Krakow Understands Freedom

We arrived late in Krakow Saturday evening just in time to check into our hotel and make it to our dinner reservation at a traditional Polish restaurant called Morskie Oko. We were seated in the basement where two parties of large family gatherings were already seated. I ordered perogies and soup, and Paul ordered goulash and we drank some aperitifs while the string ensemble started playing some Polish folk music. The elderly matriarch of one family, complete with a peasant style skirt and colorful scarf on her head, made her way to dance floor to dance to the folk music with the children. We immersed ourselves in the music and good food and enjoyed the company of the Polish families nearby.

The next morning in the market square, we observed that the buildings
were mostly dark and gloomy in Krakow, many of them darkened with age and neglect, maybe even  some of them from the reflection of despair. It has only been since 1981 that Poland was free and not under communist rule. Previous to that, it was oppressed by Hitler's regime. The spirit of the people was far from oppressed. We intended to go to mass at St. Mary's Basilica and we arrived early. The mass from the previous hour was still going on. We would have waited in the church but there was not one empty seat or place to stand. We went back outside and walked around the block and found in just the central market area 22 Catholic churches and each of them had five or six masses on that Sunday morning. We went back to the Basilica as mass was letting out and it was almost impossible to get into the church for the number of people waiting outside to get in. The Polish people had an appreciation for the freedom to go to church. In all the cities I have visited in Europe, Krakow gets the prize for the most church attendance; the church was filled with all ages of devout worshippers. After mass, we visited the altar of Karol Wojtyła, the bishop of Krakow who became Pope John Paul II.

We left the church and walked across the square to Cloth Hall, a market of
handmade goods, Polish dolls and costumes, and pottery. After a few purchases, we stopped to have a Polish beer and lunch and then dropped off our purchases at the hotel before we walked up the hill to Wawel castle. Krakow was the seat of the Polish throne in 1025 and the first coronation of the king took place at Wawel castle. The walk to the castle was a treat, walking through a city park filled with colored leaves and many people strolling. We hiked up the castle and the grounds were amazing, as well as the view over the Vistula (Wisla) River. We considered visiting the inside of the castle and  Leonardo da Vinci's painting Lady with an Ermine, but the lines were long and it was a gorgeous day to be outside. We lingered to watch several newly-married couples walk the grounds to get wedding photos.

We found an Italian restaurant called Trattoria Mamma Mia back by our hotel and ordered Polish wine and an artisan pizza for dinner. This pizza was the best I have ever eaten. The ingredients were fresh, but the crust was exquisite. We didn't expect to find great pizza in Krakow and were pleasantly surprised. We did miss eating with the large families that evening, this night seemed to be older couples and tourists.

The following day was going to be a long one in many respects. We hired a guide to take us to Auschwitz and Birkenau, the concentration camps of World War II just outside of Krakow and then afterwards to the Wieliczka Salt Mines on the outskirts of the city. As a student of World War II having retraced my Dad's steps throughout Europe from his service during the war, I felt I had to go to fully understand the atrocities of the war. I had a patient in the early 1980s who had been a prisoner in Auschwitz and he was ever present on my mind that day. He was a very sweet widowed man who had no children and his sweet approach with those he met stayed with you, in spite of having a Auschwitz tattooed prisoner number on his arm.

The drive to Auschwitz was beyond beautiful. The red

roofs in the valley below blended with the fall foliage in the woods. On the way there, the driver started a movie in the car to give a history of the camp we were about to visit. The movie didn't make it nice. The actual footage of prisoners was shown as well as the remnants of possessions and bodies. What I was viewing inside the car was very different from what I was seeing through the window. It was extremely hard to watch and we approached Auschwitz with a heavy heart and immense sadness.

We walked through the gates recognizing that this place was hell for the prisoners there. We saw photos of the prisoners as they were registered (unless they were killed immediately after they got off the train). They had their possessions taken and their heads shaved and the look in their eyes was extremely fearful. Officially between 1.1 and 1.5 million people died at Auschwitz by the hand of the Nazis. Some people estimate that over 4 million people were killed here. We solemnly walked through the camp, past the gas chambers and furnaces, and the atrocity of what occurred here buried into our hearts. It was impossible to fathom what took place in this camp. We honored the lives that were taken and realized that we stood on Holy ground. Appropriately, this is the end of my travels to study the war.

