Round the World I: Beijing to Athens

PROLOGUE

Back in the days when we all still read newspapers, the Sunday edition was best. At the end of my time in Washington, DC before I went off to Japan for my first "real job", I found an article in the Washington Post Travel Section about the train trip from Beijing to Moscow via a newly established Trans-Siberian route through Mongolia. I clipped it (literally) and saved it.

I kept it with me through my almost three years in Japan.

I managed to save a fair amount of money by the end of my time in Sendai. My last months I lived quite frugally because I had a big plan. I was going to get to Beijing (I was a China expert by that time - it would be my third trip to the Mainland) and somehow get all the visas necessary to get on that train to Moscow. It was going to be the adventure of a lifetime! (or my biggest folly).

CHINA

I was in Beijing after starting the trip in Hong Kong, taking the ferry to Guangzhou, and then riding a long-distance "soft sleeper" to the capital. David, my ex-roommate from Japan, was with me at the outset, so we did a few tourist things, but I was not interested. What was on my mind was getting visas for Mongolia and the USSR. If I failed, I would have to return to Hong Kong, tail between my legs, and fly back home. I am not sure I even made a Plan B. Those were some nervous days in Beijing to be sure. Actually, the Soviet visa was the easier of the two. The nail-biter was the transit visa for Mongolia. At that time, Mongolia was aligned with the USSR and it was NOT an easy country to visit. I didn't even try to get a tourist visa. Finally, with those two precious stamps in my passport, I went to the Beijing Railway Station and bought my ticket to Moscow with a stopover in Irkutsk so I could see Lake Baikal.

The train traveled north from Beijing through the rugged terrain and passed under the Great Wall [see: Great Wall]. Night fell and there was not much more to see. Passengers wandered from car to car getting to know each other and the train. The dining car apparently was only going to be with us to the Chinese border where we would then receive a Mongolian dining car.

the border incident

Passengers quickly became friends and we arrived at the border late at night. I was not in my compartment (my passport was there in my bag) and the immigration officials were coming through. I quickly scrambled through the long train to realize my carriage was on the OTHER side of the dining car which had just been decoupled. No problem, I would get off the train and walk to my carriage and get on on again. Two Mongolian guards pointed rifles at me the moment I stepped off the train. Yeah, that really happened. I just looked at them in terror. I spoke English to them, I spoke Japanese to them, I used non-verbal communication. They just pointed their guns. Finally, one said "Speak Russian". I felt like I was in a movie. Finally, I convinced them that I had to get to my carriage (which was visible). They escorted me there. Lesson learned: take border crossings VERY seriously.

Beijing Railway Station

Great Wall of China. April 1987

TRANS-SIBERIAN RAILWAY

Mongolia

The ride through Mongolia (the daylight portion) was incredibly dull. It was just undulating, treeless, low hills as far as the eye could see. In those days Ulaanbatar was so small that when we stopped in the station, we didn't even know we had arrived in a city!. The stop was extremely long, too. We all missed the Chinese dining car even if the food hadn't been that good. The Mongolian version was worse. We all wondered about the Soviet dining car that awaited us at the border several hours later. In retrospect, nothing was appealing about Mongolia in April and I looked forward to getting to Russia.

an alphabet!

The border crossing into the Russian SSR was far less dramatic than crossing into Mongolia had been. It made sense. Mongolia was aligned with the Soviet Union which made for painless immigration. What WAS amazing was getting off the train in Russia and being greeted by blond-haired blue-eyed soldiers whilst a few kilometers behind me were the descendants of Genghis Khan. It was jolting visually to cross into Occidental space by a land border. Of course, there were lots of Soviet Asians around (they were native), but just seeing that many white people was a shock after three years in Asia. AND, I was able to "read" again. After three long years of being functionally illiterate in Japan (and having China be even more obtuse), Cyrillic alphabet was a piece of cake!. I remember one of the Russian Profs at Georgetown, John Dick, told me he made his students learn that alphabet in a DAY! At the time I was shocked and thought him mad. He was right though, I learned Cyrillic in a day and I was so proud I could read all the signs around me (of course, I had no idea what they meant). At least if someone told me the name of something, I could sound it out in my head using Cyrillic. It may sound strange, but I was just elated to read again!!

We were officially in Siberia. The "real" Trans-Siberian railway journey had just begun.

The next day we would arrive in Irkutsk, a place I only knew from the game of "Risk".

Trans-Siberian Railway

Trans-Siberian Railway April 1987

IRKUTSK

Irkutsk was muddy. Irkutsk was very poor. It felt like we had been propelled back to the 19th century West of the USA. There was some beauty to be had in the old, wooden buildings and we had a fantastic guide from "Intourist" (our Soviet minder, but not really - the man really was a true guide). The poor guy was trying to render muddy, old Irkutsk - home of Siberian exiles - into something more than what it was. We saw the big old church in the middle of town and the Soviet War Memorial across from it. (seriously, how much action did Irkutsk see??). We were then driven down to Lake Baikal which was the main draw for anyone visiting Irkutsk. Baikal is superlative in depth - it holds 10% of the world's fresh, unfrozen water! However, it was not surrounded by towering snow-capped mountains. Its situation was incredibly unremarkable truth be told, yet even though Lake Baikal was a letdown, none of us were that bothered. We were in SIBERIA and in the SOVIET UNION. In 1987 that was off-the-chart edgy.

We overnighted in Irkutsk I guess. I have no memory. We got on the next train to Moscow. Three days laid ahead of us to look out the window at the pine forests of Siberia and do whatever it was we were going to do to occupy our time....

War Memorial Irkutsk, Russia, USSR

Epiphany Cathedral, Irkutsk, Russia, USSR

Lake Baikal, Russia, USSR

Church of St Nicholas, Slyudyanka, Lake Baikal, Russia, USSR

Lake Baikal (still party frozen), Russia. May 1987

on the train

To our luck (perhaps) our jolly crew of passengers were travelling in the Russian SSR when Gorbachev was trying to cut down on alcoholism. For a brief period, vodka was expensive and hard to find (hard to believe, right?) in Russia. We were recommended to bring as much Chinese vodka as we could and that we did! Well, our Russian compatriots on the train bitterly complained about the horrible taste of Chinese vodka as they greedily consumed those bottles. Our collective stash of vodka scored us better food and generally better service from the Russians working on the train. We became best friends with the rest of the Russian passengers, too!

The dining car was absolutely dire. It was clean, of course, and the food that was made was actually not bad - there was just very little of it. Like many restaurants of the day, we were shown elaborate menus in the dining car and then told they were out of all the items and only one was available, take it or leave it. Little did we know that the train food was better than what awaited us in Moscow. Food in Russia during the days of the Soviet Union cannot be a happy memory for anyone.

We made very long station stops - long enough for regular passengers to detrain and walk into towns and villages to buy food and drink. To my amazement some people regularly rode the train and knew which stops had the best of everything. They encouraged me to come with them on one of their forays but I declined. Missing the train in the middle of Siberia was not a travel tale I wanted to relate in my old age. The shoppers DID find great food in the places we stopped along the way and shared generously (as we were the ones with the vodka!). The trains were very long so when they left a station they crept up to running speed. I think the risk of actually missing the train was low - if one saw the train was leaving, it would be easy in the first few minutes to just run and jump on it. (I saw people do it the entire journey).

I don't remember the other passengers much. Two young New Zealanders were on their way to Europe. They were a lot of fun. Most everyone else read, drank vodka, or slept. I think I was semi-drunk for three days (on cheap Chinese vodka, yuck). However, there was a young Russian woman and a tall, muscular Russian guy that followed her around like a puppy dog. I was never sure if they knew each other from the train or from before. They didn't speak English, so we communicated in very bad German. I can't remember her job, but she was on her way to her hometown in Archangelsk on the Arctic Ocean! The guy was taking the train south from Moscow to Sochi where he was a wind-surfing instructor at that Black Sea resort town. Communicating with real Russians my own age was such a bonus for the trip. Such a shame that our conversations never left the realm of German I.

One thing was true of the time. The average Russian had no luxury goods. I was coming from Japan with the latest SONY Walkman. Both of my young Russian friends took turns listening to it in amazement. I actually worried if I would ever get it back, they were that taken with it. Suddenly, all those stories of students from Georgetown who studied in Leningrad selling their jeans and personal possessions didn't seem so fantastical. It was sad, actually. I was in a place without much food and where luxury purchases were nigh impossible. Russian people, however, were unfailingly kind - and fiercely proud to be Russian! Above all, on those days on the Trans-Siberian Railway, I came to like and respect Russian people after growing up with all that Cold War propaganda.

For three days all of us ate and drank together. We indulged in the spoils of each stop as they presented themselves. Friendships were forged, if only temporary. We needed friends - we were going to Moscow!

MOSCOW

The first shock on arrival in Moscow was NOT being greeted by Intourist. In Irkutsk our guide had actually met us at the train station and taken care of everything. I admit part of me still thought "This is the USSR and they will be keeping an eye on us". Maybe not. I think Intourist in Irkutsk didn't have many customers and were better prepared. The guide might have been excited to have something to do? I arrived at Yaroslavsky Station in Moscow to no one. A few of the passengers had booked tours that included transfer and hotel, but I only booked a hotel. In an instant I realized I was in Moscow, without a map, alone, and clueless. So much for the "omnipresent" minders who were going to watch over my every move!!

I was grateful that I had made friends on the train. They pointed me in the right direction to the metro and somehow (without a mobile phone and GPS) I found my hotel. It all turned out for the best because the young Russian lady and the wind surfing instructor promised to meet some of us again later and show us around the city a bit. I was literally lost in Moscow.

The hotel was dark and spartan with matronly Russian women sitting on each floor who made me feel guilty just for walking in the corridor. They were not there because I was a foreigner - hotels in Soviet Russia were set up that way. Those women were to oversee each floor to be sure guests were taken care of, but it felt like they were sent there to be sure we followed every single hotel rule.

For a person who loved doing background research for travel, I sure dropped the ball on Moscow. Other than Red Square and the Museum of Cosmonautics I didn't have the first clue where to go! The palace and exposition center in the photos were visited because those are my own photos (I really don't remember the places at all) and I note with the help of google maps that they were near the Museum of Cosmonautics. Note there is a lovely convent in the photos, too. Alas, if I only remembered.... My big memories of the Moscow visit were indeed only the two aforementioned places - Red Square and a museum. Of course, I had to see a performance at the Bolshoi, too. I managed to cram that in somehow even if the idea of it may have exceeded the actual event.

St Basil's, Moscow, Russia, USSR.

Red Square, Moscow, Russia, USSR.

Lenin's Tomb, Moscow, Russia, USSR.

G.U.M. Department Store, Moscow, Russia, USSR

G.U.M. Department Store, Moscow, Russia, USSR.

Bolshoi Theatre, Moscow, Russia, USSR.

