I'm Dreaming of a White Easter

Eat all day we love. Not only is this the name of our blog, but (un)coincidentally it is also the mantra of our trip. And never has this mantra been so significant as it was at this stage of our journey; Easter 2012 in Dzierzoniow, Poland.

The significance and buzz surrounding Easter in Europe had already started infecting us a couple of weeks prior to the big day. The town squares of Prague and Krakow were filled with bustling market stalls selling everything from sizzling fresh kielbasas (Polish sausage) to ornately decorated eggs. Easter monuments adorned the area, and there was a palpable feeling of excitement amongst the townsfolk, akin to the hype associated with Christmas in Australia. All in celebration and anticipation of this special occasion. A stark contrast to the horribly commercialised 'spirit' of Easter which dominates Australian culture. 

 

 We woke up on Easter morning to find that the streets outside were blanketed in snow. Trees, benches and cars were all frosted with this powdery white layer. For us an Easter miracle. Needless to say, Jay and I were probably the only two people in Poland thrilled at the sight, given that for the rest of the population Spring was already overdue by two months.

Instead of waking up to an Easter Egg hunt as is tradition with my family in Melbourne, we all got dressed and ready for church. Rugged up in our winter woollies, we made our way to the local town parish. Jay was absolutely beside himself that it was snowing, and released his excitement by throwing snowballs at me the entire way there. This led to my uncle declaring Jay a hooligan as snowballs flew past me and dodged the local townspeople.

Upon returning home, we were served a traditional Easter morning breakfast. My aunty had been preparing food the entire previous day, so our tummies were eagerly anticipating the feast she had in stall for us. The first item on the menu; white barscht soup. Made up of a dill and sour-cream broth and filled with white kielbasa, potato and carrots, this was a refreshing change to the usual bacon-and-eggs breakfast served on Easter morning at home. Though the soup itself did not look too appealing to the eye, the mellow meatiness of the boiled kielbasa complimented the acerbic flavour of the stock delightfully, and eaten together with rye bread it made for a deliciously hearty start to our frosty Easter morning. That tasty main was followed by an even tastier cake my aunty had made; a scrumptious caramel, cream and biscuit concoction. And that was only the beginning.

This is what followed: delicate-to-the-point-of-melting slow-cooked beef served with home-made mushroom gravy, potatoes and salad; salatka, a traditional Polish salad made up of various vegetables cooked and diced, with a dressing of mayonnaise and mustard; bread, hams, and salamis-a-plenty; not to mention the plethora of sweets and cakes which were on offer too. My aunty did not stop bringing food out the entire day, and just as you probably struggled to keep up with the list of delicacies I just described, by 2pm our stomachs were also struggling to keep up with this superfluous amount of food my aunty had been working so hard to prepare.

Most importantly of all, the day was filled with plenty of family, laughter, and exchanging of stories. Various family and friends were coming and going all day, and not surprisingly there was plenty of food to accommodate everyone. Spending this special day with my relatives for the first time together with Jay was so wonderful and heart-warming, and I cannot thank my beautiful family enough for making Easter 2012 such a memorable one for me! 

Auschwitz & Birkenau

Sitting on the crowded bus to Auschwitz I felt alone as I wondered if I was the only person conjuring up images of the Jews making their own journeys to Auschwitz some 60 years ago. I would later find out that the naïve feeling of 'crowded' I felt in the bus was nothing compared to the hypoxic and disgusting conditions that the unwilling prisoners suffered. I was the lucky one, venturing to Auschwitz knowing what my journey entailed and with the comfort of awarm bed and food aplenty on my return. Unlike the men, boys, women and children who would never know they were essentially on death row, literally edging closer second by second to the end of their lives. 

Auschwitz, a deep and forever painful scar on the UNESCO world heritage list, was firstly an extermination camp and secondly a concentration camp. Not just a faceless Germanic word, Auschwitz was nefariously constructed with the sole purpose to rid Europe of Jews. The most iniquitous case of anti-Semitism and the site of the worst holocaust that history has ever witnessed.