We drove away and I kept thinking of the many books that I read and of my friend who was a prisoner here. There were some who made it out alive and somehow they managed to go on with their lives. As Elie Wiesel says, "to forget a holocaust is to kill twice". Below is the furnace, the pit where bodies were placed, and memorial for those that died.

We stopped for a snack of perogies and a beer,  and then entered the salt mine on the way home. Wieliczka was started in the 13th century and had continuous mining operations until 2007. Salt prices dropped then and there was flooding in the area, so the mine was shut down and reopened later as a museum. After descending a thousand feet deep, we entered the first of four rooms. The miners were predominantly Catholic and salt statues of religious figures were throughout the passage ways. There was one room containing an altar and masses are said here once a month, and wedding are conducted here as well. 

It was interesting to see the mines, but at the end of the long day, I was glad to leave. The salt mine was interesting but Auschwitz was still on my mind. I wanted to step outside and take in a breath of air. I exhaled and realized that I will never take freedom for granted. Freedom is the oxygen of the soul. 

It's All Right and Good Cheap Beer: Czech-Style

Our trip to Prague was cancelled last summer - we were supposed to cycle from Munich to Prague along the river when our cycling friend's mother died unexpectedly. The city never fell off our adventure list and we decided to squeeze in a quick trip before our move back to the States, this time without the bikes. We arrived with only a few preparations and no expectations - the best way to travel.

Saturday offered us the bluest skies and we used  the 
opportunity to cross the St. Charles Bridge to go see the Prague Castle. First off, the St. Charles bridge was almost a section of the city itself. It is a pedestrian bridge with religious statues along the way spanning the Vltava River. People weren't using it as a means to get from one side of the river to the other, but instead were just hanging out along the bridge, looking at the artist booths, the street performers and enjoying the nice day. We wandered along with them. Eventually we reached the other side and climbed the hill to see the Castle (Prazsky hrad -where the President of the Czech Republic lives) and St. Vitus Cathedral. The inside of the cathedral was mostly closed off, but not before we could appreciate the stained glass windows with the intense sun reflection on the inside. The guards with trumpet and drum patrol changed shifts with much pomp and circumstance. The ceremony to change guards was fun to see, not merely a handing off of the weapons used to guard the Castle.

As we left, we smelled the roasting sausages and decided to pick up some street food while watching the street performers. The brat sausages were to Paul's liking and I noticed that sauerkraut and potatoes were available for vegetarians. Yum! There were many outdoor markets and street musicians also in this vibrant area of town.


We left Castle hill and returned to our hotel on the right bank of the Vltava River, near Old Town Square. It was too glorious to be inside, so we hiked to the Old Town Square to people watch. We came across more food trailers and bought some Trdelnik - a roasted bread pastry that is either covered in sugar and cinnamon or slathered on the inside with Nutella. The smell from the rods of Trdelnik was very satisfying. We realized that we had not eaten at all in a typical restaurant, but had munched on street food all day - very tasty street food.

Sunday we got up early to be on the St. Charles bridge before it was busy to get some photos of the saints on the bridge. We thought we had an appointment for a bicycle tour of the city that morning, but there was a miscommunication with the tour company. We rebooked for the next morning and took the cycling guide's advice on finding some good breweries in the city to take in some inexpensive beer since we had some open time. We also wanted some traditional Czech food so we went to Novomestsky Pivovar for a beer and some Czech food - potato rolls, sausages, pork chops, sauerkraut, and boiled potatoes (for my husband, the meat eater). I had a pretzel with mustard and salad. We left there and considered going to some of the historic breweries on the west side of the river, but decided to halt on the day-drinking to see more of the market square and to be outside. There is a beer called X33 that has an alcohol content of nearly 12%. We also considered going to get some original Budweiser beer (we've had it before - it is truly tasty). We passed on it. The cobblestone streets are very uneven when walking sober, it's seemed dangerous to drink more.