Gagarin Exhibit, Cosmos Museum, Moscow, Russia, USSR.

Moscow Exhibition Center, Russia, USSR.

Moscow Exhibition Center, Russia, USSR.

Ostankino Palace, Moscow, Russia, USSR.

Novodavechy Convent, Moscow, Russia, USSR. May 1987

Museum of Cosmonautics

For a kid who grew up making trips to DC to the "new" Air and Space Museum and then continued to visit as an undergrad at Georgetown, the "Cosmos Museum" was almost a joke. A huge section of the museum was a shrine to Gagarin (justifiably so), but the whole place was cavernous with few exhibits. Once again, I felt sad. Russia had a great space program and this is what the general public saw? Soviet Russia felt so impoverished, not only in material things but in things like modern museums which I took for granted. The Museum of Cosmonautics was a huge letdown. I remember I ran out of film there and stooped down to change the roll and was scolded for squatting (??) in the museum (which was empty). Strange things to remember, but other than the Gagarin exhibit and changing a roll of film, little else remains. Perhaps that is the reason I visited the nearby exposition center and Ostankino Palace?

I headed back to the hotel. We were going to see Red Square!

Red Square and Environs

"Dies ist das Herz meines Landes," I still remember how proudly my Russian friend exclaimed that when we met on Red Square. That first visit was at night and was impressive. St Basil's cathedral all lit up, Lenin's guarded Tomb, and the monolithic wall of the Kremlin. It looked just as wonderful as I thought it might. A defining life moment to be sure - during the Cold War I was walking around Red Square. Few others were out and about at that hour and walking around was magical. It really looked like a film set.

Moscow evenings were cold in April, so after our tour and photo ops around the square we all agreed to find a place to sit down and have a coffee. Luckily, they knew where to go and soon we were in a fairly swish, old world coffee shop that had that same huge menu I had been presented with before with very few items available. We ordered what we could and enjoyed each other's company while speaking German I. It was another window into Russia for me. I am not sure how Americans feel when they stand on the National Mall by the Washington Monument and see the monuments, the White House, and the Capitol, but I don't think it will ever approach the near swoon of my Trans-Siberian friends as they walked around Red Square. America had a long way to go to catch up to Russia even if people thought they felt staunchly patriotic. The resolve of the Russian people and their love of their homeland was a force to be reckoned with.

It was the last I saw my train travel mates. Such a shame that in these days of being too connected instantly with others, I was not able to find and reconnect with them. I wonder what they did the few short years later when the USSR was dismantled? I would hope they were survivors who went on to make the most of life in the "new Russia".

I returned to Red Square the next day (now knowing more about it) to explore the huge GUM Department Store where I could shop because it was a hard currency store. I saw nothing I wanted, but after the very spare shops I had passed around Moscow, GUM held an absolute bounty. The design (as seen above) was the much often copied Italian model Galleria Vittorio Emanuele II from Milan (which I know now as a traveled-adult and didn't realize as a young man on an adventure). I didn't buy anything in GUM - it was just another place to say I had visited.

The biggest letdown? Due to my poor planning and general cluelessness, the day I set aside to go to the Kremlin and tour its churches and museums, it was closed. That was also my last day in Moscow. I was disappointed, but not crushed. Still on a high that I had made it to Moscow in 1987, I felt that anything else was just icing on the cake!

The Bolshoi

One last "had to do" item remained on the list: go to the Bolshoi. I heard that cultural tickets were extremely cheap in Soviet Russia. Never a truer word was spoken. Since I had dollars, the seats seemed even cheaper. I bought the best ticket possible. I went to the performance at the appointed time and found the exterior to be plain compared to other opera houses I had seen (to date, I had only been to the Kennedy Center in the USA and modern concert halls in Japan). The Paris Opera house it was not - on the outside. The interior, however, was incredibly lavish and absolutely blew me away. I wondered how the Soviet socialist mentality explained away all the excess that was used to decorate one of the premier performance venues in the country? I made my way to my seat and ..... wow...... I was in the box seat next to the Tsar's center box seat (which I believe at the time was never sold, and reserved for VIPs). It remains the best seat I have ever purchased for a live performance in my life. I just sat there thinking, wow, wow, wow. Unfortunately, even though I had come by train, I was dealing with jetlag (trainlag?) and after all the rushing around Moscow I was exhausted. Couple that with the ballet not being one I was familiar with (Robin Hood) and I found myself dozing on and off. Again, I did not really care. I was in a primo box seat at the Bolshoi!

A brush with religion

Matthew 5: 10-12 Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are you when others revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for so they persecuted the prophets who were before you

I was wandering in Moscow in the early evening and came upon a church. There I saw a little bit of light coming from the door, but otherwise it was all dark. I figured I would have a quick peek inside. I hadn't been inside a church in Moscow except for St Basils on Red Square and that was made to be wowed from the OUTSIDE - inside it was actually unremarkable. In this case, I entered a PACKED church whose windows had all been covered over with thick black curtains. I was awestruck - so the Russians were religious after all and it had all gone underground!

A very "wow" life moment that affected me deeply, I saw people with great faith practicing their religion in spite of penalty. I stood quietly by the door and watched the service. If ever I stood in the presence of God in a church it was then. It made me feel that any religious service I had attended prior to that had been meaningless. I quietly exited - I was an interloper. My perception of many things had just changed tectonically.

My few days in Moscow were, for a young man in his 20s who had grown up with Rocky and Bullwinkle cartoons and their Cold War child-influencing propaganda, mind-blowing. Russians were amazing people and incredibly friendly and kind. They lived in a country of contradictions which sadly seemed far more impoverished than I had expected. Even if Russia has had issues with its leaders, its politics, and its place in the world, I still remember my time spent there with fondness and as extremely illuminating.

The visa game

When traveling in the Eastern Bloc one needed a visa for each country visited. I had obtained my Mongolian transit visa and Soviet visa in Beijing. In Moscow (since I was in the Eastern Bloc) I got my Polish visa in a DAY! (a process that would have taken weeks in Washington). In Warsaw, I got my Czech visa just as quickly and so on. I simply applied for the visa in the country next to my destination. Sometimes it was even issued on the spot!! I look back on that now and think how much the world has changed and how much I have changed. The idea of travelling to one country and "hoping" to get a visa for the next is something I would never dream of doing now!

Polish visa sorted, I was on an overnight train - off to Kiev!

KIEV

I left Moscow on the night train to Kiev. I had even less information about Kiev than my poorly researched trip to Moscow. Why Kiev? Well, the Moscow-Warsaw train was a very long ride and I was not ready for more train time than an overnight after the Trans-Siberian journey. I could have broken the journey in Minsk, but the place had no mental traction with me. Kiev, Ukraine - I heard about that city.

I arrived in the Ukrainian SSR. Kiev was overcast, but it was also a dull, gray city. I was put up in another Intourist hotel of which I have no recollection. I was totally on my own and without even a guidebook I had very little info to go on - I explored.

Golden Gate, Kiev, Ukraine, USSR.

Golden Gate, Kiev, Ukraine, USSR.

St Sophia Cathedral, Kiev, Ukraine, USSR.

St Andrew's, Kiev, Ukraine, USSR.

Motherland Memorial, Kiev, Ukraine, USSR.

Pechersk Lavra, Kiev, Ukraine, USSR.

Pechersk Lavra, Kiev, Ukraine, USSR.

Pechersk Lavra, Kiev, Ukraine, USSR. May 1987

Motherland Memorial

High on a hill overlooking the Dnieper River was the "Motherland" statue. In my clueless state in Kiev, I had no idea it had been built just a few years earlier after a lot of political wrangling over what massive monument was actually to be put there. It was apparently almost "Marx Shaking Hands with Lenin"! The statue just screamed "Soviet Union" - powerful, proud, and slightly menacing. I walked up to the base to get a fine view over the city and the river. In the days before even the ubiquitous Lonely Planet guidebooks were popular, travel information was only from tourist offices and locals. Maybe that's why my impression of Kiev was not so great - I had no idea what to see. At least the Motherland Memorial was obvious, standing huge on a hill overlooking the city.

St Andrew Church

My favorite church was St Andrew's. It was purportedly built on the spot where the apostle Andrew had once traveled and preached about the conversion of a great nation to Christianity. I was more interested in the architecture and color. Its beautiful blue stood out in super-drab Kiev whose buildings still bore some scars of World War II. St Andrews was my first baroque church (built in that style by an Italian architect who had worked in St Petersburg). I think St Andrews might be one of my strongest memories of the visit to Kiev. Was it only because it was one of the few "beautiful" buildings in the whole city at the time?

St. Sophia Cathedral

There was also St Sophia Cathedral which was older and far more significant. St. Sophia's was named after the venerable Aya Sophia of Constantinople. Kiev was the new bastion of Christianity in the region and St Sophia Cathedral was at its center. Russian and Ukrainian relations aside, history supports Ukraine as being the founder of the Slavic Orthodox church and Kiev was the capital of Kievan Rus which was to become Russia. St. Sophia historically should be the seat of the Orthodox church in the region (and for many in Ukraine and Russia still is).

Golden Gate

Since Kiev was being modeled on Constantinople which had a "Golden Gate '' to enter its walled inner precinct, so the Ukrainians of Kievan Rus also made a Golden Gate to enter Kiev. The original dated to the 11th century but by the Middle Ages it had fallen into disrepair. Not much remained into the modern age, but about the time the Motherland Memorial was being constructed, the Golden Gate was also being reconstructed (even though no one had a clue what it looked like). What I excitedly saw as the ancient gateway to the city had only been built a few years before I arrived. I had no idea at the time and was extremely impressed. Ah, the innocent world before the internet.

Pechersk Lavra Monastery

The epicenter of Kiev, of indeed the Russian/Ukrainian Orthodox world, was Pechersk Lavra. Supposedly founded by monks from Mt Athos in Greece, they discovered some caves on a hill above the Dnieper and set up a monastery. Over time it became a huge religious complex and has been historically and spiritually the center of the Russian/Ukrainian Orthodox Church ever since (although the Patriarchate officially moved to Moscow later). Any full understanding of Russian and Ukrainian cultural relations would have to include this monastery. Along with St Sophia Cathedral, it was the epicenter of Slavic Orthodoxy for over a millennium

My impressions? Kiev had been heavily damaged in World War II and although repaired, it was not beautifully repaired. The monastery was drab just as the rest of the country seemed to be. These were the days that the USSR was officially "atheist" and this holy place was a museum, not a religious center (although there were far more Ukrainians in churches and more of a priestly presence in Kiev than in Moscow). Political edicts aside, the caves and catacombs continued to be highly venerated and visited. There interred were the early leaders of the Slavic Orthodox Church. I was incredibly wowed (they were my first catacombs and first tombs of important old dead people on display). Together with St. Andrews the catacombs of Pechersk Lavra are my strongest memories of Kiev.