These human beings; brothers, sisters, fathers, mothers, daughters and sons all exterminated had faces, aspirations, families and hopes. They were neighbours. They were colleagues. They were friends, even best friends. They were innocent bystanders and had it not been for their lineage, they were executed at the behest of the detestable Nazis. Aside from bloodline, they really were no different from you, or I. They yearned for a better future, lived through love & supportand when times where tough survived on hope alone. The tyranny that took place at Auschwitz was both ruthless in its discrimination and atrocious at the indiscriminate mass murder of the prisoners. 

We sight the unmistakable symbol of Auschwitz, the archway with the doctrine 'Workwill set you free.' Later this would prove to be the first sign of the deception that pervaded the camp and underpinned the regime at Auschwitz. It's hard to pinpoint which emotion prevails; abhorrence at the sheer brutality of the Nazis or deep sadness and compassion at the pure suffering of the prisoners, the fortunate ones. The ones who were selected not to be immediately executed after they stepped off the train. 

Assisted by our knowledgeable guide we slowly come to terms with the conditions the prisoners barely survived in. The strongest feeling of helplessness and hopelessness I've ever experienced overcomes me and is only exacerbated as we are led past an entire room full of human hair. We follow this up with rooms upon rooms of personal effects; shoes, bags, toothbrushes, clothes. Each and every item with a story, with an active former life. Feeling disconnected from these stories, I stopped at a pair shoes. Although worn and soiled beyond anything we would endure today, they were a tangible reminder of the harsh conditions past. I willed myself to imagine a life once lived, experiences outside of Auschwitz. Experiences like happiness, feelings of content, excitement. I pictured the shoes being purchased, their shine no doubt equal to the grin of their new owner. A Man. I pictured the Man lacing the shoes up each morning, polishing them - initially weekly with much attention to detail. But later not all as the shoes begin to show signs of ageing. Momentarily I manage a small smile as I imagine the Man getting annoyed at the first timethe shoes get dirty. A feeling I've experienced myself. My mind skips back to reality, the worn and dead shoes before me. They've had a normal life, they were young, perfect and cared for before becoming old, albeit vastly experienced, worn and discarded. That’s more than can be said of the Man who owned them. Stripped naked both physically and metaphorically before being murdered. 

Shortly afterwards we are asked to turn our cameras off and informed that we are about to enter a gas chamber. A small group of us enter and exit the chamberin complete silence a dramatic contrast to the terrifying and utterly chaotic scenes that over 1 million Jews suffered as they literally gasped for their final breaths of air.

Unlike the prisoners and souls at Auschwitz, I entered Auschwitz voluntarily and left at my own will. As I left, I craned my neck upwards and cast my eyes at the gate as I passed beneath it and reminded myself of the events that passed and the faces and lives of the individuals that were wasted. Fittingly Auschwitz is now a place of reverence, reflection and silence. Forever a peaceful place with a tortured past.

Oh Beer*

*Grandmothers, you are not allowed to read  paragraphs 2 & 3 respectively. I appreciate your co-operation.

We boarded a twin engine, propeller propped plane, said goodbye to the land of blue and yellow, whipped out Lonely Planet, Julia's comprehensive (seriously) home-made (truly) Europe travel guide and began planning our sojourn to Copenhagen. According to the pilot we had 55 minutes - plenty of time to conjure up some form of itinerary.

After navigating through the red light district; avoiding eye contact with the disturbing number of prostitutes, being slightly impressed at the sheer variety of dildos available and vicariously learning how to buy drugs in Copenhagen we arrived at our hostel. Fortunately there was a buffet breakfast that would rival that of any 5 star hotel. Unfortunately aforementioned dildo and drug availability merely involved crossing our street. 

So much BUN!

In search of typical Danish fare and some local Carlsberg beer we arrived at a quaint, candle light and very intimate restaurant. Fortunately, the restaurant itself was literally 100m from our hostel. And when you’re staying in the red light district this proximity is particularly convenient. What we hadn’t been in of searching was a table next to a group of American physicians/scientists passionately debating the best treatment approach to sexually transmitted diseases. Notoriously loud and outspoken, these Americans didn’t disappoint and loudly declared, among a host of other things, 'PICTURE THIS, THE WALLS OF THE VAGINA SO DRY AND CRUSTED, LATHER THEM UP WITH SOME KY GEL....', one particular fellow obviously had a particular liking for the 'walls of the vagina' and really went to great lengths to get his numerous points across. Meanwhile, not known for my ability to conceal my laughter, I spent the best part of 10 minutes with my mouth firmly covered by my left bicep. Julia on the other hand was the reluctant recipient of a free and impromptu sexual health consultation. On the way back to our hostel our night was topped off when we walked past a hotel room at street level with the window wide open with full view of the plasma TV playing no doubt freshly purchased hardcore pornography. Jay in hysterics and the innocent Julia cussing under her breath. 

