Inspiration: Five Minute Getaway

This one's pretty easy.  Five Minute Getaway is one of the newest parts of the Cheezburger Empire.  The site features pictures of beautiful sites from around the world.  According to the website, Five Minute Getaway helps you "travel the world without ever leaving your desk!"  With such lovely pictures, it's easy to want to visit all of these places.  Here are a few examples from places on my wish list.  Mad props to whomever took these brilliant pictures, and 100 internet points to you if you can guess where they are.

Inspiration: Condé Nast Traveler

Today the cold water of the pool as we cleaned the filters reminded me of an article in a recent issue of Condé Nast Traveler.  This led me to decide to write about some things that give me ideas about places I'd like to visit, since for the moment my ability to travel is curtailed by the fact that it's bleedin' expensive to do so here in the States.  So here we go with a new series, brilliantly titled "Inspiration."

Traveler is not really a magazine aimed at me, or even the kind of traveler I want to be.  To clarify, it's a travel magazine for people who have lots of expendable income (which I don't, but would like to), and who are willing to go all-out on their holidays.  I think that even if I did have tons of money to spend, I'd still be hesitant to use it to stay in top-end resorts and dine at five-star restaurants.  You know me, I'd rather just buy a bag of rolls and carry them around all day, or have five euro worth of gelato and call that dinner.  But even if I'm not in their target demographic, there are plenty of things to peruse.  There are lots of pretty pictures, there's practical advice about gear and packing and tours and things, there are ads for different destinations, products, and services (including ones for the Boeing 787 Dreamliner, which looks pretty sweet), and there are lots of pretty pictures.  Who's not a sucker for pretty pictures?  If you said you're not, you're lying.

So if you're looking for the best place to buy precious stones or advice about which cruise is right for you, or if you're just looking for an idea about how the other half lives, pick up an issue of Traveler.  Who knows, maybe one day they'll feature the SK in the "Where Are You?" contest and I'll win a fabulous trip.  Check this space for updates until then.

By the way, the article that the pool reminded me about is from this month's issue.  Titled "I Am the Walrus" by Peter Savodnik, it's about taking a "walrus plunge" in Arctic Russia.  The article's on Savodnik's personal site here.

Wish List Addendum: Medieval English Cathedrals

A few years ago I was watching "The Worst Jobs in History," a series I highly recommend, wherein the host, Tony Robinson, mentioned that there are 24 medieval cathedrals in Britain. Being given a number immediately translated into having a new goal: I will visit all 24 of these cathedrals.  Since that time, I've been to one of them (the last on the list), so I'm that much closer to achieving my goal.

The following list is based on what I've been able to glean from different websites (like this one and this one), because I haven't found an "official" list of these medieval cathedrals.  A few of them have remarkable features, upon which I shall indeed remark.  

23 More-or-Less Medieval Cathedrals of England (I Guess the 24 Either Counts Westminster Abbey, Which Was a Cathedral for 10 Years, or the St Paul's that Burned in the London Fire of 1666)

Bath
Canterbury: Canterbury Cathedral is the site of the murder and consequent shrine of St Thomas à Becket.  Because of this, it's the place to which Chaucer and the pilgrims are traveling in "The Canterbury Tales."  It's also where the Black Prince is buried.
Carlisle
Chelmsford 
Chichester
Christ Church Oxford
Durham: The Venerable Bede is buried here.
Ely 
Exeter 
Gloucester 
Hereford: The cathedral is home to the Hereford Mappamundi, the best extant example of medieval English cartography.
Lichfield 
Lincoln 
Norwich
Peterborough: Catherine of Aragon is buried in the churchyard.
Rochester 
Salisbury: Home to an original (1215) copy of the Magna Carta.
Southwark: Shakespeare attended services at this cathedral, which now has a memorial to him and a special service each year on his birthday.  John Harvard, who would later found a college in Massachusetts, was baptized here.
St Albans
Wells: Wells Cathedral features scissor arches, and according to my cursory Google search, it may be the only place in the whole wide world with Gothic scissor arches.  Furthermore, Hot Fuzz was filmed in Wells, director Edgar Wright's hometown, and the cathedral towers were painted out of many scenes.
Winchester: Jane Austen is buried here.
Worcester 
York

(In regards to the title of the list, Westminster Abbey currently isn't a cathedral [bishop's seat].  There is a Westminster Cathedral in London, but it was built in the 19th century, and who cares about the 19th century.)
 
Related Sites But Also Not Technically Cathedrals 

Battle Abbey: Founded by William the Conqueror in 1070 on the site of the Battle of Hastings.
Fountains Abbey: The gorgeous ruins of a monastery in Yorkshire, once again brought low by the Dissolution of the Monasteries, Henry VIII's plundering and sale of Catholic sites during the English Reformation.  I could get quite upset with Henry if I thought about the Dissolution too much; same goes for Cromwell after the Civil War.

Wish List III

Time for the biennial wish list update!  Instead of listing places alphabetically, this time we're going to do it by country.

* UNESCO World Heritage Sites
# new places

AUSTRALIA

AUSTRIA 
Hainburg an der Donau# 
Marchegg

BELGIUM 
Bruges*#

CANADA 
Banff National Park#
Calgary Stampede#
L'Anse aux Meadows*
Montréal 
Nova Scotia
Prince Edward Island
Québec City*#
Queen Charlotte Islands 
Vancouver

CHILE 
Valparaíso*

CROATIA 
Plitvice Lakes*#

EGYPT
Giza*

FINLAND 
Suomenlinna*#

FRANCE 
Annecy# 
Avignon*#
Basilica of Saint Denis# 
Bayeux Tapestry
Brittany
Carcassonne*
Chartres Cathedral*#
Dordogne River Valley
Mont Saint Michel* 
Normandy
Provins*# 
Rouen#  
Strasbourg

GERMANY 
Aachen Cathedral*# 
Wittenberg in 2017

GREECE

ICELAND

INDIA 
Shimla*

ISRAEL 
Jerusalem*

JAMAICA 

KENYA 

the NETHERLANDS

NEW ZEALAND

NORWAY 
Bergen#
Borgund Stave Church#
Urnes Stave Church*#
Viking Ship Museum#

POLAND 
Częstochowa#
Malbork Castle*

RUSSIA 
Lake Baikal*#
Siberia

SPAIN 
Ávila*#
Santiago de Compostela*
Toledo*# 
walk at least 100 kilometers of the Santiago pilgrimage route*#

