Author: Amajin

Godolo (pretend there are umlauts over all those “o”s) Palace was a wedding gift to Emperor Franz Josef and Queen Elisabeth, they of the dual monarchy of Austria and Hungary. Elisabeth loved to spend time there and was fluent in Hungarian. Having fallen on hard times, such as WWI, WWII and Soviet occupation, a restoration program has begun to make a real difference and the interior has significant sections open to the public. People of the village managed to hide a substantial number of the furnishings during WWII and brought them out after the Soviets left, meaning that there are original furnishings from the Hapsburgs in Godolo palace (a no photography zone). Violet, Elisabeth’s favorite color, is much in evidence, although she only wore black after her son Rudolf died under suspicious circumstances and was herself assassinated by a publicity seeker in Switzerland. Franz Josef must have wondered about Elisabeth. Her favorite Hungarian poet was a revolutionary dedicated to ouster of the Hapsburg dynasty. During our visit, the Hungarians were commemorating a battle against the Austrians in the 19th century. They lost.

Once again, we find that we must backtrack a bit to correct the record. Returning to the Synagogue, we discovered from our guide Reuben (from, among other places, Queens) that the Synagogue is actually the world’s second largest synagogue (#1 being in NYC). It seats 3500 without extra chairs brought in. It’s a Neologue synagogue, which is the same as (or akin to) Conservative Judaism. The reason it looks so much like a church is that it was designed by a Catholic architect and the city at the time (the 19th century) restricted architectural styles. Reuben let loose his sense of humor to try to explain the difference between Neologue and Orthodox (as a non-observant Jew). [This rabbi walks into a butcher shop and points to the shank of ham behind the counter. I’ll take that nice piece of smoked salmon. But rabbi, that’s a piece of ham. You call it what you like, I’ll take that beautiful gefilte fish.] On a more sober note, we found the memorial tree to Hungarian Jews killed in the Holocaust to be quite evocative. There are 5,000 names engraved on individual metal leaves on The Tree of Life, the willow tree traditionally representing mourning.

We started our city tour in the flat land of Pest, built up in the nineteenth century from a sleepy village, with drive-bys of a number of sites that we later doubled back to visit.

The neo-moorish Great Synangogue, reputed to be the third largest in the world, was closed for a wedding when we ventured there in the afternoon.

We had better luck at St. Stephen’s Basillica which was, as you can see, drop dead beautiful. We went into the attached Holy Right Hand chapel to take a look at (you got it) the late King Stephen’s hand, but you couldn’t see much. King Stephen was the first King of Hungary, crowned with the Pope’s blessing in 1000.

Hero’s Square, built on the Pest side in 1896 as part of the millenial celebration of the Magyar tribes conquering the Carpathian Basin in 896, features the leaders of the seven tribes.

Buda developed much earlier into a city, being hilly and offering a good defensive location for a castle and then a palace. As is the case in much of Europe, the castle area was almost completely destroyed and has been rebuilt, sometimes multiple times. This facade does, however, date from the fourteenth century and has been restored. Must have been colorful neighborhood.

Fifteenth century King Matthias built Our Lady Church, commonly known as Matthias church, after he was imprisoned by his rival for the crown. A raven took his ring to his mother from the prison to assure her that he was still alive. Matthias church has undergone many changes over the centuries, including serving as a mosque during the 150 years of Ottoman rule. Hungarians joke that if the Ottomans stayed for 150 years, the Austrians stayed for 400 years, and the Russians stayed for 50 years, tourists should stay for at least one day longer.

The Fishermen’s Bastion provides a magnificent view over Buda and Pest. The seven towers in Magyar style symbolize the seven founding tribes. It’s King Stephen looking back towards Matthias church. It all makes us wonder if we should change our minds about no longer following Game of Thrones.

Back in Pest, lunch was at DiVin Porcello, Friends of Ham. As you can see, Jim had the Hungarian ham plate and the assorted pickles. It was amazing. The pickles on top on the right seemed to be eggplant. Wow, was that good!

Dinner was at Menza. We both followed goulash soup (a must in Hungary) with roast chicken and beet root risotto. The chicken was perfectly done and who knew to put beets in risotto?

You can’t always trust the first story you hear. Of course, as with many other things, you begin to wonder whether the truth of the story is the important thing anyway. To make a long story reasonably short, your intrepid travelers were surprised to learn from a different source (it seems heartless to say “disappointed” to learn) that the gentlemen defenestrated in the 17th century actually survived their ordeal. Explanations for their survival varied from the miraculous Catholic version involving angels’ wings to the Protestant account emphasizing the very bulky clothes and the glancing drop onto a nice slope and landing in a dung pile. That made us wonder whether this reenactor outside the historic set of windows had done his research.

