lisa_goldstein: (pic#11299236)
Today we go to the Salt Mines in Krakow.  First you walk down dozens of switchbacked stairs, so many that you begin to wonder when it will ever end, and then finally it levels out and you go into the mine.  Everything is made out of salt, including the walls and ceiling, and as we go on we encounter statues constructed entirely of salt.  It’s eerie seeing them rise up out of the darkness, and pretty daunting to think how much work it took to make them, especially when the guide says that one tiny mistake could destroy the whole thing.  There are Tolkienesque dwarves, and statues of famous people, and chandeliers with dangling salt crystals, and a green-tinted river winding through the different chambers, but the most amazing thing is an entire chapel, with an altar and carvings from the New Testament, still in use.  My brother points to a depiction of the Last Supper and says, “What’s Jesus saying?”, and because I know the way his mind works I say, “Pass the salt.”





 

You don’t have to climb all the way back up to leave, fortunately — they have elevators to take you out.  Unfortunately, going by elevator means being packed with eight or nine people in a tiny cubicle.
 
Later we go to see a clock strike five in the courtyard of Jagiellonska University.  The bell sounds, the doors open, and figurines come out, process around, and go back inside.  It’s not the Prague astronomical clock, but it satisfies some of our longing for clockwork.
 
It’s the last day in Europe for most of us.  The others want to go out and do more touristy things but Doug and I are exhausted, and we head back to the bnb, read for a while, and then go out to the beer garden across the street.  I’m not really a beer drinker, but Doug’s become a fan of Czech beers — he says they live up to their reputation.


A blah-looking cafe.  We don't go in.

I never got any sense at all of Krakow.  Probably it’s too big, and I wasn’t there long enough.  It does have nice parks, though.  The menus feature things like “startery” and “desery” and “burgery” and “tosty” -- but of course the actual language is much harder.
 
The first thing we do when we get home is pick up Bonnie from the kennel.  She’s thrilled to see us and whimpers on and off with happiness, something she rarely does.  Then I sleep for thirteen hours.  
lisa_goldstein: (pic#11299236)
The next day the others go on to Poland, and Doug and I have the day to ourselves.  We cross the Chain Bridge



and ride the funicular up to the castle



in the morning, and in the afternoon take the Metro to the Szecheny Baths.



It’s a huge place with lots of indoor and two outdoor thermal pools (one is closed) of different temperatures, and one enormous swimming pool -- I know it’s enormous because I swim a lap and then have to give up.  There are tiled floors, and statues that spray you with water, and other statues of nymphs and goddesses watching you benignly as you bathe. 



There are teenagers flaunting their bodies, and fat men sitting with their stomachs floating out in front of them, unembarrassed, though fewer fat women.  Why don’t we have something like this in the U.S.?

I’m not sure what I think about Budapest.  I liked the energy at the ruin bars, and there’s still some Middle European charm, some fading elegance, in the coffee shops, the baths, the friezes and statues along the facades of the buildings, and the history is interesting.  A lot of the city is neglected and falling down, though, and sometimes you’ll come across a Stalinist-era concrete building, turned in on itself and guarding its secrets, so ugly it’s like a blow to the face.  None of this is their fault, of course, but then there’s Viktor Orbán, another man who wants to be dictator.  Budapest is also much larger than Prague, so it’s harder to get a feeling for it.

When I was growing up the only people I heard speaking Hungarian were my mother and her friends, so it’s strange being in a place where you hear it all over. I rarely saw it written down, and it’s always looked like Orkish to me.  “Válaszd a jövö hálózatát,” says a no doubt completely innocent sign at the airport, but it looks as though it’s giving instructions for torturing hobbits.*  I wonder if Tolkien took anything from Hungarian for Orkish, the way he did with Finnish and Elvish.

The next day we fly to Krakow.  We’ve been staying in airbnbs mostly so far, and they’re pleasant places, but they were all once part of large houses and they’ve been cut up into very odd geometries.  The one in Budapest had a rickety outdoor elevator that smelled like plastic, tenuously attached to the building, and this new one is located along the back of a restaurant, through a courtyard, up some stairs, and across a balcony.  We go to sleep and I have very weird dreams, none of which I can remember.  Then we go out and walk around, through a park and up to the castle and to the main square.



 We’ve had our fill of castles by this time, so we don’t go inside.



*Google Translate says it means, “Choose the network of the future.”


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