Travel – Seite 8 – bruecken_schlag

Kategorie: Travel (Seite 8 von 15)

Gretchen’s Question, or Travel and Faith

In one of Germany’s most prized pieces of cultural heritage, Goethe’s monumental drama Faust, there is a phrase that has become proverbial in the German language as the Gretchenfrage, or Gretchen’s question. This now refers to any question that is very hard to answer, but crucial for the inquirer; a question whose answer has so far been deliberately withheld or even avoided. You know that moment in a fresh relationship when you come across something that might be a deal breaker and you are reluctant to ask about it – or be asked about it – because it might drive the whole thing with this new person to an untimely end? Yes. A classic case of Gretchenfrage at stake.

Places of Worship? The Blue Mosque in Istanbul is certainly one of the most impressive ones

The original question that Gretchen asks Faust in the drama is if he believes in God, or actually „Say, as regards religion, how you feel.“ Faust tries to wriggle out of it, prompting Gretchen to be certain of his atheism. Many travellers visit St Peter’s Basilica in Rome or the Blue Mosque in Istanbul, and many travel bloggers have written about places of worship – I myself have done posts about St Paul’s in London or the Cologne Cathedral. Yet the question of faith or religion is hardly ever addressed. I wonder if this is because less and less of us believe in God or if it is just a topic that people try to avoid out of fear of stepping on someone’s toes.

Studenica Monastery in Serbia – a deeply spiritual place

My one explicit travel experience related to this was when I got into a very strange discussion with a girl I met in Croatia. I wear a cross on a necklace – a bit of a superstition really, but also a small commitment to my faith. The girl saw it and asked me if I believed in God. I said: „Yes.“ She asked: „Hardcore?“ I didn’t even really know what she meant by that, but since I don’t fanatically run to church every Sunday, I said: „No, not really.“ She said: „Good.“ And then she went on to explain to me how every person in the world who believed in God wanted her to go to hell because she was a lesbian. I tried to tell her that this wasn’t true, that I have a lot of gay friends and don’t want to see any of them in hell (a concept I do not even believe in). She wouldn’t have it and we didn’t exactly part on excellent terms.

My favorite church in Poland – the Dominican church in Krakow. They do student services on Sunday nights that are great for just the atmosphere even if you don’t speak Polish!

Personally I find my own faith to be a bit of a conglomerate of different ideas from various religious backgrounds. I was baptized Lutheran as a baby and had my confirmation aged 14. I went to a catholic primary school. I hung out in college with people who were into Hinduism. I have long had an inexplicable fascination with Islam. One of the reasons I loved the novel Life of Pi by Yann Martel is that the protagonist calls himself a believing and practicing Christian, Hindu and Muslim. How cool is that, really.

What’s more important to me, though, is that I have always put the values of humanity before the values of any religion. I actually think they should be the same thing anyway. I don’t believe it to be important what your God is called, as long as he gives you a few ideas as to how to live a good life. Anything destructive that religions do doesn’t go with the general idea in my book. The Oatmeal has really said it all in his brilliant comic How to suck at your Religion.

I had a moment of spiritual awakening in this church in Ohrid, Macedonia – a moment of truly being at peace with myself.

Now the beauty of travel is that it puts forward all the ideas of humanity that ideally religion should enhance as well, and more than that – travel can help you learn about what you believe in. And I don’t just mean that in terms of denomination – but that too. I learned so much about Islam when I was in Bosnia and Turkey, and it helped me understand certain debates that I only knew from the media so much better. I went to services in England, in Slovenia, Croatia and Serbia and many times in Poland and it’s taught me about the way that people celebrate their own beliefs.

It is hard to argue that in many cultures religion contributes immensely to the belief system of the people. Because of this, I think we should ask about religion more and learn as much about it as we can while we travel. Things are only ever scary as long as we don’t understand them. That goes especially for the weird fear-respect-scepticism mixture that I sense in many Westerners toward Islam – a beautiful and peaceful religion full of wisdom and love, from all I can say about it.