By the way, the view from the castle and its grounds is very nice indeed. We understand that Ambassador Shirley Temple Black used to enjoy sitting out on the grounds of the US Embassy (see the squarish building on the right with the flag) which shares a comparable view of the city.

The walk down from the castle was certainly better than a walk up.

After a full day of touristing, we took in a performance of the Czech Philharmonic at the Rudolfinum. We enjoyed the concert, although there was some confusion in the seating process and we ended up without a program, which we wouldn’t have been able to read anyway. Especially nice was an encore performed by the guest cello soloist. He enlisted the first chair cello player from the orchestra to perform an unaccompanied duet with him. The exceptionally lively acoustics helped make it an exquisite performance.

Early next morning we were off on a long bus ride through Bohemia and Moravia in the Czech Republic, then Slovakia (split from the Czech Republic in 1993), and finally into Hungary to our destination of Budapest on the Danube. We got reacquainted with the Colonel on our way.

We had a bit of time in the late afternoon and evening to explore the area of Pest around our hotel. It turns out we actually got a room with a nice view of the bridge between Buda and Pest. That’s Buda Palace in the traditional setting at the top of the hill.

After dinner, we walked back along the road leading to the bridge.

Why is Prague so enjoyable to visit? What especially impressed us were the beauty and variety of its architectural styles and vistas, the compactness of the key interesting neighborhoods, and the exceptional friendliness of the people (whose English is pretty decent by international standards).

Among the visual delights of Prague are the graffiti on the John Lennon tribute wall started when he first died and attracting admirers from across the world (maybe you can make out two images of his face to the right of the doorway) and the sgraffiti (the illusion of three dimensions on a wall by applying layers of colored plaster) on a number of buildings in the area of Prague Castle.

Some areas of Prague reminded us of Brussels, with gorgeous Art Nouveau architecture, like this concert hall.

Right next door is the “Powder Tower,” a surviving gate from an old city wall that stored gunpowder for a few years in its storied past.

Whatever architectural style this is, we thought the forcefulness of it was impressive and that it is certainly from the twentieth century, given the gas mask in this sculpure (complete with pigeon spikes):

Indeed, we’ve never seen so much scupture decorating buildings in such a concentrated area as in Prague.

Around every corner, you don’t know what you will encounter. Turn one way and it’s the grandeur of the Hapsburgs at the castle. Venture down another street and you may see the charm of a restaurant courtyard or the spectacular clock at the center of the old town (with an Easter tree around the corner).

The city has, of course, a colorful past. Very few years were spent under the rule of locals, such as good King (actually, Prince) Wenceslas. A truly popular ruler, he was, alas, killed by his brother who took over on his death, although no streets have been named nor monuments erected in his brother’s honor. Here Prince Wenceslas presides once again over his city and Wenceslas Square, scene of most major political events of the last couple of centuries, including the Velvet Revolution in 1989.

There were other traditions for getting rid of rulers in the 15th and 17th centuries, such as throwing people out of windows. That’s where we got the word “defenestration,” i.e. out the old fenestra (Latin for window, of course), for this colorful means of regime change. Was it this window with what looks like a gangplank? No. This facade seems to be one Maria Theresa (grandmother of Marie Antoinette) put over some old architecture that didn’t go well with her decor. You can see the original look in that corner staircase. The windows through which history changed seem to have been on the other side of the castle so that the unfortunate dignitaries at least had a good view of the city on the way down.

Keeping to the theme of grisly ends, the tradition is to touch the statue of St. John of Nepomuck to ensure a return visit to Prague. St. John actually wasn’t very lucky. After he refused to divulge the secrets of the confessional under torture (it was the Queen he was protecting), his tongue was cut out and he was thrown from St Charles bridge. Coincidentally, that’s where you’ll find his statue, rubbed bright by all of those eager hands.

Dispersion of Sound Waves in Ice Sheets

Reflecting on our recent trip to Japan, we felt there were a few things worth sharing that hadn’t made it into a posting. Read on.

On Actually Wearing a Kimono

Going to our fitting at the local kimono shop, I had no idea what wearing a kimono actually involved.

When I arrived at the venue, the owner of the kimono rental shop met me with three attendants from the venue. Starting with a t-shirt and leggings, they proceeded to wrap four thin white hand towels around my neck and waist, secured in place with surgical tape. Next came a kimono style slip secured with a plain sash. It was pretty tight, but when asked while sucking in my stomach, I assured them that it was fine. Next came the kimono I selected. (I had chosen one with bright red accents. Of course, I was later told that it was a kimono for a younger woman, but I wore it well.)