Overall Kiev was a bust for me. It felt a lot more European than Moscow, but it was a city that had been heavily damaged 40 years before and never brought back to its glory. I was not disappointed - it was all part of the adventure. The night train to Warsaw awaited.

WARSAW

Another language moment!

Upon arrival at Warszawa Wschodnia Station I had a delicious treat, the Latin alphabet, finally!!! The sheer elation of not having to plod through Cyrillic in a language I didn't understand was indescribable. Now I could "read" everything clearly in Polish. Even if I didn't have a clue what it meant, it all was just one step less baffling.

Poland also meant I had escaped the long arm of "Intourist" and was free to get my own accommodation. I ended up in a hostel with a super friendly Polish truck driver who bought a six-pack of beer which we shared. Take note that beer in Poland at that time was scarce as hens teeth so it was a true act of generosity. That was one of many such kindnesses I received while in Poland.

Old City Square

The first place to visit was the old town square. This place had been the center of Warsaw since the 14th century although the current architectural style is from photos and lithographs of how it appeared in the 17th century. Note the photo of how the square appeared in 1945 shortly after the end of World War II. The Germans had literally raised the square in their retreat. The Poles, in a testament to their pride and tenacity, rebuilt the square brick by brick to its former 17th century glory. No, it was not original, but it looked beautiful. The Rynek Starego Miasta was my first European market square and at the time I thought it was the most incredible public space I had ever seen. I felt so full of pride for the Polish people and the love of their country, their capital, and their history. Warsaw Old Town Square was my real introduction to Europe after only getting hints and fleeting tastes of it in Moscow and Kiev.

Poland might not have had beer, but unlike the USSR, it had food. One could go into a restaurant and actually order from a menu. Maybe not ALL the items were available, but there was a choice! The table service was amazing. Poles were all incredibly pro-American and almost everyone I met had relatives in the States. I was rapidly falling in love with the country as I wandered around Warsaw.

Old City Square, Warsaw, Poland

Old Market Square, Warsaw. 1945 (Wikipedia)

Old Royal Palace, Warsaw, Poland.

Copernicus, Warsaw, Poland.

Lazienki Palace, Warsaw, Poland.

Lazienki Palace, Warsaw, Poland. May 1987

I walked by the Soviet monstrosity "Palace of Culture and Science" skyscraper (no photo) and headed to Lazienki Palace (Palace on the Isle), one of Warsaw's most famous historical palaces inside the city limits. The place was actually modelled on English estates in Bath. The gardens were gorgeous and the interior had been lovingly restored. The Germans while departing planned to dynamite the place, and had drilled holes in the walls for the charges, but the advancing Soviet army came too quickly and the building was saved. Once again, the Poles restored the interior of the palace to its former glory. Lazienki Palace was my first "grand house" in Europe built on a landscaped garden. I was blown away. The fact that Europe was FILLED with such places had not even started to register with me.

Overall, my time in Warsaw was good. I liked the people and the city. Truthfully, Warsaw of that time was rather dull and gray like Kiev, but it had a vibrancy. The Poles were not letting themselves become downtrodden. Everyone whom I met on my path was kind. I found it easy to get around and I was almost on my own to do everything - the Polish government didn't particularly care where I slept. Ultimately I was headed to Berlin, but first I was taking a detour to Krakow. I had read that it was the jewel of Poland. A truer word had never been spoken.

KRAKOW

If Warsaw had been my first real introduction to what Europe held, then Krakow was the place to set the bar for the rest of the continent. Even these days, Krakow remains an undiscovered gem of Eastern Europe. By luck of history it avoided wartime destruction and had an intact medieval core that was original. Krakow had an incredible old market square, an old castle, and one of Europe's oldest universities. The cultural heart of Poland, Krakow was amazing on a level I thought not possible. I felt like Moscow and Kiev teased me with a few interesting places, and Warsaw had a couple of gems set within its largely gray, postwar-built city. Krakow, however, was an original city like something out of a fairytale. I loved every minute I stayed there. Krakow had even more food choices than Warsaw. I ate at an upscale restaurant on the old town square (I changed my dollars on the black market and was insanely cash-laden) where the food and drink were delicious and cheap. I left the waiters 100% tip. I wasn't showing off - they were really nice to me and I had to use the money somehow. I remember when I showed up the second time, they all nearly stumbled over each other leading me to a table. It was like a scene from the Three Stooges. Then there was the cheesy mushroom bread that was sold on the street for literally cents. I could have eaten that stuff all day. I wandered the old city in awe of everything. To this day it remains one of the most beautiful old city centers I have ever visited. When people go on and on about Prague (a place that is superlative) , I always do an internal eye roll and think of Krakow. It was only much later that I found a place that created a similar feeling, Edinburgh. I am surprised that Krakow hasn't yet become a filmmaker's darling. It may yet come.

Interesting side note: Krakow was occupied by the Germans during World War II and earmarked to be a new provincial capital. The Germans started calling it a "lost German city" (lucky the Poles had maintained it for centuries for them??). At the close of the war, the Red Army's swift advance was attributed to Krakow being saved from destruction. That was partially true. The Germans were being routed all over Poland. However, it turns out that other than looting the city of precious artwork, there had never been a plan to destroy Krakow to the degree that other Polish cities had suffered. Yes, the Red Army did liberate Krakow, but they did not save it from destruction because the Germans just didn't see any benefit to destroying it (thank God!)

Old City Gate, Krakow, Poland

Cloth Hall, Krakow, Poland.

Wawel Castle, Krakow, Poland. May 1987

LANCUT

One of my Trans-Siberian reading selections was Michener's Poland. I became a Michener fan in the Japan years and when I settled on my big adventure to return home via Europe (including Eastern Europe), Poland was on my radar. Then I realized Michener had written a book on the country. Given Michener's penchant for detail, it might be the country I was most-ever-prepared to visit in advance. I really did know a lot about the place before I set foot in it which might be another reason why I loved my time there.

Michener was very clear about what parts of the book were fiction. Hence, there was a family, Lubomirski, that figured prominently in Polish history. Take note, they were the builders of Lazienki Palace in Warsaw. The family Lubomirski's home turf was Łańcut which was about an hour out of Krakow by train. Michener's tome often referred to the Lubomirski Palace and since it was not listed as a fictional place, I assumed it existed. I got on the train and headed to Łańcut.

After enjoying a pleasant rail journey through the southern Polish countryside, I arrived at Łańcut station and just started to ask people about that famous residence. I got a lot of blank stares and then started to worry that I had made a huge mistake. Palace, palais, castle, chateau, schloss - nothing worked. Then I said "museum". Aha! That was the ticket! Suddenly everyone nodded and pointed me in the right direction. Not all that far from the train station was the Lubomirksi family residence. In the middle of southern Poland I stumbled across an imposing chateau!

I bought a ticket and took the tour. I only remember it was not all that impressive - given Poland's post-war history, I was not surprised. What the retreating Germans didn't destroy they looted. I am sure the Lubomirski residence was stripped bare. There was an impressive carriage house next to the big house and the gardens were lovely. I was not overly "wowed" by the building, but I was impressed with Michener's research and accuracy. He had spoken about this place a lot in the novel and here I was walking around it. That impressed me a lot. I think it might have been one of the few times I sought out an actual place from a literary work (repeated years later in England with Dickens). A bit of a geek moment, I guess, but I was so satisfied to have toured it even if it was not all that grand. I hope now flush with EU cash, Poland has renovated the place back to its former glory.

Lancut Castle, Poland. May 1987

AUSCHWITZ

In high school when I learned about the Holocaust I read and researched it extensively. We never even studied it in history - I found out about it on TV, I think. The topic fascinated me - I simply didn't get hating any group of people that much. I credit my parents with setting aside many of their own prejudices and raising me at least not to look down on anyone's race or religion. Hence, the idea that the Germans so hated a group of people whom they had been living with for centuries to the point that they wanted to exterminate them just confounded me. I got on the train toward Katowice. It was an appropriately cloudy day - uch a visit called for somber weather. I remember getting off the train and having a slew of taxi drivers calling out "Auschwitz, Auschwitz. I can take you to Auschwitz" (in English). I was appalled actually. In the days before GPS I had no choice, I got in a cab and was driven to the "museum". Few people were around. I was given a pamphlet (which I still oddly own) and I was on the self-guided tour of the place. The worst parts of the camp were destroyed before the Germans retreated in a poor attempt to cover up the evidence. What was left when the camp was liberated were the remaining prisoners and their barracks. Even a lot of that has fallen into ruin and some of the current barracks are reconstructions. Anyone expecting to find the place in all its fully functioning gruesomeness will be disappointed. However, two big, emotional tourist spots exist - one obvious, one less so. Standing in front of the main entrance gate with its famous "Arbeit macht frei" sign was an iconic moment of the trip. I knew about it, everyone did - it was just verification that it really did exist. However, another not so famous place hit me hard. I wandered to the railway gates where the tracks split off into countless sidings like one would find in a factory that received all its raw materials by rail. In front of that was the "real" entrance to Auschwitz. On those railway sidings the "selections" took place of who would live or die. A split second decision that affected over a million people. Of the 1.3 million people sent to Auschwitz, 1.1 million were murdered. The scale was staggering. In the place I stood over a million people were "selected" for death. That was overwhelming, profoundly sad, and disturbing. Having seen the film Sophie's Choice (and read the book) this was the place I "wanted" to see in Auschwitz. I felt despair, I think. Hopelessness.

Side note: after visiting Auschwitz I never again visited any memorial or museum to human cruelty. I closed that chapter of my life - the curiosity of how and why such things could happen. I finally understood we all had to struggle against such hatred and I no longer needed to see proof of it.

Main Gate, Auschwitz, Oswiecim, Poland.

Selection site, Auschwitz, Oswiecim, Poland. May 1987

DIVIDED BERLIN

I had picked up my DDR (German Democratic Republic) transit visa in Warsaw. The only realistic option was a transit visa unfortunately as East Germany was one of the most difficult countries to visit in the Eastern Bloc even as others started to open up. I dreamed of going to Dresden or Leipzig, but alas, the best I could do was just travel to East Berlin and cross into West Berlin.

a border like no other

I must have been on another overnight train from Krakow because I remember arriving in Berlin in the morning. The train stopped in the Ostbanhof first and almost everyone got off. The conductor told me to stay on the train. I followed orders. After about 10 minutes we stopped again at Friedrichstraße and I detrained. A handful of people got off on an empty, rarely used platform. I was nervous. I was sure there had been a mistake. I was pointed to an ominous, revolving-barred-turnstile like those in the New York City subway system that were for exit only to prevent "jumpers" from avoiding paying fares. I was dubious. I barely made it through with my backpack. One guard just watched me as I struggled to the other side. I climbed a set of stairs to another empty platform. Honestly, I was sure something had to be wrong. I was standing up there alone on a totally disused train platform. Suddenly, a local train rattled along and stopped. It felt like a science fiction film. I got on dubiously - I didn't have a ticket. Where was immigration? What the hell was going on? We passed over the Spree River and I saw the hulking shell of the Reichstag off in the distance - I was certainly in Berlin. Everyone on the train looked normal - no one paid any attention to me at all, in fact. What had happened?? Where was I? After a few minutes, the train stopped at the Berlin Zoo Station (which used to be a major transport hub in divided Berlin) where I got off the train and entered a huge, modern station lobby. No immigration, no checks. After three years I had re-entered, or more accurately "blundered", into the West.

last language moment

In my final language moment, I could read everything now! My German was not great, but it was enough to travel and suddenly I could read all the signs around me. I can't even describe the feeling. I just stood there amazed at everything. I went to find a money changer and I think I even asked if there was something I was supposed to do, but they only changed my dollars for deutchmarks and sent me on my way. It remains one of the most bizarre border crossings of my life!

