The last 10 days of our trip

Last 10 days of our trip

Daniella

Last month I found out that a young man from this area is writing a book about the massacre in Novi Sad on January 23, 1942. I got in touch with him in order to buy the book. As Bernard and I were coming and going, and this man was busy with the publication of the book, I e-mailed him after Budapest, to try and meet. It was quite a coincidence that the day I contacted him, he received the first 20 copies of the book from the publisher. We met over coffee the next day, and Sasha, Alexandar Vejlik, hand wrote a very nice dedication to my mother, whose grandmother and uncle were among the victims. This man is not Jewish, only a curious writer and translator, who wants to set things right. He found out that there is a great cover-up of facts, and unwillingness to acknowledge the truth of the events.

One of the big problems Sasha encountered in trying to verify the identity of the victims, which has to do with the reality of the region. People have two or three names: Serb, Hungarian, sometimes also German, and Jews have an additional name, their Jewish name. It was painstaking and time consuming to ascertain the correct count of the bodies. I found out that my great uncle, Lajos, was also called Ludevit, a fact I did not know. I find facts like that fascinating.

My mother was interviewed about her holocaust experiences by the Spielberg project more than 10 years ago. Sasha was very interested in what I related of she had to say. Little facts, which for me seemed less important, confirmed for him things he had heard in interviewing people for the book, and therefore are of great interest to him.

Before leaving this region we had to visit Belgrade. We took the train because I like it better than buses. But taking the train for the third time, we concluded that while they are comfortable, they are unreliable. You can never be sure if they will leave on time. We liked Belgrade less than Novi Sad. Except for a castle from the Ottoman and then the Austro-Hungarian days there was not much to see. Even with a later start than we expected, we ran out of sites in 3 hours. We left the Jewish museum for the next morning, but searched for the synagogue that afternoon.

The Jewish museum in Belgrade covers all of former Yugoslavia. After being one country for 80 years, things are still intertwined. The earliest Jews to settle in former Yugoslavia were Sephardic, in Bosnia & Herzegovina, Southern Croatia, and Macedonia. In the 18^th century Ashkenazi Jews come from Poland and Russia as a result of the pogroms, and during the Austro-Hungarian empire time, from Austria and Hungary, which probably was the time my family arrived.

The museum archivist tried to be welcoming, but spoke no English. When she discovered that my family left Yugoslavia in 1948, she brought out the registry of all those who left for Israel at the time. There were 5 “aliyot” in 1948-49, and I found the names of my grandparents and parents in one registry, and my mother’s uncle. aunt and cousin in another. This was not a revelation, but just more unexpected documentation.

The visit here was full of adventures and experiences. I did not expect to experience bereavement among them, but we did not escape that. My mother’s beloved cousin, Egon Stark, died on November 25. He was very sick, and his life was hanging by a thread. The funeral was held at the Jewish cemetery, on a sunny but cold day, and was well attended. Mirko’s choir sang one song in Hebrew, and Mirko said a few words. The Rabbi came from Belgrade, as the Novi Sad community is too small to have one. Even though this is a sad way to end our trip, I am glad we were here to comfort my cousins. It made our relationship more precious.

Through visiting Egon in the hospital we saw Serbia’s very antiquated system. It is not the physicians’ expertise, but the system which leaves much to be desired. In comparison, VGH is a 5 star hotel.

Bernard

Mirko and his wife Vesna picked us up in Belgrade and we drove 4 and a half hours to south western Serbia and stayed in Mokra Gora, a town made completely out of railway wooden ties and created by a film producer for a 2004 film. The town was planned in advance and there is a scale model of the town which is right near the town centre. It is set in the mountains and reminds me of the region around Whistler, very green and great views. We spent 2 days with them in that region and enjoyed it immensely. We drove several hundred kilometres along a narrow river which serves as the Serbian border with Bosnia. Mirko drove the whole way, about 1000 Kms over the weekend, and I was glad. Driving here on narrow roads without shoulders and drivers that are in a hurry to pass is not something I enjoy.

We got home about 8 or 8:30 pm, and the next morning at 2:45 AM Daniella’s cousin Egon died. He was 81 but had gone downhill fast over the past 2 months. Daniella and her family are the only relatives that Egon had, and his children were very glad that we were here to share in their time of mourning. We spent most of our last 4 days in Serbia at Egon’s widow’s home with Egon’s children and grandchildren. We very much felt like part of the close family, even though we had no or little contact before this trip. It’s true that blood is thicker than water.

Tomorrow we go home and we are ready. We miss our boys, our family, our home and our friends. Do I miss work? In a way yes, in a way no. I love my work, but it was great to have a break. I miss the people at work.

What did I learn on this trip? A lot, but the thing I keep having reinforced in my travels is how great a country Canada is. While not everything works, it works a hell of a lot better than most other places. I thank my lucky stars that we live in a country of privilege, bounty and good sense. And that, my friends, if a lesson that I don’t mind learning again and again.

Over and OUT.

Budapest Nov 15-19

Budapest November 15-19

Bernard

We really got excited about Budapest. We took the train there from Novi Sad, which is only about 350 Km but the train takes 6.5 hours because of stops and long checks on both sides of the border. The land is completely flat all the way. Both sides of the border specialize in agriculture. In the past, having great agriculture provided a good economy. Now, it is not a good basis for a first world economy, so both Serbia and Hungary consider themselves poor.

Ironically, Budapest is the one place on this whole trip that I had been to before. In 1973 it was behind the iron curtain but my travelling companion John Michaels and I got visas in Vienna and took the train to Budapest, as part of a 4 month European trip after first year university. I don’t remember much except that it felt that we had stepped back 30 years in time. The fashions, the cars, the buildings, the trolleys, all had this 1940’s look about them. Now, Budapest is in the midst of becoming a modern city, and has made great progress, but still has a long way to go. Many of the city centre buildings are from the Austro-Hungarian Empire period, and almost all the big public buildings were built for the 1896 millennium celebrations of the founding of Hungary by seven tribes in 896. 