This is the Schlosskirche in Wittenberg, Germany, where Martin Luther started reformation by proclaiming is 95 theses.

When I had my preparatory classes for my confirmation 15 years ago (OMG did I just really write that…?), we discussed the concept of sin. I never liked it much, it had the whole guilt trip thing about it. My pastor explained to us that the German word for it, Sünde, is related to the word Sund – in English sound, a strait of water in an ocean between two landmasses. When we sin, we put a sound between us and another person (or, if you will, between us and God), we divide ourselves from others, we cease to be whole. In that explanation, the concept of sin made sense to me for the first time. And if we accept that this is so, then forgiveness means to build a bridge over the sound that has been created so that we can come together again. And once again the bridge is the symbol that, for me, sets everything right.

What do you think? Do you believe in God? Have you been confronted with questions of faith when you travelled? Do you talk to people about religion when you travel?

Bridge in Peja (Peć), Kosovo

Juli 7, 2013 / bruecken_schlag / 2 Kommentare

Today’s bridge is nameless and broken.

Peja is one of the larger cities in Kosovo, located in the West of the country close to Albania and Montenegro, in close proximity to the Prokletije mountain range. You can see it in the background of my picture, and I think the mist that covers the mountain tops adds to the idea that is in their name – Prokletije means the „cursed“ mountains. I wish I had been able to see more of the beautiful nature around, and the monasteries that are part of the UNESCO world heritage. I have written more about Kosovo in general in this post.

While I found Kosovo to be fascinating, rich in culture, full of beauty and culinary delights (I have forgotten the names of all the dishes, but I absolutely LOVED Albanian and Kosovar cuisine!!), there was no denying its burdensome recent history. Bullet holes in walls and houses in ruins were to be seen everywhere. What I found interesting was that while usually media show the supression of Kosovar Albanians, I here came across the bombed out Serbian neighborhoods and came to understand a little better that victims and perpetrators are not necesarily easily identified. This destroyed bridge was one of the sights that made me painfully aware of Kosovo’s past.

If you have read My Mission statement, you know why I love bridges. To me they are the most universal symbol of connection, of bringing people together and overcoming anything that may seperate us. I want to present to you pictures of bridges that I really love in places that I really love on my blog every Sunday. If you have a picture of a bridge that you would like to share with my readers as a guest post, feel free to contact me!

On Solo Travel and the Benefits of Being Selfish

Juli 2, 2013 / bruecken_schlag / 22 Kommentare

Many bloggers have written their pieces on why they travel solo. Blogs by „solo female travellers“ have come to form a whole niche of its own. I guess I am part of that category, although I never much perceived myself as such. I would hope my blog’s selling points are mainly its focus on Eastern Europe and my writing style – not the fact that I travel solo or that I happen to be a woman. Regardless of this, I will share my thoughts on discovering the world on my own, why I love it and what it has given me. Because it has truly made me a better person.

My five month trip to Central Eastern Europe and the Balkans in 2010 started off by a conversation with my sister that went like this:

Me: I’d love to travel after my Master’s…
Her: Why don’t you?
Me: Well no one wants to go where I want to go, no one wants to go to Eastern Europe. I don’t have anyone who would come with!
Her: Why don’t you go on your own?

At this point I had a whole speech in my head within split seconds that offered a gazillion reasons of why that was completely impossible. I never delivered it. Instead I said:

You’re right. I should go alone!

And henceforth, I never wanted a travel partner. I wanted to do this all on my own. Because I could. And I did.

On that trip, my first station in a new country was Budapest in Hungary. I remember getting off the train at Keleti Station, looking around and wanting to take in everything that I saw. I remember distinctly how sunlight fell onto people and trains, and I remember how much I loved the fact that old men were playing chess in the rail heads.

Most places that I arrived at – in fact most places I have visited at all – in someone else’s company have not left such a vivid imprint on my soul. Later that day I sat by the synagogue, and next to me a group of eight German girls were discussing their next move. Every single one of them wanted to do something different – have lunch. Go shopping. See a museum. Have lunch, but at a different place. Their fussy discussion and indecisiveness annoyed me. Not enough to spoil my mood, but enough to thank God for being on my own. I loved it from the first second.