WEST

Ku'damm

Kurfürstendamm was the place to go in West Berlin. Even in a reunified city it still retains its title as the Champs-Élysées of Berlin. Ku'damm was also where all the cheap lodgings were located, so upon arrival in Berlin I made my way there to find a hostel bed. It was strange to go back to a hostel after many weeks of being in hotels, but as a young person, I also loved the company. As Tony Wheeler, the guy who started Lonely Planet, often said, the "travelers' grapevine" was always the best and most current source of information. I tried Berlin's famous Berliner Weisse beer. Not one to turn my nose up at most things alcoholic at that age, it got a huge thumbs down from me. A lot of people were going on and on about it at the hostel and all I could think was - they were told by their Let's Go Europe guide they should like it and they did. Sour beer - eww.

Ku'damm was amazing to me on so many levels. All the people, familiarity with things Western, being in Germany - I was so happy after all the months of travel from Beijing (actually Hong Kong). While most of the travelers I met were thrilled to be doing something as "edgy" as visiting West Berlin, I was simply grateful to be in the West again.

The Kaiser Wilhelm church stood defiantly destroyed in Ku'damm to remind everyone of the horror of war even amidst the bounty of rich, capitalistic West Berlin. At that age, I found it an effective monument, like the Atomic Dome in Hiroshima. A reminder of what awaited if things were left to unravel.

Charlottenburg

Schloss Charlottenburg and its Egyptian collection were two of the absolute highlights of West Berlin. The original Neues Museum which held one of the world's premier Egyptian artifact collections outside of Egypt had been damaged heavily in the war and the collection, like the rest of Berlin, was divided up at the end of the war. The bits that ended up in West Berlin included the famous Nefertiti bust. I had never seen any ancient Egyptian ANYTHING at that point in life and it was high on my list. The smallish museum impressed me, but what impressed me more was the Charlottenburg Palace. Charlottenburg was my first truly grand European palace. I was dumbfounded. I had seen very lovely palaces in Poland but the scale of Charlottenburg was something different entirely. The gardens behind the palace were amazing in their own right. I thought to myself, "this is why I came to Europe". The place was ticking every single box of what I expected Europe to look like. Then in a surprisingly strange twist, something truly amazing happened.

I had travelled to Charlottenburg with some people I met at the hostel. It was a lovely June day. We were lying on the grass of the palace garden taking everything in when suddenly classical music started playing. We couldn't find the source, but enjoyed it immensely. I said to my friends, "the gardens, the palace, that music - we just need a bunch of people in period dress to come out and start waltzing" AND THEN THAT HAPPENED! We all looked on in disbelief for a few moments. Finally, we understood a movie (or TV show) was being shot. It felt like we had been transported into another age for a moment. It might be my best memory of West Berlin.

We also travelled to the ruined Reichstag and viewed it from the outside. Just beyond was the Brandenburg Gate which was a total no-go zone since the wall ran right through it. Even more than the Kaiser Wilhelm church memorial in Ku'damm, those symbols of Berlin then left to rot, made an impact. It was 1987 - everything was on the cusp of changing. We had no idea.

Note: the famous Egyptian collection is now reunified in the fabulously renovated Neues Museum.

Brandenburg Gate, West Berlin, Federal Republic of Germany.

Reichstag, West Berlin, Federal Republic of Germany.

Reichstag, West Berlin, Federal Republic of Germany.

Kaiser Wilhelm Memorial Church, West Berlin, Federal Republic of Germany.

Charlottenburg Palace, West Berlin, Federal Republic of Germany.

Checkpoint Charlie, West Berlin, Federal Republic of Germany.

EAST

Checkpoint Charlie

A young American couple I met at the hostel were interested in going to East Berlin. Even though I had just exited the Eastern Bloc, I wanted to see more of Berlin since the old city center and most of the most important monuments were in the East. The couple were nervous and all pumped up about going behind the Iron Curtain. I kept telling them I had just spent a few weeks in the East and it was not really all that different, although a tad depressing. They paid my descriptions no mind. Thus, with new friends who had different goals and points of view than my own I went back through the Iron Curtain. We crossed at the famous Checkpoint Charlie. It actually was busy and took some time to get through. We were obliged to change 25 DM into 25 "Ostmarks". The East Germans must have made a killing on all the hard currency that was exchanged there.

Brandenburg Gate, East Berlin, German Democratic Republic.

Fountain in front of Berlin Cathedral, East Berlin, German Democratic Republic.

Museum Island, East Berlin, German Democratic Republic.

Pergamon Museum, Museum Island, East Berlin, German Democratic Republic.

Opera House, East Berlin, German Democratic Republic.

Rathhaus, East Berlin, German Democratic Republic.

Reichstag, East Berlin, German Democratic Republic.

We were on Friedrichstraße and walked up that street to Unter den Linden. On that famous avenue we stopped at a couple of cafes for coffee and cakes. There was no eating in restaurants because like most of the rest of the Eastern Bloc, food was at a premium. For some reason, great German cakes were in abundance and they cost a pittance even in the swankiest Old World cafes along that lovely tree-lined street. We could only drink so much coffee and eat so many desserts with our overabundance of Ostmarks. The other thing East Berlin was famous for was books. We found some great bookstores and, indeed, books were incredibly cheap. Oh, they were all in German, so I guess whoever was spreading the word "buy books in East Berlin" must have forgotten that detail. Nevertheless, nice cafe, check; cheap bookstore, check. Onward.

We walked down to the Brandenburg Gate and looked at it from the "other" side - as well as the back of the Reichstag. It was strange having seen both the day before from a different vantage point. The Wall made those two structures into such forlorn monuments in a no man's land.

Alexanderplatz

In the opposite direction we walked to Alexanderplatz and saw the famed TV tower (which was visible from all over Berlin) and the old Rathaus. Alexanderplatz was so barren and severe. Whatever Alexanderplatz had been before the war, after it felt like a huge urban wasteland with large buildings, few trees, and not many people milling about. We were not impressed and headed back.

Museum Island

Our last stop was Museum Island to see the famed Pergamon Museum and especially the Ishtar Gate. The gate did not disappoint and was displayed nicely - the museum was either free or very cheap to enter. I was impressed with the collection and wished we had more time than just for a "highlights, blow-through" visit. (I did end up visiting the Pergamon again in a united Berlin years later and I was not disappointed).

We still had Ostmarks to spare and I'm not quite sure what we did with them in the end. I think my friends bought "stuff" just to say they bought it in East Berlin and to use up their money. It felt like having currency leftover in an airport and going to different duty free shops trying to use it up - except the duty free shops had absolutely nothing anyone wanted to buy!

Soon we were back at Checkpoint Charlie. My travel mates had a tale of adventure for people back in the USA. As for me, I had some nice pastry on Unter den Linden where I tried hard to imagine Berlin of a different age; I saw the famed Ishtar Gate at the Pergamon Museum; and I visited Alexanderplatz, the heart of old Berlin. People had not exaggerated - East Berlin was depressing. Warsaw and Krakow had been much livelier and I was happy for my visit to Poland. Nevertheless, I had seen both sides of the Wall. I was ready to move on.

PRAGUE

Czechoslovakian visa sorted, I was on the train south toward Prague. I felt very disappointed on two counts - I had wanted to visit Dresden, but as I mentioned, the former DDR was the most restrictive country to travel in of the Warsaw Pact AND the train was a night train traveling along what was one of the great scenic railway journeys of Europe (at least according to Thomas Cook). (I did eventually take that train during the day many years later [see: Elbe River Valley])

I arrived in Prague and was on my own to find a place. I liked Czechoslovakia already - like Poland, once issued a tourist visa, I was free to stay where I wished. I found a room with a "Zimmer frei" sign hung outside in a neighborhood close to the old city center. The room was clean, but very depressing - as was the whole street and neighborhood. My first impressions of Prague were similar to Warsaw, gray and not a lot to see. That certainly was wrong!

As I wandered into the old city and saw all the medieval buildings my jaw dropped. Krakow had been beautiful, but it was just a small place. Prague was a major city - like old Krakow repeated again, again, and again. Krakow had set the bar for what to expect in an "old" European city and Prague just blew that bar away. I still loved Krakow not doubt, but Prague was a European capital with many intact, old neighborhoods. This was before anyone ever even heard of Prague (other than in the news) - I was trailblazing.

The dark side to all of this was - no one visited Prague. Prague was broke. All those old buildings including the beautiful Charles Bridge were covered in soot from the industrial age. People in Prague weren't happy - it was a dreary place. At least they had beer in abundance and a little more food. I drank a 25 cent Budvar on the old town square and thought life could not be any better.

Upon arrival in the USA, I sung the praises of Prague and said, "if they ever cleaned that place up and made it easy to visit, mark my words, it would be mobbed". Matt does occasionally predict the future. I did eventually return to Prague in order to see more of the Czech Republic and spent several days there. I was so happy to see its great fortune in being discovered and the wash of tourist and EU cash made it possible to clean up its lovely old buildings. I will admit a part of me missed being a solo tourist in that great old city, virtually alone.

Travel highlight memories of Prague beyond cheap beer on the square were the old towers throughout the city, the Charles Bridge (which covered in soot actually looked a lot more ominous), and the cathedral and castle on the hill. The old Jewish cemetery was an interesting stop partly because I was amazed how many tombstones could fit into one small space. I wondered how on earth they dug a new grave without exhuming another one? There were no stand out experiences in Prague, just an overall sense of incredulity that an an entire city could be that old and no one seemed to care.

Karlov Most, Prague, Czechoslovakia.

Powder Tower, Prague, Czechoslovakia.

Wenceslas Square, Prague, Czechoslovakia.

St. Vitus Cathedral, Prague, Czechoslovakia.

Castle Hill,, Prague, Czechoslovakia.

Wallenstein Garden, Prague, Czechoslovakia.

