Survived Pohoda, with three days to go

This is likely to be my last post from the Slovak Republic. I leave Thursday morning (after hopefully staying up through Wednesday night) at 5:30 for Prague, then Zurich, then Atlanta. With this last post, I hope to summarize the intense weekend I just had as well as leave some thoughts about my experience here.

Bažant Pohoda

Bažant Pohoda is the largest open-air music festival in Slovakia. Held at the airport in Trenčin, a medium-sized city in northwest Slovakia, the festival has been running annually for thirteen or fourteen years now, but its future is in question (I'll explain later). This is a picture of the main stage, where all the big names played. Of those, I saw: Basement Jaxx, Patti Smith, The Ting Tings, and a little bit of Pendulum.

The festival was supposed to last from Thursday afternoon to the very end of Saturday. Many of the 30,000 people who attend each year bring tents and camp out through the whole thing--something I couldn't imagine doing for a minute. Our group stayed at the nearby cottage of one of the League's lawyers.

The whole reason why the staff of the Human Rights League went was to promote the organization and to bring wider awareness to asylum issues (hopefully to all those campers meandering around between concerts). This is our tent, a field tent borrowed from UNHCR that was actually pretty roomy--a feature that ended up mattering quite a bit late in the festival.

Once the festival kicked into gear, it was quite a lot of fun. With Zlatý Bažant (a type of beer) as its primary sponsor, it was also what some described as a "beer paradise." Almost identical food and drink stands were everywhere--I had the same type of fried chicken sandwich probably 3 or 4 times over the course of 2 days. Since the festival's main causeways were actually runways, there was a ton of open space for people to fill up.

When I was in the tent, I spent most of my time doing some good old fashioned arts n' crafts. Katka D. was our resident stencil-making expert, so she showed a couple of us how to cut stencils out of transparent paper and to use them to paint our official League t-shirts.

This is the final product of the project I undertook for Zuzka, who wanted me to make her t-shirt because she wanted a messy style (I told her thanks for that). There were several things to do at our tent. Some people stayed outside in order to greet visitors and tell them about our organization. Others helped visitors come up with "refugee slogans," or short, catchy Slovak phrases about asylum that the League might use in its materials at some point.

Several Iraqi refugees who were clients of the League also agreed to come on Friday to speak with visitors about their experiences. I got the chance to hang out with them some, and one of them told me right before returning to the tent for this discussion that he was a little tired of talking about politics and his asylum issues. I guess I can understand--the reason you flee to another country is so you can live a normal life, not so you can talk a lot about why you left.

Even so, everyone involved recognized the importance of such a dicussion and so all were eager to have it. The man pictured on the far left was especially eager--he is a reporter for Slovakia's most popular private television network, and he was grilling the refugees on everything from what they thought Slovak people thought about them to (in my opinion) rather inappropriate questions directed toward the female Iraqi about the hardships of females in Iraq.

Afterwards, the reporter somewhat randomly invited me for a beer, and we had a brief discussion about how we wish that more Slovak people would be proud of their country. My experience had been that several people were surprised that I would want to go, as it was "so small." Even though I wasn't a Slovak national like he was, I, too felt like it was wrong for some individuals to sell their own country short.

The concerts really were a lot of fun, but I had to leave this Pendulum concert early. I was way too close to the stage. Beyond concerns about my hearing, I became the victim of indiscriminate violence in the mosh pit that formed in the first dozen or so rows of people. Wearing a UNHCR hat and toting my water bottle and red windbreaker, I swiftly squeezed my way to freedom so that I could meet up with the others and go home for the night.

Saturday was the day that the disaster took place. Here is the video I took at the beginning of the bad weather that came, when everyone still thought it was kinda cool. Very shortly after I finished this video, the Iraqis came back to the tent and informed us that they just witnessed the collapse of one of the tents housing a stage for the event. They had just been about to run inside to escape the weather when the whole thing, including lots of scaffolding, just kind of fell apart.

We all huddled inside the UNHCR tent and kept checking for news updates via our phones. It turned out that one man had been killed, three sent into a coma, and forty others injured in the tent collapse. Organizers declared an end to the festival after the incident. This meant the cancellation of all Saturday afternoon and evening concerts, but more importantly, it meant the sudden exodus of thousands upon thousands of people to their cars and a massive traffic jam that would go on for several hours. As a result of the disaster, the director of the festival was sad to announce in a press conference that this would likely be the last Pohoda.