Lots of the buildings in Budapest are ornate, or were ornate when built, and now slowly, they are being refurbished. Budapest in probably about 10 years behind Prague in restoration of its buildings, but when completed, it will be really beautiful. We would look at a building and see its potential, and enjoy imagining the building in its glory. Other buildings are already restored and are very attractive. Budapest was 3 separate cities until 1873, when Old Buda, Buda and Pest were united. What separates Buda from Pest is the Danube. We took a guide for 2 days and one of the things he told us was that there are 9 bridges in all of Hungary crossing the Danube, and 6 of them are in Budapest. Buda is the expensive size, with views and parks, and Pest is the working side.

We met our friends Varda and Rafi Seelig, who now live in Berlin, and spent the whole 4 days with them. We spoke only Hebrew. Even the tour guide Varda had arranged for was a Hebrew speaker. Our guide, Gabor, was born in Budapest and learned Hebrew from his father.  Later he spent 2 years in Israel. He now specializes almost exclusively in guiding Israelis. By the way, Israeli tourism is so strong in Budapest that they have 2 tours a day of the Parliament Building in Hebrew.

We also spent one of the days with the guide travelling outside the city to 3 towns, one of which has an ancient castle and one which has a touristy market and a wonderful ceramics display and a marzipan museum. At the third town we looked over into Slovakia (formerly part of Czechoslovakia). We have been in or been close to a lot of countries on this trip. There are lots more nearby that we aren’t going to. But we feel we have done this area justice.

More roots Nov 12-13, 2007

More roots, November 12-13, 2007

Daniella

It is amazing how Jews wandered and settled in small towns all over the Austro-Hungarian territories. They are not there anymore. The synagogues were sold years ago, only cemeteries are left behind, some tended, other deserted as the one in my paternal grandmother’ town, Bačka Topola. My maternal grandfather, Vladimir Kraus, was born in one such small town in Croatia called Djakovo. I think his father, Mavro Krauss was born in this town as well. When my grandfather was maybe 10 years old, the family moved to another town, Vukovar, very close to the current Serbian border. I wanted to visit Djakovo just to see and get the flavour of the place.

Opinions were divided on whether we should rent a car in Novi Sad (Serbia) and drive it across the border, or take a bus to Osijek, a city near Djakovo, and rent a car there. Emotions are still strong in Croatia, and tires have been known to be slashed if the licence plate is from Serbia. We chose to go by bus.

The route took us through Vukovar, which was made famous during the 90’s because of some bad fighting and atrocities there. The city was defended by Croats but fell to Serbian soldiers after considerable shelling and house to house combat. The inhabitants of this town chose to leave many buildings as the war left them, with many bullet holes in them, and collapsed walls. Not a pretty sight.

In Osijek we spent an evening with friends of my cousin Mirko, who booked the hotel and a car for us. Zeljko and Nives are members of the Jewish community there which is about 120 people strong. The community owns a large building in the centre of town, rented out to the Law Faculty or school, with the community using 3 rooms for community hall, synagogue and office. The rent pays the expenses.

We drove to Djakovo on a lovely morning, full of sunshine. We found the Jewish cemetery attached to the main cemetery of the town. There are no Jews in Djakovo to speak of, but there were fresh flowers on one of the graves. It is not neglected either. An old woman next door came to see if we needed anything, and make sure the gate was closed. I thought she is paid to keep an eye on the cemetery. Bernard thought she kept an eye on her chickens and turkeys wandering about. Her son has been living in Vancouver for the last 30 years, so we felt like old friends by the end of the conversation.

Bernard and I divided the cemetery between us, and started going from one grave to the other. Within 2 minutes Bernard called me. He found Mavro Krauss’s grave with a tall dark marble headstone. He died in 1909. Next to it there was a small headstone of his wife, Ružica (Ruzitza), who passed away in 1937. My great grandfather was a successful businessman, but after his death at a young age (his fourth child was born after he died) the family fortunes turned. After such a find we kept looking partly hoping for any familiar name, partly out of curiosity. There were many graves of people who died in a nearby concentration camp during WWll and their graves had a simple small metal plaque on a rod planted in the ground with name and place of birth. When I just about gave up on finding anything, I saw ‘Johanna Krauss’ on a headstone similar to that of Mavro’s. Next to her handsome and tall dark marble headstone, was a smaller, faded, impossible to read headstone. I passed my fingers over the invisible letters and traced the name of Jacob Krauss, who died in 1890. These were Mavro’s parents, my grandfather Vlado’s grandparents. My great great grandparents. I felt like I hit the jackpot. I was very excited and very emotional.

Istanbul postscript

 

 

Istanbul Addendum

 

Daniella

 

On leaving Istanbul, we entered the Ataturk airport and went through security check before being allowed to proceed. The short, older, harmless looking coupel before me was stopped, making us wonder what was wrong with them. But then I noticed that the other security station was at a standstill. A minute later an announcement was heard, first in Turkish then in English. It turned out the day was the anniversary of Ataturk’s death 69 years ago. The whole airport was asked to stand still for one minute to remember him. I have never seen this except in Israel on Yom Hashoa and Yom Hazikaron (National Remembrance days). Here there was no siren like in Israel. I can’t say if the whole country was at a standstill, or only public places, or only the airport. But the airport was public enough.

 

On to another topic, my roots

 

I found out from a friend of my parents just before going to Istanbul, that my paternal grandmother rented a small house from the friend’s grandfather. My guess is it was after my grandparents got divorced. This morning I went to find the place. The house where the grandfather lived is gone, and there is another building there, but the courtyard behind it is there with the original small houses, maybe four of them. A man younger than me was standing next to his car, fiddling with his fishing rod. I told him my grandmother lived there 60 years ago. First he wanted to know her name, but then conceded that he was not born yet, and that he has been living there for 22 years. He said the people who used to live there at the time where Jews, so I knew I was at the right place. He also said he is selling his house, and all the houses are going to be demolished. A new apartment building will be built there. Boy, I came just in time. I was lucky this man was so nice. I heard of cases where the current owners were very unwelcoming to Jews who came to see their old family homes.