Travelling solo, essentially, is a very selfish act. In many ways it erases necessity of consideration, compassion, compromise. My solo trip was all about me. Does that sound horrible? I think it should not. I think this great focus on myself allowed me to be the best possible version of myself.

For the first time in years, I listened to my inner voices. I got re-acquainted – or should I just say acquainted at all? – with my physical and mental needs. When I felt exhausted, I stopped. When I felt energetic, I moved on. Every new place I came to, I had the opportunity of liking or disliking it by my very own standards. I did not feel forced to like a place just because everyone marvelled at it, or hate a place because the guide book made it out to be less than perfect. I just listened intently to what was going on inside of me. The more I listened, the better I could hear my inner voices and the more I came to terms with them. I had so much time to spend with myself that I got to points when all the thoughts were thought, when a gigantic silence filled me whole and I managed to live and exist completely in the moment. Those may have been my happiest moments.

This is also why I hardly ever felt lonely on that trip. I was alone a lot, but it did me nothing but good – and loneliness, to me, is a forced, involuntary state that I connect with feeling left out and unloved. Being alone, on the other hand, is about finding yourself and learning how to be your own good company. I have written about this when I discussed bravery in travel.

I think some people manage to be in perfect balance with themselves with someone else around. For me that has always been very hard to do. Solo travel has taught me how it feels to be in balance with myself, to have come to terms with myself, to be okay with myself. It is not only something that I still benefit from in my daily life and of course in my travels. I think it is also something that my friends, family and travel buddies benefit from. Not to say that I manage it every day – but I have been there, and that means that I can get there again. If necessary, I will just throw in a quick solo trip somewhere. I know that it will do the trick.

Solo travel might not be or everyone, and it might not be the ultimate and only travel mode – because no such thing exists. I don’t think I will want to travel solo to the end of my days. I mentioned recently how discovering a place together with someone else was a new, exciting and beautiful experience for me. In my personal case, though, I had to go through being alone with myself, I had to go solo, before I could truly come to appreciate the company without losing myself. It was never about loneliness. It was always about self-discovery and personal development – as will be the case when I give up solo travel and go to places with someone else.

What do you think? Do you travel solo, with a partner or with friends? Do you think there is a difference between being alone and being lonely?

Legion Bridge in Prague, Czech Republic

Juni 30, 2013 / bruecken_schlag / Kommentare deaktiviert

What bridge do you think about when you think about Prague? Karlův most, Charles Bridge, certainly. Today I chose to show you its lesser known neighbour, Most Legií, or the Bridge of Legions, which is just as much worth noticing!

Legion Bridge crosses Vltava River south of the Castle Hill, and you have a stunning view of it when you stand on the bridge. But I like the bridge especially for its style. Finished in 1901, I find it to be decisively art nouveau, especially the arches lined with stones in almost black and white. I read that it is also neo-baroque. Now I don’t know enough about art history to explain where that comes in, but I find the bridge to combine a certain aesthetic severity and playfulness. Now that is a wide gap to bridge, and it’s done beautifully here.

I was in Prague six years ago and it recently crossed my mind again as one of those places that I really need to go back to, because when I went, frankly, I did not yet know how to travel. I don’t think I saw half as much as I would today. When I realized that, I came to think about what a different person I was back then and what a strange thing time is. And I thought about all the places I have yet to discover and rediscover, and all the things I have seen and haven’t written about yet. I’m grateful that this world will never cease to provide me with inspiration – if nothing else is, that much at least is certain.

To Nottingham’s Posher Places – the Park Estate

Juni 25, 2013 / bruecken_schlag / 8 Kommentare

As Andrew and I walk from Mapperley to the city center on my second day in Nottingham, the sun is coming out, and the clouds are sailing away solemnly in the sky. This is most certainly not your typical „English weather“, this is a lovely early summer’s day. We walk past the castle and into what is called the Park Estate. Built in such close proximity of the castle, it must have been built on what used to be immediate castle grounds.

