TIDAL

Blue, green and white settled to a

Spasmodic crescendo

A flood of froth, majestic marble

Crushed into sand.

Then…

            Retreat…

                           To the subtle depths…

To mull and try again.

perspective
 
home for most feels large,
full of the owned accumulation of a past.
friends, relations orbit
(beloved Moon, uncle Pluto in Baltimore)
exerting tidal forces, streaking the sky according to importance,
the self enjoying Copernican  pride of place.
 
slip away
like a leaf drops to a stream,
become one bit bobbing anonymous,
bumping against detritus in the flow.
 
though a few neighbors
note the absence of a single leaf,
the tree still stands.
 
the discovery
of what one is and needs,
the list so basic essential,
a blueprint
clear uncompromising as thin ice
for building concrete from abstraction -
freedom.

p ferenczi

FIERY HEROES

When I was a child, my dreams alternated between being a fireman or a forest ranger. I entertained heroic images of the former and romantic ones of the later. As it turns out, I ended up following a totally different path, but one that brought me into close contact with a number of firefighters. My admiration for them rekindles every time the Santa Ana winds blow their hot, dry breath across the Southern California landscape, too often bringing a storm of fire and smoke to light up the dry timber of the Angeles mountains.

Duty sends these brave men rushing into peril as they challenge one of nature’s most elemental forces in an effort to protect our property and our lives. While we flee with those few precious photo albums hurriedly thrown into the back seat of our cars, they remain in harm’s way, their sirens screaming defiance, their hoses shooting water like cannon fire into heat so intense that it melts steel. Undaunted by the inferno of wind and fire, they hold the line because what they do is more than a job for them – it’s a consecrated duty, a moral commitment.

There is a brotherhood amongst firefighters, a camaraderie that those of us on the outside can barely fathom. I remember how after the tragedy of 9/11, Paul, a fire captain married to one of Miki’s co-workers, along with hundreds of others like him, flew back to New York to man a station so that those firemen who sacrificed their lives in the Twin Towers could have their funerals attended by the survivors in their companies. I also recall how deeply the loss of these comrades on the opposite shore of our country affected Paul; all firefighters are part of the same family.

If you ask these men, “What is there that drives you forward in settings that would make most others flee for their lives? What kind of altruism makes you stare down a power so much greater than your own?” most will respond self-deprecatingly, “We do it because it’s our job.”  I think there is a lot more to it than that.

There is a tradition, nobility buried in the essence of a firefighter’s soul. There is a willingness to make an effort beyond the restraints of caution built into each of us, to surmount barriers of personal fear, to run forward when the mind screams to turn back. Perhaps those who have shown heroic action in combat can understand; most of us never will. Eighty-four firemen have given their lives just this year trying to protect our own. We can only honor them in words, in ceremonies. So let us be grateful, let us raise our hands in salute. We have heroes, and they pass amongst us each day.

POSTCARD FROM BAVARIA

Part 4- From Rothenburg to Cologne

This postcard represents the last segment of our Bavarian journey – I promise. For those of you who are still with me, allow me to transport you along the Romantic Road, that medieval route of picturesque villages, onion-domed churches, and baroque palaces, to the best preserved walled city in Germany, Rothenburg. During its heyday in the late middle ages, this city was at the crossing point of two major trade routes: Hamburg-Venice and Tashkent-Paris.

Despite the fact that the main business today is tourism, and that the town is filled with shops cluttered with overpriced excesses of German cuteness, despite the Schneeballen (a local sweet sold in every bakery and shop, guaranteed to add inches to our already expanded waistline), this place is worthy of your attention. You should see the Riemenschneider woodcarving in St. Jakob’s Church. If you are able bodied, a walk along the walls of the town is an experience not to be missed. As you look out through the narrow slits designed for archers to torment the enemy, it’s easy to fantasize about life lived in times requiring thick town walls to protect the inhabitants. Stroll out to the castle garden, and look back on the walled city, the surrounding valley, and the Tauber River winding below. The day of our visit, a man was sitting on a bench by the garden, playing tunes on a mandolin written at a time when armored knights and ladies in waiting passed through the portals of this same city. One of the big tourist draws is the Medieval Crime and Punishment Museum, an attraction we elected to skip, having already witnessed man’s capacity for cruelty to his fellow man in sufficient degree.