Jewish Cemetery, Prague, Czechoslovakia. June 1987

BRATISLAVA

I can't remember if the train to Bratislava was overnight or not, but I think not since it was not that long of a journey. I arrived in Bratislava and just took to it for some reason. It was a big city, yet not well known. Without having suffered a lot of wartime devastation, its little old town was intact. The city was dominated by its old castle on the hill, imposing and visible from everywhere. Other than pleasant wanderings in the city, my two strongest memories were of the museum in the castle and my immigration exit for the boat up the Danube to Vienna.

Bratislavský hrad

The castle sat on a hill overlooking town and the river. It was a long, hard slog to the top and the views were spectacular. The museum in the castle gave a great history of the city of Bratislava (Preßburg in German). The display that hit me the most was, surprisingly, the history of the coins of the realm. There was one simple table displaying all the coins that had been legal tender in Bratislava from the Romans onward. The number of kings, countries, and empires that had occupied Bratislava was staggering - I thought the display was brilliant. Escape from Bratislava After having crossed over the Iron Curtain several times at this point, you would think I should have been an expert. Immigration quayside on the Danube in Bratislava cured me of that thought instantly. I bought my ticket in plenty of time to catch the boat upstream to Vienna. When it came time to board, suddenly immigration decided they had to scrutinize my passport (which was shocking because in none of the Eastern Bloc countries I had traversed until that point was my passport even given a second look). I became nervous about missing the boat. I became more nervous about getting stuck in Czechoslovakia. Whatever the issue was, they decided to let me go at the last possible moment and I ran up the dock and jumped on the boat just as it was pushing off. I often wondered afterward if the officials were bored and just being assholes to watch me sweat and panic about getting on the boat. Note: 30+ years later I had the same panicked "run up the dock and jump on the boat" in Bratislava again. Just for a tour, not to go to Vienna - but after I got on the boat, I really did have a good laugh at the irony. I was Danube cruising toward Vienna.

Old City Hall, Bratislava, Czechoslovakia.

Opera House, Bratislava, Czechoslovakia.

Castle, Bratislava, Czechoslovakia.

Boats to Vienna, Danube River, Bratislava, Czechoslovakia. June 1987

VIENNA

Arrival Few tourists arrived in Vienna by boat. With great expectations, I disembarked the ferry and tried to find a money changer. Except for immigration, there was nothing after leaving the boat that bespoke "international port". No money changer meant no Austrian schillings. No schillings meant no transportation to the part of town with all the cheap lodging and hostels. I found the end of the metro line and Vienna metro being on the "honor system", I just got on the train and rode a few nervous stops to where I needed to be. Later when I told the Austrians at the hostel what I had done, they said the fine for no ticket travel would have been exorbitant. I guess I got lucky.

Seat of an Empire Imperial Vienna was yet another new experience. Vienna was in the West, it had been rebuilt since the war, and it was a tourist magnet. Vienna was my first major "Western" European city. I could not count Berlin since it was divided and overall just a very strange city. The great cities of the East, even Prague and Moscow, were simply too impoverished (if beautiful). Vienna, the home of the Hapsburgs, was squeaky clean, old, maintained, and gorgeous. Vienna for me was what Europe was all about. I wandered the city for a few days either alone or with people from the hostel. We drank Gösser beer and ate cheap döner kebab. Vienna was not only beautiful, it was punishingly expensive. I had to make the most of my days there - I couldn't afford a long stay. My takeaways from Vienna: the Hofburg Palace - it was my first "palace of an empire". I was overwhelmed by its size. I also wondered why on earth I didn't know more about Austro-Hungarian history? Then on the edge of town I saw the summer residence, Schönbrunn Palace, once again being struck at the power and wealth that once was Vienna. The multicolored tile roof of Stefansdom, Vienna's cathedral, also impressed me. It was the first time I saw a decorative roof and wondered why that design element was not used more frequently. Other than that, I only remember walking inside the "inner ring" of Vienna just amazed again and again at the wealth of the place and its former power. I knew I had learned about the Austro-Hungarian Empire in European Civilization at Georgetown. I guess I didn't get how important it had been in class, but in person - wow! I recall I got into a heated political debate on the street with a Turkish vendor who was very anti-American. I was traveling and not in the mood for such a discussion. I walked away wondering why an immigrant would have such volatile views toward everyone and everything. Alas, I was very young and truly did not understand the world.

Important decisions I had a decision to make and it was huge. With my remaining money would I strike across Austria to Switzerland and Germany and onto France and perhaps even England and return home? Or would I continue in the Eastern Bloc since I now knew it was not all that difficult? Part of me, longed to travel in the Europe my friends talked about and part of me wanted to explore Hungary and Yugoslavia. In the end, I compromised, I would buy an Austrian rail card (a rail pass just for Austria) and visit many places there, well-known to all, and then head back East. It turned out to be a good decision. I activated my rail pass ("Rabbit Card", what a name) and set off for Salzburg.

Hofburg, Vienna, Austria.

Parliament, Vienna, Austria

Karlskirche, Vienna, Austria.

Rathaus, Vienna, Austria

State Opera House, Vienna Austria.

Belvedere Palace, Vienna, Austria.

Belvedere Palace, Vienna, Austria.

St Stefans Cathedral, Vienna, Austria.

Schönbrunn Palace, Vienna, Austria.

Schönbrunn Palace, Vienna, Austria. June 1987

SALZBURG

On the trail of the Sound of Music

How absolutely bizarre that in the birthplace of Mozart I was obsessed with a film, but having grown up watching the Sound of Music repeatedly (and knowing all the songs), the chance to visit Salzburg and all those locations was something I couldn't pass up. I met a small group of Americans there in the hostel who were, not surprisingly, wanting to see all the same things I was, and we were off.

Salzburg was lovely. Salzburg was EXPENSIVE. I almost immediately started to regret my decision to travel in Austria on the rail pass. However, Salzburg was, in fact, one of the most expensive places in Austria simply because it was such a tourist magnet. My hostel friends and I did see most of the film locations in town (which were a let down as are most film locations - the Sound of Music was a MOVIE, not real life). We even found the grassy meadow where Julie Andrews spins around at the beginning of the film - such strange pilgrimages one makes in youth. I didn't care at all about Mozarts Geburtshaus and my visit was just little too early for the summer Salzburger Festspiele, an absolute must-see for classical music lovers.

Pigeon Shit

What I do remember happening in Salzburg was buying a couple of semmel, 200g of cheese, and 100g. of sausage, and a beer for my "poor man's lunch" in expensive Salzburg. I spread it all out on the steps of a church in the shade and a pigeon unceremoniously shat on the food. I was very very cash-strapped and very very hungry. I wondered if I could clean it off? No way - that was bird shit. I went hungry that day for lunch. I ate very little in Austria - the price to pay for cheap travel in that beautiful (and popular) country.

View from Castle, Salzburg, Austria.

Salzburg, Austria.

Mozart House, Salzburg, Austria. June 1987

HALLSTATT

While in Salzburg the place nearby to see was Hallstatt. It was already well-known in 1987 and these days has become so famous the Chinese built a replica of the whole town on an artificial lake! My visit to Hallstatt found a tourist town not yet overrun by hoards of people who had seen images of it on the internet. Hallstatt, for being such a tourist destination from Salzburg, surprisingly required a change of train and with that, it cut down on the actual amount of time that could be spent on a day trip. I was only there a few hours, but it delivered - lovely as promised. A mountain lake with steep cliffs rising from each side with little Hallstatt on the one narrow stretch of flat land along the lake, it almost looked like the town had been cut and pasted there in its entirety from somewhere else. No wonder people fell in love with it - I was happy I made the day trip. However, Salzburg had so many things to see and Hallstatt was just a tiny Austrian village in a beautiful setting. My older self might like a few days in Hallstatt to recharge batteries, but my younger self was only interested in walking around, taking the requisite photos, and moving on.

Rush, rush, rush - there was much more of Austria to see!

Hallstatt, Austria. June 1987.

DANUBE CRUISING - WACHAU VALLEY

From Melk down to Vienna was the famous "Wachau Valley" of the Danube and cruising between Melk and Krems was something one "had to do" on a visit to Austria. With my Rabbit Pass I took a train to Melk from Salzburg. After Linz the rails followed along the Danube closely - the scenery from the train was lovely. I was about to get more than I bargained for in train scenery in Austria. I almost lived on Austrian Railways for a week! Melk was known for its huge abbey on the hill overlooking the river. I might have been overloaded on religious structures by that point, or maybe just out of time, but I don't think I visited. I do remember seeing it from the boat cutting a majestic figure along the Danube. The boat cruised down river through the Wachau Valley, which was pleasant but not all that amazing. I was far more interested in watching the huge ships pushing their way up against the strong river current toward the interior of Europe. The Danube was a major waterway for ships to reach deep into the Continent. Our one stop along the way to Krems was Dürnstein. The old town with its lovely blue bell tower made an immediate impression as the boat neared the dock. We climbed a flight of stairs from the pier through a long arched corridor under the blue tower to reach the main square of the little town. Some descriptions of the place were "Disney-esque" and I would agree. It was the highlight of that part of my trip and I wished I could have done an overnight there. On the hill above town stood a ruined castle where Richard the Lionhearted was apparently imprisoned for a time. The whole place was incredibly scenic - much like a riverine Hallstatt. We got on the boat again and headed for the last stop, Krems. Krems had a storybook old town to explore plus frequent, fast connections to Vienna. After wandering the streets of old Krems, I was on the train again headed for the capital. I became a frequent visitor of Vienna and its adjoining Südbahnhof/Ostbahnhof where I would hop a train to yet another destination. All trains in Austria led to Vienna and I started doing ridiculous, endless loops of travel through the city on my way elsewhere.

Krems, Austria

Melk, Austria

Dürnstein, Austria. June 1987

KLAGENFURT

in search of a symphony

One of my students in Japan had made me a couple of mix tapes for my Walkman before the big trip home. An incredibly eclectic mix, it included some classical (as I requested). One of the pieces was Brahms Symphony 2. I am not sure if it was because I listened to it hundreds of times during that journey, but until this day I truly love that piece. By chance, I found out that, unlike Symphony 1 which took Brahms YEARS to write, he cranked out his second symphony in just one summer on the shores of the Wörther See. With my rail pass in hand, Austria was my oyster, so I was off to Klagenfurt.

Since the fateful decision to travel in Austria for over a week, I was in extreme "save money mode". One way to save money was to take overnight trains. I ended up partially selecting destinations in Austria based on whether or not the train was overnight. In the case of Klagenfurt, it was. I arrived in the city and found a hostel bed. The town itself was pleasant, and I had a walkabout. Klagenfurt itself was not what I was after though, I wanted to visit. Pörtschach am Wörther See, the actual place Brahms lived when he wrote my favorite Symphony 2.