 

 

Istanbul Nov. 6-10, 07

Istanbul Nov 6 to 10

Bernard

The five day, four night package tour that we bought turned out to be a 3 day, one evening package and four nights instead. So our sightseeing time was reduced from what we expected. We are usually very efficient tourists, and spend the whole day walking and seeing things in a new place. If we really like Istanbul, we can come back in a few years.

On the internet, the Canadian government website says Canadians don’t need a visa to get into Turkey. Someone please tell that to the Turks. We got here and presented our passports, and were told to get a visa. That only meant standing in line and buying a visa just like buying a stamp at the post office. I thought a visa meant they care who comes into the country. Canadians have to pay $60 each, more than any other country. The fee is really all they wanted.

We got to the hotel at about 6 PM and immediately jumped in a taxi to get to the main commercial, night life area. We got cheated by the taxi driver but didn’t know it at the time. Oh well, it’s only money. But the taxi ride itself was an experience. We hadn’t seen masses of humanity like that since China. Istanbul has over 12 million inhabitants, many roads are narrow and lots of people fill the roads with wheelbarrows and huge dollies where they are transporting tremendous loads by foot. On wide roads with 3 lanes, there were 5 cars across, the majority of them taxis. When we got to Taksim, the main pedestrian square, it was the opposite: modern, western, full of life and restaurants and most of all, people. We had Chinese food, bought Turkish sweets, and walked the streets. It was a good beginning.

The next day it rained off and on, mostly on, but we stuck to our plan to walk and see as much of the city sights as we can. We went to both of the main markets, the covered Bazaar and the spice bazaar. The covered bazaar is where tourists buy jewellery, leather, jeans, you name it. It goes on forever. The spice bazaar, in the area called Eminonu, is where Turks buy spices and cheese and dried fruits. Both bazaars were lots of fun although we didn’t buy a lot. Mainly for me it is hard to resist the Turkish delight everywhere. We bought fried fish off a boat for lunch (they slap it into a chunk of bread and throw lots of raw onions in), and ate in front of the spice bazaar, us and the dock workers. It was excellent.

The whole city seems like a market to me. Even where it is a store, lots of the merchandise will often be outside, someone from the store will be trying to pull you in. At the markets, the merchants take one look at Daniella and say something to her in Hebrew, whatever words they might know. In Turkey everyone seems to think she has an Israeli face.

Daniella

It is uncanny how they start to speak Hebrew to me. Actually, one tried Spanish on me once too. Even if I pretend that I am not Israeli, it does not deter the merchants. If they say something in English and I smile at them while walking away, it only encourages them, and they keep talking and flirting. With this method some tourist will stop and buy something. After you walk away, you hear the same words directed at the next person.

The first morning, after an unsatisfying fishing expedition at the tourist information office, a helpful man on the street gave us more of the information we were seeking. After a few minutes his true motive was revealed.  Would we like to come and see his carpet shop, no obligations… Well, it wasn’t his shop, and we were not buying, but the carpets were nice. The owner may not have been pleased with his scout, but “thems the breaks”. At least two other men tried the same approach on us within the next hour (giving friendly information, inviting to see some rugs), but we were wizened and did not “bite”.

What a difference between my house and being here. I spend much time at home, where it is very calm and quiet. I look out the window and see green everywhere. Here it is intense: the noise, the colours, the charged atmosphere. I love my quiet house, but it is good to see other places once in a while.

Talk about noise, we went to a restaurant for dinner, and before we finished, we realized that we were the only English speakers in it. The rest of the tables were filled with noisy Russians. We hear different languages on the street, but English is in minority. Having said that, English is the international language those who do not speak Turkish need to use. And Hebrew. It is amazing how many merchants learned a few words of Hebrew. Even in Croatia at a roadside cheese stand, the seller threw a few Hebrew words, trying his luck when English did not bring us to buy his “gvinat kvassim” (Hebrew for sheep cheese).

The biggest employer in Istanbul, it seems, is the police. We have never seen so many policemen. They are everywhere, in pairs and threes. We don’t know whether to feel good or uncomfortable about it. In the markets we felt good about it. But the movie Midnight Express came to my mind…

Istanbul is mostly a secular city, but you see some women with their robes and covers, although very very few have their faces hidden, most of them with scarves only. Some girls have head covers in colourful scarves, and their clothes are as fashionable as anyone’s, and their makeup is perfect. They may walk hand in hand with their boyfriends, and hold hands in cafes.

Our hotel is on the edge of the garment district. The garment district stretches a number of long blocks in every direction, and up several floors. It appears that many tourists come here to shop, not to look: Russians (about a million tourists), Israelis, Spanish speakers, etc. By shopping I do not mean haggle over one item at a time in the Spice Bazaar. They leave the stores with bags wrapped in plastic, and fortified with streams of tape.  Some of them buy in order to sell in their own countries. Needless to say, we are not part of the shopping scene, but it is quite amazing to see so many fashion shops.

It is exciting for me to be in Istanbul, a place connected with literature, rich history, and wild imagination. As we usually do, we walked kilometres, climbed where we could, and got to know the city.

Bernard

We took a day long boat ride up the Bosphorus, the waterway that connects the Black Sea with the Marmara Sea and then the Mediterranean. The ride was about an hour and 40 minutes in each direction. We got off at a small village near the mouth of the Black Sea and had 3 hours before the boat headed back. We spent that time climbing up to an ancient castle ruin, which has a commanding view of the whole area, which probably at one time meant control of a huge transportation network, and it may have helped the Ottomans build such a big empire. Then we had lunch and returned to the boat. The Bosphorus is what separates Europe from Asia, and it is a hugely busy channel. Many countries can reach the open ocean through the Black Sea and the Bosporus, and there are ships from Ukraine, Georgia, Russia, and many other countries there.  The word Asia denotes so much, that it is hard to pin down. When someone from Vancouver thinks of Asia, we think of the Far East. When someone from Europe says Asia, they may mean Iraq, Iran, and Saudi Arabia. If the latter is what they are thinking about, then one certainly gets a flavour of that in Istanbul. When one goes through the palaces and the bazaars, it is clear that western influence came only much later and that it was really not like Europe at all. Now it is much more so, but Istanbul clearly is the way to taste the near east while still having access to western culture.

