Day 16 - 27 Kilometres

Up and over the Effin´Pyrenees!! That´s right, we crossed the Pyrenees. On foot. Cz has some words on that.

Along the way we were offered stunning views in every direction. As the path wound through grazing lands, sheep, horses, and cattle had, and took advantage of, the right of way.

We saw many pilgrims, but it never felt crowded, and everyone, without exception was incredibly friendly. No matter what nationality, everyone learned Bonjour! and Bon camino! on the french side of the Pyrenees, and Hola!, Buenos dias!, Buen Camino! on the Spanish side. We were all wanderers in a common adventure, and greeted each other as such.

People also looked out for each other. If we stopped, we were asked if everything was OK, and an Italian Cyclist even shared his Arnica cream, in the hopes of easing Cz´s leg cramps.

At the end of the day, we tucked into the "Pelegrinos especial", the pilgrims´ dinner offered at the local hotel restaurant. Most villages have this offer; 6-8 Euro, plus the presentation of the ever-useful Pilgrim´s Passport buys a place at a communal table with bread, wine, and a hot dinner. We were seated with a group of grandparent-aged men and women from Valencia who spoke no English. We gimped along with our high-school Spanish, and they laughed at our bad grammar, fussed over Cz for being too skinny (including refilling his soup bowl any time it seemed close to empty), and over me for my sunburn (with many admonishments to wear lots of suncream and a long-sleeve shirt, and then maybe it would turn into a lovely tan).

We had an altogether lovely time, and bean soup, fish, french fries and yoghurt have never, ever tasted so good. There´s something to be said for crossing a mountain (did I mention we crossed the Pyrenees?!) for whetting one´s appetite.

Overall, it was a hard day of hiking, but a good reminder of both the incredible beauty of the world, and the kindness of strangers...




An (inexperienced) Pilgrim´s Perspective (cz)

One thing you become acutely aware of when undertaking a modern day pilgrimage is the baggage you carry on the road, both in the physical and the mental sense. Physical in the stuff in your backpack (did you really need to bring that hair dryer or the PSP?) or in your physical health, as in are you fit to undertake the pilgrimage whose first day makes you go through a 27 km hike over the Pyrenees. Mental in the state of mind or overall attitude when on the pilgrimage (you can count this by the amount of times you may have wanted to give up or cursed whatever Maker you believe in every time you tripped on a rock or gotten a leg cramp - not really a good start on a Pilgrimage).

For those of you who aren´t aware, I hate walking. The reason I hate walking is that I have weak ankles - ankles that by just looking at them have the tendency to twist and roll and sprain themselves over the smallest thing. It is possible that this is very cyclical - that by not walking more it lead to weak ankles and weak ankles tend to not make me want to walk any further than I have to. Whatever the reason, this Pilgrimage may not have been the best idea - if not for the fact that Jess was going to do it, so I checked it off to spousal support (though she doesn´t really need it).

They say the first day of the route is the hardest since it is 27 km up the Pyrenees and down it. An older man with breathing problems could accomplish the leg in 12 hours. The first 10 km and my thighs were already burning. By 15 km and I was cursing under my breath (when I could catch it, which was not very often). By 20 km I was in a very foul mood due to both my legs being in pain and the fact that the path was rocky and unsteady in footing - then we get to the ankles going out from under me. I counted about 6 times before finally giving up counting any time my leg gave out on me an only counted it if I landed on my butt. By the last 2 km I was truly wondering why the hell I was on this Pilgrimage and cursing the road for what it was doing to my legs and my morale. There were points in the route that Jess had to support my weight in order for me to continue moving, whether it was towing me up, pushing me up, or using herself as brakes when descending. This is on top of having to carry her own 20 lbs. pack. Of course I was far from being appreciative of this - I´d say I was downright rude and impossible to deal with. Imagine an 8 year old having a temper tantrum - now transfer the physical tantrum and imagine a 30ish man quietly fighting every step of the way instead of accepting the help being given...and being passive aggressive while doing it. Got that image? Right, awfully supportive of me.