Considered the bike capital of the world, Copenhagen is a great place for a cycling enthusiast like myself. Its also a terrible place for a relatively inexperienced rider like Julia. As the numbers of cyclist are so large, there are also quite high standards and expectations in terms of; bike handling, etiquette and road rules. This is on top of having to read a map, digest Danish street signs and did I mention having to ride on the other side of the road!!!! Myself a relatively experienced cyclist and commuter found the going pretty tough, for Julia it was a nightmare. You look left instead of right, you turn corners erroneously and near misses were alarmingly frequent. Needless to say for poor Julia it was quite a tough introduction to cycling and my earlier speech about Copenhagen 'being the best place in the world to learn how to ride on busy roads' was some way off the mark and slightly naïve. Still it was impressive to see, there are traffic lights for bike lanes, cars will give way to bikes and there is a palpable understanding between cars, pedestrians, and cyclists. Really a cycling utopia.

 

Watch the road Julia!!!!!

I’m developing quite a penchant for beer. In Australia I've always felt that our 'beer culture,' is anything but cultured, overtly try hard and exaggerated ad nausea. Which is why I've grown to enjoy the more honest approach to beer in Europe. Infact it's so engrained in their culture and traditions that there is no approach - Its beer for beers sake, simple. So with my new found thirst for beer, the map and directions safely in my hands, Julia was surprised when we ended up at the Carlsberg beer factory. A veritable, insightful and aesthetically impres...blah blah blah - who cares! The fresh beer, straight from the factory will forever go down as one of the best glasses of beer I've ever consumed and for me one of the highlights of the trip so far. 

'You'll never walk alone!'

An unmistakeable and unjustly revered icon in Copenhagen is the Little Mermaid. It's common knowledge that this popular tourist attraction is a major disappointment and nothing more than a human sized sculpture of a mermaid. Which ironically is one of its attractions. I was very eager to see just how bad this stupid statue could be. Julia on the other hand was playing up the 'girly' stereotype and was unashamedly excited. So with vastly different reasons, we pedalled our way to the Little Mermaid. And it did not disappoint. Well it did - that's the attraction. It was the most over hyped and below average tourist attractions I've ever been to. Julia had a field day.

Ecstasy!

I feel that I’ve misrepresented Copenhagen to a large extent. It really was one of the best places I've ever visited. The food market was amongst the most comprehensive and at the same time unique I've experienced. The famed Danish pastry did not disappoint. Cycling around with lungs full of fresh winter air, getting intimate with Legoman and topping each day off with as much fresh golden and sparkling Carlsberg as one could manage was truly what travelling is all about.

Tak Denmark!

Legoman: "That's the spot right there."

Stunning!

Typical Danish open sandwhich.

Just trying to spice things up!

So Much Fun on the Boat!

Before there was IKEA, or for that matter Sweden, there was the story of how we got to Sweden. And what better way to visit the land of the Vikings than by boat? Or in our case, a cargo ship that transports trucks and drivers (plus any extras like Jay and myself) between Poland and Sweden. With passengers that looked nothing like the valiant blonde warriors who sailed the Baltic seas of the past, but rather bulging male truck drivers (and us), we set sail from the northern Polish city of Gdansk. Feeling inspired by the adventurous nature of the Vikings, we too braved the rough winds and seas of the Baltic, so as to bring to you, our trusted family and friends, these photos for your perusal, straight from the deck of our (cargo) ship:

Awkward, they spelt Stockholm wrong...

Our trusty cargo ship

Us on the crazy deck of our ship - it really was wild!

Such a lifesaver!