Germany is one of the places in the world where Christmas is celebrated to its fullest. Rothenburg arguably offers the largest Christmas Market each year in December. Should you arrive earlier, don’t despair. You can still get your fill of Christmas trinkets at the two Kathe Wohlfart Christmas Villages, selling all manner of tree ornaments and stuffed Steiff critters.

A bit out of sequence, but worthy of comment, were our stops in Oberammergau and the Wiesekirche. The former is best known for the Passion Play staged every ten years to fulfill a vow made by the residents in 1634 for having their town spared from the plague. The amateur performance participated in by all the villagers has become an international event, requiring attendees to purchase tickets years in advance. The local buildings have walls covered with elaborate colorful frescoes, also a local tradition.  Wood-carved balconies are festooned with a myriad of geraniums in various bright shades. If you fancy carved wooden objects, religious and otherwise, this is the place to buy them. A scenic river winds its way along the edge of the small town, with the Alpine peaks beyond providing a majestic backdrop.

The Wiesekirche is a small Rococo church in the middle of farm country, famous as a pilgrimage site for the faithful to view a crucified Christ reported to have shed tears over a period of time.  Regardless of ones religious beliefs, one is struck by the peaceful silence of the place, interrupted only by the lowing of the near-by cows with their clanging bells. The grassy meadows and rolling hills, framed with a not too distant forest, invite contemplation if not meditation.

Heidelberg is the home of Germany’s oldest University, as well as being a scenic Rhine city with an appropriate half ruined castle sitting at its top. Despite the obvious influx of tourists and the inevitable horde of souvenir shops heralding their presence, I found the city interesting, and an enjoyable experience. Part of this enjoyment was the discovery of a wonderful local pastry shop that had a garden terrace restaurant in the back. We feasted on delicious open face sandwiches and hearty homemade soup, followed by decadent pastries. What better way is there to enjoy a city?

There are many cruise boats plying the Rhine. We opted for a short but enjoyable trip from Rudesheim to St. Goar. We were fortunate in having a warm, sunny day, allowing us to sit on the top deck, watching castle after castle pass by along the shore or over a strategic promontory. It was from such fortifications that local barons extracted a steep tax from all those passing by, hence the term “robber baron” in our lexicon. (I’m not sure whether the inventor of the Monopoly game had ever taken a Rhine cruise to inspire him.) Along the way, we passed by the site of Heine’s mythical blond Loreley, the river siren who, with her enchanting songs, lured unsuspecting sailors to wreck their boats on the shoals.

Our last stop was Cologne, a large industrial city whose main attraction for us was the cathedral. Miraculously preserved in the destruction of the rest of the city during World War II, this gothic confection of spires and stained glass, one of the largest churches in Europe, was worth the visit. Being Sunday, all stores in the city were closed; somewhat of a rude shock to some of the ladies in the group, used to the charms of Sunday shopping in the States. Despite the fact that only restaurants were open, the streets were full of families strolling past the shuttered windows, sitting on benches, enjoying their holiday. Perhaps owing to the small size of most European homes, much of the social life of the continent takes place in cafes, restaurants, parks, pedestrian malls.

We enjoy these holidays not only because we have an opportunity to experience the wonders of history, art, culinary adventure and scenic beauty our travels provide us, but also because it gives us a rare opportunity to spend a block of time together away from the pressures and distractions of work and our daily lives. It gives us a chance to share of ourselves with friends and family, to create new memories to bind us closer to each other. Being away also makes us appreciate all the more that which we sometimes take for granted, our home.

POSTCARD FROM BAVARIA

Part 3 – From Berchtesgaden to Munich

Time is composed of moments, and the moments are captured by art - but no painting is as compelling as the broad sweep of nature. This thought kept echoing through my mind as we made our way through the Alps in Bavaria. Each turn of the road revealed a new vista of forests whose green, mysterious interiors were now being festooned with the crimson and gold of fall colors. Pointed granite peaks frame the horizon. Waterfalls cascade down steep hillsides to feed crystal reflecting mountain lakes. Visitors over the years have maintained the sanctity of these natural glories, allowing us to see these pristine Tyrolean views relatively unchanged despite many centuries of man’s presence in these hills.

