Plovdiv's Ancient Streets

If you have had a chance to walk around an old European centrum, you've no doubt come across cobblestone. Or just stone, ancient streets. Stones which may have been laid hundreds of years ago. Yet here they lie. We walk, perhaps stumble. Our shoes may or may not accomodate such surfaces. But back then?

One must admit that there is a degree of charm to these surfaces. Quite utilitarian as well. To get to plumbing beneath, simply remove stone, fix, replace stone.

I have a theory.

Murzasichle's Wood Church

This is a rural wooden church near Murzasichle, Poland.

Murzasichle is located in the south and has magnificent views of the High Tatra mountains.

Europe's Wooden Churches

When one thinks of Europe's centuries-old churches, stone structures come to mind. Cathedrals, chapels. But certainly there was a time when wooden churches populated most of Europe. Perhaps their heyday was in the early Medieval period. However, some very unique examples still survive, albeit off the beaten path. In lesser known areas in Central and Eastern Europe.

If you've never had the privilege to see or step inside a one, the experience is quite unexpected. Darker. Seemingly older. Naturally, wood ages differently than stone. The old buildings literally talk as the wood expands and contracts -- snaps. Haunting, yet appealing. And these structures are shared across denominations. Roman Catholic, Greek or Russian Orthodox. Protestant.

One can imagine meticulously surveying extant examples in Finland, Russia, the Czech and Slovak Republics, Hungary, Romania and the Balkans.

Door, Bulgaria

Doors, windows. Gates. All common. Some can be quite interesting. This one is apparently the entrance to a shoe shop in Hissar, Bulgaria.

Hissar is the site of an old Roman spa and resort in central Bulgaria, sacked by invaders from the north in the 3rd century AD. Recreation for the affluent, lost forever. Locals still haul away and consume its waters. Apparently for medicinal purposes.

Maypole

Maypoles (maibaum), a Germanic tradition, are not easily missed. As I've frequented West and Central European towns and villages, they are prominent in village squares during the late spring. There was quite a gathering around this one in Graz, Austria. So I had to ask -- what's with the pole?

I was informed May Day, with its requisite maypole, is a public event centered on a town or village "happening". The annual appearance of a maypole normally occurs either on the eve of the first day of May or the first day itself. As a centuries old tradition, this may include a village procession or parade with much music and spectating. I had missed the Graz parade and it was well after May Day; maypoles apparently stay in place for a month or longer. On this particular spring day, I did observe many eating sausage and drinking beer, though this may be mere coincidence. These are notable activities on just about any nice European day.

In other towns and villages, I've noticed erected maypoles adorned with empty bottles -- no doubt garnishment borne of a working gang's thirst, accoutrements required to select, deliver and stand a carefully prepared tree. I can only speculate the bottles once held pomp and circumstance in the form of vodka, schnapps, borovica, or slivovica.

I'm not surprised theories abound around the symbolism of the maypole and its varied decorations, with much speculation tied to some long lost pagan tradition -- similar to those which align behind the Christmas tree. I certainly have produced my own plethora of hypothetical explanations. Oh, Tannenbaum.

I was also informed that during the night of the last day of April, many a young man ventures into the woods, selects an appropriate tree, strips it of most its branches (except for the top), decorates it with his identifying "colors" and then erects it in front of a potential girlfriend's abode. For established pairings, it is custom to find a flowering fruit tree, under which to exchange a symbolic kiss -- Nature's calling for all to join in regeneration. It is at this point some theorists invite Sigmund Freud on in for comment.

From my point of view, the variable with May Day and maypoles is the application of local custom. The constant seems to be man's need to be in a recurring mode of celebration -- this being just another one of many.

Las Fallas

Las Fallas has to be Spain’s noisiest festival -- and hotest. Every March, Valencia celebrates Saint Joseph, the patron saint of carpenters. History obviously ties this annual tradition to the work of artisans, reaching back to the Middle Ages. Beginnings obscured, tradition evolved. For here, Valencia designs and constructs rather large, satirical papier-mâché figures. She then parades them around and burns them ala funeral pyre. Accompanied by fireworks. Of course -- it's Spain and it's fiesta. Nothing short of spectacular. One big, loud torching.

Las Fallas is actually the culmination of a year-long process as neighborhoods organize, plan, select a theme, design, fund raise and construct their own unique falla. These groups compete against each other to attract the best artists, painters, sculptors -- who then produce quite elaborate, cartoonish and combustible sculptures. And some of these monuments may reach up to five stories high. Yes, they are adorned and stuffed with pyrotechnics. It is not unusual for Valencia and her surrounding communities to generate 500 falla per festival.

The days and nights of this festival are quite rowdy -- all forms of procession abound. Historical, religious, satirical. A barrage of fireworks are unleashed into the streets by random pedestrians of all ages. Or anonymously launched high. Nonstop. Restaurants overflow into the streets. Traditional foods are fried or cooked on the pavement -- sold. Sounds and aromas mix and swirl; come and go.

Las Fallas concludes at midnight on the 19th with “the burn” (cremà). It begins in outer areas and moves towards Valencia's centrum. The falla in the Plaça de l'Ajuntament are torched last. Explosions. Erupting fire. Heat. In open areas, narrow streets. In proximity of historic façades. Windows, street signs, power lines. Multitudes, crowds. Moving. Spectators, held back, react to the intensity of the flames. Firemen watch and spray, keeping structures wet to mitigate damage. Then on to the next anticipated bonfire. Tradition tempers safety.

Yikes. This is a party? Burn baby burn.

March of the Big Heads

Gigantes y cabezudos. Dudes wearing large masks. Typical icons of Spanish festivals. Witness a parade there, expect big heads. Each town tends to have its own version. Parading, mingling. Hide your babies.