Sunday evening, we bought tickets to a classical music concert with a soprano and string quartet. It was to be held in an old monastery, now converted to concert hall and office building. While we were waiting for the concert to start, a violin player was playing outside the open windows, courting the restaurant patrons outside. The bass player went to the window five minutes prior to start time to call the violinist upstairs so the concert could start. It was a fantastic venue and very nice music, complete with a mix of traditional Czech folk songs.

Monday we started our appointed bike tour, which included a history talk of various points around Prague. We started near the bike shop and saw the Powder Tower, one of the oldest structures that was part of the town wall. The gun powder was stored here to keep it away from the enemy. We pedaled to the Old Town Square at the Astronomical Clock. We waited until it dinged on the hour to see the twelve apostles at the top and the statues perform below as they have for several centuries. We looked around the Square to see the Church of our Lady before Tyn, as well as the original city hall that had been mostly destroyed by the Nazis on their way out of town. The National Gallery, a very unique building, holds a prominent place on the square.

We left the main square and rode down narrower streets to the Jewish Quarter, which for the most part was still in tact from WWII. Hitler decided to use this Jewish neighborhood as a Museum and therefore, most of it was not destroyed during the war. The oldest Jewish temple in Europe is located in this section of town. We crossed the bridge to see a few sites on the west side of the river, but mostly we found ourselves looking back at the view of the East side of the city. We found a couple unique pieces of art along our ride. We were within a block of the Lennon Wall, but our guide seemed to be pressed for time and didn't even mention it. We found Wenceslas Square and heard about the starts of revolutions by the people that have taken place over time, including the Velvet Revolution that started with 20,000 students protesting Communist rule in 1989. The next day there were 500,000 people in the square. Days later the Communist leaders resigned and it was the end of Communism in the Czech Republic after 41 years of control. We arrived back where we started at the bike shop after two hours of cycling. We ate lunch outside near the Municipal House at an active outdoor market to rest and people watch.

After lunch, we immediately went back to the west side of the river to find the Lennon Memorial wall and to figure out where to catch the funicula for our dinner at Nebozizek, on the peak of the Petrin Hill overlooking the city. We found the area where the wall was to be and at first was very disappointed. It was small and the graffiti to memorialize Lennon was not very artistic. There were over 500 locks on a bridge over a small waterway. We were not impressed. We were getting ready to leave, when I looked down an alley and caught a glimpse of the REAL Lennon wall. It would have been terrible to miss this tribute to John Lennon. A lone guitarist was playing "Imagine" as we walked up. I just wanted to be there. It occurred to me that though Lennon had never visited Communist Prague, his pacifism through music touched everyone. The Communist youth dared to paint this wall when Lennon died even though his music was banned by the communist regime.  The art on the wall has evolved over time, but it still seems like a coming together to celebrate not only Lennon, but a celebration of giving peace a chance. I was touched.

We traveled along the river and found out sadly that the funicula to Petrin hill was out of service, which would require a 30 minute uphill climb on our part to get to our dinner reservation for the night. As it started to rain and then became foggy, we decided that dinner back at our hotel sounded better and better. We would be missing the view at the top of Petrin hill anyhow. We dined on beetroot soup, and other Czech delights at our hotel and then returned to our room to log in to watch some of our favorite football teams in America as it rained outside. Yes in Prague as well as the rest of the world, Lennon taught us "whatever gets you through the night . . . it's all right, it's all right".

My Pilgrimage: El Camino de Santiago de Compostela

Last week I completed one hundred miles of the El Camino de Santiago (St. James) de Compostela (campo de estrellas, or “field of stars”). It's called a pilgrimage instead of a hike and millions of pilgrims have completed this journey in the past eight hundred years from various paths near Spain.  Many hike the nearly five hundred miles, starting in France. I heard of this hike while watching the Martin Sheen movie, "The Way". I was intrigued to see if my experience would be similar to the character in the movie. It was a bucket list item for me when I couldn't quit thinking about it after watching the movie. I decided to start in Leon to hike to the Cruz de Ferro (Iron cross) and then commence in O'Cebreiro on a continuous path to Santiago.