Everyone in our group was fine, and we even had some visitors join us in the tent to wait out the weather. It was really a scene when 20 or more people were huddled in this UNHCR field tent--something felt really appropriate about it. And sure enough, one of the visitors commented that when the weather hit, he knew which tent he should try to seek shelter in.

The weather devastated the festival grounds. In addition to tearing up large portions of several stages, it also prevented otherwise-conscious festival-goers from picking up trash after themselves at the end. Some folks in our group commented that usually the aftermath of the festival is not so bad--but with people rushing to leave after the bad weather brought a sudden end to the festival, there was little time to be worried about trash.

Some thoughts

Pohoda is a Slovak word that roughly translates to "relaxation" or "rest." For me, the festival was not so restful. A lack of sleep combined with suffocating heat made Friday pretty hard. When I wasn't napping in the tent, I was very glad to be so engaged by my surroundings. Such is the way I feel about my whole summer. It's been a tiring summer, but I wouldn't trade it for anything--it's certainly the best summer I've ever had.

I've been asked if I'm ready to leave, and the honest answer is yes. But, as I explained to one person already, it's the same feeling as when your skin wrinkles after a long, refreshing shower. There is a lot waiting for me at home, and I feel that by challenging me to find ways to survive in a very different place, this summer has given me perspective on how I want to live at home (where, presumably, I should have a little more control over my environment).

It wouldn't be right if I didn't end my account of my experience with one of my trademark, cliché sunset shots--this one is from Pohoda, of course. Even if I'm "ready" to go, I will certainly miss everyone here. The staff at the League have been nothing but giving to me, and I will always remember and appreciate their hospitality.

It's not easy to do what they are doing--the League is essentially the first of its kind in Slovakia, and there is still strong racism or at best apathy in their country about the fate of the hundreds of asylum-seekers who come every year. When you start small, you are responsible for a lot: some days are for legal briefs, while others are for painting t-shirts and speaking one-on-one with others about the issues. There isn't a lot of glory in the work. Instead, it seems as though friendship and a sense of common purpose unite the office solidly. My hope is that once I finish my own legal education, I can find a community of some sort that shares their type of energy.

A cottage in the forest

I spent this past weekend (starting Thursday night) at the cottage of a coworker in northwest Slovakia with her, her boyfriend, another coworker and her boyfriend, Monika, and two friends of the girls that showed up on Saturday night. It was everything I could have asked a weekend in the woods to be. Hot tea with freshly squeezed lemon almost all the time, a fire in the fireplace, walks through the forest...but I'm getting ahead of myself.

When Katka F., Monika, and I arrived in Horná Mariková, a small village in northwest Slovakia, it was raining far too hard for us to begin the 30-40 minute walk up into the woods to the cottage belonging to Katka's family. I wasn't too ready to start a long walk anyway, as I was still drowsy from sleeping on the bus ride from the local small town where we disembarked from the regional train. If it sounds like a long trip, it's because it was--it took nearly 4 hours to go about 115 miles.

Here was our reward for the journey. It's hard to see, but there is a faint outer ring as well.

Here is a typical-looking Slovak cottage along the path to the cottage where I stayed. The crisp, clean look is typical only for those cottages in which people still live. There are plenty of abandoned cottages that almost look like run-down barns.

This is the part of the pathway we took to reach the cottage. On Friday, Monika and I discussed the subtle difference in connotation between the "woods" and the "forest" with Katka. We said that when she said we'd be going through the forest this weekend, we had a vision of something different--maybe like walking through chest-high grass and getting ticks while tripping over ourselves. That ended up being Saturday.

Reaching the cottage, we were rewarded with another great view. This is facing straight out the front door.

And then turning to the right. The cottage was relatively small compared to what I expected--it had a kitchen, a dining room, a rather big living room with a fire, and 2 upstairs bedrooms. I suppose when I heard it could sleep 8 people or more I thought it had more rooms. It definitely slept 8--I realized how appealing a sleeping bag by the fire could be when I saw a couple of our crew make arrangements to stay there.