The kimono was hiked up in the back, then secured in place with another plain sash. This time I mentioned that maybe it was a little too tight, but was told that that particular sash was an important one. So, I sucked it in a little more. The final touch was the obi sash. A stiff piece of cardboard was concealed in the fold in the front and there was a little pillow under the knot in the back. It took two attendants, pulling and pushing, to get the whole thing in place. With perfect posture guaranteed and walking limited to dainty small steps, I was ready to go. There was one more thing the kimono owner needed to tell me: what I needed to do if I had to go to the bathroom. With that explanation, I decided that I just wouldn’t need to go.

I did feel glamorous and, in spite of the discomfort and giggles from some of the Japanese people at the venue (not at our party), it is something I am glad I did.

The Up-do

The owner of the kimono rental shop diplomatically let me know that my short wavy hair wasn’t going to work with the kimono and asked whether or not I would let the attendants at the venue style, and therefore touch, my hair. I assured her that it was all good. The hairdresser worked her magic, first with hot rollers, then teasing and securing my hair in place with a lot of bobby pins and hair spray. I was amazed at the result; I looked like I had long hair put up in an elegant up-do. My curly hair was tamed, but afterwards it took two washings to get all of the hair spray out.

Thinking about Toilets

It’s something all of us need for at least a once-a-day engagement. And, the toilets in Japan are not a straightforward subject. They are found at two extremes, the ultra-modern and the bare minimum. The ultra-modern or “western” toilets go beyond the standard two flushing options to include heated seats, a bidet feature, a derriere washing option, a deodorizer spray and a sound option that runs water to mask any bodily sounds. The guidebook we consulted cautions: do not get up until the water stops. An in-home version of this toilet can also include a small sink above the tank doing double duty as water flows for hand washing and then drains to fill the tank for the next flush. At the other extreme is what the guides on our trip to Russia referred to as a Japanese toilet. It is a porcelain trough in the floor with a flushing option. It was my experience that in public restrooms, Japanese style toilets outnumbered “western” toilets even in recently constructed buildings. Remember my quick resolve to avoid the need for a toilet while wearing a kimono? Use your imagination, but since all ages use this form of toilet, their legs will remain fit (it’s a “two step” in other parts of the world). In either case, the public restrooms were consistently very clean wherever we went (even at McDonald’s) , and free (unlike, for example, France). Generally there were no paper towels and only feeble, if at all, electric hand dryers, so women carry a small hand cloth in their purses, terry on one side and a marvelous Japanese print on the other.

Japanese – Language Lessons

First of all, it ain’t easy. Learning a few Japanese phrases (enough to behave somewhat politely, but not actually communicate with anyone) isn’t all that difficult. The sounds you need to make are pretty straightforward, at least to the point where listeners think they know what you’ve just tried to say. However, reading the language is insanely difficult. We have immense respect for Kyle and the undertaking on which he has embarked to become not only a proficient speaker, but a reasonably literate person in Japanese.

If you count Arabic numerals separately, English speakers use two writing systems: Roman letters and Arabic numerals. Counted the same way, speakers of Japanese use five. Fortunately for us, they use Arabic numerals. They also use Roman letters when throwing odd bits of often nonsensical English or other European phrases into signage or onto clothing. A way of writing syllables called Hiragana is used to write traditional Japanese words and it’s the system that kids start out learning in school. A different way of writing syllables called Katakana is used to write words that have been borrowed from other languages. Can you imagine using a different alphabet to write words in English that were derived from French, Latin or Greek? Then there is a completely different set of symbols that don’t represent syllables, they represent ideas. To write Japanese you need to master a set of symbols called Kanji that were derived from Chinese writing. In order to be literate, you need to be able to recognize and write over 2,000 of them. Moreover, they are quite important and enable you to distinguish between different ideas that sound the same and are written the same if rendered in Hiragana.

Kanji are also ubiquitous. Having studied a bit of Hiragana to help us sort out signage while traveling on our own, we were dismayed on the ride into Tokyo from Narita airport when we noticed that “Tokyo” was written on the highway signs in Kanji, not in Hiragana. Interestingly enough, on the local trains the writing indicating the names of stops is first in Kanji (large and prominent) with smaller writing adjacent for those not fluent in Japanese in Roman letters and in Hiragana. So, if you are a young school child who hasn’t mastered sufficient Kanji yet, you can make out your stop in Hiragana.

