts showing grandeur and power and less the desired austerity.

Wachau Valley, a charming portion of the Danube is filled by castle and monasteries that hide behind their walls lots of legends. You can cruise it with a boat from the town of Melk stopping in Spit, Durnstein and ending in Krems. There is a Wachau Valley train+boat ticket available for 82 euro. And either is a legend related to a king who died because he did not respect the religious obligations after her queen’s death or a bunch of rabbits stranded on top of a monastery when the snow that reached the roof suddenly melted, they make for cool stories when you cruise the UNESCO protected Danube valley.

Dürnstein’s first historical mentioning is in 1192 when King Richard I of England, famously known as Richard the Lionheart was imprisoned here. The story follows the Third Crusade, where both the king of England and the Leopold Duke of Austria were part.

Leopold imprisoned Richard whose seemingly actions at the Battle of Acre of casting down his standard from the walls offended him. Leopold also accused Richard of orchestrating the murder of his cousin, Conrad of Montferrat, in Jerusalem.

The bottom line is the Leopold threw Richard in the dungeon of Dürnstein Castle, perched above the town, now a romantic ruin The Pope got involved and excommunicated Leopold for capturing a fellow crusader and transferred Richard – the guy was not a choir boy, so he could not have complained of any witch hunt(!) – to Henry VI, Holy Roman Emperor, who imprisoned him at Trifels Castle.

During off season there is only one boat per day cruising Wachau Valley so from charming Durstein, the best spot of the valley, I took a local bus for a short ride to Krems. The town was first mentioned in 995 but here archeologists found a child’s grave dated as 27,000 years old, the oldest grave found in Austria. During the 12th century, Chremis/Krems was almost as large as Vienna. It looks like a typical Austrian-German town lined up with lots of shops some selling Marillenschnaps, an apricot brandy, Wachau Valley being famous for its apricot production as well as its vineyards.

Following my own steps

Munich welcomed me with snow. It was almost freezing overnight but so late in April I did not expect to snow. The white flurries descended on Marienplatz bringing tearing zits on the weathered gothic windows of the city hall. I decided to take a later train to Vienna and follow for a bit my own footsteps in Munich. Footsteps from a life behind, an intermediate life, a life in limbo, a suspended life that many these days experience way worse than we ever had.

And as today, my steps always brought me to Marienplatz, a place that now is way more touristy than I ever remember.

The snow stopped and the sun came out, the cold German sun of spring, somehow like an excuse for the German spirit, precise, cold and distant like the frigid days of a long winter.

My footsteps ported me to Frauenkirche and Stachus, to the opera house on Maximilianstrasse, to OdeonPlatz and Theatinerkirche, Residenz, Englisher Garten, Franz Jozef Brucke, Maurerkirchestrasse and beyond on a walk that I did almost daily many, many years ago.

The Munich “Bahnhof” is in a process of reconstruction, a thing that adds to the ugliness of its surrounding, a quarter still inhabited by migrants selling wares of all sorts, loitering and calling loudly each other in all languages of the world. The hotels around the rail station that I knew so well were converted in “boutique” hotels, probably looking not much better than decades ago but branded for the new cool of the day.

Chinesischer Turm in Englisher Garten, Munich, Germany

Englisher Garten is charming even in a snowy day, even if nobody gathered with beer maas around the Chinesischer Turm.

But a newer Pinakothek was a sign of renewal. The two famous Munich art collections, Alte and Neue Pinakothek have a new neighbor, Pinakothek der Moderne that displays works of the German expressionists, as well as lots of contemporary works.

The collection is housed in a new spiffy 3-floor building having a UFO at its entrance.

To the utmost surprise the basement has an exhibit of Paula Scher, “Time is image” that has many of her works including …all the posters for Shakespeare in the Park, the free-theater summer performances in Central Park in New York.

An der Donau

It seems that Donauworth’s claim to fame came from Maria de Brabant’s beheading in the 13th century. Her husband, Louis of Bavaria suspected an affair and decided to whack her with no proof – Why? Because he could – just to come quickly an “oops” moment and the church to decide that it was a mistake. The rock where the old citadel was built is marked as the place where Maria was beheaded, her tomb now being in the Holy Cross Church, whose history goes back to the 11th century.

Donauworth sits on what is known in Bavaria as Romantishe Strasse. The name may have been created for marketing purposes but the small municipalities that belong to this collection are charming and a visit to them does not disappoint. Many years ago, in a time that looks like a previous life, I lived in Germany and traveled through these charming towns. Rothenburg ober der Tauber, Quedlinburg, Dinkesbuhl , Nordlingen, Fussen, Augsburg, Bamberg, Wurzburgh are just a few of these attractive places that transport you to the medieval time with their atmosphere.

Vornitz before meeting the Danube in Donauworth, Bavaria, Germany

Located at the confluence of Vorlitz and the Danube, Donauworth is actually a reconstruction. Only the churches were left standing after the war bombardments and the burgmeisters rebuilt the town in the traditional style.