Saying that this weekend was relaxing would be an understatement. For the most part, everyone slept 8-10 hours a night (in almost complete dark and complete silence) and enjoyed tasty (if a little unhealthy), leisurely meals whenever it suited everyone. In a word, it was cozy.

Even so, I had several chances to do some manual labor, which was really fulfilling. I chopped a lot of wood for the fireplace (visible in the basket) in the barn out behind the cottage...and there is nothing like getting a chance to bring out your inner lumberjack in some fresh, cold mountain air when 99% of the time you do your work in front of a computer screen. I only wish I had more opportunities to chop firewood.

On Thursday night, Katka F.'s boyfriend arrived after hitchhiking his way to Horná Mariková. It was pretty late when everyone ate and got settled, so we only managed to play one game of Scrabble before going to bed. It was epic, though--each team had one Slovak and one American and was authorized to make a word either in Slovak or in English. I was so proud to have put two of the three-letter Slovak words on the board myself.

On Friday, we woke up, had some breakfast, and set out to see some nearby cottages before buying food for the next couple of days from the village below. We scared one woman really badly by walking up to her cottage without her noticing us. I can imagine why--every other cottage in their clump of cottages was vacant, so she wasn't expecting anyone. She was busy squeezing cherries and removing their pits in order to make cherry marmalade. Her husband joined us with this basket of freshly picked cherries and offered us some.

On Saturday, the guys set out after breakfast to help the next-door neighbor with a problem he'd been having with his well water. Rainwater had collected in a puddle next to his well and was unfavorably altering the mineral content in his otherwise pure mountain stream water--he knew this because his daughter was a hygenist and did yearly checks on her dad's water. He had asked Katka F.'s boyfriend, Miloš on Friday night if he would help dig a ditch to drain the puddle.

I think Miloš and I would have accepted the task even if the neighbor had not offered us apple moonshine that Friday night, which he made in a shed by his house. I'm not really into sitting around at a table and throwing back moonshine, but Miloš assured me that there is nothing wrong with it--in fact, it is a cultural requirement in the mountains of Slovakia to do exactly that. The neighbor spoke two words of English in the entire time I was around him: "good medicine," right before he took a shot. It was then that I executed my first (and likely last) successful joke in the Slovak language, in which I pointed at his shed and said, "that is the pharmacy!" He understood me and seemed to enjoy it.

Friday night was when Katka M. and her boyfriend Poťo arrived by car. Poťo helped dig the ditch on Saturday morning--he also beat me in chess and served as navigator for our jaunt through the forest, using the GPS system on his phone (useful if you're looking for the courage to wade through otherwise unnavigable tall grass).

Like I said before, the food was delicious but so unhealthy. The Slovak name for this casserole translates to "landfill." The dish consists of potatoes, sour cream, sausage, cabbage, cheese, and likely other things I forgot. We had heaping portions of it on Saturday afternoon for lunch, just after our big work project. For other meals, we had fried bread covered with ham and fried eggs, shishkebabs of peppers, wild forest mushrooms, and sausages, among other combinations of the same fried foods. I will need to eat nothing but vegetables for a month to make up for this weekend.

Here is a good example of the "old cottage" style. On Saturday during the exploration of the forest, a group of us came across a closely packed group of such cottages in a clearing in the forest. We called several times to see if anyone was home and finally almost decided that no one was, but an elderly man came out to greet us and he talked to the others in Slovak for a while. It turns out that he had been born in the cottage just a few feet away from the one outside of which we were standing. He lived there alone, but he still had family in the nearby local town where we had gotten off the train--he stays in the forest because he gets "bored in the city." He offered us cherries, too--his cherries were from a tree that he planted himself in the forest when he was 15. All of this was relayed to me later, of course, but standing there and observing his conversation with the others was engaging in its own right.

We left on Sunday afternoon after Katka and Miloš did a huge amount of cleaning in and around the cottage. I enjoyed my jaunt "back to nature," but it was still good to leave. It's only easy to relax for the sake of relaxing for so long. There's stuff to do back at the League, including preparations for the Pohoda festival this upcoming weekend. I leave on Wednesday morning to help build the organization's tent at the designated site, and then Thursday, Friday, and Saturday will each be 12-hour marathons of music and activities.