SWITZERLAND 
Lucerne#

SYRIA 
Krak des Chevaliers*

TURKEY 
Istanbul*#

UK 
all the medieval cathedrals in England which I shall discuss in a separate post 
Battle Abbey and Hastings battlefield# 
Berwick-upon-Tweed#
Cambridge#
Canterbury* 
Channel Islands#
Cornwall#
Forest of Dean# 
Fountains Abbey# 
Greenwich*#
Hadrian's Wall*# 
Iona 
Isle of Skye#
Lindisfarne
Oxford#
Stonehenge*
walk the pilgrimage route from London to Canterbury Cathedral
Wearmouth-Jarrow twin monastery# 

USA 
Alaska
Aspen# 
Badlands National Park 
Bethany Beach
Denali National Park 
drive Route 66 between Chicago and Los Angeles 
Dry Tortugas National Park 
Everglades National Park*
Florida Keys
Hawaii 
Louisiana 
Minnesota
Mount Rushmore 
Santa Fe 
Sitka 
St. Augustine 
Texas 
Vermont 
Wyoming
Yellowstone National Park*

INTERNATIONAL/MULTI-NATIONAL 
aurora borealis
bears
fjords 
glaciers
midnight sun 
Niagara Falls 
polar bears
Rocky Mountains 
Victoria Falls* 
zebras

Watch This Video, Part II

Look at how beautiful Slovakia is!  Well done, whoever made this ad.

Here is a Website for You to Peruse

from ICHC, of course

My ma alerted me to a new website that she came across the other day.  It's called Historvius, and you can use it to find historic sites to visit around the world.  You can search by country, time period, or even historical figure related to a site.  Visitors can also upload sites not yet listed; there are currently no Slovak and only three Czech places listed, but you can rest assured that I've already uploaded one as a test and will upload more once the first's been accepted.  Right now Historvius is in beta, so things may change on the site as time goes by, but I encourage you to check it out.

Guláš O'Clock (Pacific Time)

Last month when we had visitors and my brother came home, I decided to attempt to make guláš.  It was a bit daunting to think about being my own guláš master, because I didn't want to screw it up.  But with Rudy's excellent training and my brother's superior cooking skills it turned out really well.  I was quite pleased.

The real obstacle to making genuine guláš wasn't the ingredients--I brought several packets of guláš spice back with me--but the cooking itself.   It's just not possible to build a fire in the backyard, and even if it was, we don't have the proper "bucket" and stand.  In the end we resorted to the method pictured here: sticking the pot on the grill.  Perhaps unorthodox by Slovak standards, but it worked.

Here's the general recipe we used.  I couldn't estimate amounts for the peppers and tomatoes; I just put as many as felt right. 

equal amounts (2 pounds each) beef and pork, cubed 
2 large onions, diced
about 1 pound potatoes (enough to fill up a large mixing bowl)  
bell peppers, chopped
tomatoes, chopped
paprika
salt and pepper to taste
beer (optional) (we used some my brother brewed)
1 packet guláš mix (25 g: salt, paprika, cornstarch, cumin, black pepper, garlic, onion, coriander, marjoram, chili pepper, green pepper)
 

In a large, heavy pot, cook the onions in vegetable oil or lard until translucent. Add the meat, cover, and cook over low heat, stirring occasionally, until 70% done.

While the meat is cooking, cut the potatoes. Most of the pieces should be stew chunk-size, but some of them should be smaller, finer pieces, to thicken the guláš. Place the potato pieces in a bowl and cover them with water. When the meat has cooked enough, pour the potatoes and water into the onion-meat mix. Add paprika and stir until everything is well mixed.

Cook covered at a low simmer for about another 20 to 30 minutes, until the potatoes begin to soften. Add the peppers and tomatoes and more water or beer if the guláš looks too thick. Add more paprika or salt and pepper. Simmer for another 15 or so minutes, until all the vegetables are cooked. Enjoy with bread and a cold beer. Dobrú chuť!

Stand Ye Ready?

This weekend we went up to the area that my dad likes to call Grande Medveď to go to a Renaissance fair with JOUSTING. I've actually only been to a few Renaissance fairs--fewer than you might expect, really--but none of them had jousting. We wouldn't have gone without it.

The fair took place in what used to be a sawmill, an interesting juxtaposition of old and older. I assume the mill is 20th century, but knowing very little about these things, I can't say for sure.

I think my biggest problem with Renaissance fairs, other than the one I'll address in the next paragraph, is that for some reason most of the participants and coordinators feel that the experience must be ribald. It seems like most fairs deal in extremes: women will either be dressed as high-class ladies who are completely covered up, or lower-class ones with their breasts literally falling out of their bodices. I'm not trying to ignore that every period of history had its salacious bits, but those are not the most entertaining or interesting parts to me, and people who don't enjoy those things are mocked. And that's both off-putting and leaving out a lot of history, where, although the Renaissance definitely saw a weakening of the power of the Church, lots of people were still religious and didn't go out of their way to act "mischievous" or whatever cutesy euphemism people want to use for whorishinappropriate.

The silly thing about Renaissance fairs is that some people use them as an excuse to dress up however they want. Sure enough, there was a kid dressed as Link from The Legend of Zelda, and his friends were also in cosplay-looking outfits. Another girl was wearing fairly normal clothes but a headband with little antlers attached to it. People! When it says visitors are invited to dress in Elizabethan attire, they don't mean game characters or antlers! We didn't see a fairy until we were leaving, though, so I guess that's something.

That being said, most of the vendors and the court were really, really well-dressed. We sat behind Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth and her ladies during the joust, so we got to see their costumes close up, and they were quite impressive.
The jousting was done by a group called Knights of Mayhem, who are helping resurrect the sport after centuries. I'm not gonna lie, much of my perception of jousting is based on A Knight's Tale, so while we were watching, lines from the movie kept going through my head (as they do in daily life anyway), and I daresay my mom's as well. Before they actually jousted, the two knights played a few games, like picking up a ring on the butt end of a spear and then throwing the spear at a target on the ground, and then taking swings at a head of lettuce perched on a poor volunteer girl's head. As you can see, she was wearing a helmet and a modern foam helmet underneath (and pretty good garb too, well done young lady), but it couldn't have been relaxing to hear the big horses riding toward you and not know exactly what was going on.