If the first day was suppose to be the hardest, the second day out was far worse...Muscles I have never intended on using were all cramped up, plus a few that I didn´t know existed decided to scream. I was so stiff and in pain that the 6.5 km we completed were by far the most painful. Although the physical part was quite gruelling, the hardest part to swallow were the mental fights that I lost - of trying to push through the pain. I fooled myself into thinking that it was my legs that were giving up, but really it was because I didn´t have the will or the discipline to keep going, that it was really me giving up. We holed up at the nearest refugio after only having gone for 3 hours with the idea of giving my legs a day to recover. I was totally defeated.

I didn´t really know what I would be like the next day. Didn´t know if my legs would have the rest it needed to continue, but really it was my headspace that I was more uncertain of. I don´t like rolling on my ankles and I don´t like being defeated - usually my stubborness kicks in and that is when I push on, but in this case it sent it packing. My low self esteem at this point was feeding on itself, saying that I just wasn´t trained to do this, so why even bother.

Then Jess said something to me after I had finished berating myself, my attitude, my will, and my weak ankles that sort of stuck. She said, ¨It´s probably easy for someone who knows he is physically fit to do this pilgrimage, but much, much harder on someone who knows they aren´t...and still do it.¨

So the third day we set off to walk the 16 km we skipped out on the day before. It was probably as hard on my body as the first day (although the terrain was much more forgiving). My legs still cramped and ached, and we went slow in certain sections. I found myself a walking stick (actually, it found me...I think those are the best kind) that was crooked but had the right places for my left hand to grab and Jess supported me when the road got a bit precarious in terms of loose rocks or uneven ground since I was hyperconscious about rolling on my ankles. I tripped a few times, I cursed myself a couple of times, my legs were still cramping but the muscles were being conditioned for this sort of thing, and when we got into Zubiri, I was extremely happy to have accomplished the small feat (no pun intended, really).

The only thing on this Pilgrimage is you, the road, and what you bring to it. Somehow, you figure out a way to lighten your load or find a way to carry it. I´m glad to have brought my wife (and her unusual simian strength)...she seems to have found a way to do both with me.

Day 15 - Paris to St Jean Pied De Port

No Photos for a while. The computers we are using do not come equipped with the necesary ports. So check backlogged entries periodically - when we get a computer with a USB port, they will be flooded with pics!

Also, because the spell-checker is in the native language of whatever country we are in, it does no good. Expect creative spelling too.

We managed to catch a morning train that wound south and west from Paris to Bayonne, and there made a connection with the local train that ws to take us to St Jean. Luckily the tracks were close to one another and that the Paris train was not delayed because we had 10 minutes to make the connection! Nearly all the other passangers on the Pied De Port train seemed to be Pilgrims: a motley crew of French, Germans, and Americans. I think I might have heard some Russian spoken too, but I can´t be sure. In Pied de Port, we ran into more people from more corners of the world... China, Japan, Hungary, but the vast majority seemed to be French or German. One girl from Munich actually knew someone who had started the Pilgrimmage from their front door in Germany! (The trail runs all over Europe, not just through Spain and France.)

At Pied De Port we got our Pilgrims´Passport and both elevation maps and a map for the next day´s hike. We stayed at a refugio, a shelter for pilgrims, for which we needed to present our Pilgrims Pass. This one was owned by a somewhat crazy, but altogether charming lady who rents out her top floor bedrooms to Pilgrims. Her house was a mess of dogs, cats, chickens, and tired travellers. We wound up sharing the room with, among others, a mother-daughter team from CA that we met on the train. Since we were all novices, we decided to team up for the first day´s hike. Turns out the mother breeds and shows dogs, and the daughter is off to Ghana to take a year abroad...Just two of many Chaucerian charaters one can expect to meet on a pilgrimmage...

