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.