Sir Charles was using a second-string horse, Nightmare (above), who decided after two passes that she didn't want to do this anymore. She stopped short, which for some reason caused him to slide off the side. Twice. The first time was scarier, because we weren't sure what had happened and I for one thought he'd had a heart attack or similar. After the second time, it took rather a while to get back on. Here's when he finally managed it. I like it when the idiot woman behind me says, "Hurry up." Yeah, lady, you hurry up climbing on a horse in 140-pound armor.


I'll definitely be looking for National Geographic's special on the Knights of Mayhem. I suggest you do as well.

Culture shock is

after being home for over a week and a half, still looking at the toilet bowl and thinking, 'It's so clean.'

Leaving Home, Coming Home

I'm leaving Tisovec tonight; I'm leaving Slovakia tomorrow morning. Right now I have no words of my own to tell you what this means to me. I can't believe this day has come. I don't yet entirely believe that I won't be back in six weeks. I'm ready to see the people I love in the States, but I'm not ready to not see the people I love here.

As always, in the absence of my own words, I turn to someone else's. From The Prophet, here is Kahlil Gibran's "The Coming of the Ship" from Juan Cole's website.

Almustafa, the chosen and the beloved, who was a dawn unto his own day, had waited twelve years in the city of Orphalese for his ship that was to return and bear him back to the isle of his birth.

And in the twelfth year, on the seventh day of Ielool, the month of reaping, he climbed the hill without the city walls and looked seaward; and he beheld the ship coming with the mist.

Then the gates of his heart were flung open, and his joy flew far over the sea. And he closed his eyes and prayed in the silences of his soul.

But he descended the hill, a sadness came upon him, and he thought in his heart: How shall I go in peace and without sorrow? Nay, not without a wound in the spirit shall I leave this city.

Long were the days of pain I have spent within its walls, and long were the nights of aloneness; and who can depart from his pain and his aloneness without regret?

Too many fragments of the spirit have I scattered in these streets, and too many are the children of my longing that walk naked among these hills, and I cannot withdraw from them without a burden and an ache.

It is not a garment I cast off this day, but a skin that I tear with my own hands. Nor is it a thought I leave behind me, but a heart made sweet with hunger and with thirst.

Yet I cannot tarry longer. The sea that calls all things unto her calls me, and I must embark. For to stay, though the hours burn in the night, is to freeze and crystallize and be bound in a mould.

Fain would I take with me all that is here. But how shall I?

A voice cannot carry the tongue and the lips that give it wings. Alone must it seek the ether.

And alone and without his nest shall the eagle fly across the sun.

Now when he reached the foot of the hill, he turned again towards the sea, and he saw his ship approaching the harbour, and upon her prow the mariners, the men of his own land.

And his soul cried out to them, and he said:

Sons of my ancient mother, you riders of the tides,

How often have you sailed in my dreams. And now you come in my awakening, which is my deeper dream.

Ready am I to go, and my eagerness with sails full set awaits the wind.

Only another breath will I breathe in this still air, only another loving look cast backward,

Then I shall stand among you, a seafarer among seafarers.

And you, vast sea, sleepless mother, Who alone are peace and freedom to the river and the stream,

Only another winding will this stream make, only another murmur in this glade, And then shall I come to you, a boundless drop to a boundless ocean.

And as he walked he saw from afar men and women leaving their fields and their vineyards and hastening towards the city gates.

And he heard their voices calling his name, and shouting from the field to field telling one another of the coming of the ship.

And he said to himself:

Shall the day of parting be the day of gathering?

And shall it be said that my eve was in truth my dawn?

And what shall I give unto him who has left his plough in midfurrow, or to him who has stopped the wheel of his winepress?

Shall my heart become a tree heavy-laden with fruit that I may gather and give unto them?

And shall my desires flow like a fountain that I may fill their cups?

Am I a harp that the hand of the mighty may touch me, or a flute that his breath may pass through me?

A seeker of silences am I, and what treasure have I found in silences that I may dispense with confidence?

If this is my day of harvest, in what fields have I sowed the seed, and in what unrembered seasons?

If this indeed be the our in which I lift up my lantern, it is not my flame that shall burn therein.
Empty and dark shall I raise my lantern,

And the guardian of the night shall fill it with oil and he shall light it also.

These things he said in words. But much in his heart remained unsaid. For he himself could not speak his deeper secret.

And when he entered into the city all the people came to meet him, and they were crying out to him as with one voice.

And the elders of the city stood forth and said:

Go not yet away from us.

A noontide have you been in our twilight, and your youth has given us dreams to dream.

No stranger are you among us, nor a guest, but our son and our dearly beloved. Suffer not yet our eyes to hunger for your face.

And the priests and the priestesses said unto him:

Let not the waves of the sea separate us now, and the years you have spent in our midst become a memory.

You have walked among us a spirit, and your shadow has been a light upon our faces.

Much have we loved you. But speechless was our love, and with veils has it been veiled. Yet now it cries aloud unto you, and would stand revealed before you.

And ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation.

And others came also and entreated him.

But he answered them not. He only bent his head; and those who stood near saw his tears falling upon his breast.

And he and the people proceeded towards the great square before the temple. And there came out of the sanctuary a woman whose name was Almitra. And she was a seeress.

And he looked upon her with exceeding tenderness, for it was she who had first sought and believed in him when he had been but a day in their city.

And she hailed him, saying: Prophet of God, in quest for the uttermost, long have you searched the distances for your ship.

And now your ship has come, and you must needs go.

Deep is your longing for the land of your memories and the dwelling place of your greater desires; and our love would not bind you nor our needs hold you.

Yet this we ask ere you leave us, that you speak to us and give us of your truth. And we will give it unto our children, and they unto their children, and it shall not perish.

In your aloneness you have watched with our days, and in your wakefulness you have listened to the weeping and the laughter of our sleep.

Now therefore disclose us to ourselves, and tell us all that has been shown you of that which is between birth and death.

And he answered,

People of Orphalese, of what can I speak save of that which is even now moving your souls?

Epic Road Trip to the Beach

Every fall, when Slovak schools reconvene and the traditional question "What did you do on your summer vacation?" is intoned, a common answer is that kids went on holiday to Croatia. Croatia's got the closest major body of water to Slovakia, so if you want to go to the beach, that's where you head.