We arrive at Lake Konigssee by Berchtesgaden early in the morning. There is a dense fog bank over the lake, and we decide to cut our visit short. However, as we descend on the short ten minute trail from the parking lot to the edge of the water, the fog rapidly dissipates, giving the photographers in the group a glorious opportunity to snap away at the jewel that is revealed. Dark varnished wooden hull boats running on electric engines glide silently out of the lifting mist, enticing tourists to take a ride around the scenic coves surrounding the water’s edge. The sun, just risen above the Alpine peaks, burns away the remainder of the mist. If the figure of a lady holding a shining sword were to suddenly rise out of the tranquil water, none of us would have been terribly surprised, for the scene held that kind of magical spell.

Looking about the enchanted setting, knowledge of the recent history of this place created a jarring dissonance. Looking up at the top of the surrounding mountain, the visitor can clearly see the outline of Hitler’s famous Eagle’s Nest, built for him as a 50^th birthday present by the Nazis. (Turns out he hated the place, fearing he would be assassinated there, and only used the retreat less than a dozen times.) Other prominent Nazi figures chose the area for their secluded hideaway. Those local owners unwilling to sell out found themselves in various concentration camps.

The afternoon finds us taking a boat ride on Lake Chiemsee to visit Herrenchiemsee Palace. Built on an island by King Ludwig II of Bavaria, the palace is a homage by Ludwig, a great admirer of absolute monarchs, to Louis XIV of France, and is a copy of the Palace of Versailles. Ludwig and his physician drowned under rather mysterious circumstances in Lake Chiemsee, many assuming that they were murdered by other members of Ludwig’s family in a vain attempt to prevent Ludwig from dissipating the entire royal treasury in the building of his fantasy palaces. In fact, only about a third of the rooms in the palace were completed before funds were exhausted. The palace tour makes a good argument against the absolute power of kings. On an ironic note, one must observe that “mad King” Ludwig’s palaces are the most popular tourist stops in Bavaria, and visitors over the years have created a revenue stream sufficient to keep any king well financed. If you’ve been to Versailles, you may choose to skip this stop. However, the sweeping views from the formal gardens of Lake Chiemsee as well as the surrounding countryside are themselves sufficient to make the trip worthwhile.

The length of this postcard would need to be expanded to a novel in order to do any kind of justice to Munich. From its new, remarkably clean and easy to use subway system to the Nymphenburg Palace Complex, the city is a marvel of the old juxtaposed with the new. The bike lanes, the green spaces (the English Garden, Munich’s “Central Park,” is the largest on the Continent) and the pedestrian malls around Marienplatz make this one of the most livable cities in Europe. As most German cities were bombed out during World War II, local commissions decided after the war how to rebuild. Many, like Frankfurt, chose to bulldoze everything, and rebuild as modern cities. Fortunately, the citizens of Munich elected to rebuild its old town. New buildings cannot exceed the height of the church spires, and the city today is a delightful blend of tradition and progress.

For the sake of one of our friends who was unable to make this trip with us, but who has a deep and abiding interest in the topic, allow me to digress for a few minutes and discuss some of the features of the Teutonic bathrooms we encountered on this trip. Of one thing you can be certain: anywhere you travel in Germany or Austria, the bathrooms will have the cleanliness and hygiene of your best operating room. There are a few items, however, that you may not be used to. If you have a bathtub in your hotel, it will likely be deep enough to require sonar for navigation, and sides sufficiently high to require significant athletic ability to allow entry and exit. It will also be sufficiently narrow as to require most Midwest, corn-fed Americans to place themselves in a sideways position in order to slip in. Slipping out….well, let me just advise not to attempt it if you are staying in a  single room. Showerheads are attached to the faucet by a long, flexible section of tubing; however, many hotels we encountered did not see the necessity of a shower curtain. You have the option of flooding the whole bathroom, or trying to sit in the tub (see above for technical details) and directing the spray over the required parts of your body with one hand while trying to wash with the other. As for hotel rooms that have showers only, and no tubs – these can prove interesting as well. Some showers came with a semicircular glass wall that slid around you, not unlike some modern airport phone booths. These are great, except for a small problem – you have insufficient room to move your arms around once you’re inside, and don’t ever make the mistake of dropping the soap! (I suspect the Germans thought of this, so most places no longer supply you with bars of soap – only those squeeze dispensers of liquid emollient.) Your best option may be to open the doors, liberally apply soapsuds to the walls, then jump inside and rotate your body parts to achieve maximal cleanliness. Oh, yes, one more caveat – OSHA has never reached this part of the world. The bottom of every tub and shower we experienced was sufficiently slippery and slick to be used as a luge run during the Olympics. There, Michael, I hope you’re satisfied!