Just News

Tomorrow we begin our pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela. We begin at St Jean Pied De Port, on the French side of the Pyrannese, and end at Santaigo De Compostela - Literally (so I´ve been told) St James of the Field of Stars. Supposedly, St James follwed a bright star, like the one over Bethlehem to this small village. He is now buried there. Another name for the route is "The Milky Way, both because of its shape, and because original Pilgrims used that band of light in the night sky to navigate along its way. Previous wanderers include Charlegmaine (though he was more in it for the raping and pillaging than the forgivness of sins), Assorted saints, and most recently, British Humorist Tim Moore on a Donkey. So we'll be walking in good company. For more info on the route we are taking,
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Image:Ruta_del_Camino_de_Santiago_Frances.svg

It does go through several small villages, but we are unsure of our internet access for the next month or so. So don't worry if it's a little while before you hear from us next.

Day 14 - Adventures in travel

We went to the train station this afternoon planning on buying our ticket to St Jean Pied De Port. The Ticket machine said that there were seats available on the night train, but that it only accepted Euro-Mastercard, and VISA. We do not carry these cards, so we made our way towards the counter.

We stood on line. We stood on line for a looooooong time. The very nice lady (she really was very nice and patient with us) at the counter told us that there were no more seats on any train going to Bayonne or St Jean today. Perhaps we could come back later and see if there had been a cancellation?

We came back later. We stood in line. It was a long line. The very nice man said that there were no more tickets on any trains going to Bayonne or St Jean today.

We bought tickets for tomorrow.

We went back to our hotel. All rooms were booked for tonight.

We went to the hostel across the street. YES! they had beds available. Not only did they have beds available, but they had beds in a room with a flawless view of Sacre Coeur. And it had a little terrace with tables, so for dinner, I popped into the grocery around the corner, picked up sonme tasty treats and a bottle of wine (the same price as a bottle of Fanta soda!), and we had picnic on the patio under Sacre Coeur.

It made all the day's hassle worthwhile.

Day 13 -We have our own room...

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...We did go out for dinner.

In 1999, on our second date, we stayed in an adorable hotel near Odeon, and ate in a little restaurant called Relais Odeon. The menu was in French, the waitstaff spoke French, and we had a marvelous time.

In 2004, on our honeymoon, we decided to try to find the hotel. We never found the hotel, but we did find Relais Odeon. We ate there again. The menu (which I sort of maybe accidentally set on fire in the candle) now had english translations, the waitstaff spoke some english, and we think the retaurant expanded across the width of the block. And we had a marvelous time.

On this trip, we made a point of eating at Relais Odeon again. It's sort of fun being able to say "Every time we're in Paris we eat at this restaurant..." The menu still had english, and our waiter was almost fluent, they seemed to be doing a

booming business. We had a marvelous time.

It's nice to be considered "regulars" at a nice cafe...

Day 12 - Almost Palais

Tonight we go to Paris, but I decided to spend the afternoon in one of the park-palace complexes in Warsaw. (Cz was busy getting his first English-language bookstore fix since leaving the states) The Palace wasn't Willanow- that's the main one a little way outside of the city - this one was closer to the city center, and therefore ran less risk of causing the missing of plane to Paris. Unfortunately the camera that we use for the blog was in Cz's pocket in the bookstore, so you have trust me when I say this park and palace rival anything France or Germany has to offer. The main palace was built across a lake. Literally, the palace sat in the water with arched bridges connecting it to either shore. Every now and the then something would disturb the surface of the water - perhaps Poland's answer to the Loch Ness? No, the biggest Koi I have ever seen. Even the ducks gave them wide berth. On land, the park was mix of formal gardens and carfully planned wooded areas. Each garden was bordered by wonderful smelling yellow roses. The best part though were the peacocks. All over the grounds were peacocks roaming free. If one came prepared with bread or crackers, one could even feed them! (Not me, every peacock I've ever met bit, so I'm a little afraid of them, but one could) A little boy was eating some crackers, and being a little boy, was leaving a trail of crumbs. Behind him, in perfect procession according to size, were a Peacock, a peahen, a magpie, two ducks, and flock of pidgeons. It was likie something out of Grimm.

Even with going to the closer park I had to dash...or rather fume in traffic...in order to catch the bus to catch the plane.