Robin is leaving in the middle of June, and we wanted to do something really fun before she left, so we decided to go to Croatia. This same idea had been floated last year, with no results, but this time we had a fellow English teacher (hereafter to be called Páv) with a van who was willing to drive us there. The main thing was to reach a beach, any beach; but Páv said we might as well go all the way to Dubrovnik. I was in favor of this, since Dubrovnik is on everybody's list of the best walled cities in the world.

Croatia is shaped sort of like a rocked-back P. Dubrovnik is almost all the way at the bottom of the country. If you're driving south along the coast, you briefly pass through Bosnia and Herzegovina, since it has about one town's width of access to the Adriatic Sea (Jadran). Even though you're only there for about ten minutes, they still check (but don't stamp) passports at the Croatia/Bosnia border, especially at about 3 in the morning.

Dubrovnik used to be one of the foremost trading areas between Europe and Asia, and was even its own republic, called Ragusa.* Large parts of the city were destroyed by an earthquake in the 16th century, and then in 1991 the city was besieged by the Serbs. The city is a lot like a cross between Italy and Central Europe. Croatian and Slovak are not entirely mutually intelligible, but almost.

The one major unforeseen element in our trip was that Páv wanted to bring along his brother...his five-year-old brother. Compared to what I was imagining, Pavičko was remarkably well-behaved.

Our route was the same both ways, and was basically Tisovec to Budapest, then toward Zagreb, Split, and then Dubrovnik. We left around 2:45 PM on Thursday and arrived around 5 on Friday morning; on the way back we left around 5:15 AM Monday and got home about 5:45 PM.

There are lots and lots of apartments and rooms to rent in Dubrovnik, especially in the Old Town. We were in a place that Rick recommended. Páv and Pavičko were in a room on the second floor, and Rob and H and I got the apartment on the top floor. It had a kitchen and an air conditioning unit and a fabulous view of the Old Port. We loved it there.

The Adriatic is really salty. It's also really clear and really blue. Most of the beaches are rocky, but they're nice, rounded rocks, and were pretty comfortable. I floated in the water and looked at the Pearl of the Adriatic and it was amazing. In the foreground above is the public beach we frequented.

On Saturday we took a ferry to the island just off the coast, called Lokrum Island. The ride back is the video below; I started recording just after we left Lokrum. It's got a former monastery complex, and an old fort, and a rocky coastline where you have to climb down into the water on short ladders, and a nude section, and a lagoon called the "Dead Sea," at left, and lots of peacocks. We went to one of the rocky swimming areas first, and climbed down some rocks, then the ladder, and then swam over more rocks to get to the open sea to float around in. Getting back in was a little tricky, because you had to go over the rocks again, but this time with the waves pushing you directions you didn't necessarily want to go. I think we all got a little dinged up coming back in. It was kind of fun, though, and I'm glad I did it. Then we headed over to the Dead Sea and hung out there for a while.

Dubrovnik also seems to be a really popular cruise-ship stop. I saw more cruise ships, and really huge ones, there than anywhere else I've been. We seem to have gone at the perfect time, when it was warm enough to swim and spend the day outside, but not yet high tourist season, when the place would be packed.

On Sunday morning, H and I got up and headed out before everyone else. The city walls opened at 8, and I wanted to start walking before they got crowded and the weather got hot. The one major drawback to these particular walls is that you must pay to walk around them (70 kuna for adults, which was just shy of €10, although it does include admission to one of the forts on the north side). Because of the destruction mentioned previously, parts of the walls have been reconstructed, and in general they're very safe—well, except for the smooth and occasionally slippery stone that's used throughout the town. Inside the walls you see all the Mediterranean-style red-tiled roofs, and it reinforces the idea that you're far from central Europe. The highest point of the walls is a tower at the northeast, if I've got my orientation correct, and the western stretch is on the cliff by the sea. There are some houses built right up to the inside of the wall, but there's one bar that's actually on the outside of the western wall. (It's called Buža and we went back that night for drinks. You walk through a doorway in the wall and then down some stairs to a set of terraces with tables. Since Sunday night was cloudy, it was quite dark, and hard to distinguish where the water ended and the sky began. It was very cool.)
The way home was fairly uneventful, except for the fact that Páv promised Pavičko we'd have lunch at McDonald's near Budapest. This led to Pavičko about every 15 minutes telling his brother not to forget that we were going to go there, and also a McDonald's-hunger-induced hysteria on all our parts when we briefly got lost in Budapest, which led to Páv calling the female voice on the GPS something really inappropriate.

We drove 195 kph in a Ford minivan. We drank lots of coffee and Coke. We each got four stamps in our passports. We passed big rigs from Russia, BMWs from Germany, camper trailers from the Netherlands, and a Porsche from Switzerland. We sang along to "Don't Worry Be Happy" a lot. We held our breath going through tunnels. In short, we did everything right for a road trip, and it was a terrific experience.

*Although Marco Polo identifies himself as Venetian, there are sources that indicate that he was born on the Croatian island of Korčula. Look, it is practically a condition of my Master's that I must talk about MP whenever possible.

The Work Outing

(In the spirit of non-plagiarism, the title is taken from the name of an episode of "The IT Crowd." It's not my favorite episode, but it was the first one I saw.)

For the past two years, the school has been involved in an ecological project with other European schools. Some of our teachers and even students have visited other schools in Portugal, Norway, and Sweden, and now it's EGT's turn to host. As hosts, they've arranged excursions for the visiting teachers; today they're in the High Tatras, and yesterday there was a trip to a cave and a manor house. It may seem like an odd combination, but the two are fairly close to each other (and less than an hour from Tisovec). The boss invited us to go along on the trips, because she likes us to see the country. H'd already been to the cave and kaštiel, so Robin and I went along with the guests. They went in a small bus, and we went in the school car, where we saw nice views like this one here. Man, Slovakia is pretty.

The Ochtinská aragonite cave is one of only like three or four aragonite caves in the world. It is, of course, out in the middle of nowhere, and like Domica, the entrance is in a bizarre spaceshipesque building. Inside the cave there is pretty marble-like rock, which I liked, and the aragonite formations, like bleached sea urchins clinging to the roof of the cave. Most of them are smallish, but there's a big one called the Hedgehog. At this particular cave, I suppose because it's uncommon, they wanted 10 bleedin' euros to take pictures. I ask you. Needless to say, I have no pictures.