The Park Estate is a private residential area with beautiful Victorian architecture. The houses here are not houses. They are mansions. I don’t think people here qualify as wealthy anymore, they are probably filthy rich. There are only three entrance gates, and it feels very secluded – but in the sense that is a bit terrifying. I don’t think a lot of protection increases the feeling of security; on the contrary, I think it takes away from it.

I am strangely reminded of the one day I have ever spent in Ciudad Juarez in Mexico, going there from Texas. My host father took me to see a protected estate where the upper class lived – just on a drive through, but I didn’t fail to notice that there was barbed wire on top of the white wall that surrounded the area with its houses of unreal dimensions. Quickly I call myself to order as I feel uncomfortable with that comparison. A gap between rich and poor as big as in South America – here in Europe? Impossible. Or is it? Honestly, gaps in society are probably much more of a reality than most of us in Western Europe care to admit.

But it is easy to forget about injustice on a day like this. The area is open to the public today for what is called the Park Garden Trail – meaning some of the gorgeous Victorian style gardens can be visited, and in the circus in the middle they sell food and drinks, and a band is playing with what we quickly identify as the least enthusiastic drummer in the world’s history. But as we sit on the grass in the sun and sip our wine, that doesn’t take away from the beauty of the day.

The first garden we enter has a high fir hedge and designer wedding dresses on display. I wonder if people will throw me out if they hear my American accent. Honestly I don’t think I would even be surprised if someone along the lines of Maggie Smith, the way she looks in Downton Abbey, would call me words like „ghastly“ and „common“ and tell me to leave. The second one is much more up my alley. It has a few cute terraces with shrubberies and a beautiful house (have I mentioned that they are all red brick stone…? So much love for Nottingham for all its red brick stone!). Then there is one where they sell scones. People are sitting at tables or on the grass with trays that hold delicate china and sip their tea. It cannot possibly get more quintessentially English than this.

All of the gardens are full of people out and about, enjoying the sunny weather and the beautiful flowers. Yellow roses are blossoming, reminding me of the BBC film North and South where they play a plot vital role.

Again with the romanticizing England because of costume dramas… I blame Jane Austen. The architecture doesn’t stop its charms at the red brick stone being interfused with glazed ones to form ornaments – there are little pillars and statues, and gorgeous coloured windowpanes, jutties and balconies.

Forgetmenots are blossoming all around in most of the places we see. I pluck one to put it into Andrew’s button hole. He looks at it and says: „Look how the three blossoms all have a different colour in the middle!“ I look at it and it’s true – one is white, one is dark yellow and one is pale yellow.

I am thinking that this must be why people love travelling with other people – because they point out stuff that you wouldn’t have seen yourself. Then I notice that this is not travelling in its strictest sense, because we are in Andrew’s home town. This is basically just good old regular sharing your life. And I get very excited at that thought.

The Rough Charms of Nottingham

Juni 20, 2013 / bruecken_schlag / Kommentare deaktiviert

Inspite of my recent train ride from hell, I feel unspeakably lucky for why I took it – a spontaneous weekend trip to see Andrew in Nottingham. Although it had never been on my list, I at once got excited about going to the city that is mainly famous for Robin Hood. I don’t know England particularly well and any chance to change that fact was more than welcome.

Andrew has a whole program planned out for us, which is honestly something I have to get used to after such a long time of solotravel. I don’t just walk wherever I feel like going, but I follow Andrew around who has known this town for his entire life. I feel a bit like relinquishing control, and the die-hard solotraveller in me comes through as I think of a quote from my favourite sitcom, Friends: „‚Relinquish‘ is just a fancy word for ‚lose‘.“ But in the course of the weekend I will get used to that feeling and learn to enjoy being shown stuff as an alternative model to discovering everything on my own.