Serbia needs some work Nov 4

Serbia needs some work Nov 4

Bernard.

We are spending a week in Novi Sad without doing any travel. We were going to go to Osijek, across the border in Croatia, but it turned out to be a holiday there and everything was closed the day we planned to go, so we delayed that trip for later this month.

I found out that a book club I was intending to attend was reading the book “Death of a Red Heroine” and would be discussing it at a meeting 3 days after I arrive back in Vancouver. I looked for the book in Novi Sad and it simply isn’t here. I looked for it in Prague and it wasn’t there. So I decided to do what any internet connected person would do in this day and age: I ordered it from Amazon. They advertise that they can get it to anywhere in the world in as short as 2 to 4 days, depending on what type of shipping you order. So I ordered the book to come to me here in Novi Sad. The cost of the book itself in soft cover was $11.20. There were 3 different shipping options, and because I wanted to make sure I got the book in time to read it, I paid $37 for high priority international shipping. It was supposed to arrive from the US in no more than 4 days.

Well, Amazon did their thing. Two days after I ordered the book, we got a call from Serbian customs at the airport. The book is there, and if I want it to continue on its way to me, I had to pay 5000 dinar. Daniella was talking on the cell phone in Serbian with the customs official so I asked her to check the number again. 5000 dinar is one hundred US dollars. There must be some mistake. No, no mistake, 5000 dinar for Serbian customs duty on a book that cost one tenth that.

So I tried to another tactic when Mirko called back on our behalf, he being able to negotiate in perfect Serbian. We wouldn’t bring the book into the country, we would pick it up and leave the country immediately. We are going to Istanbul on Nov 6, so that would be the perfect opportunity and it still gives me plenty of time to read the book. No dice. The book is in customs. I have 2 choices. Either pay the 5000 dinar or send the book back to Amazon.

Aside from being more than a bit annoying, this to me is a sign of Serbia’s immaturity as a country ready to join the western world. The world economy today is based to a large extent on globalization and trade. If people in your country cannot trade freely with their neighbours, the people will be much poorer. Mirko thinks that some of the rich people in the country have so much power, they get the government to enshrine their import monopolies. Therefore, only certain people can import freely. Everyone else has major cost and red tape. Whether or not that is true, Serbia is already way behind most of Europe economically. This type of practice and law can only make the gaps even bigger, as other countries progress faster because of open economies, Serbia will languish until it changes these types of laws.

I considered whether to write to the Serbian Minister of Trade. On the ministry of trade’s website, the only contact was by mail. There was no email address. In the circumstances, I decided not to write a letter. At least while I am still here. But I won’t pay the 5000 dinar on principle alone.

 

Daniella

Since I had a whole week in Novi Sad, I decided to take Serbian language lessons. A daughter of a friend of Mirko (of course) has a language school. Most of her students are university students, some business people, but very few adventurers (her description) like me. Serbian speakers pride themselves on a system of reading and writing where what you see is what you get. You write exactly what you hear. There are no silent consonants, no two ways of pronouncing the same vowel, nothing. But the problem is in the declinations of nouns. Nouns change depending on their place in the sentence, gender, subject or object, and much more. Not seeing much use for the Serbian language once I return to Vancouver, I look at the lessons as a double dose of vitamin E every day (brain food).

Nataša, my teacher, as well as teaching me, is another window to learning about and understanding Serbs. What a wonderful double opportunity I have. From her I learned that Serbs do not have a very good concept of the future. It is expressed not only in personal life, not making definite plans for next week, but also in the economy. According to her, until sometime in the 20^th century, farmers would not plant crops which do not yield fruit or vegetables right away. They glorify the past, which may explain why so many were swept by the rhetoric of the leaders of the late 80’s who wanted to bring back some splendid past, and were blinded to the fact that they were being robbed by the leaders of money as well as of the future.

We walk, we bicycle, and our lives have definitely slowed down.

Staying put, we eat at home more. We know well the market, where we buy fruits and vegetables, and we know where everything is in the small supermarket, where we buy dairy, canned food, cereal, etc. It is interesting to follow our food shopping. At the beginning it was a few items, enough for a day or two. Then we added packaged soup, cheese, and tuna. As time goes on, we are more adventurous: we added canned vegetables, beans, rice and pasta. Cooking is still very basic, with two hot plates, two pots, and no counter space, no oven and not even microwave oven, which is not common here anyway. In the pekara, bakery, we buy bread and burek, burekas filled with feta, or feta and spinach. The meat variety we leave for others. Burek is very popular here. I was afraid that bakeries use lard, but was reassured by my teacher, Nataša, that vegetable oil is used for the burek, and apple and cherry pastries, which look like turnovers, and are purchased by Bernard from time to time.

 

 

 

 

Prague Oct 23 – 28

Prague

 Daniella

The physical description of what we have seen in Prague is in books, on the internet, and in many people’s photo albums. No need to go into details. I will highlight personal experiences only.

We took three walking tours with one company, whose guides were very informative and knowledgeable. The first of them was a tour of the Jewish Quarter with Roman, a non Jew (but nobody is perfect, to quote him) who knew his stuff. When in the first of the synagogues we visited, we noticed that it had Friday night services. We decided to go, especially when we learned it was a Conservative congregation.

