Zbojská

This past week we had some short-term volunteers here helping out with some major cleaning and a bit of construction around the gym. On Friday afternoon the headmistress arranged for them to go a few minutes north of here to an area called Zbojská. At Zbojská there is a chata (a cottage or cabin), a restaurant, and two little shops on a hillside. Guests can explore the hills, look at sheep, watch cheese being made (although the whole process takes two days), eat food prepared with really fresh ingredients, buy cheese and crafts, and/or stay overnight. We were there for a few hours, checking out the cheese-making process, eating, and then relaxing on the grounds. I had a huge plate of bryndzové halušky and had no need for dinner later on. It was a really pleasant afternoon. Cheese draining on the left, and strings of cheese to be cut or tied into knots

Levoča

With my excursion Saturday, I have brought my number of walled cities visited up to three (Rothenburg ob der Tauber, Germany, and Londonderry, Northern Ireland are the other two, for those of you not keeping track at home). It's becoming more clear to me that all walled cities are not made alike. My conception of walled cities was shaped by Rothenburg, as it was the first one I visited. There, because they have been restored in places, the walls completely surround the old city, without many major gaps. Even in Derry/Londonderry the walls are easily recognizable. In Levoča, in the Spiš region, the walls are more subtle. From what I attempted yesterday, it's not possible to walk around the whole city on them. The delineation between inner city and outer city is also not always clear.

I'll admit that the first triumph of the day is that I made it to Levoča all by my onesie, as Captain Sparrow says,* and the second is that I made it back, too. I know it doesn't sound like much, but I think this was the first time that I'd been somewhere in Slovakia by myself that I hadn't been to before. I didn't miss any of the buses, and even though I had to ask a few drivers where they were going, I eventually got on all of the right routes. So, success.

It took me around four hours to get from Tisovec to Levoča, and about three hours to get back in the afternoon. That said, it's not a terribly great distance from one town to the other. Still, the landscape is different up there. Here in Tisovec we're surrounded by our spiky, wooded hills, which are part of the reason it takes so long to get anywhere from here. Poprad, which the buses drove through, has wonderful views of the Tatras; and though Levoča is less than an hour from Poprad, the Tatras aren't even visible from the town. The hills there are more rolling, and don't dominate the horizon. I do feel like Levoča is at a higher elevation than Tisovec, too.the Tatras on the way home; the angle was an attempt to avoid a reflection in the bus window

I got to the main bus station in Levoča around ten to eleven. Although there were no posted signs--"The stuff you came to see this way"--the steeple of the cathedral is visible from the station, and using that to steer by, I headed up toward the city.

The old center is based around a long square. In this square are the cathedral, Chram Sv. Jakuba, the (19th century?) Lutheran church, the old town hall, and the newer city government building. The sides of the square, Námestie Majstra Pavla, are lined with houses from the Renaissance, some of them still with their decorations, like the Thurzo House, below. One of them is the post office, painted yellow, of course, and others are museums and shops and cafés. The difference between the state of the main square and the buildings on streets just outside the square is remarkable. It's fairly obvious which buildings have been taken care of over the years. They're even now working on the old town hall; it's covered in scaffolding. But there are buildings nearby that appear to need much more work. Of course, these buildings off the square don't bring the tour buses in, either.
The cathedral is the main draw to Levoča. There is a thirty-minute tour in Slovak, but information sheets are available in English, French, and German. Levoča was the home of a sculptor called Master Pavel. His major work, an altar, is in the cathedral, and it's the tallest Gothic altar in the world at 18.62 meters. Although the altar is quite large, it's so tall because it has some pointy bits at the top. The three figures in the middle of the altar, St. James, Mary, and St. John, are all 2.5 meters tall--that's just over eight feet tall. There were signs posted against photography, but I snuck some pictures anyway. I hope in the future no employers read this and think that I'm a total scofflaw and have no respect for rules or antiquities. I would think that photography is forbidden for two reasons: to protect the art from degradation by bright flashes of light, and to keep people from making money from their art. To the first, I didn't use a flash anyway, because I know better; to the second, I won't make any money from taking stealthy pictures. So there. Here's the altar, wonky because of aforesaid stealth, and St. George, laconically stabbing the dragon.As I mentioned earlier, there are three city museums. One is a museum of Spiš art; one is devoted to Master Pavel; one is the city museum. There is probably a particular order that you should visit them, but it was only two and a half euros for all three. I went to the city museum, then the Spiš art one, then the Master Pavel one (a copy of "The Last Supper" by the sculptor is below). An interesting thing I learned in the city museum was that the area was settled by Germans, so some of the documents in the museum are in Swabach, a German dialect. The city was first mentioned in writing in 1249.
Outside the Spiš art museum I saw a nice but slightly dusty car that I found was an Aston Martin Vanquish S, all the way from England.






