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Once more unto the east
  • Tom Krijnen
июл. – сент. 2018

Once more unto the east

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  • Начало поездки
    27 июля 2018 г.
    Tom KrijnenOnce more unto the eastTom Krijnen

    Serendipity

    27 июля 2018 г., Австралия ⋅ ⛅ 12 °C

    I have always used travel as a means to regroup and reassess my next steps in life. One such trip in 2014 directly led to me formulating an ambitious and, frankly, ridiculous five year plan to get an overseas posting, and here I am in 2018, having just discovered that I’m being posted to Tokyo, heading off on another adventure.

    It’s funny - I have never been less prepared for a trip, but also never more relaxed. On top of this the months since I booked my flights have been a massive life altering blur, both personally and professionally. I have never believed in fate, but I can’t shake the feeling that it all just feels like it’s meant to be at a macro and micro level. I can’t wait to see where the next 6 weeks, 6 months and 3 years takes me. The improbable series of events and coincidences that have come together to make it all come together in the way it has is spooky, right down to the fact that if I’d booked my flights to leave any earlier I’d likely have missed the opportunity to be selected for a posting and any later would have required cancellations or significant changes to avoid conflicting with my predeployment.

    One thing is clear. The last 10 years of travel has given me so much and I would be a very different person without it. It has not just provided me with memories and experiences, but, in breaking routine, it has provided me with the space, freedom, confidence and perspective to make the impossible possible.    Читать далее

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    Dohadration

    28 июля 2018 г., Катар ⋅ ☀️ 37 °C

    A promotion through Qatar airways of two nights in a 5 star hotel for $50 was too good to pass up, which is how I found myself in Doha during the middle of summer, with a case of heat stroke and struggling to remember that old saying.. something about offers that sound suspiciously good??

    I love the heat, but Doha in July is something else. It’s difficult to convey how hot it is, and the temperatures I read online didn’t do it justice. The thermal mass built up in the buildings and sidewalks makes you feel like you are being grilled and roasted at the same time. When I ventured out at 10am on my first morning I came across a thermometer next to a doorway that read 48 degrees. AT 10AM!!

    Taking the hint, I took a taxi to the museum of Islamic art figuring the imposing and very geometrically attractive building down on the waterfront would be gloriously air conditioned, which it was. Almost as an added bonus it was also full of the types of impressive artefacts one would expect from one of the richest societies in the world hell bent on making themselves THE cultural hub for the region. Not sure if that goal is within reach, but they have got to do something. In 50 years they have gone from a sleepy backwater fishing port to being one of the richest countries in the world on a per capita basis. However, the oil, or the worlds thirst for it, isn’t going to last forever and, while they are trying, it’s hard to see what, if anything, will keep the money flowing.

    What a ride it’s been for the resident population though. The Qatari’s make up only 13% of the population, but they are hard to miss. Ostentatious, brash, arrogant and supremely confident, you almost feel their presence before you see them. Still wearing the traditional starched pure white garb they walk around like they.. well.. own the place, which technically they do seeing no foreigners are allowed to own freehold property. When one walks into a shop, everyone stands aside to let them to the front of the queue, it’s like the entire nonqatari population are their servants. I have rarely seen such a stratified population, there is no middle class. You can see it in the food where there are either insanely expensive cafes and restaurants, where the prices make my eyes water, or ridiculously cheap street food and local places.

    The food has been the saving grace for my time in Doha. Drawing hundreds of thousands of migrant workers (slaves) from across Asia and Africa has led to a delicious melting pot of some of the best cheap and amazing food options I have ever seen.

    Not that the rest of my time has been all bad. My opulent hotel provided a comfortable way of getting over jet lag and had 3 different pools, which were well utilised. Always a sucker for a good market, Souq Waqif gave me plenty of options for when I could face the oppressive temperatures. Entirely renovated (read rebuilt) a few years ago, the Souq thankfully retains an old school air and remains fully operational and buzzing. What sets this market apart from the others I have been too through the Middle East is the working camel, horse and, most impressively, falconry sections. Falconry is big business in Qatar, with individual falcons selling for up to $1.5 million. With such huge figures on the table, it’s little wonder that the market should have such a thriving service section, hand-making hoods and all the other accessories required to bring down whatever crazy and hardy animal that can survive out in this god forsaken climate long enough to be hunted down by a million dollars worth of talons and feathers.