Then we went along to Betliar. Some websites and guidebooks call it a "castle," probably in part because the Slovak word kaštiel sounds like castle; but it's really a mansion or manor house. Generally I'd prefer to go to the really hardcore fortressy castles, and that's one of the reasons I hadn't been to Betliar before this; but it turned out to be really cool. The house belonged for many years to Hungarian noble families.

The first few rooms are standard Here's a bit of furniture, some swords, and a family tree of the people who used to hang out here; after that it gets weird, when you go into the Grotto, a faux-cave with somewhat poorly taxidermied local animals like wolves and bears and a boar, and weirder still in the rooms where there are trophies from Africa. There were some masks and spears and shields, and a couple crocodiles, and a sea turtle, and a gigantic snakeskin, and this monstrosity:What?

After that it goes back to normal, more rooms and portraits and things. As we went through one room I saw a piece of furniture and thought, 'Where is the spinet?' and a few rooms later, there it was (I think it was really a fortepiano), with a bust of Beethoven on it and everything. One thing I thought was cool about the house was that the corners have square projections, sort of like towers or bay windows, and all the bathrooms are in those corners.

But really, the coolest room in the place is the library.
After the tour we walked around the grounds for a bit. It's got several odd little building that seem to serve no purpose, like a Masonic temple and a Chinese pagoda and Rob and I may or may not have climbed on one of them. You'll never know for sure.

Facts About Kežmarok

1. Kežmarok is in the Spiš region. Like all Spiš towns, it has a lot of evidence of the German settlers who lived there. One of the biggest clues is the German name for the town, Käsmark ("cheese market"). The town got its market privilege in the 13th century.

2. There are some pretty good views of the Tatras there.

3. The town castle is at the end of the old square. It's got some exhibits in the different towers, like one about a doctor from the town who was the first in Slovakia to take x-rays, and of course arms and armor. At the end of the tour are some rooms with displays on life in the town in the 19th and 20th centuries, including census information that said that the highest number of Jews in the town, before the war, was over a thousand, but that in the 2001 census there was only one Jew. There was also an old wartime street sign for Ulica Adolfa Hitlera/Adolf Hitler Strasse. It was somewhat comforting that the sign had bullet holes in it. 4. The castle's oldest tower has been significantly reconstructed and therefore has the safest stairs in all of Slovakia.

5. The town's lyceum has a library that is supposed to be pretty impressive, but is closed on Saturdays.

6. Here is a tank called Jánošík, across the street from the back of the castle.

7. The Basilica of the Holy Cross, also reputed to be impressive inside, also seemed to be closed (maybe for a wedding).

8. I thought maybe visitors could go up in the Renaissance belltower next to the basilica, but it, too, was apparently closed. Or maybe I just wasn't looking in the right places to go in these sites.

9. I did peek inside the Greek Orthodox church, but it was modern and had no cool icons or anything.

10. The exterior of the New Evangelic Church is light red and green, for some reason. The inside is light, with a very high ceiling and a set of steps leading up to the altar. On the right hand side about halfway down the nave is the mausoleum of Imre Thököly, a Hungarian nobleman who was a native of the town and supported Protestantism.

11. The best reason to go to Kežmarok is to see the UNESCO-listed articulated wooden church. It's right next to the new Lutheran church, and despite the name, the outer walls are plastered, so I wandered most of the way around it going, "What is this strange building?" before seeing the sign that said it was in fact the wooden church.

During the 17th and 18th century Slovakia (among other parts of Europe) had some of those laws that said that Protestants could build churches as long as they didn't use any nails. They also had to build on specific sites outside towns, they couldn't have towers or bells, and parishes had to pay for construction themselves. In the case of this particular church, there are two small stone rooms at the back (actually to the right of the altar, but on the side opposite the entrance) that were given to the church by the town.

The church was built in 1717 on a Greek cross plan. It measures 35 meters long, 31 meters wide, and 20 meters high (115'x102'x66'). The walls are made of red fir, the supporting columns of yew, the hardest wood found in Slovakia, and the altar and pulpit of lime. With the ground floor and six balconies, there is room for 1500 people.

In this picture, taken stealthily from behind the pulpit, you can see that the church looks like the prettiest barn you've ever been in. The ceiling is painted like a partly cloudy blue sky, with saints around the edges. The altar looks like it's marble because it's painted so nicely. Everything is beautifully carved and painted, and most of the writing, like the saints' names and inscriptions near the altar, is in German. There aren't that many pictures of the interior online, which is disappointing, because it is very nice; but on the other hand, pictures aren't as cool as actually walking in and seeing it yourself.

Stormy Weather

First, a quick announcement: Happy fourth birthday yesterday, blog!

As you no doubt remember, last spring was exceptionally rainy. In comparison, this one has been quite dry. Until today (dun dun dun). The rain woke me up at 2 this morning, and had stopped by the second time I woke up at 7,* although there were some clouds lurking in the sky. I'd planned to go to a castle ruin, Pustý hrad, near Zvolen, but I didn't feel sanguine about my chances of not getting rained on as I walked around, so I decided to stay home. I feel this was a good choice.

We've had strong rain, thunder and lightning, and hail. The thunder was more impressive in real life than it sounds here, but you can see the lightning pretty well.

It took about an hour to upload this to YouTube, so the storm has stopped for now. Chances are good that it'll start up again, but I'm prepared with lots of candles for the anticipated power outage and various accoutrements for when I have to go outside.

Ah, there it goes again. Rain boots, engage!

*For some reason we teachers here always talk about when we woke up on weekends/holidays. Sleeping past 8 is quite an accomplishment.
Also, please note that footnotes are now clickable. Progress!

Maturita Update

Even though having examined 44 students in the past three days (with 7 to go tomorrow) has melted my brain, there's one thing that makes it worthwhile, the most important part of maturita week...

BRYNDZA CAKES.

Practicalities #4B: The Train

The other public-transportation option for getting out of Tisovec is the train. The same website gives train information, including international trains. (It does used to lie about one particular train, though; there really isn't one that leaves Brezno and goes south at 16:29 on Saturdays.)