Once I'd gone to the museums and walked around the square a few times I had down one of the side streets and saw the Mariánska hora monastery. It's a very elegant-looking building at the top of a hill outside Levoča. During July there's a big pilgrimage to the monastery. It looked really nice at the top of the hill. I also walked around to what I'm thinking of as the back of the town, where there was some more wall. At this section you could see the extent of the hill that Levoča is built on. You could also see that it was a popular place to party. I walked that way for a while, then went back into the square, then tried to find one or more of the gates that are still standing. I found the Košicky gate, which is wide enough for cars to drive through. Then I walked in a sort of alley along the inside of the wall down toward the street that would take me to the bus station.

Levoča was a nice way to spend the day, even if over half the twelve hours I was gone were spent traveling. But traveling successfully! I would recommend visiting the town if you're interested in Renaissance art, or if you're traveling through the area and have some time to kill. I don't know if I would tell anyone to make a special trip all the way to Slovakia just to see Levoča, but it was a good trip for me. If only because I got to see this sign:"Caution, guarded by dog cat"

*Happy belated Talk Like a Pirate Day!

Mid-September, for Lack of a Better Title

Last weekend I went back to Banská Bystrica for the festival. It was a bit warmer than it was last year, but I feel that there was more there this year. As you can see, most of the day was quite nice (we did get a little rained on at the end, but not enough to spoil the day).

For some reason that I cannot at all fathom, the theme of this year's festival seems to have been Christopher Columbus. The three staging areas were therefore called the Niña, the Pinta, and the Santa Maria. Furthermore, there was a small pirate ship on wheels that was occasionally pulled through the festival, with pirates shouting things. I was not aware that Slovaks were notorious pirates.

There was the usual folk dancing on the main stage at the top of the square, but this year we got to see some Polish kids dancing in addition to the Slovak groups. We also saw the end of the children's dance groups, where all of the groups were re-introduced. There was also a group from Serbia and one from Finland that we'd missed seeing. It was quite multicultural.

At the top of the square, by the big church (the one in the first picture of this post), a medieval/Renaissance/olde tyme area was set up. One poor man was squaring off trees to make big beams for building; another was smithing, and other people were loitering about their camp area. We were checking out some vendors when we heard someone banging on a drum and yelling, so we went over to see what was happening. To my surprise, there was a group of teenagers with different birds of prey. They gave a short falconry demonstration, mostly by having a bird fly from one person to another. A few times, the receiving falconer would move into the crowd so that the bird would fly right over people's heads.

One of the really cool things about the festival this year was a photographer we stumbled upon. As we meandered through the booths of crafts and food products we came across one with framed photographs. All of them were in deep, saturated sepia tones, and the subjects, mostly from the Orava region, were very affecting. I had two big favorites. One, which I bought, is of a horse grazing by the side of the road, with a tree off to one side and the sun bright but hazy in the background. The other was of a solitary woman walking, with the horizon and hills behind her. It doesn't sound like anything special, but there's just something about this figure alone with all of the power of the Slovak landscape behind her that resonated in me. We pored over the photographs to decide which ones to buy, and tried to communicate to the photographer, Jaro Sýkora, how much we admired his work. Finding those photographs was something that we really appreciated. Mr. Sýkora's website is here, although the selection and quality is very poor compared to what we saw.

Here's a few pictures of Tisovec in late summer, lookin' good as usual. And absolutely no bears in the woods, also as per usual.

Greetings from T-town

I got back to Tisovec on Saturday evening, and after having been gone for only six weeks, everything is pretty much the same. The only major development is that the hotel where I live is remodeling some of its rooms, including the one I lived in last year and will live in again this year, and they're not done yet. At the moment we're on the next floor up, waiting with ever-diminishing patience for them to finish and let us move in.

So here are some pictures of Tisovec from the opposite side of the building.