First on the list of Nottingham sights is Wollaton Hall. The city bus takes us through a quiet area of the city with the significantly British low-roofed houses. Most of them are made from red brick stone, my love for which I have mentioned numerous times. It is somewhat idyllic – not quite in the nostalgic, idealizing sense of the word, but it seems quiet and settled and in a calming way uneventful.

Wollaton Hall is a country house that starred as Wayne Manor in Christopher Nolan’s last Batman film The Dark Knight Rises. There is pleasantly little annoying advertisement that mentions that. I am guessing that the place could get more visitors if it played more on the „Home of Batman“ bonus, but I’m glad it doesn’t. The walk around the lake with the rhododendron in rich lilac blossom dipping into the water, families with excited children and scout groups, and all the while the view of the architectural marvel on the hill in its majestic beauty make for a wonderful introduction to Nottingham – although this is a different world from the bustling city center, an alternate space where time seems to have stood still for a hundred years.

After the peace and quiet of the immense manor park, the city center seems almost crowded, although it is still rather quiet for me, being used to Berlin. We walk around the Old Market Square and I try to feel myself into the place – it is difficult for some reason. Elements of the cityscape seem familiar, but in combination they make for something that feels more foreign than many places I have encountered in Eastern Europe. Again I muse how people think that Eastern Europe is a world away, when it’s not. I perceive Nottingham to be much more foreign to me than, say, Gdansk. It’s somehow – uncontinental. That is the only word I can come up with.

We walk uphill towards the castle and pass by the Robin Hood monument. Being a child of the 90s, his legend is familiar to me mainly from the Kevin Costner film, as I must only half bashfully admit. So I try to reenact the scene where Maid Marian distracts Robin from shooting his arrow straight by breathing a kiss on his wrist.

Nottingham Castle costs money to enter, but through the gates the flower beds and little paths up to the proud stone walls look so intriguing that I really want to go in. We stroll along and up to the castle building from which there is a beautiful view into the wide country. Andrew points out different places to me in the city and my orientation becomes a bit better.

The pretty church towers over in the city center call for me alluringly, and so finally we make our way back to close off the day by seeing them. After a quick stop to St Peter’s we walk over to St Mary’s. We enter the churchyard and approach the closed doors – and already I can hear that there is a choir rehearsing in there. I want to just press my ear on the mighty old door and listen to the saintliness of it. We find an open door on the other side, a small one, and I stand and peek through the door frame into the interior of the nave reaching up so high. Pure voices fill the space in unison, as they fill my soul.

On our way between Andrew’s home and the center, we have walked past a bus stop that advertises a Nottingham image campaign – it says: „A safe, clean, ambitious Nottingham. A city we’re all proud of!“ I’m amused at this loftiness that is so unintenionally funny, but looking around, I find that I quite like the city. I am not head over heels in love, it’s not heart-breakingly pretty and overwhelmingly charming. But it is one of those places that to me seem to be honest, that leave you knowing where you’re at with them. It is attractive rather than beautiful, real rather than unearthly. Nottingham hasn’t ravishingly encompassed me like other places – but it has touched my heart.

What do you think? Do you feel Nottingham is a place worth a visit? Have you been? Do you think it has a different style from continental European cities?

Bridges Endangered – Flood

Juni 18, 2013 / bruecken_schlag / 2 Kommentare

The situation in Eastern and Northern Germany in the past weeks calls for a post about bridges in danger.

I do not know how much the European flood is in media outside of the countries that are affected by it – although it already has its own wikipedia-entry. Heavy rain falls have led to the Danube, the Elbe and quite a few of their tributaries having significantly higher water levels than normal and flooding cities, towns and villages along their banks. Some of the affected regions suffered from significant flooding only eleven years ago, in 2002, when the same rivers burst their banks and caused severe damage of financial, material, and, as it now shows, also of emotional kind. People are afraid to lose everything again when they have just already been through it. I also remember the flood of the Oder river in 1997 and the pictures on the media back then and how they struck me as so incomprehensible.