You can’t (or truly shouldn’t) go to Munich without visiting at least some of its great museums. The Deutsches Museum is devoted to science and technology. Similar in scope but even more focused than the Smithsonian Institution, it provides numerous hands-on exhibits explaining scientific principles of chemistry, physics, mathematics, aeronautics…you name it. You can walk through the Spacelab, see the Soyuz space capsule alongside the first gliders man used to achieve flight. The section on computers shows how rapidly we have progressed from the abacus to advanced semiconductors powering super-computers. The exhibits are so well done that even someone who doesn’t feel that they’re very interested in science finds themselves drawn in, excited by what they see. Real science is discovery. The truths are there whether we find them or not. This museum does a wonderful job of showing the answers to many questions most of us have never even considered asking, but are delighted in discovering.

Being an art lover, I always make it a point to visit at least one of the cluster of Munich’s art museums (Pinakotheks) on each of my trips. This time it was the Neue Pinakothek that houses paintings from 1820 to 1920. With the aid of the audio guide (included free with the 5 Euro admission price) I was able to wander freely, marveling at the works of Monet, Van Gogh, Renoir, Goya, and Klimt. It struck me as I stood in awe before the paintings, like a child pondering the immensity of the ocean, that here was a piece of eternity.

Two small incidents I wish to share with you. The first occurred in the English Garden, where we had taken a break on a bench just to catch our breath, and enjoy the surrounding beauty of the park. A cup had fallen from the basket of one of the many passing bicycles. Two gentlemen were walking by. Without saying a word, one of them bent over, picked up the cup, and deposited it down the road in a trash bin. There is no need for a large cadre of workers in orange vests picking up litter. (We never saw any.) The city is clean because its citizens take pride in it, and pick up after themselves or anyone else careless or thoughtless enough not to do so.

The second incident involved two of the ladies traveling with us. They had stopped a young woman to ask for directions to a candy store. One of them wanted to bring back some gifts for the people in her office. The young woman they stopped not only gave them directions, but also went to the store with them, helped them to pick out the best candies, then proceeded to give them a free afternoon tour of her city. She refused any gift or tip, saying she was only too happy to help two people in need.

Next: From Rothenburg to Cologne

POSTCARD FROM BAVARIA

Part 2 – From Baden to Salzburg

The following day finds us in the Wienerwald, the Viennese Woods, on the other side of the Danube River. We visit one of the many Benedictine monasteries we are destined to see on this trip. I’m particularly impressed with the beauty of all the carved woods, an art form popular throughout Bavaria.

See Grotte is a gypsum mine half filled with water from an underground spring, forming a large subterranean lake. During World War II, the Nazis used the place as the manufacturing plant for one of their “secret weapons” - the Messerschmitt designed Me 262, the first jet plane flown in combat in 1944. Thousands of Nazi held prisoners toiled in this place, and a small shrine commemorates the many who died here. Miki, who is particularly sensitive to suffering of others, had a hard time holding back tears as we witnessed the physical evidence of man’s inhumanity to his fellow man. There is a brief boat ride on the lake filled with crystal clear water before we leave behind the kingdom of Hades, and emerge gratefully into the bright light of day.