    On the whole though, I wouldn’t recommend anyone visit Qatar in July. Almost makes me miss Canberra winter..

    Almost.    Читать далее

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    121121

    Dohadration

    29 июля 2018 г., Катар ⋅ 🌙 34 °C
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    Berlin

    31 июля 2018 г., Германия ⋅ ☀️ 31 °C

    Flying into Berlin was a blessed relief in more ways than one. It was great to finally be starting my trip proper, but even with the current European heatwave the maximum temperatures were no higher than the minimums in Doha. Although as per normal, Europe appears completely unprepared and shocked at the unsurprising return of another hot and humid weather. Having only ever travelled in Europe in summer, this always provides an endless source of amusement. Every year Europeans express shock and indignation seemingly forgetting that this is a yearly occurrence, while the buildings and transport do their best to replicate a sauna.

    I only ended up flying into Berlin due to it being cheaper than further east, but serendipitously it provided the perfect kicking off point for another trip into the east. Metaphorically and physically it is the encapsulation of the border between east and west, which, while a manifestation of the best part of a centuries worth of geopolitical craziness and human misery, provides a character like few other places in the world.

    There was a poster in my hostel that read ‘Berlin is the bitch you marry’, which is one of the better descriptions I have read. 10 years ago when I was last here it took me a while to ‘get it’. It’s like the anti-German city - sprawling, grungy, gritty, perplexing and disordered, it takes some getting your head around. Getting around is also unnecessarily confusing, Berlin’s streets follow no logic to speak of and it’s public transport system, while efficient and excellent, is disconnected and confused hodgepodge of post reunification attempts to integrate a variety of disparate rail, tram and metro lines, each one having multiple different gauges and running over and on top of each other. However, once you start getting your bearings the charms are hard to ignore.

    With 23 boroughs, each unique, you could spend months in Berlin without scratching the surface. I stayed in Prenzlauer Berg, once the epicentre of working class East Berlin and bohemian resistance and, since reunification, becoming one of the most hipster parts of town. It was also a good base to strike out into the broader city, either on foot or via bus, s-Bahn, u-Bahn or tram, all of which were widely utilised over the course of my stay.

    My first morning was devoted to the Cold War, tracking down vestiges of the wall, including the excellent east side gallery, where one of the largest section of remaining wall has been turned into an outdoor gallery of some of the best street artists in the world. The DDR museum, which had opened since my last visit and was a fantastic and remarkably balanced representation of life in the DDR. Having now travelled through so many ex-soviet states, I have a much better understanding of the greyness (in multiple senses of the phrase) and uniqueness of each state’s experience under communism. It’s easy to miss, but each state’s story was it’s own, with there own strengths and weaknesses, and having a slightly different take and approach to achieving the ultimate socialist ideal. All ultimately doomed due to the inherent weaknesses in the centralised socialist economic and social model.

    East Germany’s story was no different, in many ways it was incredibly socially progressive, even by modern standards, with equal women rights enshrined in its constitution and extensive maternity leave and child care and over represented in professional fields, all of which was lost as soon as the wall came down. Even today, women from the previous DDR have a far lower income gap compared to men, have higher employment rates and have higher rates in senior managerial positions (including one Angela Merkel), just one of the many fascinating learnings from reunification, one of the biggest social experiments in history. Unfortunately it was also a total police state, civil liberties were severely constrained and while wages were good, there was little to buy, encapsulated by the up to 16 year wait for the epitome of socialist consumerism, the Trabant.

    Shifting gears, the afternoon was spent being, once again, amazed and reassured at the German’s unique willingness to confront the crimes of their fathers. The Jewish memorial outside the Reigstag being a case in point. I can’t think of anywhere else in the world you can find a memorial to a countries national shame, taking up some of its most expensive real estate, and where the locals will take pains to verbally and loudly rebuke insensitive foreigners who climb on the concrete blocks to get the perfect instagram photo. Close by, at the site of Hitler’s bunker I watched as a far right sympathiser laid a bunch of flowers at the modest plaque, only to be publicly dressed down and the flowers to be immediately picked up and thrown in the closest bin. The Topography of Terrors is another new museum built on the site of the Gestapo headquarters, which was as excellent as it was depressing, and full of school groups as the society passes down to another generation the lessons learnt.