We needn't have worried. Even with mad traffic, and the longest, slowest-moving line imaginable, we made it to our gate with time to spare. And that was before finding out that our plane was delayed almost 2 hours. On the plane we met a lovely Post-doc in robotic engineering. We decided to share a cab, which was a total help for us. Not only did the fare get split, but he spoke French, which was a huge help, as our hotel was on a little side street that required some explaining. We did finally make it to Paris at around 1AM, and check into our lovely little hotel, where we promptly collapsed in a snoring heap!

Day 11 - Yet More Uprising

Today is our only full day in Warsaw - Tomorrow we fly to Paris in the evening. Because we were so jet-lagged our first day in Warsaw, we decided to make up for lost time by doing two of the suggested walks through the city.

One of our first stop was a fragment of the original ghetto wall. Warsaw too, had an active Jewish Population, fourth in the world after New York, Moscow, and I forget the Third - Israel, I would assume. The wall was build between houses, and the homes themselves became part of the baricade. In order to keep people from just going in one door and out another on the Aryan side of the wall, first floor windows and doors were boarded up. Typhoid and TB were rampant, but often unreported because any home with even one case of the disease was immediately quarrantined, and all of the inhabitants were almost certainly doomed to the disease or starvation.

After the wall, we visited sites honoring the various resistance fighters, both from the Ghetto, and larger Warsaw population. One monument to the Ghetto uprising was carved in 1948 from a piece of stone originally designated to be used for a monument to the victory of the Third reich. Another was a bunker in which all of the uprisers perished fighting, or commited mass suicide rather than be taken. In this case, as many, they remained where they fell, the bunker becoming a mass grave. This particulare monument is the actual bunker, mounded with the rubble from Silas Street, once the most active street in the Jewish quarter.

Our next stop was a deportation point for many Poles, Jew and Gentile alike. Agin, the wall was inscribed with the names of some of the poeple who had passed through there.

An unusual Monument, of a broken wagon bearing crosses, honours the murdered and fallen in the east.

The parks around Warsaw are dotted with various statues comemmorating the soldiers of WWII. This one tries to look dignified as it becomes an impromptu jungle gym for several small boys. (the direction of the sun prevented us from getting a good picture showing the kids crawling all over him).

It was a lot of walking, but with the exception of the occasional school group, we did not run into any other tourists. That may not be a good marker, but I felt as if I was seeing a part of Warsaw that the Poles themselves are quietly proud of, not a part put intentionally on display for the western crowd (such as the castles and parks are, which we will visit tomorrow).

Day 10 - Prague Highlights

Since it was our last day in Prague, we decided to spend our time walking to a few of the sights that we had skipped earlier in the week.

Our visit to the Jan Palach memorial (the burned cross from a few days ago) inspired us to seek out the monument to the uprisers of the velvet revolution. The Velvet revolution happened in 1989 when police beat several hundred protesters, some of them to death. The subsequent uprising led to the fall of communism in the Czech Republic. We found this plaque tucked away under ad arcade down the street from a rose garden tended by Fansciscan monks.
From there we sought out a wine bar that was supposedly very good and very cheap, but it was such a pretty day that we walked back into Old Town instead to watch the Astronomical Clock do its tricks. Every hour on the hour, Death tips his hourglass and rings a little bell. As the bell rings, a parade of Apostles passes by the upper windows of the clock.

Even though it was early in the day, Cz and I were both feeling nappish. There was a cathedral near the square that we had wanted to check out, but unfortunately it was closed. Fortunatly, it did had a low ledge outside that was not closed, and provided a perfect napping perch with a view up the towering walls.

After our little rest, we headed into the Jewish quarter. Over 80,000 people we deported from Prague. Pinkas Synagogue has commemorated their passing by painting their names, adn the dates of their birth and deaths on the interior walls. The names of the heads of the Family were in red, followed by the rest of the family in black. There were so many that it made the cream walls appear grey with little red dashes. Much how the Vietnam memorial derives its power simply by giving names to the faceless soldiers who died, this place had a powerful reality. My own association was a little personal in that my Grandmother was born in Berlin in 1928, and remembers children dissapearing from her classroom. My father's family is Jewish, and though pretty much everyone had already emmigrated to NY by the turn of the last century, there were still several people on the wall that shared my surname. It was unsettling to say the least.