Budapest: the last tourist side-trip

I think Budapest takes the prize for the most beautiful city I have visited, even if Vienna is still my favorite. To do Budapest a tiny amount of justice, I'm not holding any punches with the scenery in this post. Only after the onslaught will there be at least some description of an experience with Budapest that not every other tourist could have had. I went with Monika, a student at UGA who will have worked in the League alongside me for a good portion of the summer.

Part I: The onslaught

Parliament--the "most beautiful parliament building in Europe" and certainly the most beautiful building in Budapest. This is the building that makes people say "wow, this city is beautiful" after scanning the view of the city available from the castle on the hill on the Buda side (Parliament is in Pest). I had no idea before I came that "Budapest" was actually the combination of three settlements: Pest, a flatland just east of the Danube that serves as the commercial center for the area, Buda, a hilly region immediately west of the Danube, and "Ancient Buda," which I don't know anything about. These three regions were united with another one in order to form "Budapest" under the Austro-Hungarian empire in the 1870's.

Monika and I got a chance to go inside the Parliament building on Sunday. The guides said that over 40 kg of gold (almost 90 pounds) were used in its construction, and I believe them. We had the opportunity to see Hungary's crown jewels just before guards came in to do their hourly ceremony next to the jewels.

This street's modern vibe meets its end at a centuries-old church called St. Stephen's Basilica. In Vienna, you could turn a corner and find a hidden church. In Budapest if you turn a corner, you will probably find a straight, kilometers-long road leading directly to an impressive historic building or monument.

I had a serious case of New-York-City-neck after looking at the basilica from beneath it.

This monument belongs to Heroes' Square, a huge open square with a series of statues depicting Hungarian heroes as well as themes such as war, peace, agriculture, and science. Shocker: this square lies at the end of Andrassy Avenue, a long, straight road that cuts through the heart of Pest. The street as a whole is an official World Heritage Site.

This is the statue that adorns the top of the pedestal in the previous picture. It is a depiction of St. Gabriel, holding the traditional coronation crown for Hungarian kings in one hand and the double cross in the other. All I know about the double cross is that there is a ball-type thing in the crown jewels that has the cross on it, and with the pope's authority behind it, the king who bears it may make personnel decisions in the church.

Budapest apparently has various hot-spring baths that are open to the public--the buildings pictured above contain one section of these baths. Monika and I tried to get in because we figured we might be in for some sort of therapeutic experience in the caves of Hungary (at least for our feet--the lowest-maintenance idea for experiencing the baths), but we found out that the buildings were basically a perimeter surrounding a series of outdoor swimming pools where a bunch of people lay out to get tan. All of this architecture and landscaping? For a swimming pool?

We took an hour-long sightseeing cruise on the Danube at night. The student price was as good as the view. Up there in the middle is the historic palace on the Buda side.

Part II, Section A: The serious stuff

On Saturday night while we were walking to the cruise, we saw riot police out in full force. If they weren't escorting demonstrators to police vans, then they were standing in a line surrounding the perimeter of a centrally-located park. We had no idea what was going on and really just wanted to get through to the shore. We found out later that it had been Hungarian nationalists that were protesting for their right to free speech--nationalist speech that was likely xenophobic and racist--in their party uniforms, with their Hungarian flags. These folks, sitting right by the park where the riot took place, looked like they had been active that night but were not arrested. I figured that we had better watch out for people who feel like they "missed out" on any fun once the police broke everything up.

DO NOT ride the Budapest subway without a ticket. You physically can, but you will get charged a 30-dollar fine upon exit if there are controllers who are checking at the stop where you get off. Monika and I had the misfortune of boarding the train at a place where the machines were broken AND where controllers at that station motioned for us to just get on the train anyway. We tried to explain this to the controllers at the final station, but they were unsympathetic. After taking advantage of the generosity of several Hungarian-English translators, we were able to figure out how to file a formal complaint with the metro system in order to get our money back. Everyone we've talked to says they won't give us a refund, but we have a fan club. I have some email addresses to which I am supposed to send news of the results of our case (including that of a metro employee who was sympathetic). One guy who helped us said that he wants to post our story to a watchdog blog that is trying to fight corruption in the metro ticketing system. How cool is that!

It's hard to forget that your country was communist at one point when you have one of these lying around. I guess Soviets were fans of the single pillar.