    It is so normal, that it’s hard to realise how abnormal it is. It’s impossible to imagine Britain remodelling Trafalgar Square as a memorial to colonialisation, the US to replace the Washington Monument with a memorial to slavery or Australia to repurpose the War Memorial to a memorial to indigenous genocide. Those ideas are almost laughable, but Germany has done just that and more, and for doing so they have my deep abiding respect.

    I didn’t spend a lot of time at museums and monuments though, instead focussing on exploring the fabric of the city. From the Turkish and flea markets, laneways filled with hidden bolt holes and street art, grand boulevards and spending an entire afternoon in the Tiergarten, joining the locals in the shade of oak trees and the beer gardens making the most of the perfect weather. The long warm evenings were spent drinking beer in state park, packed with locals having picnics and catching up, or the garden of my hostel, packed with travellers from around the world, before heading out to explore the multitude of local bars.

    What I lacked in sleep, I made up for in memories and experiences.    Читать далее

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  • Tom KrijnenOnce more unto the eastTom Krijnen
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    Berlin

    1 августа 2018 г., Германия ⋅ ⛅ 28 °C
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    Riga

    3 августа 2018 г., Латвия ⋅ ⛅ 28 °C
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    Riga

    3 августа 2018 г., Латвия ⋅ ⛅ 28 °C

    What I have grown to like about Eastern Europe is that it constantly confounds expectations. You picture horse drawn carts, industrial wastelands and brutalist Communist concrete architecture, and while there’s always plenty of that, what you also find is modernity, incredible nature and cosmopolitan and beautiful towns and cities. What I have grown to love about Eastern Europe is that, while you can get all the above in Western Europe, it’s still an unknown quantity and always comes with a side of the crazy and the unexpected. Latvia incapsulated this. When I told people in Berlin where I was going next, the response was the predictable mix of incredulity and confusion and to be honest, largely due to my lack of planning, I didn’t have a response, but I was confident that it would be worth it.

    Worth it it was! I was only in the country for four days, but what a packed four days it was. From the moment I dropped my bags at the hostel I barely stopped for breath. I immediately hit the streets, exploring the compact and spectacular old town, before finding a bar advertising craft beer and finding out two things. Craft beer has taken off in Latvia, which provides you with access to some of the best beers I have ever drunk for $4 a pint and if the bar man takes a liking to you, he will let you play with the pistol behind the bar. Deciding that that was probably as good a sign as any to leave I headed back to the hostel where I met a group of people who validated my previously held believe that Eastern Europe is also full of the best travellers in the world. Generally more mature and fewer groups than in Western Europe and fewer wankers in search of enlightenment than in Asia, they are what made last years trip so unforgettable and it was good to see that the stereotype lives on. Most exciting personally though was that one of those people was the owner of Bucket Boys, one of my favourite bottle shops in Australia, who has promised me a weekend to remember in Sydney once I’m back in Australia. Being so far north, its still isn’t getting dark until around 10:30-11pm, so we spent a long evening hanging out in Riga’s ridiculously cool outdoor bars listening to live music and, once night fell, moved indoors, finishing at 4am singing karaoke in a subterranean bar (I figure I need all the practice I can get before Japan).

    Feeling very worse for wear the next morning, but determined to get out and explore the city more, I used the excuse of the Riga free walking tour as motivation to get out of bed. Luckily the local taking us around was hilarious as well as very knowledgeable and open about his own city and country. At 35, he was the same age as me, but our lives couldn’t have had a more different trajectory. Having grown up in the USSR, he remembers when the collapse happened and at 9 was with his father manning the civilian barricades in 1991 when the Communists, with the backing of the Soviet army, attempted to take back control, pointing out the bullet holes still visible at the very spot. In the 25 years since, he has witnessed the bursts of optimism and waves of pessimism that have permeated the ex-Soviet states. A country that has only been independent for less than 50 years of the last 500, it is no surprise that his biggest fear remains the resurgent Russia. Already, the country has had to cede a small slither of land on their eastern border to Russia in the last few years and the situation in Ukraine is causing a lot of local angst despite the country being a member of NATO, but then Trumps comments regarding Macedonia recently would give anyone pause as to whether the West’s promises are worth the paper they are written on.

    Following the tour I headed to the Museum of the Popular Front of Latvia, which charts the story of the fight for independence from the Soviet Union. Again confirming that each of the Soviet states journey to independence was unique, it was fascinating to find out that the sparks of independence in Latvia were lit by the environmental movement campaigning against the construction of a hydro electric dam and the shocking environmental destruction left behind by Soviet industrial policies in the mid 1980s. Maybe this isn’t as surprising when you consider that still today Latvia is covered in over 40% forest and the country has always had a strong relationship with the countryside, but it’s still not the usual story of economic conditions and democratic aspirations.