Upstairs, there waws an exhibit of art made by Children both in Prague's Ghetto, and the camps they were subsequently sent to. It is a testement to the resiliance of children that several of the drawings still featured smiling suns and bright colours. The display was a powerful mix of despair and hope - hope in the drawings themselves, and in the small type under few that read "survived", despair in the many that didn't.

Behind the synogogue sits one of the oldest Jewish cemetaries in Europe, with tombstones that have been dated from as far back as the 1500's with more believed to be even older still underground. The dead are buried in layers, and over time, the earth has shifted, puishing older and older stones up to the surface, where they lean on one-another's shoulders at crazy angles.

After so much heavieness, we decided to go for a walk down to the river, where we bought ice creams and then took a tram along the water's edge to Frank Gehry's Fred and Ginger Building, or The Dancing House, as it is also known. Gehry is known for his sinuous shapes and very modern design, and Fred and Ginger was no exception. Touted by some as a modern masterpiece, by others as an eyesore on an otherwise very classical European Street. We leave you to form your own opinions on the matter.

It was a very full day, and we were happy to discover that we had, in fact, bought tickets to the sleeper car, not just seats, on our overnight train back to Warsaw. On the train we met a couple of very nice Aussies who would be visiting New York soon. Being know-it-alls, we inundated them with advice. Crossing fingers that it was correct! We will be in Warsaw until tomorrow evening, and then off to Paris!

Day 9 - The Head Bone's connected to the neck bone...

Today we took a day trip to Kutna Hora, a little village about an hour and half outside of Prague. Back in the Middle Ages, it was a very wealthy silver mining town. Today, it is more famous for one of its churches. St Mary of the Immaculate Conception was originally built in the late 14th century. It is an unassuming little church on the outside, but step inside and...

During the crusades, some knights came back and sprinkled earth from Golgotha on the graveyard. This made it a sacred place, and therefore very desirable as a home for wealthy families' remains. In the 15th century the Plague and Hussite wars put it in even higher demand. You might say folks were dying to get in. Anyway, there started to be a shortage of space underground, and bones began to gather in heaps outside the church. Then the piled began to line the wall inside the church. This continued until a blind monk, in a fit of genius (madness?) began designing lowers from skulls and pelvises. His pet project continued until well after his death, resulting in a chapel decorated from floor to ceiling with the bones of over 40,000 individuals. The bones are original. The design however has undergone several changes. The current installation dates from 1870 when a prominent architect had the bones disinfected, whitewashed and rehung.

One of the first sights to greet visitors are 4 pyramids of bones, one in each corner of the church. The Pyramids are each 8 or 10 feet high and 8-10 feet square at the base. They are held together purely by friction and gravity, and each one has a different arrangement of bones decorating its front.

In the center of the church there is a chandelier containing at least one of every bone in the human body. Probably even the earbones...

You though Prometheus had it bad? Check out this guy. No eyes left, but the bird keeps pecking away...

It was part creepy, and part kind of beautiful, if macabre. we each spent a lot of time looking up into the eyeless sockets. Near the windows, there were garlands of skulls and femurs strung up like cloves of garlic. The light was such to throw the bones in shadow, but catch the face of he viewer.

After spending quality time with the long-dead, we headed to the village center for a Renn Faire in a town the actually was around for the real Renaissance. It was much like our own Renn Faires, with much over-eating, jousting, an pagentry. The main differences being that there was a minimum of safety equipment, King Wenceslas instead of Queen Liz presided, and we understood not one word of what was going on. I think it was a local event, as there were a few German tourists, but pretty much everyone else there was speaking Czech, and none of food stalls were translated - we ordered with gestures and smiles...

One of the highlights of the joust was the horses jumping a line of fire so the their rider could grab a ring mid-leap. Later int eh show, each 'knight' did a special trick with his or her horse. This one stood up on a stool while her rider stood on her back and ducked under her belly.