Trains are rad. I prefer taking the train to taking the bus. It's a bit more expensive (€1.38 for the train between Tisovec and Hnúšťa and about €.80 for the bus), but worth it: There are usually fewer people on the train, and it's more fun to look out the window, and you can ride backwards. The train from Tisovec to Brezno goes through one tunnel, where if the lights don't come on you can harass your friends in the dark; and over a few bridges that pass over the road, which is fun until your train unexpectedly stops in the middle of one and hangs out there for a few minutes.

In Tisovec there are two stops, Mesto and the main station. Mesto is the closer to us; the main one is about 15 minutes' walk to the north. Neither Tisovec stop has any kind of ticket office, nor do many small-town stations. You buy your ticket onboard from the conductor. From bigger towns and cities you buy your ticket at the station.There was no graffiti on the station when I first got here. :(

Also, at small stations (even Brezno, pictured below) you might have to walk over one set of tracks to get to your platform. This is considered acceptable and safe. Why wouldn't it be?

The trains that go through Tisovec are two cars at most. Usually there's only one. For this reason I call it the "tiny train."

Here's a tiny train passing by my apartment yesterday evening on its way south to Jesenské. The drivers always blow their horns around this point—that's the only way I knew when to start recording.


Slovak trains also encourage you to throw things out the window and jump out.
Most of the trains that pass through Bystrica are full-sized ones, with more amenities. They have compartments, just like in "Harry Potter" (but without the Dementors), although whenever I'm sitting in a compartment I get nervous about when my stop is and how much time it'll take me to gather my things and disembark. Of course there are overnight compartments, too. When you get up in the Tatras and other more-touristed areas, the station announcements are in Slovak, German, and English, but 'round here they're only in Slovak.

Riding the train here is nothing like riding Amtrak at home. It's far, far cheaper, for one, but Europe just has a completely different idea of what train travel is than North America does. I'll really miss taking the trains here, and I hope train travel becomes more inexpensive and efficient at home, so I can enjoy it there, too.

Practicalities #4A: The Bus

I'm always saying how I took the bus or the train from here to there, so I thought I'd elaborate on what "the bus" and "the train" mean.

When you want to leave Tisovec, you must first figure out how you're going to go. This involves going to http://www.cp.sk/, where you fill in when and from where you're leaving and where you want to go, and it tells you what buses, trains, or combination thereof you can take. (If you're leaving Slovakia, you usually also check a private company like Eurolines.) Then—and this is VERY IMPORTANT—you write down not only the times that you want, but all of the other times in the general vicinity of the ones you want. This is so that when you miss a bus or one just doesn't show, you have a backup plan. You also write down the route the bus is taking and where you have to make connections. I usually have pieces of paper in my bag that say things like

6:08-8:39 Z
9:10-9:50 pl 3
(bus leaving Tisovec at 6:08 and arriving at Zvolen in 8:39, then subsequent bus leaving Zvolen from platform 3 at 9:10 and arriving in Banská Štiavnica at 9:50)

or

13:35-15:05 BB
15:50-16:40 B pl 21
16:49-17:54 t
(bus to Banská Bystrica, bus from platform 21 there to Brezno, train from Brezno to Tisovec).

If you don't have these things, then you must have a cell phone and a friend with an internet connection to check cp.sk for you, or a place to stay the night, or all of the above. This is the Voice of Experience talking.

The main bus stop in Tisovec is in front of the church, but there's one to the north on the way to Brezno and two to the south on the way to Hnúšťa. Here's the catch (one of many): it has to be a local intercity bus to stop at one of those stops, or you have to be able to explain in Slovak where you want to get off and hope that the driver is obliging.

Speaking of obliging, sometimes the bus will stop and instead of actually getting on, someone will talk to the driver and give him a bag or a box and then get off. Then at another stop someone will collect the parcel from the driver. I seem to remember once the thing that was being delivered was eggs.

On long trips there's often a stop, usually in a town. These stops, which are not marked on the schedule, can range from 10 to 45 minutes. Big bus stations like Bystrica, which is probably the most frequent stopping-point, have restrooms and food stands, with "burgers" and langoš (Slovak frybread; sources report that the best langoš is at the Bratislava bus station). If it's a long break, the driver may kick people off the coach.

The long-haul buses, like those going from Košice to Bratislava, for example, are usually nice big coaches, Volvos or Scanias or the like. The two pictures above are the Scania coach we took to Hungary. The shorter-range buses can be nice, but they can also be pretty cruddy. Both the very first picture and the one below are shorter-range buses. It's really a crapshoot what kind of bus is going to show up.
It seems like the drivers own their own buses, because some of them have done a lot of interior personalization in the front windows. There's often Slovakia memorabilia, sometimes garlands of fake flowers, saints or crucifixes, and small stuffed animals (keep in mind the great majority of drivers are men). The best decoration was probably one on a bus that Bear often rode last year: a tiny novelty t-shirt that said "Sexy Boy."

The worst things about the bus are that it's easy to feel motion sick, especially going to Brezno or Muráň, and there's often not much legroom, and sometimes you get the smelly drunk dude sitting next to you, and on occasion the bus you're waiting for just doesn't show up, and every once in a while it's really crowded and you have to stand up for a bit. The good things are that the buses are pretty frequent, especially between Tisovec and Brezno, so there's always a good chance of getting home as long as you can at least get to Brezno, and they're mostly cheap, and pretty safe, even if the driver seems a little reckless. Riding the bus: all part of the adventure.

Hell Maturita Week

This is the beginning of a very important week. It’s maturita time.

...There should have been more of a clamor after that dramatic statement. You don’t know what the maturita is? That’s likely because it’s very much a European rite of passage, especially here in Central and Eastern Europe.

The maturitas (maturity, if you want the proper plural) are end-of-school leaving exams. All Slovak students must take the Slovak exam, and of course at bilingual schools the students must take a foreign language exam as well, so our students all take the English maturita. After that students may choose a few subjects and they take intensive seminars on these throughout their final year to prepare them for the maturita. These subjects include geography, biology, and their second foreign language, among others. At EGT the kids take the Slovak maturita in their fourth year, and all others their fifth year. For some of the tests, including Slovak, English, and history, there is a separate written component completed earlier in the spring. The main event is the oral exam.

I can only speak about the subjects that I’ve been involved in, which are English and history, but this is the basic form. There are 30 possible tasks, and each task has three parts. The first student comes in and chooses a number from cards face-down on the table. Then he or she gets about 30 minutes to prepare. Students may write notes for themselves during this time, and some questions have specific aids, like articles, maps, or pictures. At the end of the 30 minutes the student must talk about the three questions in front of a panel of three proctors. As one student begins talking, another is preparing. The proctors ask questions to help the students. The students talk for 20 to 30 minutes or until they’ve entirely exhausted their abilities.