    As per tradition I next headed to the Central Markets, which may well be in my top 10 markets of all time. These are the largest covered markets in Europe, which makes sense when you discover they are located in the last remaining zeppelin hangers in existence. Now included on the UNESCO world heritage list, along with Riga old town, it’s located right on the edge of the old town, the markets are imposing and rather elegant, with each individual hanger being devoted to produce, dairy, fish or meat. Each hanger also has stalls selling beer, of course, and local specialities, which while predictably stodgy, were excellent and perfect for my hangover. A couple of plates of potato pancakes and perogis later I was feeling a new man.    Читать далее

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    Sigulda

    4 августа 2018 г., Латвия ⋅ ⛅ 24 °C

    Another great night enjoying the long summer evening was followed by an early morning start as I headed out of town to Sigulda for some mountain air. Sigulda is a small town overlooking the picturesque Gautama river in a national park, a heavily forested valley dotted with medieval castles, amazing views and the only bobsled track in the world open to the public, which was the clincher for the early morning effort. The train out to Sigulda went through endless forest, until I was finally deposited in Sigulda where I immediately hired a mountain bike and set off to explore the valley knowing that the bobsled track wasn’t open until after midday. Taking tracks through the forest I made my way down the valley sides until I reached the river and then followed the river upstream until I came across Gutmanis Cave, the largest cave in the Baltic’s and also the oldest tourist attraction in Latvia, evidenced by the huge number of carved inscriptions at its mouth, some dating back to the 17th century. To this day, local legend has it that the waters running out of the cave have healing properties, which explained the huge number of locals filling up water bottles while I was there.

    Ascending the opposite side of the valley, I stopped a a few view points highlighting my final destination, Turaida Castle. Turaida Castle is one of four in the immediate vascinity, but the best preserved and dominates a bluff looking out over the valley. It is also part of the larger Museum Reserve, which included a number of museums and beautiful grounds with various view points. Back on the bike it was time to head back down hill, where I got into a bit of bother following a path, which turned into a series of steep stairs, but I eventually found my way back to town, via a couple of castle ruins and lunch while waiting for the cable car, which I was hoping would allow me to avoid the climb back up the other side of the valley. That hope proved to be dashed as my bike was refused entry and so it was one last hard slog back to town where I immediately headed to the aforementioned bobsled track.

    Being summer there obviously wasn’t any ice, but you can still be taken down in a training sleigh (with wheels). Winter would have also had the added benefit of being able to ride in surplus sleds from the Sarajevo Olympics bobsled track, an abandoned track I had explored four years previously. Sigulda’s bobsled track was built in 1986 and was the only bobsled track in the Soviet Union. It is 1420 metres long, has 6 curves and has a maximum speed of 130km/h. I had heard about it the day before, and while I was sceptical that it was going to be more sedate than it sounded, I couldn’t not live out my Cool Runnings fantasy’s. It definitely wasn’t sedate! The only added safety feature was a loose lap sash and the fact you didn’t have top run and jump into the moving sleigh, but otherwise it’s just 3 tourists and a professional upfront steering. The briefing consisted of a simple command to ‘keep your neck and back strong’ and off we went. Approximately a minute later I was exhilarated, having been thrown about like a rag doll and feeling the sleigh sliding about while we were going round curves on the horizontal. It was awesome!    Читать далее

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    Jurmala

    5 августа 2018 г., Латвия ⋅ 🌧 25 °C

    Following the exhilarating of the previous day, it was time for some relaxation so I joined the rest of Riga (it was a Sunday) on a train heading to Jurmala for some beach time. Jurmala is a 33km stretch of white sand beach, backed by pine forest and a string of towns characterised by the art nouveau wooden mansions, full of gingerbread accents and decorative features. The beach was packed, but with so many kilometres to play with there was room for all and the water was warm, so a good day was had by all.Читать далее

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    Kaunas

    6 августа 2018 г., Литва ⋅ 🌬 23 °C

    Kaunas is known as Lithuania’s city of museums,which made my choice to spend a Monday there somewhat ironic, luckily it is also another surprisingly charming and beautiful Eastern European city. Compact and easily walkable, it has a nicely preserved old town, a number of green parks and, due to it having been the first capital of the Republic of Lithuania from 1919-39 a number of very impressive administrative buildings and cathedrals. What drew me here was reading that it had just recently been announced as the European capital of culture 2022, which from past experience is always a good sign that somewhere is worth a visit.