To me in Berlin, I have to admit that the flood this time was reasonably far away, and although I followed it in the media and heard stories from friends and colleagues who work or live there, I had no truly emotional reaction to it. In a way, it was something that was happening in a whole different place. Now this weekend I travelled from Berlin to Bielefeld. The Inter City Express route between Berlin and Hannover is now closed down due to the floods, and we were redirected via Magdeburg which is right by the river Elbe.

As we pass into it, we cross a bridge that doesn’t even feel like one anymore. We pass right over the water. At the shore, pathways disappear into the water that under normal circumstances must lead to a path that goes by the waterfront, and trees appear out of nowhere in what looks to be the middle of the river.

We go on and cross a few of the Seitenarme. Or so I think – then I see the tip of a street sign, fixed, yet disfigured, displaced, not being able to direct anything, and I notice that it must be a street that is flooded. A bit down the river I see sandbag dammings and the signs that say „Technisches Hilfswerk“ (Federal Agency for Technical Relief). Suddenly this has a dimension of reality to it.

I don’t think my pictures can do it justice. I just took them with my phone out of the window of a moving train. But going through that area I think of what my colleague who works in Passau has said: „Now I know what a natural catastrophe is.“ And in Passau it is so much worse because it is located where the three rivers Donau, Inn and Ilz meet – and they are all flooding. I am just glad that here in Germany, there is mainly damage to property. Still some people have lost the basis of their lives, and I am sure to them it is quite existential.

What I cannot help to think is that we always try to relate and compare stuff like this. I think about how horrible this is – and then I think about the Tsunami or Katrina and think that we are so lucky to only have such small problems. But then can you really ever compare? Probably not. All you can do is be grateful if you and your loved ones are safe, show compassion for the victims, and try to help.

There is a picture gallery at this link that I found that should show the dimensions of the flood. If you speak German, this is where you can find out how to donate money to help in the damaged areas.

Pitfalls of Train Travel – a Horror Story

Juni 11, 2013 / bruecken_schlag / 9 Kommentare

I love train rides. Really, I do. Julika of Sateless Suitcase has recently written a super thorough post on the beauty of train travel if you need convincing. Yes, it is great. It is absolutely lovely. I can’t get enough of it. I’m serious. I am genuinely excited about my overland travel from Berlin to Nottingham. That said – train rides can be the most aggrivating thing in the world. I wish it weren’t so, but it is. Luckily the circumstances in which this is true are limited, but they do happen. Boy, don’t I know it. I hope my story saves some of you some grief when travelling overland in Western Europe.

Being on the train can be great – or not…

I get to Berlin central at midnight with some thirty minutes of time to kill before my night train to Cologne leaves. I’m looking forward to snuggling into my seat and be rocked to sleep by the moving of the carriage on tracks. I’m travelling – nothing else makes me happier than that. When I look to the annuncement board, however, it says my night train is over two hours delayed. It is to do with the flood in Poland and Czech Republic. I’m alarmed. This means I will miss my connection at Cologne to Brussels, and the follow-up from there to London, and I will definitely lose my connection from London to Nottingham. Domino effect… I am going through options, and I have a quick moment of panic.

Now, none of this would have happened if my train went through from Berlin to Nottingham. This way, I’m going to be anxious at every station if they let me go on or if they won’t accept my ticket, because it was supposed to be valid only for that specific connection. Having to change much is always a risk. Try to always travel short distances if you can and avoid connections with too many changes! Also, if I had a lot of time, this would be a much smaller deal. The delay will cost me at least half a day. Given that I only have three days in England anyway, that is quite a high percentage. Calculate your time generously and don’t reckon with five minutes being enough for changing ever! Of course all of that would also be less of a problem if I had enough money to just buy another ticket at any given moment. If at all possible, have a financial back-up in your account for cases like this!