We caught an evening train back into Prague just in time to hear a concert of Bach, Vivaldi, and Mozart at one of the churches. You really can't beat old cathedrals for acoustics!

It's our last night here. Tomorrow, we have the day in the city, but then take the night train back to Warsaw. We'll keep you posted as we wander...


Bonus: Small-town unintentional porn. This guy really loves his wurst...

Day 8 - Steps

...Lots and LOTS of steps. But that comes later. There's a water filter in our hostel. It makes a "Thuc, Thuc, Thuc" sound if you leave it on too long. I was filling our water bottles this morning, and heard "Thuck, Thuck" , so I turned off the filter, but the noise got louder...and louder...and LOUDER. "Oh sh*!, I've broken the water filter", I think to myself, but no, it was an effin' helicopter right on top of our hostel. Anyone who had been asleep wasn't anymore! Still haven't figured out exactly what the helicopter was doing, exactly, other than giving one helluva wake up call...

One of the metros near our Hostel is called the Museum stop. There are, however, no museums listed on the map near that stop. Perplexed, we decided to hop off and see what was what. Turns out the Natural History Museum is there, as well as this monument of two young men who immolated themselves to protest the Soviet invasion. In case the pic isn't entirely clear, it is a charred cross curving over two mounds in the sidewalk.

Street food...Prague's cheap thrills - Hotdog and a Grilled Cheese Sandwich, translates to kielbasa with bread and mozarella stick in a bun...yummy!

In keeping with the theme of death and destruction, went to the Museum of Medieval Torture Instruments. This chair could have a future on Trading Spaces, no?

It was starting to rain, so rather than exploring the Jewish quarter as planned, we decided to make our way across the Charles Bridge to the castle district. On Charles Bridge, there is a monument to a saint - which saint? couldn't tell you, Prague has a plethora, but this particular one grants wishes and/or good luck if you touch his image. Personally I think it's a ploy by the city to keep him polished, but hey couldn't hurt!

From there, the steps. The many, MANY steps up to the castle. We could have taken a tram, but why ride when you can climb? Once int he castle complex, we spent most of our time at St Vitus Cathedral. An homage to one of our professors, we have kindly included a scale figure indicating the height of an average person. The cathedral was as tall, lovely an full of stained glass as such cathedrals are wont to be. It was begun in 1329, and not fully completed until 1929! Extra Bonus, the south tower is open to visitors willing to climb the, you guessed it, STEPS. Lots of them. The sign said 287, but I think that was a big lie. To buy climbing to count for myself though. At the top, we were rewarded with panoramic views, a top-down look at the bells and other spires, and an almost working astronomical clock from 1537. Almost working in that the hands still moved clockwise, they just didn't quite keep accurate time...

Back on ground level, we took shelter from the rain in a doorway. I wasn't until we took this photo that we realised that the rain might be the least of our worries. (Look at the arch over Cz's head...notice the shield?)

Our evening's entertainment was a marionette version of Don Giovanni. It was AWESOME! Cut down to about 2 hours with a puppet Mozart conductor to vamp during the scene changes, it was funny and poignant, and totally proves that a full-length puppet show is viable. The puppeteers wore little sleeves that fit in with the costumes, and their hands were totally visible. Watching them work only added to the enjoyment of the piece. The marionettes themselves were half-human scale. When the statue of the Commendatore comes to life to carry Giovanni to hell, it is a real person in a sack-like costume with a giant mask.After accepting that 3 feet is person size, this newcomer looked HUGE! Giovanni's protests before going into hell were made clear and poignant by a tug of war between the statue and Giovanni's regular puppeteer.









From there, to here, the internet cafe. Blogging away.