    My hunch wasn’t wrong, despite the huge amount of renovations going on to spruce the city up and make it look the part, the place proved to be very cool and relaxing after the craziness of Riga. It also helped that the hostel was very chill, which allowed me some early nights and some planning time for the next legs of my trip.

    Monday was spent exploring its nooks and crannies, wandering the old town, crossing the river to take the furnicular to a view point looking over the city from the opposite bank and exploring the parks, one of which contained an old soviet theme park. The theme park is still somewhat functioning, with a surreal mix of rusted, broken down or dilapidated rides and more recent, but by no means more impressive, add ons. My favourite had to be repurposed electric wheelchairs, which had been converted into bumper cars with kids careening around the paths barely being able to reach the handlebars.

    I had a choice on Tuesday to either stay in the City and hit up the museums or to head out of town to the Ninth Fort. I took the second option, which I’m very glad I did. The Ninth Fort is located an hours bus trip away and is one of a circle of forts that were built prior to WW1 by the Russians at the cost of $500 million in todays dollars and, which collectively made up the Kaunas Fortress. Seeing as it subsequently took the Germans a total of 11 days to take the city, the money may have been better spent elsewhere. However, what it is most famous for is being the site of a succession of brutal prisons and concentration camps, first by the Lithuanian Republic, then the Soviets and finally the Nazi’s who used it as an extermination camp, mainly for political prisoners, but also Jews and Russian POW’s. This was not a concentration camp, the only reason for people being taken there was to be killed. In total over 50,000 people were murdered in less than 3 years by being shot, stabbed or beaten, unlike other camps where gas chambers were built to ‘sanitise’ the operation. A single breakout of 62 prisoners in 1944, before the final liquidation, where the only survivors and witnesses to the horrors inflicted within. Once the Soviets were back it was once again used as a prison camp and staging post for the deportation of ethnic Lithuanians to Siberia. Today, it forms the basis for a spectacular, beautiful and very moving museum and is towered over by a fantastic 40m high brutalist communist sculpture erected in 1984, which is an appropriately awe inspiring and amazing sight.

    Right next to the sculpture is a large green field, which is where 50,000 people are still buried and is marked by a simple memorial and a number of simple plaques from European cities where some of the murdered originally came from. One of my favourite rooms in the museum though was one devoted to those who harboured and protected enemies of the Nazi regime. Hundreds of portraits and a sentence describing their heroics, it was incredible moving and, surrounded by so much misery and horror, a fantastic and uplifting reminder of the personal courage and fortitude displayed by so many in the face of such overwhelming fear and brutality.    Читать далее

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  • Tom KrijnenOnce more unto the eastTom Krijnen
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    Kaunas

    6 августа 2018 г., Литва ⋅ 🌬 23 °C
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    Ninth Fort

    7 августа 2018 г., Литва ⋅ ⛅ 23 °C
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    Tratai

    8 августа 2018 г., Литва ⋅ ⛅ 24 °C
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    2Oh for the days when this man was the greatest threat to the multilateral world order.111212

    Vilnius

    8 августа 2018 г., Литва ⋅ ⛅ 24 °C

    Travel is all about the people and the places, and Vilnius encapsulated this adage. Vilnius itself is another very picturesque Eastern European city, easily walkable and full of green parks, wide open squares and more churches than actively practicing christians, and as with every other Eastern European location, it also comes with a side of crazy. In Vilnius’s case this comes in the form of the Republic of Uzupis.

    Uzupis is a self-declared, largely unrecognized, independent republic within the boundaries of Lithuania. Declared a micro-nation by a group of art student squatters in an abandoned neighbourhood near the local Art School on 1 April 1998, this community of bohemians may or may not be playing an extended April Fool’s Joke, but if it is, it’s an elaborate one. There is a President and a cabinet of ministers, and the parliament convenes each Monday at the “Barliament” to debate laws. A 42 point constitution is in place, which includes such edicts as ‘everyone has a right to have no rights’, ‘a cat is not obliged to love its owner, but must help in time of need’ and ‘Everyone has the right to die, but this is not an obligation’ (the full list is well worth reading and can be read on the official embassy site - http://uzhupisembassy.eu/uzhupis-constitution/). Currency has been created and circulated, and is the only currency in the world pegged to the price of a half litre of beer. A flag flies (four flags, actually, one for each season) and an army has been mobilised… with 11 troops in all. There is also the only known public statue of Frank Zapper, as the Republic’s Parton saint.