In other news, tomorrow, August 29, is a national holiday here. It's the remembrance of the Slovenské národené povstanie, the Slovak National Uprising or SNP. In 1944 Slovaks, Czechs, Poles, and Hungarians who opposed the German-controlled Slovak government began to fight against it. The uprising was based in Banská Bystrica, which is now home to the SNP Museum. Although the uprising was ultimately unsuccessful in overthrowing German power in the area, it was an important event during the war. For more information in English, check out this page.

Back to the Future

Once again I am preparing to leave for Slovakia. I've had a good six weeks here at home, and had a pretty boss going-away party thrown for me. We packed a lot into these weeks, though I still could have used more time. I will miss my family, my friends, my cheeseburgers. But there is Kofola waiting for me on the other side of the ocean, so it's not all bad.

Today's literature for traveling is "Prayer of Columbus" by Walt Whitman.

A BATTER’D, wreck’d old man,
Thrown on this savage shore, far, far from home,
Pent by the sea, and dark rebellious brows, twelve dreary months,
Sore, stiff with many toils, sicken’d, and nigh to death,
I take my way along the island’s edge,
Venting a heavy heart.

I am too full of woe!
Haply, I may not live another day;
I can not rest, O God—I can not eat or drink or sleep,
Till I put forth myself, my prayer, once more to Thee,
Breathe, bathe myself once more in Thee—commune with Thee,
Report myself once more to Thee.

Thou knowest my years entire, my life,
(My long and crowded life of active work—not adoration merely;)
Thou knowest the prayers and vigils of my youth;
Thou knowest my manhood’s solemn and visionary meditations;
Thou knowest how, before I commenced, I devoted all to come to Thee;
Thou knowest I have in age ratified all those vows, and strictly kept them;
Thou knowest I have not once lost nor faith nor ecstasy in Thee;
(In shackles, prison’d, in disgrace, repining not,
Accepting all from Thee—as duly come from Thee.)

All my emprises have been fill’d with Thee,
My speculations, plans, begun and carried on in thoughts of Thee,
Sailing the deep, or journeying the land for Thee;
Intentions, purports, aspirations mine—leaving results to Thee.

O I am sure they really come from Thee!
The urge, the ardor, the unconquerable will,
The potent, felt, interior command, stronger than words,
A message from the Heavens, whispering to me even in sleep,
These sped me on.

By me, and these, the work so far accomplish’d (for what has been, has been;)
By me Earth’s elder, cloy’d and stifled lands, uncloy’d, unloos’d;
By me the hemispheres rounded and tied—the unknown to the known.

The end I know not—it is all in Thee;
Or small, or great, I know not—haply, what broad fields, what lands;
Haply, the brutish, measureless human undergrowth I know,
Transplanted there, may rise to stature, knowledge worthy Thee;
Haply the swords I know may there indeed be turn’d to reaping-tools;
Haply the lifeless cross I know—Europe’s dead cross—may bud and blossom there.

One effort more—my altar this bleak sand:
That Thou, O God, my life hast lighted,
With ray of light, steady, ineffable, vouchsafed of Thee,
(Light rare, untellable—lighting the very light!
Beyond all signs, descriptions, languages!)
For that, O God—be it my latest word—here on my knees,
Old, poor, and paralyzed—I thank Thee.

My terminus near,
The clouds already closing in upon me,
The voyage balk’d—the course disputed, lost,
I yield my ships to Thee.

Steersman unseen! henceforth the helms are Thine;
Take Thou command—(what to my petty skill Thy navigation?)
My hands, my limbs grow nerveless;
My brain feels rack’d, bewilder’d; Let the old timbers part—I will not part!
I will cling fast to Thee, O God, though the waves buffet me;
Thee, Thee, at least, I know.

Is it the prophet’s thought I speak, or am I raving?
What do I know of life? what of myself?
I know not even my own work, past or present;
Dim, ever-shifting guesses of it spread before me,
Of newer, better worlds, their mighty parturition,
Mocking, perplexing me.

And these things I see suddenly—what mean they?
As if some miracle, some hand divine unseal’d my eyes,
Shadowy, vast shapes, smile through the air and sky,
And on the distant waves sail countless ships,
And anthems in new tongues I hear saluting me.


I have chosen this picture to sum up my summer. Thanks to everybody who was here and made it great. Until I see you again, don't stop believing.

Summer

Harlan's ground sloth skeleton

Pictures from Space

Taken this afternoon on the flight between Vienna and Dublin.