Central Europe Part One

Ten months ago, I was not the kind of person who could travel around Eastern Europe alone. Yet as I sit here, reflecting on my recent experiences, it's hard to gauge when exactly that change took place. Perhaps it has been a gradual process, as each new city presents new challenges and new information. Perhaps it's due to the independence I've had to acquire in Bologna, each day becoming more of an adult. But it's also quite possible that I didn't find the conviction to take this solo trip until a week ago, when my plane landed in Poland and I had no other choice.

As the flight left Bologna, I was met with a strange sensation. Or rather, no sensation at all. I was not exactly anxious about my trip, but I was not excited either. It felt like something that I had to do, like laundry, instead of an adventure. Everyone assured me that if I got too lonely, I could easily just go back to Italy. I knew I wouldn't.

I arrived in Krakow Tuesday evening. The hostel was perfectly located in the Old Town Square (so perfect that I could hear the trumpeter from the church tower every hour in the middle of the night). I went to a Georgian restaurant for dinner, recommended by friends. Since it was still light out when I finished (eating before dark?! Unheard of!), I climbed up to the castle, where I watched an unbelievably gorgeous sunset. After listening to a great band in the square for a bit, I went back to the hostel to prepare myself for the next day.

I should mention that my main reason for doing this trip (even after my friend Cecily had to cancel her plans to join me) was to right a so-called wrong. When I was in high school, I was offered the opportunity to take a Holocaust Study trip, led by one of the best teachers at Bishop O'Dowd. It was supposed to be heavily funded by some organization or another, but in the end there was no money. I couldn't afford to go. I promised myself that one day I would make the pilgrimage to Auschwitz, to witness the remains of the most unspeakable atrocities humanity has ever seen. The bus ride was an hour long. There was apparently a train as well, but to take a train to Auschwitz seemed offensive. I spent the day in silence. I went to Auschwitz II - Birkenau first, because Auschwitz I required a guide until 3 pm. I wanted -- needed to be alone. I teared up several times during the day, letting the silent whispers of the dead, the gassed, the shot, the hanged, the tortured, the starved, the mutilated, the sick, the beaten, the exhausted, the liberated envelop me. In total, I spent six hours at Auschwitz. I took no pictures. I simply wanted to be.

My day of silence came to a much happier end when I got back to the hostel. I started talking to some Irish guys who had been traveling around Poland for two weeks. They invited me to join them at the Irish pub (typical) the following night, which was a welcome invitation after being alone. On Wednesday, I decided to take the free walking tour of Jewish Krakow. The tour guide pointed out several spots that were in Schindler's List, and we finished at Schindler's factory. During the afternoon, I went on another free walking tour of Old Town Krakow. Both of the tour guides were real characters: the first one, Maciek, was a long-haired Lord of the Rings fan, and Chris, the second guy, had a very sardonic sense of humor. They were both from Krakow, which gave some credibility to their reputations as tour guides. After the tour, Brian (Irish lad #1) and I went to find Chris (Irish lad #2) at the hostel for dinner. The guys made me choose, but they were fussy and not very adventurous (sorry lads, you guys were grand anyway, real legends), so in the end we settled for Indian. As promised, we went to the Irish pub afterwards, where a group of drunk old men were singing along to young Latin guy's questionable renditions of songs. Back at the hostel, I wasn't ready for our brief friendship to end, so I dragged Brian outside to the square, where it was already light out. We made friends (=were accosted by) several homeless guys, but nothing too exciting happened. We did see a quasi-arrest take place right in front of us, and rather than move away to give the group some privacy, we provided our own commentary on the scene.