The decision of 'where should we eat tonight' proved to be an arduous one on our first night in Stockholm. We really weren't asking for all that much; only something typically Swedish, delicious, relatively nearby and within our budget. Sadly for us, this was turning out to be rather difficult to achieve. After a strenuous hour of walking around, we finally settled on a pizza restaurant which fitted the bill, pun intended. Although you may have scoffed at the word pizza, this was not just any old pizza restaurant. This establishment served crusty wood-fired pizzas topped with the Swedish delicacies of reindeer and venison. For the record, neither Rudolph nor Bambi were particularly tasty, but nevertheless it was a very adequate introduction to the lesser known world of Swedish cuisine. Not to mention the 'Falcon' beer which accompanied the meal – the best we've had on this trip by far!

Needless to say, reindeer on pizza tastes just as good as it sounds.

A much more delicious and quintessential Swedish dinner was had the following night. In a Swedish style beer-halle, filled with the ambience of glowing candles and the merry voices of its eager patrons, our mouths were watering from the smell of all things delicious wafting from the kitchen. And the food did not disappoint. After devouring a surprisingly tasty dish of assorted flavoured herring, we dug into the classic meal of Swedish meatballs, accompanied by mashed potatoes and lingoberries – mmm yum!

Swedish meatballs!

However, not all restaurant experiences have been so successful and pleasant. On one such occasion we decided to go to Lonely Planet's 'top pick' in Cesky Krumlov; described as a vegetarian's haven. This was particularly appealing given the lack of vegetables we had recently consumed. We were seated in the cosy cave-like restaurant by a waitress who spoke English very well. To begin with we ordered two glasses of water - a seemingly uncomplicated request. Or so we thought. The waitress came back with one glass of water, asking us what else we had ordered? Another glass of water please! We proceeded to order our meals. In the meantime we noticed a group of six sitting across from us, bringing the total number of patrons in the restaurant to a hefty eight. This proved to be quite an issue for our waitress, who was visibly flustered and obviously stressed; in a restaurant that again had been recommended as the 'top pick' for that city.

Having finished our meal, which for the sake of this blog was bland and unexciting in flavour, we decided to give the restaurant the benefit of the doubt and order some dessert. After finally gaining the attention of our waitress, whose stress levels in the meantime had disproportionately risen in size, we asked if we could order dessert. Again what we thought was a seemingly routine request. The expression of our waitress quickly changed from stressed to visibly pained and she hurriedly said that they didn't really have any desserts to offer us – only sweet pancakes and fruit-filled dumplings. Curious to see where this saga would take us, we ordered two servings of dumplings. Jay had also wanted a coffee, but read the desperate plea from the waitress and decided not to follow through with the order; the first time we had ever felt guilty for ordering at a restaurant. Akin to feeling bad for going to the doctor for a sore throat. Having finished our dessert (also average and unexpectedly sour), we again struggled to get the attention of our flustered waitress. Finally we asked for the bill. Now, without meaning to brag, we have been to quite a number of restaurants around the world and can conclude that there is a universal etiquette concerning the bill (India included). It is usually prepared before bringing it to the customers. Not here! Instead, the waitress brought the menu along with a blank piece of paper to our table, asked us to repeat what we had ordered, searched the menu for the price of each dish and then tallied up our total. If that wasn’t bizarre enough, she began laughing hysterically because the total came to 444Kr, an apparently amusing number. The genuine hilarity of the entire evening caught up to us and we also began to laugh both with and at her. We paid for our fare and left the restaurant baffled and bewildered by, without doubt, the most bizarre and comical restaurant experience we've ever had! Thank you Lonely Planet.

Cesky Krumlov - even though dining out was rather hilarious you were one beautiful town.

Lonely Planet also recommeded this park, described as a 'must see' in Stockholm. Needless to say we were rather underwhelmed.

Whilst in Prague, there were quite a few hilarious fads which we noticed amongst fellow tourists, in particularly those in Italian school groups. Before I go on, it's worth mentioning that in Prague, 'Duff Beer' – the fictional beverage featured in 'The Simpson’s' – is very much a reality here, and is sold in most liquor stores across the city. If that's not comical enough, there are also 'Duff Beer' tracksuits available for sale, to which the aforementioned Italian students have taken a liking too, parading these not-so-suave outfits across the exquisite streets of Prague. Hilarious. And if that hasn't caused a giggle from you yet, then picture said 'Duff Beer' clad tourists navigating the cobbled lane ways of Prague on segways, in groups, often looking very much out of control – need I say more!? 

There's actually never a dull moment when segways are around!

Historical monuments are SO EXCITING!