Passing through Liege train station

Basically it comes down to this: Do I take the risk of this not working / costing me tons of money, or do I get my ticket refunded and go home. But what kind of a traveller would I be if I let this scare me away (athough I must admit that talking to Andrew on the phone and having him reassure me most definitely helps!). I do take the delayed night train to Cologne and hope for the best. Take it one stop at a time. Every train is taking you closer to your destination. Don’t think about the final stop just yet. At Dortmund they make us get on a different (if also marginally delayed) train to Cologne, because the night train is trying to catch up time and won’t call there. Too late do I notice that it does not stop at the main station in Cologne, but only at two smaller ones. Because of this, I have to change again in Düsseldorf to a train that is twenty minutes late. I am starting to just feel cynical about this, and I feel bad for travellers who don’t speak German and might not get by in this mess. I help a Taiwanese girl find her way and hope that other international travellers also find helpful locals. If they don’t approach you themselves, ask locals on the delayed trains for help, especially when you don’t understand the announcements! Thankfully at the service point in Cologne, my ticket is re-issued for the next connection to London without extra payment. Now all I have to worry about is getting from London to Nottingham. I relax a little. My train to Brussels is 15 minutes late. I have no words. In Brussels at check-in for the Eurostar train to London I am still a bit anxious, but it all goes smoothly.

In Brussels, behind security

In London St Pancras, the train that my ticket is issued for has left hours ago. At information they send me down to the booking office, where I somewhat hysterically explain my situation to the nice motherly lady. She looks at the ticket and says in a deep voice: „Nothing I can do about that…“ I feel tears rising. „Nothing at all?“ I ask, probably looking very upset. A standard train ticket here would cost almost 80 pounds. I don’t have that money. My last option is to take a bus for a much more affordable price, but in that moment all I can think of is how weird and unfair it is that I should lose my ticket in England due to a delay caused in Poland that is absolutely not my fault, and how they expect someone who even goes through the planning ahead and who looks for cheap options to deal with a situation like this. I apologize to the nice lady for crying, when she utters the magic words: „Do you have a stamp at all that a train was late?“ I’m not saying you should cry, but, well, if you actually are desperate… what can I say, it helps. I carefully say: „Yes, but it wasn’t the Eurostar train to London that was late…“ „That doesn’t matter, darling.“ I show her the stamps I got in Cologne when my ticket got re-issued. She looks at them and says: „Sweetheart, dry those tears now. You’ve done yourself a big favour. Now I can act.“ And then she gives me a ticket marked SOS that I can use for any train to Nottingham on that day. I am so relieved I am now almost crying more, not less.

When finally I get off the train in Nottingham I have a total delay of 4 1/2 hours – it could be much much worse. I am a bit ashamed to think that my tears at the London ticket office probably played a role in this, but what’s more important is that I learned that you must always get a confirmation that your train was delayed if you want a chance for rebooking or refunding!

What are your experiences with delayed trains? Do you stay calm or do you go crazy when your journey is challenged? Any advice on what to do when you miss connections?

Bridge at Wollaton Hall, England

Juni 9, 2013 / bruecken_schlag / 1 Kommentar

This is a bridge of great simplicity, and in that I found it to be genuine and unpretentious.

It is a very small bridge that leads across the creek surrounding Wollaton Hall in Nottingham, England – a beautiful country house in Elizabethan style that is most famous for featuring as Wayne manor in Christopher Nolan’s last Batman film The Dark Knight Rises. It sits majestically on its hill, and walking towards it across the infinitely wide lawn I feel like a character from a Jane Austen novel. But I guess that is just what all non-English European girls cannot help feeling when they see a country house in England.

As Andrew and I have walked past the manor and downhill, and have circled the little lake at the foot of the mound where the rhododendron dip their lilac blossoms in the water, we get to the bridge that leads us back into the immediate grounds of Wollaton Hall. Its unostentatious red brick stones and its slight curve don’t match the grandeur that I see on the hill – but as I cross the tiny bridge, I think how good it is that there is both: overflowing, pompous beauty and small, discreet beauty.