I made it out to the small town which used to be a resort for rich Viennese in the summer before the days of easy air travel. The place was a classic example of how railways transformed towns. Klagenfurt and the Wörther See had been just sleepy Austrian backwaters in the province of Carinthia. The railway brought easy access from the capital and suddenly the Wörther See was a destination. There used to be casinos along the lake and it was a place to "see and be seen" for several decades. In those days, Brahms also escaped the big city and set up house on the lake. Unfortunately, the lake and its surrounds were just mildly pleasant rather than absolutely gorgeous. I think my expectations because of loving that symphony, especially its soul-stirring finale, were that this lake would be some magically transformative paradise. In any case, I was happy I visited. Perhaps it made up for the absolute ridiculousness of the Sound of Music tour of Salzburg.

Klagenfurt, Austria. June 1987

VILLACH

Another must see out near Klagenfurt for me personally was Villach. My neighbors growing up in Pennsylvania were Donau Schwabian, Germans who migrated into the lower Danube Valley. In what is now Serbia (then Yugoslavia and prior to that "Banat" of the Austro-Hungarian Empire), their family had lived for generations. After the war, they were persona non grata and "repatriated" to Germany (or at least to a German-speaking country). They often spoke of living in the refugee camp in Villach and I went on a search for it. In the days where one needed dogged perseverance to find things rather than GPS, armed with German I, I asked and asked until I finally found the camp. Much to my astonishment, as with most refugee camps over time, it had become a part of town. People who had not moved onto Germany or overseas ended up staying and making a neighborhood. I don't know what exactly I expected to find, but it was definitely NOT a neighborhood. I walked around Villach a bit - not all that much to see, but I made sure to take a few photos to show my neighbors on my return to the USA. After hearing about a place for years, but without any context, especially for a young person, I had found it. This was the city of "the camp" that they had often spoken of. I realized that I had been looking for a point in history, not an actual place. I felt rather foolish. It was time to move along.

Villach, Austria. June 1987

LIENZ

While in Klagenfurt I realized I was very close to the high mountains. A short train ride away was Lienz where there was a famous waterfall and a nice view of the famous Austrian mountain, Großglockner. It was a short journey, not overnight, and I marveled at the scenery from the train as we got closer to Lienz.

In Lienz I found a room and was immediately taken away by the sight of the mountains close up. I was viewing the back side of the Dolomites. Tempted to take the train over the border into Italy, I was unfortunately locked into the Austrian rail pass and that would have meant spending more money and taking away time from Austria. Such a shame I never went since the Italian Dolomites ended up being some of my favorite mountain scenery in the world and I didn't realize it was just a couple of hours and one long tunnel away.

I must have taken a bus out to Heiligenblut which was a small place famous for its views of Großglockner (highest mountain in Austria) and Jungfernsprung waterfall. The waterfall was nice, but not extremely impressive. The weather was clear and the mountain views were excellent. I actually preferred the town views of the Dolomites to Heiligenblut, but it was satisfying finally to be "in the Alps" (it was my first official visit). Looking back on it, I find it interesting how many of my trips presaged others, sometimes unknowingly.

Lienz, Austria.

Großglockner, Heiligenblut, Austria.

Jungfernsprung Wasserfall, Heiligenblut, Austria. June 1987

INNSBRUCK

Working my way west, I had my sights set on Innsbruck. Innsbruck was a lovely town right in the mountains in Austria, and 1987 was only about 10 years after it had hosted the Winter Olympics. I watched those games excitedly as a kid. This was the town where downhill skier Franz Klammer, Austrian legend, won his gold medals.

My memories of Innsbruck are blurred most unfortunately. It was gorgeous and most likely too expensive for me to linger in very comfortably. On reflection, I find it interesting that some places on my trip in Europe were guided by things I had seen on TV or in the movies. Innsbruck, 1976 Winter Olympic venue, check! I continued west.

Note: the original 1976 Winter Games were awarded to Denver whose citizens turned it down in a referendum. The International Olympic Committee scrambled and turned to Innsbruck who had hosted the games 12 years before and was "good to go" without much additional infrastructure.

Innsbruck, Austria. June 1987

FELDKIRCH

My last stop in Austria was Feldkirch, but the distance from Innsbruck to Feldkirch was not quite an overnight train journey. I headed back EAST to some station on the main East-West line to catch the Westbound overnight train that would allow me to sleep for the night and save money on a hostel bed. It was during this time in Austria that I learned, we could actually roll out our sleeping bags and sleep on the luggage racks. A few of the conductors fussed, but they mostly didn't care. I can't believe I slept on train luggage racks just to save some schillings in Austria.

I arrived in Feldkirch and found it ok, but for Austria just a tad downtrodden. My adventure there was to rent a bicycle and cross over the border into Liechtenstein. That may have been one of the most interesting bicycle journeys of my life and certainly the only transnational one.

I returned to Feldkirch and had a good night's rest. My Rabbit Pass was almost finished and I needed to head back to Vienna.

Feldkirch, Austria. June 1987

LIECHTENSTEIN

Who would not want to visit this tiny alpine country if given the chance? Honestly, on my Austrian rail pass I had no plan to visit Liechtenstein, but given I was in Feldkirch (and there wasn't all that much there), I decided to rent a bicycle and ride over the border. Liechtenstein started right at the edge of town. Luckily, there was a parallel, lesser-traveled road to the main road and I cycled out of the Feldkirch city limits and arrived at the border.

The border post was almost like something from a comic book - something like a sentry cabin with one old guy who checked the papers of the very few passers by. He was surprised to see my American passport (and I was riding a bicycle!). We had a longish discussion in German I about all my stamps and which countries I had visited. No tension, just a very bored border guard. After a lot of explanation, I was in Liechtenstein.

The views from that road which ended up being on a high ridge overlooking the valley where Vaduz, the capital, was located were breathtaking. I originally planned to visit Vaduz, but upon realizing I would have to cycle quite far DOWN into the valley and then come back UP on a bicycle. I nixed the idea. I did visit Liechtenstein (I got the passport stamp!) and I saw Vaduz from a hilltop. I was certain it was as lovely as it looked from that hilltop. I was equally certain that not riding my bike there was a good decision.

I returned to Feldkirch (with far less questioning at the border) tired but satisfied that I had been to a tiny country which most people had heard of but never knew the exact location. Now I knew - next to Feldkirch, Austria.

My time in Österreich, the "Eastern Realm", was finished. Time to pass through the Iron Curtain yet again.

Countryside, Liechtenstein.

View over Vaduz, Liechtenstein. June 1987

SOPRON

Iron Curtain Hungarian visa stamped in my passport, I was on a very small train of just a few carriages headed toward the border town of Sopron. Eastern Austria was mostly rolling fields and reminded me of Pennsylvania. Then I saw it and its name rang true, "the Iron Curtain". I had never seen a modern, fortified border. I had crossed so many borders, but I never tracked alongside one. I watched it snake darkly across the fields. The Great Wall of China was beautiful in its own way (and a true fortified border), but these fences of barbed wire and guard towers were terrifying. The thing that struck me most was that on both sides were the same undulating fields of grain. It looked so arbitrary, yet it held so much meaning. I was viewing one of the most defining symbols of the age. Meanwhile, Kenny Loggins' song "Danger Zone" came onto my Walkman. Yes, "I've been to the danger zone." It was one of the most impactful moments of the trip for me - far more than the Berlin Wall. How arbitrary, how stupid, how completely depressing.

Another nervous border crossing The train stopped and Austrian immigration passed quickly through the train. We lurched forward, crossed the border, and at Sopron station detrained and walked to immigration. The Hungarians were waved through. The Austrians were being questioned at length in German (and not very nicely). I was extremely nervous - how would I deal with an immigration interview in German I?? It was my turn. I nervously gave the officer my passport. American?? The guy broke out into a huge smile and switched to English. "Is it your first visit to Hungary?" "Yes". "Welcome, welcome!" The guy had family living in the States and then asked me where I was staying and had I eaten. Not only did he send me off to a good room for the night, but he also gave me the name of a good restaurant. The immigration at the Sopron border in Hungary remains the friendliest I ever experienced!

Food and friendship I checked into the hotel (greatly relieved that now changing dollars for "forint" I was rich again and my vacation returned to being "possible"). Next plan, eat. I was starving! I went in search of the recommended restaurant and located it easily. Unlike other countries in the Eastern Bloc, Hungary had lots of food and beer. It was trite, but I ordered goulash. I was ravenous after eating like a bird for 10 days in Austria. The meal was delicious and everyone at the restaurant was so kind to me. The guy sitting at the bar next to me struck up a conversation and we ended up getting a little drunk and continuing the party at his house in his kitchen where his wife looked on very disapprovingly. I remember learning that "Hungary" in Hungarian was Magyarország - just pronouncing it successfully was an accomplishment! Sopron was the birthplace of Franz Liszt and they were proud of their native son. The little town abounded in Baroque buildings and had a lovely historic center. If this was going to be Hungary, wow... I loved it. I could stay in whatever hotel I wanted, the population was pro-American, and they had lots of food and beer! What was not to like?

Sopron, Hungary. June 1987

KÖSZEG

After such a great time in Sopron and knowing almost nothing about Hungary except the capital city and that there were some very large caves somewhere in the east, I just started to wander. Nearby Sopron was Kőszeg, another town smack on the border with Austria. Sopron had been great, so why not? Kőszeg was indeed pleasant. Croat and German soldiers repelled an Ottoman force numbering over 100,000 soldiers in the Siege of Kőszeg. After the final unsuccessful attack, the Turkish leadership were forced to decamp due to an uprising by the Janissaries. According to tradition, the last contingent of withdrawing troops were meant to have left the city limits around 11 o'clock. As a memorial to this historic heroism, the church clocks in the town have read 11 o'clock since 1777. (Wikipedia) It's funny things remembered - while having forgotten most of Kőszeg, I do remember that all the church clocks were frozen at 11am. They were quite proud of their history repelling the Ottomans. In that town I realized I was not that far from Lake Balaton (a place I had never heard of), which was coming more and more highly recommended by Hungarians I met along the way. Next stop, Lake Balaton!

Kőszeg, Hungary. June 1987

LAKE BALATON

The rail journey to Lake Balaton required several changes unfortunately and it took most of a day. I got off at Balatonfüred and found a room at a small hotel on the lake. The train had followed the lakeshore for the last part of the journey so I already had a good sense of the area. Lake Balaton was quite lovely, but I immediately realized I was in a place where people from Budapest (and Vienna) came for holiday to sit and do nothing but relax. I wondered what I was going to do with myself in such a setting since I had been in cities and towns virtually the whole trip. I was in "do and see" mode not "sit and chill".

I found two Austrians lounging on deck chairs sunning themselves. Well, time to start speaking German I again. They were nice enough guys, but were apparently terrified of the huge "gay" population of Lake Balaton and warned me to keep my wits about me. I was laughing so hard internally I could barely continue talking to them. Lake Balaton was the hot gay scene of Hungary? I must have missed it entirely.