On Friday (last night) we arrived 15 minutes before the service, expecting to be tested on our knowledge, in order to gain entry into the service. We were checked for weapons like in the movie theatres in Israel, but no proof of religious observance was necessary. When we got in, a group was seated already, listening to a talk about the place in English translated into…Greek. A Jewish Greek group with their spiritual leader were guests of the synagogue. Their leader was invited to lead the Friday night service. Usually the service is a regular North American Conservative service, but that night it was a Sephardi sampler. I had very mixed feelings about it. It was interesting to hear the melodies as they are sung in Greece, and see the different prayers (a few). On the other hand, Bernard and I are participatory Jews. We like to get right in there and take part in the service, and sing our hearts out.  No matter. We had a Friday night service in Prague in a hundreds of year old beautiful Spanish style synagogue.

Until our last afternoon, every time we saw a tower, we climbed up. Bernard did it to see the view, I did it to get some exercise (is vanity controlling my life?) I enjoyed the view just as much, though. This afternoon we realized how many towers were in Prague, and our tired feet rebelled. We did not climb the mini Eifel Tower, and we did not climb the Powder Tower, and we did not climb the second Charles Bridge Tower. Vanity be damned.

We found many buildings and monuments in Prague hiding behind scaffolding and large plastic sheets. So when we walked by a pink and white building called Paladium, with scaffolding in front, people busy washing windows, and much activity, we did not pay much attention. But then my eye caught a digital sign at the top of the building, with the message “212,680 seconds until opening”. On the next day, the number of seconds was down dramatically. On the third day, when we walked in front of the building on our way to whatever tourist attraction was the order of the day, we noticed that a large bandstand had been erected in front, with band instruments and huge speakers on it, television cameras before it, and more activity. The Paladium turned out to be… a shopping mall, opening that night at 10pm. On our way to the opera at 6:30, hundreds of people were milling about in front of the band stand, and a female singer was singing. On our way back from the opera, we arrived at 5 minutes to 10. An announcer talked, there were many thousands of people, and then the count down from 10 to 0. At 0 a colourful firework show erupted, lasting maybe 10 minutes. The doors of the mall opened and people streamed in to see the wonders of commercialism and capitalism.

We waited until next morning to see the mall from the inside. It is a modern handsome mall on 5 levels, which does not lag behind anything you or I have seen before.

We did not get to talk to any locals, except our tour guides. A pity, because we did not get to know what life is like for the good citizens of Prague. But we did get to eat like the locals. Around the corner from our hotel, and half a block down, we found a small restaurant (7 tables in all), with a menu for the common taste and prices geared to the local population.  The clientele looked like people on the way home from work, whether the office or labourers, in groups of two or more. We were so delighted with our little discovery, that we went back two more times, feeling less like tourists, and more like we belonged.

Bernard:  Architecture and Headstones

There are sometimes good things that come from not having money. I have recognized this for a long time (and have maintained that having big money often is a curse) but in the case of Prague, it is because the city had no money for hundreds of years that the architecture is so varied. They had Romanesque buildings (1100s and 1200s) and then Gothic (mid 1200s to 1500s) buildings. When it was time to tear them down and build new beautiful Renaissance buildings, they didn’t have the money to do so as they did in Paris or Stuttgart or Vienna. Therefore Prague kept the old Romanesque and Gothic buildings as a base and added on in Renaissance style, then Baroque, then Rococo, etc. The old was reinforced but not torn down to make way for the new. One finds many different styles of architecture all over Old town, Lesser town and New town, and it makes Prague one of the most visited cities on earth. The place is quite full of tourists now and it is COLD and the end of OCTOBER! A cab driver told us that there are 30 million foreign visitors a year to Prague, which is triple what all of Canada gets.

This whole trip has become a trip of cemeteries. We visited another 2 in Prague, and I know this sounds ghoulish, we are learning a lot about the lives of people in the past by visiting their graves. The first one was the old Jewish cemetery, which is on all tourists’ top 3 list. People were buried there from 1329 (this is proven, but it could be much earlier) to 1787, when the Austro-Hungarian emperor disallowed further burials in the city boundaries. It is estimated there are 120,000 bodies in this small cemetery, and headstones are in some cases inches apart from each other, lined up in an asymmetrical puzzle, like standing up dominoes in no particular order and facing no particular direction in a small space. (D: Bodies were buried one on top of the other, when space became scarce.) Most headstones seem to be about 50 to 70 cm (2  to 3 feet) high, 7 to 10 cm (a few inches) thick and are illegible. We are told that the Jewish ghetto for hundreds of years was very overcrowded and the cemetery certainly seems to reflect that. Jews were a big part of Prague society, doctors and teachers and craftsmen, but at the 7 pm curfew the ghetto was closed and all Jews had to be inside until morning, on penalty of death. This was rescinded by the emperor Franz Josef in the nineteenth century.

The second cemetery that we visited here was the one at Vysehrad Castle, a beautiful spot on a hill a few metro stops from the centre. There is a Romanesque church from the 11^th century and a Gothic church from the 14^th century and beside the Gothic church is a cemetery where many rich and VIP tombstones made of granite or marble are found. The art on the tombstones is very intriguing, because in addition to the normal religious objects of angels and Jesus on the cross (which many tombs are adorned with), there were also some amazing personal expressions of the people buried there. Busts of the deceased, some non-religious statues, sculptures and even abstract art were used as headstones. Nowhere else in Europe have we seen such creativity in the expression of the life of the person buried there.  Life was probably more sophisticated than we would otherwise have thought back two hundred years ago and more.

We spent 5 days in Prague and felt we got to know the old (UNESCO World Heritage preserved) areas well.

Daniella: Addendum to Life in Novi Sad, October 17

Daniella: Addendum to Life in Novi  Sad, October 17

One of the things I wanted to do on this trip was to look at the Jewish community births and deaths registry to find information about my family. For generations, Jews in Novi Sad registered births in the community registry. Although this is no longer done, I found some information in the archives stored on CDs together with other community documents. It turns out that while my maternal grandmother and her 7 siblings lived in the city, most of the members of the family I know of were born somewhere else.