I trained for the physical work of hiking one hundred miles by hiking several days in a row of ten plus miles. Was it going to be just a walk in nature or maybe more? I thought I would be doing some thinking in my head, spending time sorting out the big questions in life and try to figure out what comes next for me as I leave Europe. I spent little time prepping for the soul work that I was hoping for,  just noting that I would try to spend mornings alone on the trail and then socialize in the afternoon. I had very little expectations about it.

I also spent much time thinking of what to take with me. I packed

hiking sticks, rain wear, sunhat, hiking clothes, a Camelbak backpack, a number of pairs of socks. I figured out that I could hand wash my hiking clothes every other day in the sink, counting on the quick-dry feature to get me through. I pondered what this pilgrimage really meant to me as I was packing and figuring out what to take in my small bag for the two-week trip. I remembered to take stones with me to leave at the Iron cross. I took three of them for each of my children to ask a blessing for them at the end of the first day at the foot of the cross.

And then off I went. I met my friend Lonna from Texas at the Madrid airport and we got settled in our Madrid hotel where we would meet our group the next day to start.
Our trip was arranged with a company called Fresco Tours (Fresco Tours). They found old Spanish inns and monasteries for us to stay in so that we could avoid the albergues - essentially hostels - along the way. They carried our packs from place to place, requiring that we only carry what we needed for the day. They also provided our meals along the way, making it easy for us to just hike. (I would enthusiasistically recommend Fresco - the service, the hotels, and food were well beyond what I expected).

I met my pilgrim family at the breakfast of our first day. I found out quickly that there were a couple of people from Portland, two from Canada, one from Australia, two from New York, two Southern belles from Louisiana, two from California, and four from Texas. There were three attorneys in the group, a nurse anesthetist, a college administrator, an engineer, a judge, and many that were retired. There was a couple on their honeymoon and two other married couples among us. Everyone was well traveled and seemed to have a joy for life.

Through the discussion in the first few days, I also noticed that not all of group was religious. We started the hike with a mass in Leon at the Basilica San Isidoro and a blessing. The Pilgrim blessing in Jesus' name was "Be for them their companion on the way, their guide at the crossroads, their shelter on the road, their shade in the heat, their light in the darkness, their comfort in the weariness and their resolve in intentions. So that through your guidance they arrive sound at the end of their road, and enriched with grace and virtue, return home healthy and full of worthy virtues." Our group consisted of a Quaker, a couple of yogis, a handful of Catholics (or former Catholics), a southern baptist, some undisclosed denominations, and one person running from God.  But most were seekers of  something bigger or higher, though a few admitted that they were promised good food and drink and just wanted to get some exercise.

I  would have been more comfortable initially if we were all the same religion, coming
from a place where we all  knew the same basic doctrines and prayers. But the Camino provides (Thank you Kim V). It turns out that our differences enriched my soul-searching conversations with my fellow pilgrims. It stretched me to hear the person discuss their lives in a different soul language, often with the same meaning and quest that I had. I was inspired by their stories, their happiness, and life journey. It wasn't about a set or rules, but instead sharing the same questions and being open to the answers. We all had faith and we all experienced the grace of the trail. Each step forward removed me from the stress of the world and drew me more and more into the pilgrim family. I was hungry for a bigger perspective.

The Camino had a giant community of people from around the world and the trail demands that we support each other to answer some basic questions. Who am I? Why
am I here? What do I seek? Who shall I spend my days with? What can I give? And something on the trail breaks down barriers for important discussions in those life stories. People you didn't know before became open to knowing who you are and appreciating the journey you are on (on the Camino and in life). Compassion walked with us.