The next morning I headed for Prague, but I did it the Polish way: I took a bus to a town called Cieszyn, crossed the border into the Czech Republic, and took a regional train to Prague. It was half the price of a direct ticket and twice the adventure. Overall, I really didn't care for Prague very much. The first day I went up to the castle, which is really a conglomeration of several different buildings from different time periods. There was one part, the Golden Lane, which had reconstructed rooms of former kinds of tenants: the pharmacist, the seamstress, the mother of a WWI solider…apparently Kafka himself even lived in one of the houses for a short time. After the success of my walking tours in Krakow, I decided to take the tour in Prague. Well, the guide was from Kentucky. I recognized her tone of voice -- it was the same one I used when I taught preschool. She did give a great recommendation for lunch, and I ended up sitting with some people from the tour. The restaurant was known for its tanks of home-brewn beer, and it did not disappoint. We then hiked up to the metronome, which was supposed to represent the passing of time since the end of communism. One of the highlights of Prague was a small exhibit on Alphonse Mucha, a well-known Art Nouveau poster artist.

From Prague, I ventured to Vienna, this time on a bus, fully decked out with WiFi and personal tv screens. I guess this is how one travels in 2013. It really is amazing how connected we are. I've been relying exclusively on Internet this entire trip to book hostels, look up timetables, etc, and it has been completely painless trying to find WiFi. I can't imagine how my parents traveled around the world in the 80s without the World Wide Web! Of course, the one place with truly awful Internet was my hostel in Vienna. The place was more like a hotel, and I had a room with four beds to myself for two nights. Since WiFi was only available (theoretically) in the lobby, everyone downstairs was on his or her respective device, uninterested in making friends. I left to find some place for dinner, but the rain and wind prevented me from going further than two blocks. I stopped into a Balkan restaurant, and ended up staying until after closing, talking with the Serbian waiters. In the morning, I headed to several museums. The first two were actually an accident, since I had wanted to go to just the Kunsthistoriches museum (Art History). But there was a good collection of Klimt and the Austrian artist Schiele, whom I didn't know previously but am quite fond of now. The main gem of Vienna, however, was the Secession. Klimt's Beethoven frieze is only partially intact, and it's just below the ceiling, making it difficult to see, but my god is it beautiful. I remember in Art History 54, Professor Baker showed us images of the piece as we listened to Beethoven. I wish they had done the same in the exhibit. Directly outside the guarded and temperature-controlled room was a video showing the reconstruction of a piece of a frieze (which is something I'm learning Conservationists do quite often; I love it!). I was mesmerized. After this thrilling affirmation of my future career, I went to meet my new Serbian friends at an American bar. The next day, before I left for Slovakia, I took the metro to the Schonburg Palace. I really had no intention of going inside, so I did a kind of Chevy-Chase-at-the-Grand-Canyon visit. I went to the Belvedere next, where I saw The Kiss (my visit to Vienna really was all about Klimt). One of my favorite thing about museums is not knowing which artworks are inside. I turned a corner in the Belvedere and let out a gasp. There in front of me was David's Napoleon Crossing the Alps! (Or is it St Bernard's Pass?). Look it up, it's incredibly famous. Now, my trip had been relatively stress-free up until this point. As you may know, I like following rules. I bought a 48-hr metro pass in Vienna because it was really convenient. I stamped it at 3:40pm, so I assumed it would expire at 3:40pm two days later. There were no controllers the entire time I used the pass -- except, of course, on my last metro ride. I had gone back to the hostel to get my bag, and needed to go two stops to get to the bus station. This was around 4 o'clock, but I figured I would risk it because, hey, what's life without a little adventure? (Also one ride was 2.10€). At stop near my hostel, where I was boarding the train, I saw a controller outside the station having a smoke. I prayed for the doors to close before she got on. It worked. I thought I was ok, until I left the train. There, at the exit, was an army of controllers in neon-yellow vests. This was the end. I was going to get caught. They would lock me up, take away my visa, and I would never see my parents again. I silently thought up an excuse, but I knew any attempt to evade the law would prove useless. I hesitated a minute, got my pass out of my wallet, took a deep breath, and prepared my last words. The guy glanced at it for two seconds and waved me through.

Yeah, that's how I felt too. I really couldn't believe I had escaped. I was not eager to repeat the experience. I've never been caught in Bologna, but somehow I think Austrians would be a lot more difficult to convince than Italians.

Part two to follow shortly…