There are very particular rules about the proctors. Each panel must have an outside proctor who is not an EGT teacher, and for the bilingual subjects one proctor must be a native English speaker or equivalent. Obviously, the proctors are supposed to be qualified and know the answers for all the 90 possible tasks.

Scoring, like all grades, is on a scale of 1 to 5. Opposite to the Advanced Placement exams in the US, a 1 is the best score and a 5 is the worst. Each question is scored, then the proctors decide what the student’s overall score should be. Then there’s a complicated formula that’s like (a certain number of points X the score from task 1) + (another number of points X score from task 2) + (some more points X score from task 3) / 10 or 3 or something, I don’t even know, obviously I’m not in charge of anything involving math because this is serious business. About five students do their tests, then the proctors discuss, then the students come back in and the head of the panel asks if it’s alright to read all their scores aloud (no one ever says no). Then she reads their scores and all the proctors shake the kids’ hands. As you can imagine, this can be rather awkward if a kid doesn’t pass. I’m never really sure what to say, anyway.

Two years ago I was on the history panel. I learned a lot from it, because each task has at least one question about Slovak/Czechoslovak history, and though the students answer this question in Slovak, the headmistress made them summarize what they’d said in English for me. When I first got the packet of questions I felt a little like the students must feel: overwhelmed at everything they need to know. I originally had an example of a task posted, but I've decided to take it down, because the tasks sometimes don't change that much year to year and I don't want to risk doing the wrong thing.

History is a good panel to be on because usually only 20 to 30 kids take it, so it’s usually only one day. English, on the other hand, is four days this year and was five days in the past two years. Usually they try to divide the proctoring between two American teachers, but this year I am the duty native speaker, so I’ll be here all week, folks. This is because I was the only one who taught the fifth years their British and American history review course, and the English maturita for some strange reason includes a question about history/geography/social studies of English-speaking countries. So I’m the only one who knows the answers to all the history questions. The English tasks also include one conversation topic and one (British/American) literature question. The conversation topics cover everything from stereotypes of different nationalities to sport to whether it’s better to live in a village or a city.

While some people say that the maturita really has no bearing on students’ futures, it’s nonetheless an important part of their schooling and culture. And for about 11 hours a day for the next four days, it’s going to be an important part of my life, too.

Class Trip

In my time living here I have come to internalize a bit of the rivalry between Slovakia and Hungary. I think Slovakia is better than Hungary in almost every way (except at having Cherry Coke and Dr. Pepper). I’m especially perturbed by the Hungarian language and its complete linguistic isolation from any neighboring language. And even though Slovakia lost in the hockey, at least this time they didn’t lose to Hungary.

All that said, it’s a little hard for me to get into the message behind our class trip to Hungary: that we should be proud of Hungarian history because it is our Slovak history as well. For about 900 years present-day Slovakia was part of Hungary, first in the kingdom of Veľká Morava and later in the Austro-Hungarian Empire. Most of any current antipathy between the two countries originates in the post-World War I era, when Hungary lost about two-thirds of its land under the Treaty of Trianon.

We—almost 30 third years, three history teachers, the financial secretary, and the secretary and her family, including her brother, who drove the coach—left Tisovec just after 7 on Wednesday morning and headed south and then west. On the way students gave short presentations (in English) on the history of the Hungarian kingdom. I took notes like a good student myself. We actually crossed into Hungary twice—we went in, then back into Slovakia, then back into Hungary again. I must admit I’m not sure why we did this, but it was a good illustration of how open the borders are.

Just across the Dunaj/Duna/Danube from Štúrovo (known as Párkány during the Hungarian years) is Esztergom, or Ostrihom if you’re Slovak. The basilica there is the third largest in the world. It was completed in 1856. I thought the most interesting part was the crypt, with brick arches and epic statues of Eternal Life and Eternal Perdition. It was also here that I discovered that the kids were going to take more pictures of themselves than of anything historical.

The next stop was Visegrád. There are two castles there: the reconstructed royal palace (királyi palota) near the riverbank and the citadel (fellegvár) up on a hill. The citadel is older, and the palace dates from the time of one of the greatest Hungarian kings, Matthias Corvinus. Matthias’ wife, Beatrix, was Italian and brought the Renaissance to Hungary. The royal palace has a Renaissance courtyard with the “Hercules Fountain” depicting baby Hercules strangling some snakes. The original, fragments of which are preserved inside the palace, was made of red marble, and ran with wine during banquets. The citadel of course has lovely views of the river and also wax-work dioramas of scenes of castle life that the headmistress and I agreed were full of silly inaccuracies (like lemons and oranges as garnish/decoration). The really great part was leaving the palace and getting on the coach to go up the hill to the citadel. In my non-teacher life I would’ve had to walk, and I’m grateful I didn’t have to do that with my kids.
We got a bit behind schedule somehow and arrived in the town of Szentendre around 5:30. Originally the kids were supposed to have free time and get dinner there, but we went straight to the restaurant. After we ordered I went back to the ATM we’d passed to get some forints. The ATM was only one turn away and should’ve taken about a minute and a half, tops, to get to. Even before my first lap around the block I was already thinking, “Oh, Ahab, you know better than to wander around a foreign town by yourself,* especially in your current fatigue-addled state of mind.” I managed not to get irreparably lost, though, and made it back to eat my beef stew. It was so good.

Our hostel was on the outskirts of Buda. It was a quick trip from there to the castle hill on Thursday morning. We walked around the president’s palace, Matthias Church, and the Fisherman’s Bastion. I was called upon to review the characteristics of Gothic architecture outside the church; I was hoping we’d go in, but we didn’t, alas for me. From there the bus took us to Pest and we went to the House of Terror. I think that it seemed even worse to me this time since I’ve been teaching 20th century history. Some of the kids were upset by the museum, as they should have been, so at the end of the visit the headmistress and I tried to explain why we visit museums like that, and concentration camps—lest we forget. As we left one of the girls told me that it was the first time she’d realized how bad things got during the socialist era (Hungary tried to rebel against the Soviets in 1956 and the attempt was answered with great cruelty). She said, “I thought after World War II it was better.” I told her I’d thought so, too, before I became a history teacher.