Getting Around in Japan

We saw quite a few young school children (early elementary school) riding the trains either in small groups or completely alone. This says two things about Japan. First, it is a very safe country where parents don’t hesitate to allow young children to go about on their own. And, it has a very reliable and comprehensive public transportation system.

Other than recognizing that we frightened little children whenever they spotted us and attracted the curiosity of young and old alike, we felt very comfortable making our way around both Tokyo and the Osaka/Kyoto area. Most people were very courteous and friendly. Quite a few were indifferent, but no one was unfriendly or at all hostile (something that can’t be said about traveling in quite a few countries).

It’s finding a building, however, that can make getting where you want to go a challenge. We discovered this when looking for specific stores or galleries when someone had not drawn us a map. Japanese people also find it to be challenging. The reason? Rather than identify buildings by the street or road on which they are situated and then by sequential numbers from one end of the street to the other, the Japanese have a totally different system for identifying buildings. Often, in our experience, the basic starting point isn’t a street, but a neighborhood. Then, starting with that street or neighborhood, there are sectors that are numbered in the order they were developed and then another set of numbers that identify the buildings in that sector by reference to when they were built. So, “3” refers to the third building constructed. Obviously, they aren’t going to be in any particular order walking down the street. So, the best thing to do is use your smart phone to find a website (in English) that has a map, i.e. use GPS (although your usual map program may take you in the wrong direction).

Another thing we discovered was that a well-meaning hotel clerk can send you on an impossible errand. One of the clerks at our hotel in Tokyo (which we loved) was kind enough to give us directions to a very good katsu restaurant. The problem was that he wrote the name of the restaurant in Roman letters. The restaurant didn’t have any signage in Roman letters, only in Kanji. We went up and down the street, trying to figure out which restaurant we were looking for. We asked passersby. No one could figure it out. Finally, we went into a likely looking place and asked if it was the place we were looking for. No, but a customer at the restaurant was consulted and he left his table and walked us down the street to the restaurant that had been recommended to us (and that we thoroughly enjoyed).

Finally, the streets themselves are consistently much more narrow than anywhere we’ve been. Having lived for a time in Europe, a number of two-way streets in Japan would be designated as pedestrian zones in Europe. One close to where we were staying was so narrow taxi drivers were unwilling to drive down it. Some were defined by steep, straight-edged gutters on one side or both. We were cautious walking in those streets and can’t imagine driving on them. A key difference with Europe is that there the insanely narrow streets are from the Middle Ages. In Japan, they are from the latter half of the twentieth century.

Our final visit to a World Heritage Site during our first family trip to Japan was to the town of Uji and the Byodoin temple. (We don’t think we’re quite ready to drive in Japan. The roads are extremely narrow and most signage is, to us, unreadable.) There are a number of compelling reasons for visiting Byodoin. In its modern underground Treasure House are some magnificent National Treasures. The most interesting (among many interesting treasures) were the Worshipping Bodhisattvas on Clouds. In Pure Land Buddhism, Bodhisattvas help in attaining buddhahood or perfect enlightenment. The 52 Worshipping Bodhisattvas on Clouds are the only surviving group of Buddhist statues from the 11th century. About half of them are playing a variety of musical instruments. Copies are being sculpted of them so that they may be touched by the faithful and fulfill their mission of allowing people to create a connection with the divine. Another reason to visit Uji is to see the building that graces the 10 yen coin, the Phoenix Hall at Byodoin.

It was Day Two and there was a lot more of Kyoto out there to be explored. Once again, we had the help of our guide Hiroe.

The first stop was Sanjusangen-do, a temple founded in the 12th century with the principle building long enough (120 meters) to boast an annual archery tournament alongside the building. But, it’s what’s inside this building that truly impresses and requires the exceptional length to house. Indeed, Sanjusangen refers to the 33 expanses between columns that comprise that expanse. Flanking a large Kannon with 11 heads and 42 arms (1000 arms when the extra arms are multiplied by the 25 planes of existence) are 1000 human size thousand-armed Kannon, 500 on either side.

On a more intimate scale, we joined a tea master for a tea ceremony and a lesson in the basics of preparing the tea with green tea matcha. The whisking required to make it properly was a lot more difficult than we expected. All of us needed help from the tea master.