Baden is a spa and resort town, close enough to Vienna to be in commuting distance. In addition to the baths reputed to have health benefits, there is also a large Casino located alongside a scenic park. Fortunately, we don’t have the time to tempt Lady Luck, but rather spend our Euros in a sidewalk café. It’s lunchtime, and for those who’ve read part 1 of this postcard, you know that my troops are willing to miss anything but a meal. The lunch special is a hearty gulyas soup (reminiscent of the kind my grandmother used to make) accompanied by bread with a wonderful crunchy crust and a dense texture. (I always experience coffee and bread withdrawal after returning from Europe to the States.) As our waitress brings us our desserts mit Schlag (the essential Austrian whipped cream, not sweet, and just shy of an immediate coronary,) all is well with the world again.

A well-dressed gentleman and his elegant looking wife sitting at the table next to ours engage us in conversation. We comment on our beautiful weather, the town, our recent travels. He and his wife are locals, but he works for a company that has dealings in the States, with a division in Ohio. We make a few jokes about our California governor’s Austrian background, touch lightly on world politics as well as local life, and regret we don’t have more time to know each other better. (He actually said, “I live here - I have time. You are on vacation – you have to rush.”) He informs me that our waitress is from my hometown. As I go to pay our bill, I catch her off guard by speaking to her in Hungarian. In the small village the world has become, she turns out to have lived only a few blocks from my prior home, and left there the same time as I. One of the drawbacks of not traveling alone is that the itinerary of the group pushes one too rapidly past these serendipitous moments.

The Danube is the longest river flowing through Europe. From its beginnings in the Black Forest in Germany to its end in the Black Sea of Ukraine, its over 1700 miles winds through a dozen countries. While the river has never been blue, it has carried with it an air of romance that is arguably best in the region of the Wachau valley, west of Vienna. Ruined castles, small towns, vineyard after vineyard, and beautiful abbeys line the Danube shores. Arguably, the most beautiful of the abbeys is the restored Benedictine Melk Abbey. The 11^th century structure was mostly destroyed in a fire. What we now see is the rebuilt 18^th century Baroque structure, completed only 10 years ago for the 1000^th anniversary of the first reference to a country named Osterreich (Austria). It should be a little ironic for an alumnus like Miki that the restoration project in part was financed by the sale of the Abbey’s Gutenberg Bible to Harvard. The Abbey was not only home to the Benedictine monks, but also served as a royal visiting spot for the Hapsburg emeperors. As such, the grand marble hall resembles more a room from Versailles than a monastery. My personal favorite was the library, its shelves filled with some 100,000 volumes of books, and the large 17th century globes depicting views of the heavens and the earth. Past the library is a spectacular spiral staircase that made for great photos. And for those who like landscape photography, it is difficult to beat the bucolic views from high points of the monastery of the surrounding countryside and the rolling Danube hills.

Even without Mozartkugeln, The Sound of Music, and the annual Mozart Festival, Salzburg is made for tourism. With a history stretching back over 1300 years, and an impressive, formidable fortress perched over the town, the Salzach River isolates the old town into managable walks for the millions who come here each year. We are fortunate to travel away from the peak summer tourist months, though even now the city is filled with camera toting visitors, snapping photos of scenes too Gemutlich (the German word that means more than charming or cozy) not to capture and show the folks back home. The cobblestoned streets are filled with elegant stores, making our vagabonds wish they had nicer clothes. Posters advertise local concerts in Baroque halls and chapels. Atmospheric gardens and restaurants are found around every corner. People watch as a chess game progresses in one of the squares using life size pieces being moved by the players. Fountains spray forth an eternal froth of water as locals and tourists alike stroll by, enjoying the crisp fall afternoon.

There is a small, scenic cemetery behind St. Peter’s Church, tucked in against the rock walls that lead up to the castle on top. (Remember the scene from the movie when the von Trapp family hid out at night? This was the place that inspired it.) The cemetery plots look more like tiny gardens than gravesites, and appear to be well tended. In fact, in Austria, graves are rented, not owned. The rent bills go out every ten years, and if you don’t have a caring relative to pay, you’re history.

We spend the night in the countryside outside of Salzburg in one of the gingerbread carved Tyrolian Gasthauses that may be found scattered throughout the foothills of the Alps. The view from our room in the morning is one that makes me look for Julie Andrews running through the meadows. Instead, I see a 12 point buck and his does grazing peacefully below. For some reason, I’m feeling vaguely guilty about the delicious venison dinner we were served the night before.

Next: From Berchtesgaden to Munich