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

One Day in Amsterdam (2)

As I wandered around Amsterdam, I noticed most of the houses have a protruding beam near their tops, obviously a centuries old mode for moving heavy objects efficiently up and down from the ground and between various floors. I naturally assumed these functioned to assist in the merchant use of these structures. 

 

On my one day in Amsterdam, I was also fortunate enough to witnesses a modern day use of this function -- perhaps after a quick trip to the local Ikea.

One Day in Amsterdam (1)

I've never had an urge to visit Amsterdam, its reputation mixed with talks of its coffee shops and red light district. The former are difficult to miss, the latter can be avoided. However, Amsterdam's "XXX" symbology is abundant, though I discovered it has little to do with the city’s infamous adult entertainment. To my surprise, the city’s official symbol and coat of arms was chosen centuries ago and only in recent decades has it developed its tie to Amsterdam's sex trade. For sure, an interesting double-entendre.

(As an aside, I briefly tried to find any heraldic background to the city's coat of arms, without much success beyond educated guesses. By the way, the red light district is a seemingly quaint neighborhood and an afternoon can be waisted away at a sidewalk cafe, watching women in their windows -- syrenes beckoning the lost. I was surprised to see groups of locals, literally all types to include families, stroll by, chatting, not paying any attention.)

Away from the main train station, most of Amsterdam's old city center appears residential, with houses lining the canals, the original inhabitants no doubt having had some tie to the merchant trade on the water. That is pretty much what Amsterdam was for me on my first day -- a place to sit and watch, or stroll and take in the canals and architecture, with a variety of styles, most notably Dutch Renaissance, Baroque.

And the endless number of bicycles.

Beside, Beneath Bratislava's New Bridge

Bratislava's Street Art Festival

A couple of very nice works from this year's street art festival.

More Graffiti, Bratislava

Along the pedestrian walkway, New Bridge.


Graffiti, Bratislava

A locale's graffiti is part social commentary, though not mainstream. It is youthful angst, rebellion -- or clues to what is now, perhaps hip, on the fringe. Or cheap art, the expression of a young mind hoping to influence, or grab attention -- realizing its longevity is measured by the approaching fresh coat of paint.

I have been watching Bratislava's graffiti for awhile now and beyond the scribbles and street-style tags, most has been accomplished with rudimentary stencil and spray, small in scale. Occasionally, there is a work of determined complexity -- free hand or stencil -- street art announcing potential. Has it arrived here?

Bratislava's graffiti-street art subculture may not be as grand or robust as other cities, for a variety of reasons -- but it is still interesting, nonetheless.