Part II, Section B: Not so serious stuff

This is a lovely little shop where we had breakfast on Saturday. I had a sandwich whose price was determined by the price of each of its components--they basically sold me the baguette, the meat, the cheese, the peppers, and the tomatoes separately but assembled it for me. It was a great way to start the day.

A classic shell game at a lookout point on the Buda side. I couldn't believe what I was seeing--these tourists were betting 100 euros per play to guess which box the ball was under. I don't know what the deal was with this guy in the yellow who was running the game, but it seemed like more people were winning than losing. The only explanation I could come up with was that this was a scheme to trade counterfeit money for the real thing. I have no explanation for anyone's decision to bet 100 euros on the game.

And I thought I was lucky with a Subway that was open till 3 am. This would be amazing to have at home.

The reason I call this past weekend the last "tourist" side-trip is that my next two side-trips (my last two weekends in Europe) are trips within Slovakia with the staff from the League. This upcoming weekend, I will be staying with a few folks at one of the Katkas' cottages, next to the forest in the north of the country (according to my understanding). The weekend after that is the grand finale of my trip, Bazant Pohoda (the largest music festival in Slovakia!)--more details on that one later.

Krakow

I spent all of Friday, Saturday, and Sunday in Krakow, Poland. Getting there and going back were stories in themselves. What a fantastic weekend. The best way I can handle describing it is just by jumping into Part I.

Part I: A brief summary of convincing reasons to reside permanently in Krakow

1. This is the square where my hotel was located. This picture sums up my Polish experience for me: visually rich, hearty (notice the depiction of plump soldiers who clearly must have been as full of Polish dumplings, or pierogi, as I was one night when I foolishly asked a Polish waitress what would be the most food), and full of pride over a history of names that I will never remember let alone be able to pronounce.

2. Honestly, this really might be the most compelling reason. The above cake is a cherry / chocolate layer cake with full (possibly black) cherries in it. It ranks among the best chocolate treats I've ever had. The combination of that cake with espresso cost me the equivalent of 2.40 U.S. dollars.

3. Krakow is small, and it is really a home. This market is just down the street from the square pictured above, which itself is only a 5-10 minute walk from the heart of the city. Hundreds of people were buying fresh fruits, vegetables, and all types of meat from (I assume) local farmers / vendors. It really felt neat to be among them.

Part II: The main reason I went to Krakow

It was a very pretty day on Friday when I went to see Auschwitz-Birkenau, the well-known combination of concentration camp and death camp to which nazi prisoners were sent in World War II. I didn't know what to expect. Perhaps some people go because they want the reminder of what happened. Perhaps some people want to feel something specific. I think I went because I wanted to say I'd been there--not just from a touristy perspective, but I guess maybe in some way to be able to lay a legitimate claim to my own personal connection to the place. I've studied the Holocaust, I've been to the museum in D.C. several times, and I've run through most of the emotions I'm capable of having about the idea of what happened. In light of my background with the subject, my visit became more about what it means to visit than a reconnection with the story itself.

Don't get me wrong--it's not easy to visit the place. But my thoughts were with the contrast between the horror of what happened and the visual of present-day visitors. The above picture is not an upscale townhome complex--it's Auschwitz I, the converted Polish military barracks that originally housed nazi prisoners until many were moved to Birkenau (Auschwitz II) later in WWII. It is noteworthy that these prisoners were largely Polish political prisoners at first and that Jews started to comprise the majority of the population there later.

This man was our guide--a man who had obviously done this many, many times. Not only was he knowledgeable, but it seemed as though he'd found an impossible emotional balance between delivering the same depressing information over and over yet not disconnecting himself from it--and instead delivering it with just enough personal sadness to invite the group to participate in it with him. The diagram he is presenting belongs to Block 11, the infamous prison block in Auschwitz I. In addition to a starvation chamber and a standing-chamber (where prisoners were forced to stand the entire night in cramped quarters before working all the next day, for days on end), the basement housed the first trials of execution by gas at Auschwitz.

It was odd to move freely and without mention through a hole in these fences as our tour moved from one location to another.

This is the main gate to Birkenau, the massive expansion of the Auschwitz camp (located some 3 km away) that provides the normal picture of "Auschwitz" that people think of.