There were some rock stars on the trail. Our group was taken with Father Derrick, a VERY handsome priest from Ireland, who brought 48 members of his church to the trail to walk their spiritual journey. He had time to converse with whoever came upon his way, answering questions as he could and greeting pilgrims along the way. He was jovial and we looked for his group every day. One mate said he would consider turning Catholic if he could spend time with Father Derrick. I met a man from Maastricht  who started in the Netherlands and had been hiking for three and one-half months. He was very joyous to be so close to Santiago. There was a woman from Minnesota, who temporarily left her husband and five children to walk the whole path. Her husband and children were so proud. Two young girls were walking the wrong way, and I found they had already finished the Camino, but were staying two extra weeks to volunteer at an albergue to help other pilgrims.

There were some angels on the trail too, helping people negotiate stone bridge crossings, giving care to feet with blisters, and even aiding someone who experienced a heart attack. We helped each other with rain gear and lending out extra clothing for the cold.I passed a woman helping a blind man with a leg impairment walk slowly down a hill, negotiating steps treacherously so he wouldn't slip. I was lost one day, having turned wrong after a passport stamp and an older Spanish farm woman squawked at me to say "Camino" and point me in the right direction.  It turned into not just a leisurely walk - it was overflowing with what I was seeking. The Camino had the power to heal, to shift paradigms, to begin peaceful internal work. I examined my part in it.We all were fully present for each other, the biggest gift we had to offer. Step by Step: we could only see ahead 1 arrow at a time.  Step by Step we walked, sharing ourselves and giving out fully. It was the peaceful journey of soul work.

Some days I was alone. I lost the chatter that was usually in my mind
and the chatter of those behind me. I embraced the silence, and the sounds of the trail around me. The birds chirped, the pilgrim delighted, and the wind rustling in the eucalyptus trees drowned out the thoughts in my head. I had most of one day of hiking alone, along the mountain ridge looking out over the valley with fog, sun, the fields of cows waiting to be milked - just me and the path. My feet seemed to not even touch the pavement as I delighted in it. I was a novice, open to the experience and no expectation other than what was presented in the path before me.

I saw an arrow that was curved and seemed to tell me to turn around. I turned around. Then I saw a pair of arrows  curved together,  the head of one pointing to the tail of the other,  making a circle and I laughed as I thought I might be lost, perhaps the trails was telling me that I was. But I twirled in a circle and had not a care in the world. Soon others came along and we continued on our way.

I had some struggles on the path. I left a friend behind who was slower on the first day. I placed my stones at the cross and then found some water, my sandals to change into, and a seat on the bus. She arrived after the group had left and I examined my role as her friend and felt I let her down. Life always brings you to yourself, even if you deny it, hide from it, or make excuses. The Camino facilitated bringing that lesson to me and I learned from it. Everything that comes is part of the journey and magic happens. My God brought that to me. He wasn't out there somewhere, but inside my soul, helping make me what I was created to be, my divine DNA.

We finally reached Santiago and walking into the city as a group was a let-down. We reached our destination and emotionally we felt flat. They say the journey is the most important part. It's best measured in friends, rather than miles completed. Soulful utopic places are never on a map, are they?

 The next day, we toured the city and then entered the Cathedral
in Santiago to prepare for the Pilgrim mass. The mass was in Spanish and most of the group was not Catholic. At the end of the mass, the incense was lit in the large botafumeiro, the famous incense holder in the cathedral. The monks started the swinging and the botafumeiro swung from side to side in the large church as the pipe organ played the closing hymn spreading blessing as it swayed.  We ducked as it moved by us, wondering if this tradition was dangerous as it seemed. I felt filled as I celebrated this closing with my friends. We walked to the line behind the altar and climbed the steps to hug St. James as we looked out over the back of the altar. It doesn't get better than this.

When we arrive back home, we have the choice to stay on a pilgrimage. And how do we do that? I'm having a hard time assimilating my experience on the trail into my real life. Those days on the trail will stay with me forever. I feel changed. But we decide what to bring back with us. I have my certificate of completion of one-hundred miles with my Latin-ized name, my stamped passport, some souvenirs and many memories and photos. I also choose to bring back unconditional acceptance of the person I am and the journey I am taking. And I brought home my new pilgrim friends in my heart.