It was an emotional moment when I found my mother’s registration, as well as that of her sister’s, who was born 6 years after her. The registration gave date of birth, their given name, their Jewish name, parents’ Jewish and non Jewish name, and parents’ place of birth. My father’s parents did not register him with the Jewish community. Too bad, because I don’t know my paternal grandmother’s Jewish name.  Also, not many of my family members died and were buried in Novi Sad. Only one is buried in the cemetery, my paternal great grandmother, and my maternal great grandmother is mentioned on the monument erected to commemorate those who were shot and thrown into the Danube in 1943. Others perished in concentration camps or moved away.

 

Novi Sad plus

Life in Novi Sad October 16 to 22: Bernard

Our train ride from Zagreb to Novi Sad was eventful in that our train left 4 hours late. The thing was, Zagreb is modern in many ways and one of those ways is digital billboards announcing what trains are going where and on what track. Our train was to leave at 11:10 AM, according to the digital board. We didn’t know the word for “track” so we stopped by Information to find that out. The woman told us the train would be 2 hours 10 minutes late, but the board did not say that. No matter, that is what it is. The board never did change, but the train didn’t come at 11:10. At 13:20 the train was supposed to go to Belgrade, according to the woman at Information, but when we climbed aboard and tried to confirm with the conductor, he said no, it would not go to Serbia. Without dragging out this story too long, we got to Novi Sad about 5 hours after the original time schedule. Good thing we are not in a hurry.  We are on holiday! (D: During the wait we practically became best friends with the info lady, checking with her, confirming, reconfirming, and plain making sure that we get on the train that will take us over the border.)

The next week or so we spent time in and around Novi Sad. The more we are here, the more we are getting the feel for life in this city. Before we left Canada, Daniella said that she wanted to live like people here live, and in many ways we are doing just that. We have an apartment so we bought buckets and mops and cleaning materials in the market; we shop at the market for food and we set up a dial up internet connection. For cleaning things, say a broom, in Novi Sad one can either go to one of the outdoor markets and buy a plastic broom for 180 dinar ($3) or go to the very fancy Mercator Shopping Centre and buy what appears to me to the be the same broom for 529 dinar. It depends on where you want to shop. We found a North American style small supermarket near our apartment where we buy most of our food. Many things are cheaper than what we are used to, and very cheap by European standards. But big items and luxury items are heavily taxed, so they are more expensive.  The coffee shops are full, and the restaurants always have patrons and prices for just a coffee or just basics are cheap but nice restaurants cost similar to what we are used to.

Have you ever spent time in a second world country and tried to feel what life is like? I did it in 1978 when I moved to Israel for a year. This is different. Serbia is now one of the poorest European countries, with the average salary being something under 300 Euro a month. That is $410 Cdn, about 10% of the richer European countries. It is really hard to know how people make it here. Because Serbia is relatively small, they need to import many products. I mentioned earlier how old most cars are. Along with that goes punctured or non-existent mufflers, so many cars sound like Harley Davidsons as they ”roar” past, even if they are small, weak cars puttering along. We see cars abandoned on the streets. It seems every house has a dog, and there are lots of dogs just roaming and scavenging in various areas, particularly by the river Danube. Dogs wake us up at night as they bark at everything that moves at all hours. Every morning but Sunday cars and trucks start driving past at about 6 AM, and that starts the cacophony. The cars and trucks have either no pollution control devices or have disabled theirs, so smoke spews out and the trucks are particularly noxious to be behind or near.

About half the population smokes. Every bar, restaurant, home, office is full of smoke. There is no area that is truly “no smoking”, although some sporadic signs do exist. Speaking of signs, some are in Cyrillic, some in Latin letters, some both. In some areas signs are also in Hungarian, in some Italian is the second language. It is rare to have English anywhere; they just don’t have any need for it yet. Daniella is good at reading the Serbian in Latin letters, but the Cyrillic needs a Masters Degree.

There is graffiti on every wall, colourful, mostly in Serbian but also other languages. Most of the graffiti is not swearing, it is someone with a can of spray paint (or several cans of different colours) with something to say. Some of it could even be stretched to be called art, but not much.

Things go wrong. Mirko’s choir went to Sombor, a town less than 2 hours away, by bus Sunday to take part in a concert. It was less than 5 degrees outside and the bus heating did not function. The choir froze on their way down. The choir had threatened to take the regular bus line and not to pay the chartered bus. Miraculously, it got fixed, although the bus did not move from its parked spot during the 6 hours in Sombor. Twice we have seen cars go the wrong way on one way streets, not accidentally. When things go wrong, people shrug their shoulders and say “Serbia” as if that were the answer to any issue. It seems to be. And somehow, despite going wrong initially, things seem to work out in the end. They certainly have for us.

Despite that, we drink the tap water everywhere and have had no problem. Buses are regular and taxis are plentiful and cheap. Food is good and organic (they cannot afford chemical agents). People are helpful where they can be. We just cannot figure out how they make it in this crazy place.

 

Excursion to Bačka Topola: Daniella

My paternal grandmother lived her last years in a small town north of Novi Sad, where she was born. I had visited her there in 1972, a year before she died. I do not remember much from that visit, except that it was not a modern place. When I visited her, she wanted me to take a large and heavy crystal vase with me. Being young, I did not develop any feelings for crystal, and did not appreciate the vase. I could not see myself carrying it on the plane with me, with a whole day stopover in Athens, and did not take it.

Now I wanted to visit this town, and see my grandmother’s grave. Unfortunately, the family here did not remember her  last house address, or where she was buried. We set forth on our journey, and found Bačka Topola to be a town which was not so small, with a museum, a town centre, and two cemeteries. At the museum we also found that there was a Jewish cemetery in Bačka Topola. Even though I knew my grandmother was not in the Jewish cemetery, we visited there. The cemetery was not very small, but was much neglected. At the gate there was a small, empty, dilapidated chapel.  On one of the walls there was a large stone plaque for the victims of the Holocaust. Among the names I found my great grandfather’s name, Ŝimon Vajs (Weiss), and that of his brother Herman. I had had no idea when they died. I recognized another name or two of some distant relatives.  Another plaque on the opposite wall was from 1938, naming people who donated money to renovate the chapel. All the graves at the cemetery were among weeds waist high and wet from the morning’s rain, so we could not go around and look at them, as much as I wanted to.  The graves close to the entrance were from the 1940s, no later. I wonder how many Jews were left there after the war and 1948, when many left for Israel.