These train tracks were designed to maximize efficiency in transporting prisoners--they run straight to the middle of the camp. In the foreground is a makeshift memorial.

Traveling with a group was interesting. I found myself getting annoyed at inopportune laughter, inopportune conversation in general, and even emotion when it seemed like people were trying to squeeze sadness out of their visit in order to make it what they wanted it to be. But, if I can't control that kind of impulse on a trip whose primary message is "we are all people who must live together," then I'm in real trouble. All in all, I thoroughly enjoyed my visit there. I think it accomplished the vague goal that I had in mind.

Part III: Quirks of the city that don't necessarily qualify as primary reasons to establish permanent residence

I visited the castle on Saturday morning--Krakow is the historic capital of Poland, where all the old kings lived. You're not allowed to take pictures inside the castle, so I mainly just have some nice shots of the courtyard. There were lots of fancy tapestries, medieval weapons, and tombs of important Polish kings. I think the one bit of history that stuck with me after 3 hours of saturation was that Polish kings have a knack for stopping Turkish invasion at a point when it really matters. It sounded like something to be proud about.

Later that day, I went to one of the coolest places I've ever been--the salt mine at Wieliczka, a nearby town. Formed by the evaporation of water from trapped underground saltwater lakes over millions of years, this pure rock-salt formation is one of only a handful of such mines in the world. 140 meters under the ground at some points, I was able to verify for myself that the walls were indeed made of salt. I just made sure to sample the parts that shorter people couldn't reach, just in case the salt didn't kill all the bacteria. The above picture is a set of mannequins that is supposed to depict the first public visitors to the mine--the guide joked that they actually were visitors who got lost in the mine but that the salt preserved them for a hundred years. He wasn't completely joking about the preservation effect--there were original wooden carvings from the 1600's in the mine that haven't lost their paint.

The "miners" in the mine don't extract salt anymore--the mine stopped actively producing a few years ago. Now, they mostly carve artwork within the mine for the public to enjoy. This is a really fantastic copy of The Last Supper--it's only a few inches deep.

The main "market square." I find this square much more appealing than the main square in Prague, even though there were probably twice or three times as many tourists here during peak hours.

Some entertainment in the market square--this is the grand finale of the performance. He had been going for quite a few seconds before I started the film.

For all you public affairs fans out there: I was so impressed by this display sponsored by the local government--it had descriptions of revenues and outlays over time and in different sectors. Each panel after the first few summary panels had more descriptive information about each sector of spending. People really did stop to read them--it was in a pretty central location in the city park, and even I, a non-resident, felt engaged.

This is a synagogue from the 1600's, located in the historic Jewish district of Kazimierz. The nazis burned the synagogue's Torah and painted over these frescoes when they took control of the territory. Historians had to wait until the end of communist rule to begin the process of recovering whatever they could.

Part IV: The part that makes me want to title this entire post: "Two train trips with a city in between"

On the way to Krakow, there was a big mix-up with the trains going to Poland. It seemed like all of Eastern Europe was flooded that Thursday, and many trains were having a hard time going their normal routes. I heard English voices confused, like I was, about where to find a specific car on a new train that pulled up. I joined them in their quest to find it, and ultimately we sat together and bonded a bit. I found out that they were from Texas, on a family vacation to Eastern Europe. We made plans to get dinner before we all left on Sunday night, and wouldn't you know it, we had the exact same train car on the way out of Krakow, too. They were great folks to spend time with, and they made the 6-hour-turned-12-hour trip to Krakow far more than tolerable. There's a sneak peak at some Russian pierogi in the bottom left corner.

Speaking of Russians, I shared the sleeper cabin with a really nice one on the way back to Bratislava. He is from Kamchatka, a territory I know only from playing the board game Risk. He invited me to come stay at his place sometime, and I felt honored--until he told me that he invites everyone he meets on his travels with the safe assumption that no one will ever go that far into northeast Russia. I have half a mind to surprise him one day and just go there.

This past weekend was super tiring. Waking up on a train is a lot of fun, especially when the sun has just risen and the wind is blowing through the window. Staying awake the whole day after that moment is not quite as fun. I'm looking forward to Budapest this upcoming weekend--I will be traveling with Monika, my colleague from UGA who arrived at the office a week ago.