Travel Fever and Moving Forward

Juni 6, 2013 / bruecken_schlag / 2 Kommentare

The first post I ever wrote in English on this blog was almost exactly three years ago – I looked back on the first half of my (South-) Eastern European adventure and took stock. That post centered around travel quotes. You can read it here.

Years later, I am still a big fan of words that encapture what travel means to me. I find them in so many places – in what a friend says to me. In a song that I hear on my iPod looking out a bus window. In a book that I have read. Written on buildings, monuments or the pavement of the cities I visit. All I have to do is open my eyes and my heart to them, and they will fall into my soul and move me.

Spotted on the door to a confectionery – „The world belongs to those who enjoy it“. This happens to be the motto of the lovely German travel blogger Jana of http://sonne-wolken.de/ – if you speak German, check her out!!

I set out on my trip back in the days with this quote by Polish travel writer and journalist Ryszard Kapuściński on my mind:

Podróż przecież nie zaczyna się w momencie, kiedy ruszamy w drogę, i nie kończy, kiedy dotarliśmy do mety. W rzeczywistości zaczyna się dużo wcześniej i praktycznie nie kończy się nigdy, bo taśma pamięci kręci się w nas dalej, mimo że fizycznie dawno już nie ruszamy się z miejsca. Wszak istnieje coś takiego jak zarażenie podróżą i jest to rodzaj choroby w gruncie rzeczy nieuleczalnej.

A journey does not begin the moment when we set off, and it does not finish when we have arrived to our last stop. In reality it starts much earlier and practically does not ever finish, for the tape of memory runs on inside of us, even though we have long stopped moving from the spot physically. There is indeed something like the contagion of travel, and it is a kind of illness that is in fact incurable.

When I found it, just before I was about to leave Germany to travel for 5 months, I focussed most on the part about the journey starting before it starts – now, stuck for the most part of my days at a desk (even though it is at a job I quite like!), I think more about how true it is that it never stops. I still think about my big trip almost every day, and how it has changed me, and how I wouldn’t be the same person today without it. I dream about the places that I will go to next. I try to travel in my day to day life whenever I can – be it for a day on the weekend, or even just to a different neighborhood, or in eating exotic food. I am branded incurably and for life with the contagion of travel fever.

Coffee, writing, and contemplating wise words others have uttered about travel – one of my favourite pastimes!

When I was in Bosnia, one of my favourite travel acquaintances, Bata, taught me the following Bosnian quote by famous movie maker Emir Kusturica:

Svakoga dana u svakom pogledu sve više i više napredujemo.

Every day in every respect we move forward more and more.

I have had this sentence on a note card above my desk for a very long time. While travelling it is quite literally true. We move. All the time. And while travelling, it is also metaphorically true more than usually. We see so many things that change us, we experience so many things that add to our knowledge. I try to keep it in mind every day to make it true when I am at home as well. I try to improve as a person every day and move forward. And it is so much easier for me to do that with much sensual and intellectual stimulation – so I try to learn and see new things all the time. The world is my market with thousands of fruit, cheeses and spices to try.

Oh dear, the cheese in Bosnia… and how you can try every kind at the market to see if you like it, and then go home full and happy… only to have more cheese… with honey… yum…

Only recently I fell in love with the music by Gerhard Gundermann, a singer songwriter from the former GDR who passed away far too young. His lyrics have captured me from the start. This song is called „No Time Anymore“:

It is a song about our daily struggle in life between obligation and choice, between the things we have to do and we want to do, and it is about the feeling of not having enough time to do it all. He sings:

Und ich habe keine Zeit mehr Räuber und Gendarm zu spiel’n
Den Ämtern meine Treue hinzutragen
Und rauchende Motoren mit meinem Blut zu kühl’n
Und nochmal eine Liebe auszuschlagen.

And I don’t have time anymore for playing cops and robbers
For bringing my loyalty to authorities
And for cooling down smoking engines with my blood
And for turning down another love.

What are the things that I don’t have time for anymore? There is so much to see and try, and so much life to live. I hope that the travel fever always burns strongly inside of me and provides me with the drive to move forward and the desire to be led astray.

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