I know this week in Valencia, Spain, Las Fallas is underway, culminating on the 19th. (It runs for the first 19 days of March.) It's literally a display of large sculptures -- waiting to be set on fire. Fireworks. Accompanied by and parading with the big heads.

Gigants unleashed. Por supuesto.

Hotel Kyjev

The first indication I had that something was up at Kamenné Square (Kamenné námestie) was in the form of a conversation I overheard between a couple of acquaintances -- one a lawyer, who at the time was representing a party involved with the sale of what I presumed to be Bratislava’s Hotel Kyjev, and a mutual friend. Apparently, forces were on the move to remodel the hotel or buildings on the square and someone with an interest in opposing the project had hired this lawyer, to whom I was listening, to stop some large entity’s project and its renowned legal team.

To say the least, I was rather impressed, since I had observed the Hotel Kyjev and routinely frequented  the shops in the complex.  Frankly, it all was overdue for renovation and stopping progress against a large investment interest is no easy task. In addition, I assumed this interest was the English retail chain Tesco, which shares a large portion of the property. I was therefore seated with a lone barrister, who had apparently halted the legal advance of a capitalist leviathan.

This conversation took place about 10 years ago and I assumed  Kamenné Square would remain the same for some time, especially given the sight of stalled construction projects across the city, no doubt the consequence of the current economic climate. I frequently contested with friends this was not a bad idea, given the presence of the New Bridge and its suspension tower.  After all, these are icons of Soviet-era modernist architecture, an epidemic style which flourished within the boundaries of the Soviet Union and the Warsaw Pact. Though I agreed it was a bit of an eyesore, it beckons memories of Czechoslovakia in the 1970s. In its heyday, the Hotel Kyjev must have been the place to stay for visiting dignitaries and ranking members of the Party.

It was not that long ago that I stayed at the Kyjev, against friendly advice. The appeal was strong, if only to step back into the Cold War era for a brief moment, knowing full well there would be uncomfortable moments, not unlike a horror film. I discovered later that I share this experience with other nameless travelers, perhaps for the same motivation:

“Stay at this hotel if you do like old cold war movies ... if you want the feeling that you're sleeping under surveillance of an indoor camera ... if you want the feeling they are recording your voice on the bedroom and on the phone ... if you want the feeling that there are some KGB agents next door.”*

 “Our room was dirty, old and freezing, reception later told us, the heating was off and would not be coming back on … there were what can only be described as interrogation lamps on the wall and one towel between us that was pure nasty … the whole hotel was just gross … do not stay here -- you have been warned, it is something out of a horror movie!”*

“Positives, beds seemed clean, staff was helpful, location, breakfast … negatives, your girlfriend will probably wear four layers of clothes to bed, her shoes to the bathroom and generally think she is being setup for a horror movie.”*

“A concrete monolith … the bathroom was covered in mildew, the carpets were threadbare, the ceilings were water stained and the lift shook ... the breakfast was huge and the bed linen clean.”*

“Stay at the lower floors, in case of an emergency … don't trust a 30 year old fire alarm system.”*

“The rooms are very minimal and the beds are pretty bad … my wife hated this hotel … it was overrun by drunken German young men … I wouldn't venture anywhere near the bar … the drunks really repulsed my wife ... we stayed only one night.”*

“The ‘we welcome stag parties’ sign in the lobby was the first indication we were in for trouble and it went downhill from there … the place was filthy … there was a sheet in the room that spelled out the costs for vomiting which varied depending on where you were sick … having said that, breakfast was fantastic.”*

As an aside, there is a hostel across the street from the Hotel Kyjev, and given the cheap cost for a pint at the hotel bar -- €1 compared to as much as €5 in the area -- it was not unusual to witness large groups of inebriated young people during late evening, both inside and outside the hotel lobby. It was also necessary to note areas of moist pavement to avoid.

For better or worse, the Hotel Kyjev has now slipped into the past. After some 40 years of uninterrupted service, it closed for guests on 1 November 2011. In a way it is a shame, for the beauty of the Kyjev was that one could enjoy the best of Bratislava and the benefits of European Union membership, then within a few paces slip back into the cold, damp, dark arena of what used to lurk behind the Iron Curtain.

I have since loitered in local pubs to see if I could determine its fate. Of the numerous rumors and gossip I encountered, the best was “the Mormon owners were beginning a thorough redecoration”. I can only imagine the tie to the LDS Church has something to do with the recent US election and the influence of large amounts of alcohol upon local gossip.

But still, nothing appears to have changed, though I recently noted an obscure reference in a local newspaper:

“The renovation of the hotel is part of a bigger project to change the landscape of Kamenné Square where the hotel is located. The British company promised to introduce the details of the overall project next year. The shops in the hotel as well as the parking area around the hotel will continue to be open.”

Whatever replaces the Hotel Kyjev will definitely not reflect what Marx and Lenin had in mind. Who or whatever is behind the renovation (I still suspect Tesco, given the British company reference), with capital in hand, has finally won.

The sidewalks between the hotel and hostel have also been given a reprieve.

*Gleaned Trip Advisor reviews.

Sophia at Night

Back lit billboards along a street, somewhere near Sophia's centrum. I think it was the names of the female contestants which caused me to pause. Ivana "KICK ASS"-enova versus Gergana "BAD MOUSE" Mishonska.

And then another. Graphic artists by day, fighters by night. Two women from different agencies, working in different roles -- supervisor versus supervisee -- venting workplace angst.

Now there's an idea ... . I wonder if it is just a coincidence jobs.bg is a sponsor?

Public Art, Bratislava