I had many times encounters with people that seemed to be pure coincidences. But I always suspected that there may have been other factors that synced beyond the visible of the worlds and forced those encounters to happen. I went in Munich just to meet two good friends and have a beer together. But the encounter we all three had at Meister Werke exhibit in Stachus was unexpected. We entered just to see what’ s there looking for a roof bar just to find ourselves surrounded by large canvases of famous frescos that you can see only if you stretch your neck looking towards lofty ceilings and walls of cathedrals and palaces. The guys who came up with this concept wanted to lower the large frescos to the eye level and without a physical and anatomical effort visitors to be able to admire Michelangelo and Leonardo’s work sitting in front of them. Besides here you have all the time in the world to admire them, not rushed by the throngs of tourists to vacate the place.

The exhibit traveled the world, in New York happening 7 years ago at the Oculus. We had a long chat about the works and the cultural connection between these artists, connections that sometimes proved friendly and other times nefarious, with intricate details about their life, work and deeds. The story was told by the founder/owner with whom we started a chat in my struggling German, switching to English and after a while, by a slip of a tongue to realize that everybody spoke Romanian as well, switching to a heartfelt and warm conversation. Thank you, Gabriel for the warm-heartedness you showered upon us!

New Caryatides

In front of the Louvre new caryatides, live ones this time stand on construction blocks to pick between their fingers the tip of the pyramid. There are probably 5-6 blocks and it was a waiting line for each of them. It took me a while to understand why people were lining up in the middle of the square. And surprised in way that the guys who were selling umbrellas did not come with a milk crate to rent it as a photo studio. That’s a good start-up though based on the demand on a day when the museum was closed.

Otherwise Paris had stalls installed everywhere. Or at lest it seems so. Bleachers were raised in all places where there will be olympic competitions and as a result the entire center city looks like a building site up for an encompassing renovation.

But even with no olympic competition at the moment, a city in a beautification process and the whimsical April’s weather the city is flooded with tourists. And all take photos or selfies that at one point becomes more interesting to watch them than the objective they take photo of that you already have seen it many times before.

Everywhere in the city are offered bike tours that seem enchanting in a sunny day. Only that the sun in Paris shows up occasionally just to be followed by several downpours after which it shines again for a bit. But if you look on the weather app the showers or even constant rain is not mentioned at all. But everybody, locals and tourists, expects the downpours and carry with them an umbrella.

Right in the heart of the symbol of cuisine refinement, on Champs Elysees very close to Arc de Triomphe got inserted the utmost peak of refined food; “Five Guys, burger and fries”. I don’t know if the fries are marketed as “French Fries” or “Liberty Fries” 🙂

“Paris 1874 Inventing Impressionism” @ Musee d’ Orsay has beside a super-extremely crowded but interesting exhibition, a virtual reality one-hour show. I’ve had to see VR content several times for the media companies I am dealing with in NY but never had the patience to sit for an entire segment. But, in Paris wearing this time a tourist hat, I decided to join the crowd bellow and walk blindly through an empty room painted with weird signs. What I found interesting is that after the one-hour show ends and you take off your VR contraption the people you see around in the museum and exhibition you associate with the virtual ones in the show that seemed more real.

The other people, the crowd you joined the tour with, look like ghosts that trespass in front of you and no matter how tangible they are (because you may bump into them) are still perceived as just …phantoms. And ourselves may have felt like ghosts as long as we could not see our bodies and the moment we touched anything our hands were passing through the object! It’s like the Matrix again and again. So you have to get out on the street to feel again what is real and what is not. Watch the bus coming your way!

Brancusi

One hundred twenty years ago a young Romanian walked most of his way from Bucharest to Paris and ended up changing the world of art. For this anniversary, Paris’ Museum of Modern Art dedicated an all encompassing exhibit to Constantin Brancusi with more than 400 works of art, 120 sculptures and lots of archival content and films.

Brancusi seemed to be a rat pack and kept all papers, detailed correspondence, postcards from places where he or his friends traveled, personal documents, films made by him or some others about him, photos, music on vinyl and, of course, all the tools he used in his studio.

This is a treasure trove to understand Brancusi’s complex personality and to put together various aspects of his life. I may have seen before lots of his works in the American and European museums but I’ve never seen this impressive collection of documents that augments this spectacular exhibition.

One after another come also photos and letters from his forays in foreign lands, from America to Egypt and Asia. But one thing that is not mentioned is his visit to Romania when he was in his 70s with the intention to donate all his archive, copyright for his works, and the studio to the Romanian state.

However, after examining the offer, the Romanian Academy run by imbecilic communists and their Soviet darlings who were lurking in the shadows (like today), considered the work as ‘decadent’ and so incompatible with the proletarian art they wanted to promote.

The exhibit mentioned that Brancusi applied and received the French citizenship because he was afraid for the future of his work that may not be able to enter French museums if he were not a citizen but he did it also as a snub to the Romanian commies who refused his offer.

In the end Brancusi left his studio and all his archive to the French state that now is located at Center Pompidou in the heart of Paris, the city where he lived most of his life.

Roaming the world

FLYING MONK