Love you, hate your neighbor

If there was one thing I learned on the trip, it was that everyone wanted to hear that their own country was great but the neighboring countries were just awful. In Ukraine, "oh my God the Russians...."' in Poland, "Oh my God, those Ukrainians..."; and so on. I had just been all over Austria. I honestly did like Austria and people had generally been nice (but not nearly as nice as Hungarians). When the Austrian guys started complaining about Hungary and the Hungarians, |I just joined in the refrain ...."Oh my God, Austria was so much better...." How odd was it as a way to get someone to like you quickly to say how much you disliked another place? It worked like a charm - every time. I doubt I would do it now as an older adult, but as a young person just trying to fit in each place and get by, it was a strange strategy that worked. In the end, I understood why Europeans always fought - they all secretly hated each other.

Tihany

The guys recommended I go to Tihany, a peninsula sticking out into the lake nearby as it "had a lot of old stuff". Rather than sit around drinking beer, complaining about Hungary, and being vigilant about any "gay incursions" into our guest house compound, I decided to visit Tihany.

On the shores of Lake Balaton stands the former summer residence of the Habsburg imperial family, which remained in the private ownership of the family until the end of the Second World War. It was since used as a hotel, but is now in private hands and not accessible to the public. Tihany's inhabitants have the highest per capita income, and the village has the highest housing prices in the whole of Hungary.

(Wikipedia) Tihany at least had a little history and was a pleasant area to roam around. I realized, however, that I should really not tarry in Lake Balaton. I did not need a vacation from my vacation. I headed for Budapest.

Tihany, Lake Balaton, Hungary. June 1987.

BUDAPEST

I would be lying if I said I fell in love with Budapest. Maybe big European city fatigue was finally settling in after all I had seen? Budapest was not as gray and dull as Warsaw, it was not as old and beautiful as Prague, and it certainly was nothing like Disney-esque Vienna. I liked Budapest because it was cheap and it had some specific locations that were gorgeous, but it was not one of the cities I talked about upon my return to the USA. There was nothing bad about the place, but nothing that blew me away either.

The Széchenyi Chain Bridge across the Danube with the Hungarian Parliament behind it was beautiful. St Matthews was the ONLY cathedral I had come across in Europe in a capital city for my namesake saint. The old castle and the Fisherman's Bastion overlooking the city were all stunning. "Pest" and the old Jewish quarter had haunting reminders of the past. It all should have been more wow. I have no idea why Budapest didn't leave a stronger memory imprint with me because, for a fact, I finished the trip and sang the praises of Hungary for months afterward as being one of the best countries I had visited (along with Poland).

Traveler's fatigue, fading memories, too much similarity to other places I visited.... whatever the case, Budapest was not a place I told tales of. Had I stayed longer at my job in Iraq with its regular flights to Vienna from Erbil, Budapest was on my radar to revisit for a week and re-explore parts of Hungary. It may yet happen, but like Sydney [see: Sydney], it was one of those places I visited and had very few memories of in spite of liking the place.

Buda view, Budapest, Hungary.

Parliament, Budapest, Hungary.

St. Matthew's Cathedral, Budapest, Hungary.

Fisherman's Bastion, Buda, Budapest, Hungary.

Budapest Public Baths, Hungary. June 1987.

DANUBE BEND

If my memories of Budapest are spare, my memories of "the Danube Bend" are not. The day-trip out of Budapest was a visit to Szentendre, Visegrád, and Esztergom by boat and rail. Since the Wachau Valley in Austria had been pleasant I figured another Danube cruise (my third of the trip) would be worth it. The last one turned out to be the best!

Szentendre

I took the commuter rail line to Szentendre which was touted as a cute town north of Budapest that was something of an artist colony. I have to say, although mildly pleasant it was not what it was built up to be. For the Eastern Bloc it might have been quite amazing and anyone coming from other Warsaw Pact nations probably would have been greatly entertained. However, having just come over from Austria I was unimpressed. Nevertheless, the town was nice to have a short walkabout. I soon went down to the river to find the boats headed upriver to Visegrád.

Visegrád

The route upstream ran beside an increasingly steep hill to the left and the boat followed a sharp bend in the river to reveal the ruins of Visegrád on a small outcrop atop the hill. The castle was impressive and mostly in ruin. In its glory days, it must have been imposing. We docked below the citadel and were given the option to walk to the top - I did. It was the best view of the Danube from any vantage point I had encountered to that time. The castle was certainly strategic and whoever lived there would have had a room with a view! I still remember how exhausting the short, steep climb was.

No dilly-dallying allowed, the boat was waiting to take everyone upstream to Esztergom. I rushed back down the hill and got on the boat again.

Esztergom

In a repeat of Melk Monastery in Austria, the Esztergom Church rose on the bank of the Danube imposingly. We docked under the basilica literally.

Esztergom was the capital of Hungary from the 10th till the mid-13th century when King Béla IV of Hungary moved the royal seat to Buda. Esztergom is the seat of the prímás of the Roman Catholic Church in Hungary, and the former seat of the Constitutional Court of Hungary. The city has a Christian Museum with the largest ecclesiastical collection in Hungary. Its cathedral, Esztergom Basilica, is the largest church in Hungary.

(Wikipedia)

In spite of its long history, I did not see anything of the city (because I have no photos?). I found the train station and scurried back to Budapest. I believe in any return to Budapest I should revisit all those places and give them their due. I may well have been more focused on the river journey than any of the destinations.

It remains my best boat journey on the Danube and, with the exception of the trip to the source of the Danube with MAP, my best memory of that river.

Szentendre, Hungary.

Visegrád view, Danube, Hungary.

Esztergom, Hungary. June 1987

AGGTELEK

Somewhere along the way I learned that there were magnificent caves in northeastern Hungary by the border with Slovakia. I have no idea how I did it, but I actually went there! I had to take the train to Miskolc where I think I changed to a different train to Jósvafő. From there I have no recollection how I made it to the cave system further on. Since I had seen caves in the USA, Japan, and China by that point, I must admit to being underwhelmed, but they were still beautiful. I just felt satisfied making it to a part of Hungary that hardly any tourists (other than locals) visited. Those caves were specifically known for their lovely formations. I consign the entire adventure to the same part of my brain that holds my memories of Budapest - some vague recollections, but not much else.

I give myself a pat on the back for having made it to a remote part of Hungary in one day with enough time to return as far as Eger, a famous castle town known for its wine. I do remember having to wait an extremely long time for the connecting train to Eger and then arriving there early evening.

Baradla Caves, Aggtelek, Hungary. June 1987.

EGER

I arrived in Eger late in the day. Western Hungary was a hot and dusty place and nothing like the green western part of the country around Lake Balaton. It fully felt like a different land. Eger was known for its castle, but more importantly it was famous for Egri Bikavér, or "Bulls Blood" wine served conveniently in the pub in the basement of the castle. The best part was that said wine was "on tap" in big casks (a first for me). Since I was in Hungary with good food and now with good wine - I was in seventh heaven. What was more interesting was that Eger did have a lot of history. Occupied by the Ottomans with vestiges of their rule, the city had a great castle, and a lot of historic buildings - but all I remember was that castle pub in the basement with red wine on tap and delicious Hungarian food.

The exact date of the emergence of Egri Bikavér is unknown. One thing is certain; the word Bikavér (bull's blood) was recorded as early as the beginning of the 19th century. Under the name Bikavér, full-bodied red wines were sold, not only in Eger and Szekszárd but other places as well. Legends grew up around the name, which tied it to the 1552 siege of Eger as related by Gárdonyi Géza. In its present form, also accepted by the public, Egri Bikavér is associated with the name of Grőber Jenő, Eger vigneron. Sugár István (1981) writes: 'I have searched different sources for the composition of grape types constituting bull's blood. The earliest record dates back to 1912, when, in addition to kadarka, I have found blue frank, cabernet and merlot'.

(Wikipedia)

No doubt with a hangover, the next day I left Eger and headed back to Budapest. It was time to move on.

Castle, Eger, Hungary. June 1987

train station charity

As was frequently the case in the Eastern Bloc, because the dollar changed so well, upon leaving I had tons of excess cash. It was not convertible even in the next country (a sad reminder of just how fake all those economies were - it was hard currency or nothing). I seriously had a lot of forint (but it wouldn't have amounted to many dollars, maybe $10 or less?) In the railway station just before getting on the train, I surveyed the crowd and found a hunched over old woman and gave her all my forint and then sprinted onto the train. It was no loss to me and perhaps it helped her.

I was sure she told the story for weeks after about some strange young man that just handed her a bunch of money and jumped onto a train. Thinking of the story in reverse was actually quite funny.

BEOGRAD

I left Budapest on a night train bound for Belgrade. The worst part of the journey was that immigration was in the wee hours of the morning. I still remember my groggy state waking up to deal with everything. Yugoslavia was the easiest of all the Eastern Bloc to visit. I believe no visa was even required at that time. I must have tried to sleep a little more and then the train arrived in Belgrade. Yugoslavia, like Hungary, was totally open for tourists. I was free to stay wherever I wished. The weather was overcast and gloomy.

After all that I had seen and done, Belgrade was totally and utterly disappointing. My heart went out to the Serbs who seemed to be constantly maligned in the news. I am certain I would have a bad attitude toward life, too, if my capital city had been destroyed in virtually every European conflict for 1,000 years. Belgrade didn't have much of anything historic left since it had all been built and destroyed so many times. Even after my 1987 visit, it was bombed again. The city simply couldn't catch a break.

The castle (in ruins) gave a great view over the confluence of the Danube and Sava Rivers. With a few streets packed with restaurants and bars, admittedly, Belgrade had a LOT more life than most other Eastern capitals because it was so "open" to the West. Food and alcohol were in abundance - it was the vacation hotspot for the whole Warsaw Pact. However, the Serbs were dour, the weather was overcast, and the city was just blah. Until today it remains the worst European capital/major city I ever visited and I sincerely have no desire to return.

Putinci

However, I was not in Belgrade only to see that city. My Danau Schwabian neighbors of whom I wrote earlier, descendants of Germans who had migrated down the Danube to populate lands emptied by endless wars and plagues, the same folks for whom I had gone to Villach to check out their old refugee camp - I was finally going to visit one of their hometowns, Putinci. North of Belgrade, following verbal instructions from Barbara Lukas, I took the train to Ruma and then a bus to her hometown.