We then checked the 2 non-Jewish cemeteries in town. To my chagrin, we did not find my grandmother’s grave. The cemeteries were large, the wind was bitter cold, and we did not see any graves which did not have a cross on them, that is, a Jewish area. But I am left with a picture in my mind of the town and the cemeteries.

The vase came back to me, because my mother’s cousin has had it in his house for the last 34 years. This time I will carry it, as heavy as it is, on the plane. It is lucky we have only one change in Frankfurt. Together with a pair of earrings and a matching ring, this is the only inheritance I have.

From Bačka Topota we drove to Subotica, a city on the Hungarian border. The road signs came in triplets: the top one in Cyrillic, the middle in Latin, and the bottom in Hungarian with the Hungarian name which is usually different from the Serbian name. We found the “centar” (tsentar) and parked, looking on the map for the synagogue which is famous for its beauty. You can google Subotica synagogue, and find it easily. Lo and behold, we found ourselves parked 50 meters from it. It is run down, but you can see how in its glory days it was very impressive.

The center of town is a pedestrian mall, attractive and inviting. We walked around enjoying the middle European architecture. We had excellent grilled trout at a restaurant. I still do not have to resort to chicken, as I expected I would. It is quite easy to find fish or vegetarian food even out of the main cities.

I am not sure if I am sorry or not that I am not forced to eat chicken paprikaŝ, and enjoy a culinary walk down memory lane. I did have palačinka (local crepe), which my grandmother used to make,  and another dessert which looks like clouds floating in a yellow soup. Needless to say, it is not good for anybody’s cholesterol. As well, several times we bought on the street roasted chestnuts, to honour my mother’s fond childhood memories, and because they are so tasty.

Tomorrow we are off to Prague, hoping to get away from the rain which has plagued us for the last two days.

 

 

The Adriatic Coast

October 11 – 15 The Adriatic Coast

Thursday we decided to see Istria. We drove along good but narrow roads to a town at the top of a hill called Groznjan, a medieval town which now has an artists’ colony. Very picturesque, very lovely narrow cobblestone streets and houses built in the 16^th century and later. The whole town is old, there are no new parts, and in some respects it reminds us of Safed in northern Israel, but not run down. It was a pleasure walking through the town around 10 am, the artists just starting to open their doors.

We then drove to another hilltop town called Motovun, which is also an old city but this one has grown much more and we found it much more touristy and less to our liking. Great views from the walls at the top of the town. Both these towns were 15 to 20 km from the coast. We then drove all the way down to Rovinj, also on the coast but south of Poreč. Rovinj had another wonderful old town and we had lunch and walked around the old town and up the bell tower to get a spectacular view of the Mediterranean.

Here Bernard stopped writing, and is watching soccer: Israel (0) Croatia (1). Daniella is taking over.

Istria is called Istria in Italian and English, and Istra in Croatian. There is a lot of Italian all over the place. In Poreč the street signs are in Croatian and in Italian. Talk of Italian influence, every restaurant is (also) a pizzeria, even if it is a fish or other restaurant.

Language

Since the creation of Yugoslavia after the WW1, the language spoken here was Serbo-Croatian (or Croatian-Serbian, depending where you are from). Since declaring independence in 1991, and more so since the end of the civil war in 1995, the Croats increase the number of words that are different from Serbian. Someone said that maybe 20% of the words are different now. For example, the work for bakery is pekara in Serbia. In Croatia I saw it in at least 3 different ways. I think the Croats are so intent on changing the language that people try to make up words as they go. It seems the Croats put much effort in highlighting the differences. (B: Daniella is a bit worried about using her language because it has a Serbian vocabulary. More later on what the Croats think about Serbia).

For some reason (we should find out why), Serbs adopted the Cyrillic alphabet, and use Cyrillic and Latin alphabet interchangeably. The Croats use only the Latin. In Yugoslavia everyone learned both. Today, the young people in Croatia are clueless when they go to Serbia, which they do out of curiosity, but the older ones are versed on both. Bernard and I began to identify letters, and worked on mastering Cyrillic, partly from survival instinct. However, a week away from practicing and we will have to start from the beginning.

Money

In Serbia, the local currency is dinars, and the exchange rate is about 2 cents to a dinar. In Croatia the currency is kuna, 20 cents to a kuna. In Slovenia they use euros, as well as in Bosnia. But they take kunas, if that is all you have. It is no problem getting money. ATMs are everywhere, and our bank card always works. What does not work is travellers’ cheques. Nobody, but nobody, wants them. We have not tried to see if the bank would take them. Traveller’s cheques are an antiquated system, which ATMs pushed totally out.

Down the coast

Friday, October 12, we left Poreč and drove south. Our hosts recommended a stop in Opatia, next to Rieka, just as we leave the peninsula of Istria. Many buildings in Opatia were built during Austro Hungarian rule, and look quite impressive right on the water’s edge. From there we had a choice of taking the highway, or driving along the water. We chose the road along the coast. Oh, my! It was so winding, with switchback roads, that there were hardly any straight stretches for more than 200 meters. It was slow going, constantly shifting between second, third and fourth gears in our little standard car. Many times the road was right on the edge of the cliff, with no barrier to speak of, only some cement cones 30 cm high, two meters apart. But it was worth the queasy stomach. We passed small villages and towns, with white walls and red roofs climbing onto the slopes, and the clear blue and inviting Mediterranean under them. There were tons of small picturesque coves.