After all that, the headmistress let the kids exercise their democratic rights, and they voted not to visit the art museum. We had a brief stop at Heroes’ Square (Hősök tere, left) and then took the metro to some other square whose name is frankly unimportant. Then we all got two hours of free time.

Last time we visited Budapest we didn’t get to go in the big market hall when all the stalls were open, so I headed there. I will miss European markets when I leave. Most of the greengrocers had strawberries out, and when I walked by the first stall and smelled them I had to have some. I consulted my phrasebook and found a vendor who was not busy and looked pleasant. Standing in front of the strawberries I smiled and said hopefully, “Fél kilo?” It worked like a champ. I paid about 500 ft. for my half-kilo, rinsed them at a little sink, took them outside, and ate about half of them straightaway.

Then I succeeding in locating both Cherry Coke and Dr. Pepper, and of course got a milkshake from Mickey D’s.

When we reconvened (the kids had almost all gone to McDonald’s, too, and shopping), we took the metro back to Hősök tere and the bus met us there. You have not seen a bunch of kids more eager to go home from a pleasant two-day trip than these ones. Admittedly it was noticeably warmer in Budapest than in Tisovec (a thermometer as we were leaving said it was 32°), but when one of the girls described the weather as “tropical,” I LOL’d.

My biggest concern during the trip was whether or not these kids were actually making any connections between what we were seeing and what they’d learned in class. I’m certain a few of them were willfully ignoring any possible educational tidbit—I do teach them, after all, I know what they’re like—but I think most of them got something. And though one girl got a little sick, no one got drunk or arrested or woke me up in the middle of the night, and that’s really all I could have asked for. It was fun to laugh at them and the silly things they did and said, too; two of the girls were giggling about something as we walked to Hősök tere and I asked what they were doing. Miška said, "Majka fell in love with the construction worker" we'd just passed. Majka defended herself with "He has beautiful eyes!" and looked for him very unstealthily the next two times we passed by the same place. Teenagers.

In the end, no matter how much I complain about not understanding Slovak and Slovakia, there is no mistaking the sense of relief I feel when I get back from having left the country.


*Clearly I do not truly know better.

Trenčín

Slovakia, as we have no doubt previously discussed, is not a big country. It is about twice the size of Wales, or four times the size of Jamaica, or, like, a twentieth the size of Canada (thank you, Across Cultures). It should take about 10 hours to drive clear across the country east-west, or about five north-south. But as I didn't have the foresight two years ago to buy a used car and learn to drive stick, I still have to rely on public transportation, and so it took Robin and me six hours and three buses to get to Trenčín on Friday afternoon.
We liked the city immediately. The center is a short walk from the bus and train stations, passing the rock outcrop the castle's built on. Trenčín has many lodging options, but we stayed in the Hotel Grand. It is by far the swankiest place I've stayed in Slovakia. Accordingly it was a bit spendy. I regret nothing.

A stage with a big screen and a sound system were set up in Mierové namestie, the main square, and a crowd had gathered to watch Slovakia play (and, unfortunately, lose to) the Czech Republic in the hockey championships. We watched most of the game in a restaurant called Mexiko. Their interpretation of enchiladas was pretty wide of the mark, but the mojitos were good.

On Saturday morning we got to see the town without a lot of people around before heading up to the castle. There's a covered stairway that goes partway up the hill and leads to Marianské namestie, a little square consisting of a church and a smaller chapel. There was a mass in progress, but even if the church had been open, it was too full of scaffolding to see anything interesting.

At the castle gate we bought our tickets for the tour starting at 9:45. (The photo fee was a very reasonable .70€.) Tours start at the gate to an inner courtyard, so we looked around some before and saw a baby trebuchet and a new phenomenon, castle goats. At the outset our guide told us she didn't speak much English and then proceeded to give us the most salient points in perfectly serviceable English.

Trenčín's recorded history dates back to the Roman Empire, when Roman soldiers defeated a local Germanic tribe and then wrote about it on the cliff that the castle would later occupy.* The oldest part of the castle is a rotunda built in the 9th or 10th century of which now only ruins remain. Much of the castle was destroyed by fire in the late 18th century and thus there's been a lot of reconstruction, but whatever. I'm giving this one a pass. The most famous master of the castle was Matúš Čak (Csak in Hungarian), who held the cool title "Lord of the Váh and the Tatras." The tallest tower is named for Matúš and dates from the 14th century.
Tower-climbing story of the day: This one is unique because there isn't one continuous staircase all the way up. You go up a floor, walk through a room to a different corner, and take a different staircase. They're all pretty narrow and have very short doorways. Only the last one is a spiral, too.

Our tour over, we went back down to the lower area and saw that there was a mini historical reenactment camp set up, including an old-school wooden merry-go-round. Then Rob spotted a guy shooting arrows, and asked him if she could try. It was a euro for four arrows and we both had a go. I SHOT ARROWS IN A CASTLE. Just clarifying that for the record. For another euro, the blacksmith at the forge let visitors strike their own commemorative coins by whacking a simple die with a hammer. Trenčianský hrad wins for activities.

Then, as so many of these stories go, we ate some ice cream and departed the town.

Trenčín is a good place. You don't really need to be there more than a day; it would be a good excursion from Bratislava.

The next post will be about a special mid-week adventure happening this Wednesday and Thursday. For the sake of my third-year history class, I'm going back...to Hungary.

*Guidebooks will tell you the inscription can be seen through a window at the back of the Hotel Tatra, which is built right up against the cliff. Said hotel is currently under massive interior reconstruction and is closed for a bit, so don't plan on being able to see the writing anytime soon. There's a replica on display at the castle.

Slovensko Do Toho

Forget the royal wedding; Slovakia's got other things on its mind today, the beginning of the 2011 International Ice Hockey Federation World Championships. This would be a big deal in any hockey-crazy country, but it's an even bigger deal here because this year Slovakia's the host. From now until May 15, games will be played in Bratislava and Košice, with 16 teams competing. Fan gear is all over the place here, and lots of businesses are using hockey in their advertising. 

I personally am concerned about the fact that the Stanley Cup finals started in the middle of April and could go on until June. This means that some players may have to decide between playing for their job and playing for their country, and that's an unfortunate choice to have to make. It also means that I'm pretty sure the US isn't going to win very many games here.