That visit was another kind of pilgrimage for me to witness a place I had heard about so much growing up. Those stories of the old country really stoked my travel lust from a young age and now I was standing in the very town that I had heard about since my childhood. In the days of Austro-Hungary, this was a small hamlet in the province of Banat whose capital was Timisoara (now Romania, where I have good friends from my work in Saudi Arabia). The people of Banat spoke Serbian, German, Romanian, and Hungarian - talk about cosmopolitan! For shopping they travelled to Timisoara or went down to Belgrade. What of Putinci? Well, it was a small, poor town probably looking much like it did when my neighbors left. Some houses were still abandoned and the German Catholic Church stood in ruin. Such a shame we weren't in the internet age because I could have perhaps found her old house and taken photos of it with today's communication. I tried to ask the people of the town, but as soon as they understood I was asking after old German residents, everyone clammed up. I was a little surprised - did they expect people were going to return to reclaim their homes? At any rate, I took a few photos of the place and picked a few wildflowers I found there and pressed them in a book I had with me. Overall I thought the Lukas family was lucky even if they had been expelled from Yugoslavia and had to spend time in a refugee camp in Austria. The life they made for themselves in America far exceeded what I saw around me in Putinci. Although their removal from Yugoslavia was harsh (they were basically rounded up and told to leave immediately), they ended up with a much better life.

Back in Belgrade I wondered what to do? Having seen my neighbor's hometown and not feeling any love for the capital of Yugoslavia, I wanted to move on. I considered Sarajevo and almost went, but I longed for the sea. I had been landlocked for months. I booked an overnight bus through the twisting mountains of Bosnia-Herzegovina to Dubrovnik.

Castle Tower, Beograd, Yugoslavia.

Danube and Saba Rivers, Beograd, Yugoslavia. June 1987

DUBROVNIK

I found an overnight bus as the train was not an option for Dubrovnik, and it twisted and turned on narrow mountain roads all evening and into the morning to get to the coast. It was my first long-distance bus ride in Europe and it was all on two-lane roads. Nothing had changed - I still hated long bus rides. I was a confirmed train person.

I knew we were soon there as I was catching some glimpses of the Adriatic. It was so exciting to be on the sea again. The bus dropped us somewhere in the new city and I found some lodging. Dubrovnik was a tourist mecca for both Eastern Europeans and Western Europeans who "braved" the East. In those days it was almost like a secret destination - no one had even heard of the place.

I walked into the walled, old city and I was blown away. This was not Krakow or Prague. It also was old, but it was different. The streets were made of f....g MARBLE. Who made streets of marble?? I wandered the old town and along the city walls. Dubrovnik was old, intact, beautiful, and on the stunningly blue Adriatic. The weather was summer sunny. I had left the often gray overcast skies of central Europe behind. After all I had seen and done in the past few months, I could still be wowed.

Serendipity

Walking down the Stradun, that wide marble-paved main street in the old town, I literally ran into a guy with his nose in a guidebook. It was Tim Campbell, a good friend from Georgetown whose parents I had visited many times in Japan over the last few years. His father worked on the American base, Misawa, a few hours north of Sendai by train. What were the chances??!! We immediately caught up on each others lives and I changed my lodging to Tim's much better digs. Tim had rented a vespa and we took the next few days to explore the town and places nearby. I was lucky on so many counts - meeting an old friend AND meeting someone who knew a lot more about Dubrovnik than I did. Tim was at the beginning of his love affair with Italy which would culminate in his marrying an Italian woman and becoming a professor of Italian Literature at Cornell.

Dubrovnik was founded by the Romans, but it was made into the existing, very cool walled city by the Venetians. In Italian, Dubrovnik was "Ragusa", a semi-independent and wealthy vassal state of Venice for centuries. The old city was laden with Italian masterpieces. Even if I hadn't made it to Italy, I managed to see a small chunk of it in exile. In the later break-up of Yugoslavia those angry Serbs in Belgrade even shelled the old city. I was outraged! Luckily it escaped a lot of damage. I was honestly shocked since I would guess many residents of boring Belgrade had happy memories of Dubrovnik, too.

Dubrovnik was one of the high points of the entire trip for me. After being solo for so long, I met an old friend. After leaving Hong Kong months before, I had not seen the sea for ages and this wasn't just any sea, it was the lovely blue Adriatic. Dubrovnik was old. Although in the Eastern Bloc, President Tito of Yugoslavia walked a delicate tightrope of appeasing both East and West, Dubrovnik didn't feel like the East at all (it wasn't). The residents of all those gray cities to the north came in droves. I remember Peter Chelkowski, my friend and ex-colleague from NYU, told me as a youth in Poland he did a student tour from Krakow to Dubrovnik and upon arrival he literally thought he had died and gone to heaven. Understandably so - summer in Eastern Europe was only occasionally sunny and the "sea" in that part of Europe was more than likely just a lake. I felt Peter's words when he told me that story. I think I experienced the same.

I was seriously getting low on money. Tim was moving on and it was time for me to head south. I bought a ticket on the ferry to Greece.

Dubrovnik harbor, Yugoslavia.

Dubrovnik walls, Yugoslavia.

Old city, Dubrovnik, Yugoslavia. June 1987.

Boat to Igoumenitsa

A passenger ferry regularly plied the Adriatic between Dubrovnik, Yugoslavia and Igoumenitsa, Greece in the summer months. Albania at the time was off limits to nearly everyone with its completely xenophobic regime, so without a huge land detour, over sea was the best option to get to Greece. We all stared in awe of forbidden, mountainous Albania as we passed it by before the sun set on its very dark coastline. A place in EUROPE that was still basically closed off to everyone. I was extremely intrigued.

The boat was filled with travelers like me so there was no lack of company and much information to be exchanged. Many people were alighting in Igoumenitsa only to board another boat for Corfu right off the coast. It didn't attract me for some reason and my only association with Corfu was a place where Brits of a generation before used to holiday. Having made some new travel friends on the boat, a few of whom were headed to Athens like me, we all decided to get on the bus immediately after we landed and head to the capital rather than stay the night in the port city. It was my second and final long bus journey on my mostly train journey across half the planet.

The bus took all day to get to Athens. I remember how barren Greece looked after the greenery of the countries to the north. I wondered why people sang the praises of a country that was so desertified. Greece from the bus window was very alien. The highlight of the ride was crossing the Gulf of Corinth on a high bridge. The crossing didn't take long, but the scenery was spectacular. Eventually we arrived in Athens and made our way to a hostel. I was in Athens! I was also seriously low on cash.

Some of the group were continuing onto Turkey which was supposed to be amazing and very cheap (which was no doubt true), but I wasn't sure I was ready for that level of adventure without much cash. Others were off to the Greek islands and said there were casual jobs available, so at least it wouldn't cost anything to stay. I also wasn't prepared to work illegally on a Greek island just to extend an already long holiday.

That was it, I decided to go home.

ATHENS

Athens is another city of which I have almost no memory. I found it very foreign (back to a different alphabet - I was tired of trying to figure stuff out). Athens at that time was not 100% tourist friendly either. We arrived with many warnings about being careful in different parts of the city, especially down by the port. I have to say after traveling in 100% safe Eastern Europe I also was not keen to enter into any state of vigilance in my travels. That being said, Athens had famous ruins and a great museum and those are what I remember.

Acropolis

Even if I had decided to go home, I still wanted to see Athens. The Acropolis and ancient Agora were both high on my list. When I was in high school I had an Australian penpal (TKF) who was of Greek heritage and she went to Greece to visit family. I asked her to send me a "piece of the Parthenon". In fact, she sent me a marble chip from the Acropolis which I absolutely treasured and made into a necklace that I wore for years. I kept it with me through university, my time in Japan, and on this trip as well. Once on top of that sacred mount, I carefully freed the stone from its setting and returned it to whence it came - birthplace of Western Civilization (or at least, we are taught to believe that). A lot of the Parthenon was scaffolded so that was really disappointing. The general disrepair of the whole area was more than I expected, yet still it was a high point in my life. Those were my first ancient Western ruins other than faint vestiges here and there on my trip through Eastern Europe. It WAS impressive. The views from the Acropolis and OF the Acropolis (especially lit up at night) were magical.

Down off the Acropolis mount I visited the old Agora (not much there), a few other ancient sites, and then the National Archeological Museum which held all that ancient statuary for which Greece was so famous. That was art overload. The artistry of the statues that became the standard for much of Western visual art for centuries was unbelievable given the basic tools available at that time. The intricately designed mosaics were also something I had never seen before. The National Archeological Museum was one of the first world class museums I had ever visited (along with the National Museum in Taiwan with all the looted treasure from the mainland and the seriously diminished Pergamon in Berlin). I appreciated much of what I saw in Athens simply because the ancient Greek artifacts were not more Baroque or Gothic churches or Renaissance paintings. I was getting burnt out on churches and palaces.

It was time to leave Europe.

Acropolis, Athens, Greece.

Acropolis, Athens, Greece.

Agora, Athens, Greece.

Acropolis, Athens, Greece.

Acropolis (night), Athens, Greece.

National Archeological Museum, Athens, Greece. June 1987

SOUNION

TKF, my Australian penpal (and now FB friend), told me that one of the highlights of her trip was Cape Sounion south of Athens. There stood the Temple of Poseidon. She said she preferred it to the Acropolis. One of those things I filed away for "someday", I was in Athens and "someday" had come. I took the bus there and got off where the driver indicated and saw the temple ruins on a hill above the road. I walked up a very clear pathway to the tip of Cape Sounion. TKF was right - the setting was dramatic on a cliff high above the blue Aegean. Some of the Greek Islands were visible off the coast. The ruined temple had no scaffolding and no tourist throngs. I was the only one there.

The temple of Poseidon at Sounion was constructed in 444–440 BC. This was during the ascendancy of the Athenian statesman Pericles, who also rebuilt the Parthenon in Athens. It was built on the ruins of a temple dating from the Archaic period. It is perched above the sea at a height of almost 60 metres. The design of the temple is a typical hexastyle, i.e., it had a front portico with six columns. Only some columns of the Sounion temple stand today, but when intact it would have closely resembled the contemporary and well-preserved Temple of Hephaestus beneath the Acropolis, which may have been designed by the same architect.

(Wikipedia)

It took many years for me to encounter classical ruins that would surpass the Temple of Poseidon for both level of intactness and location. Sounion held a very high bar ancient ruins for many years.

And with that visit to the ancient sea god, I was ready to cross the sea and head back home.

Temple of Poseidon, Cape Sounion, Greece.

Temple of Poseidon, Cape Sounion, Greece. June 1987

back to reality

I bought a cheap ticket on my credit card and let everyone know I was finally coming home. No one would pick me up at the airport. My brother was "busy" and my parents flat out refused. I had been gone three years.

I took the train (yet again) from New York City to Pennsylvania and at least someone picked me up at the train station in Lancaster.

I just finished two life-defining experiences - living in Japan and coming back home the long way. No one cared. My parents were dismayed that I came home with virtually no cash. My grandfather had just had prostate surgery and was staying in my old room, so I had to sleep on the sofa. I tried my best to reconnect with people in the pre-internet world. Three years absence and only landlines did not make that an easy task. Finally, after contacting old friends in DC, I went back there to restart life.

I was a different person than the young man who had left three years before. My life journey had truly begun.