After a picnic lunch on a pier in Stari Grad we decided to take the highway into Split. We got impatient. We wanted to find a hotel and be able to go to the Oneg Shabbat with the Jewish community of Split, which we had learned about in advance. On the highway the speed limit was 130 km/h down to 100 when you go through a tunnel. We were the slowest car on the road, keeping to my 120 km/h (chicken).

Bernard

Israel lost 1-0 to Croatia and was thoroughly outplayed.

We arrived in Split and found a hotel just by looking for a hotel sign. Before coming to Croatia I had never heard of Split, but we found it quite an amazing place. The old town is hopping and renovated and full of life. It also has some stone and mosaics dating back to the Romans because the Emperor in the 4^th century had a palace there. The Romans also built a 6 km aqueduct which is still in use today.

Split Jewish community

We found the Jewish Community and Synagogue through our hosts in Poreč, and joined for an “oneg Shabbat”, where a blessing is made on the wine and candles and bread and people sit around and eat and schmooze. A man in his late 50s, Mr. Altarac (Altaratz), who said he worked as a cameraman for Croatian TV told us the history of the Split community and of the synagogue there. It was fascinating that the community there started in Roman times. The synagogue has been in constant use for about 500 years. These days, they don’t use it often, the community is small and dwindling, and assimilated, and the young here consider themselves Croatian, not Jewish. He felt the community in Split would not last much longer.

The civil war

The cameraman then gave us a personal tour of the old city, he was so fiercely proud of Split and its history. He also talked about the 1991 – 1995 civil war, and clearly the Croats feel very wronged by Serbia and still hold it against them. According to the Croats, the Yugoslav army made up mostly of Serbs attacked Croatian cities and killed thousands with rockets and snipers. In fact in Dubrovnik, the next night, we saw a memorial room with pictures of what Dubrovnik looked like under siege and rocket attack in 1991 and 1992. It looks very different today, full of life and tourists and bustling shops. Only 15 years ago it was dust and lots of rubble around damaged buildings, with everyone hunkered down underground. In short Split is very worth a visit, it is quite like Venice only nicer because it is clean and without stagnant water. I cannot say it is undiscovered because the place was teeming with tourists, but it is not on the tourist scale of Venice or Dubrovnik and it should be. In fact, Venice ruled over most of the Adriatic coast from about 1200 to about 1600, which explains part of the Italian influence here.

Dubrovnik

We drove down the coast 220 km to Dubrovnik, again a beautiful drive on the water in many places. The road is a little scary and in places you need to slow right down. It is not a highway from Split to Dubrovnik, it is a road, and the maximum speed is about 60 for much of it. The drive took 4 hours. We crossed 2 borders (in and out of Bosnia) without getting off the road or seeing anything Bosnian but some gas stations which charged in Euros. In Dubrovnik, we immediately went to the old walled city and walked around on top of the wall. It took an hour and 20 minutes to walk all around, with the wall being up to 6 meters thick in some places but always was at least 2 meters thick. No one was going to bash down this wall. Dubrovnik was a secure Republic for about 400 years, from about 1400 until Napoleon conquered it in 1806. It was therefore economically successful and had great trade and commerce, arts, health services and culture for the first 250 years. The great earthquake of 1667 destroyed much of the prosperity, but the old city stayed intact or was rebuilt. The walk around the walls was one of the highlights of our trip and we took loads of photos. If we ever figure out how to link them to this blog, we will start to do so.

Later we took a walking tour of the old city. Dubrovnik is world famous for a reason, although we are discovering other places that should be ranked almost as highly. Split is one of them.

Daniella

We did the walking tour with a guide and one other couple from New Zealand. After the tour they happened to enter the same restaurant we did, and we had dinner together. These people are formerly British. We found a lot in common and had a lovely time.

Sunday, October 14, 07

This morning we took a bus tour around Dubrovnik and got a better feel for the whole city. It is built on the hills around the old city. I would not want to ride my bike there. They say that the tourist season is almost over, but there were two or three large cruise ships and other smaller ones, on top of several bus tours, etc. Summer in the height of the season must be very, very crowded.

Our original plan was to drive back to Zagreb with a stop in another nature wonder, Plitvice, in one day. After discussing the plans with some locals in Poreč and Split, we decided to split the trip over two days. We left Dubrovnik after the bus tour and got on the coastal road heading north. Lunch in Makarska, another Mediterranean town, and onward north. We got on the auto rout at the first opportunity, this time driving at 130 km/h when possible. One day the highway may get to Dubrovnik. The drive would not be as beautiful but the nerves would be in better shape. Croatian drivers tailgate, they pass in no passing zones, and most of the road is one lane in each direction, so getting behind a slow truck can really slow you down.

At 6:00 we got off the highway at a town with larger letters on the map thinking that larger letters means hotels. We found the only hotel in town easily. It was clean, friendly, and empty except for us. This hotel is a prime example for our general feeling that things work out. There wasn’t another hotel around for 50 kilometres.

Bernard on Plitvička Jezera

Plitvička Jezera is the oldest national park in former Yugoslavia and it means the lakes of Plitvice. At the park we are driven by tram to the top level of a series of lakes. Each little lake or pond is on a level and at the end of the lake the water cascades down waterfalls to the next lake which will be one level down, sometimes 10 meters and sometimes up to 40 meters down. This is a natural phenomenon and it is quite incredible to walk down the wooden paths along the lakeshore to the end of the lake and hear the waterfalls, then round the corner, go down steps and see the waterfalls and next lake. The lakes are crystal clear and cold, with many trout and some ducks swimming freely. The lakes are surrounded by forest, and the October cold wind had turned the leaves colours. It was an amazing sight and we thoroughly enjoyed our 2 hour walk. At the end a little shuttle boat takes us across the last lake to the beginning. Like in Postojna where the stalagmites and stalactites go on and on, Plitvička Jezera had an embarrassment of riches of beautiful waterfalls.

We got on the highway late afternoon and returned to Zagreb, where our hotel is directly across from the train station for easy access tomorrow and back to Novi Sad.