We made our way through the Higashiyama District, up the winding approach and into the grounds of the Kiyomizudera temple with its enormous wooden balconies overlooking the landscape below. Drawn since the 8th century by the waters flowing from the Otowa waterfall, visitors drink from cups mounted on long poles from three streams each said to have a different benefit: longevity, success in school and a good love life (naturally). Back in the Edo period (prior to the Meiji Restoration), there was a tradition of jumping the 13 meters off the balconies to assure the granting of a wish. Surprisingly, some 85% of the 234 who jumped during the Edo period survived. There is no record of the percentage of wish fulfillment. Jumping is no longer permitted.

After a nice lunch of buckwheat every way imaginable, including (of course) in soba noodles, we headed out again and saw two familiar sights in tourist areas: young women touring in kimonos and young men offering rickshaw rides. Actually, we saw a fair number of people in rickshaws, especially where there was a steep paved path leading to an attraction.

Another retreat for a retiring shogun is Ginkakuji, turned into a temple after the death of Ashikaga Yoshimasa, the eighth Muromachi shogun and grandson of Ashikaga Yoshimitsu who built the Golden Pavillion. There are a number of suggestions of why it is now known as the Silver Pavillion. One is that he intended to cover it with silver, but it remained incompleted. Another is that the original shiny black lacquer, reflected in the pond, created a silvery appearance. Well, it is rather nice and the gardens are quite beautiful. The sand garden reportedly portraying waves and Mount Fuji as a moon viewing platform, however, suffered from the crowds swarming past it. Yoshimasa was a significant figure because his shogunate was blessed by a great flowering of traditional culture known as the Higashiyama Culture, during which there were important cultural advances in the tea ceremony, Noh theater, flower arranging, poetry, architecture and landscape design (which certainly shows here at Ginkakuji).

Although a very large and bustling modern city, Kyoto and its environs are filled with very significant (and fascinating) historical and cultural sites, most of which seem to be World Heritage Sites. Our first day in Kyoto with our guide from Osaka was a full one.

Among many interesting features were the so-called “nightingale” floors (tweet, tweet) around the wooden castle’s perimeter. They were designed with metal nails underneath to squeak as a warning of Ninja attack.

We next headed to Kinkaku-ji, a temple in a Golden Pavillion.

Built at the end of the 14th century, the Golden Pavillion has gold leaf over lacquer covering the exterior of the top two floors. Each floor represents a different style, with the first level in the style of the 11th century imperial aristocracy (more traditional, if you will), the second in the style of the warrior aristocracy and the top level in a Chinese style.

Ashikaga Yoshimitsu was a shogun during the Marumachi era (early 14th to late 16th centuries) and created the buildings and garden to represent “the Pure Land of Buddha in this world.” Among other things, the Shogun used the Pavillion as a guest house for the Emperor. According to his wishes, his son converted it into a temple on his death.

Medieval Jizo statues are a protection for travelers, children and the weak.

Sekka tei teahouse, sitting well above the Pavillion, is another embodiment of wabi sabi.

Close by the teahouse is Fudo-do temple where the main image for worship is Fudo myoo, a deity who transmits the teachings of the Buddha, battles evil, and helps the recently deceased become buddhas.

We jumped back in our van and headed for Ryoan-ji, a mid15th century temple with a famous rock garden. With our mid-November through early December visit timed perfectly to the peak of the fall foliage season in Kyoto, we became more and more amazed at the wild range of color afforded by the leaves. It was quite stunning.

The arrangement of 15 rocks is such that all 15 can never be seen from one vantage point. After contemplating them for a while, we came to appreciate why the garden is so highly regarded as a place of meditation and why Queen Elizabeth was reportedly so taken with it when she visited some long time ago.

Persimmon trees are everywhere in the region and were ready to be picked. It’s a very popular fruit. One variety is eaten fresh and another is strung up to dry with a cord to sweeten more. Kyle and Ai had a strand of persimmons hanging on the balcony back at the apartment.

The Miho Museum in Shiga Prefecture is well worth the ride out there to see. The museum was designed by I.M. Pei to house the private collection of the founder of the Shumei religion, Mrs. Mihoko Koyama (known as “Miho”). You take a little tram through a hill from the reception area and across a small ravine. 80% of the museum is underground out of respect for nature (an emphasis of Shumei). Of course, to build it underground, the entire hill in which it has been placed was removed and put back after construction. The entrance area affords a view of the Shumei headquarters and a belltower. The collection is a tight overview of artifacts of the ancient world from not only Japan, but also Egypt, West Asia, Greece, Rome, South Asia, China and Islam. The modest size of the museum and attractive display make it an enjoyable place to visit. Photography is not permitted in the galleries, but you can find more photos and info at miho.or.jp, including on the medieval Japanese lacquerware exhibit on show during our visit.