Day 7 - Theatre Geekfest

Or The Prague Quadrennial as it is known to outsiders is what Clambake wishes it could be. It is an international symposium of theatre folk, both student and professional showing the best that their country has to offer in design, direction, performance, etc. The event is held every four years at the industrial palace - a glass and steel monument from the turn of the last century. At the geekfest, we saw a movent-based performance of Midsummer, heard a lecture on designing for found and non-traditional spaces, and saw megaphors a-plenty. Some of them were even realized! And worked! (sort of) What is a megaphor, you ask? It's a super-size metaphor on steroids, of course. Basically it was a term we and our design class back at UW came up to describe when a design concept/imagery was so heavy handed as to make watching a play impossible. We were all a bit guilty at one point of that sin (some more than others...wont mention any names), but luckily we made those mistakes during Studio class and managed to make newer and better mistakes on our realized productions.

Anyway, although there were a handful of megaphors to be seen at the festival, there were also a few that blew our socks away and a few that were simply inspired. The outpouring of ideas present at the Quadrennial and the many different viewpoints simply reminded the both of us why we do theatre.

This years main theme centered around Aristophenes' The Birds, so alot of the submissions centered around this play and the many takes and perspectives of doing the show. There was a heavy emphasis on technology, as some countries approached their design presentations using video/digital media. One such had the viewer sit and wear a headpiece and view the work through a bird head. It was a person playing in the snow with a birdsuit. Part of the stage production also called for holographic wings with a birdlike exoskeleton that the actor wore. There were also viewpoints on Utopia/Dystopia that I found interesting - in terms of there were equal points made for embracing technology and also points made for its misuse. Again, lots of big ideas in that small pavilion - enough to make ones head swim.

Another design theme was packaging - almost all the presentation booths had as a design element in their presentation the idea of packaging. The main theatre/lecture hall was this gigantic scaffolding which was covered up by packing boxes - kinda brilliant but I also kept wondering whose job it was to fasten each of those boxes together (since there were no evidence of it on the exterior - someone had to open each box and staple it to the next one, at least that is what I was hoping for). There was a really cool presentation of Chekhov's work that forced the viewer to put on rubber galoshes to walk on the pond liner that had water in it. I thought this picture of those rubber shoes and the umbrellas made a nice picture.

Another exhibit from Hungary had the viewer go into their booth and be photographed, identified, and basically go through the bureaucracy of applying for a visa to see further on to the exhibit, only to be run through red tape, or just outright rejected and not allowed to view it. Bonus points for the people there who took their jobs seriously and played their parts well. Here we both are with our rejected visas after having been in the exhibit filling out applications and getting our pictures taken for 10 minutes.


Although there was alot of inspired presentations, the one for Japan took the cake...they had a sushi bar with each of the designs on an individual plate, much like those sushi restaurants with the conveyor belts (sadly they remained motionless - probably wise since no one would be able to read the bios and ideas). There was quite an individuality to the work, and a statement on the idea of sushi preparation becoming so mechanized and processed that the individuality of the makers were being put on the sidelines - MEGAPHORE...but executed quite well.

Czech Republic had this really cool puppet showcase that had interactive parts where the audience became part of the show, or was in contact with the puppets. Then you could go around and see how the mechanisms worked and how the puppets were made. Kinda great in the low tech spectrum, and just great in the imagination involved and the wonder of theatre magic in a small scale.

Last but not least...a picture from UW of their production of The 3 Birds...sadly there were only two submissions, both press photos of the show - if we just didn't have to contend with Clambake (or the headache of shipping things this far), maybe we could have had a stronger presence. Oh well, kudos to Steven, Martin, Melinda, and Tamara though!

Day 6 - On the Rails Again

Today we took a day train from Budapest to Prague. The train station itself looked just as a train station should with plenty of glass and clicking schedule boards. On the train we passed through some really pretty countryside, not dissimilar to the Blue Ridge Mountains back in Virginia. With the major exception being that the villages were mostly Baroque as apposed to, well, shacks. (I know that's not fair there are plenty of lovely homes in the Blue Ridge, but still...)

We arrived in Prague in the evening after almost everything had closed, so we just spent some time wandering about. This is a fairytale city of spires, baroque facades, an winding streets. In the middle of it all, we found this shoe. Art? Political Commentary? Fun anyway.