    Having celebrated its 20th year of ‘independence’ this year, it is still going strong, so strong in fact that the Republic now boasts the most expensive real estate in the city (nothing can stop gentrification!). It’s a fantastic, whimsical neighbourhood and somewhere I was drawn back to continually during my stay. Some of you can expect to receive postcards from there, bought from the Foreign Minister’s shop. The Minister’s name is Mister Mister and he is a cat, who will viciously attack anyone who disturbs his peaceful slumber.

    Vilnius also came with an added dose of crazy, in the form of Monika, who I met, along with her husband, Matis, on my first evening after they started chatting to me at a cool little basement bar, not far from the town hall square. The irrepressible Monika was larger than life and completely overshadowed her somewhat dour husband, extremely extrovert, always laughing and seemed to enjoy nothing more than making fun of the ‘ignorant’ Australians mumbling accent. She also happened to be a bit of a local personality, being the ex-host of the most popular youth radio show in Lithuania and the current star of the “number one” (only) animal themed show on Lithuanian TV. After taking me out for a great Lithuanian meal and many shots of vodka, they dropped me off with the strict instructions to be ready and waiting at 2pm the following day with swimmers and sturdy shoes. After exploring the city during the morning, I dutifully waited at the designated pick up point where Monika finally rolled up fashionably late in her BMW following her morning TV shoot and we headed off to Trakai, a national park not far from Vilnius where we went swimming and paddling on the beautifully clear lake, before being joined by Matis after he had finished work and went to a nearby forest to collect mushrooms and blueberries. Unfortunately, there had been no rain recently, so mushrooms were in very short supply, but the blueberries were plentiful and didn’t survive the walk out.

    On the way back to Vilnius, they decided that there was one more activity for the night and so we pulled off to the largest corn maze I have ever seen. It was long closed, but Monika used her star power to convince the owner to let us in and so we stumbled through the 3km+ maze in complete darkness while chewing on the sweetest sweet corn I have ever eaten.

    The next day followed a similar pattern, I sight saw until the mid afternoon, the highlight of which was the ex KGB building, which has been turned into yet another grim, but fascinating, museum telling the story of the various Lithuanian resistance movements throughout the 20th century. The building itself has been kept largely as is, including the basement prison, torture rooms and execution room, where an average of 50 people a week were executed by the KGB during the late 1940’s and early 1950’s. the outside of the building is covered with engravings of those partisans killed by various Russian and German regimes providing a permanent and grim reminder to the tragic history of the Baltic states during the 20th century.

    Following my sight seeing, I was once again picked up by Monika, this time for an excursion to Druskininkai, home of Grutas Park, an open-air sculpture park and museum housing old Soviet statues that were removed from cities and towns all over Lithuania. Larger than life statues of Joseph Stalin, Vladimir Lenin, and other Soviet figures loom over the park, creating an eerie atmosphere. Adding to the creepy feel of the park are the watch towers quietly playing Soviet music, tanks, and small indoor expositions. I had been promised a home cooked dinner from her grandmother (despite the lack of foraged ingredients), but something I quickly learned about Monika, was that she had a very poor sense of time and the 3 hour round trip meant that this promise was broken. Monika was heading to Kaunas early the next morning to host a car race and so it was a extremely grateful and appreciative farewell when we got back to Vilnius and she drove off leaving me reeling in her dust and once again in awe of the random and wonderful situations one can get into while travelling.    Читать далее

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  • Tom KrijnenOnce more unto the eastTom Krijnen
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    Druskininkai

    9 августа 2018 г., Литва ⋅ ☀️ 28 °C
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    Vilnius

    10 августа 2018 г., Литва ⋅ 🌬 26 °C
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    Minsk

    11 августа 2018 г., Беларусь ⋅ ☀️ 25 °C

    As another sign of how wholly unprepared I was for this trip, I hadn’t even looked into visa requirements for Belarus before I was in Lithuania. If I had been travelling only last year, such ill discipline would have been the end of any aspirations of coming to Europe’s last dictatorship, but as luck would have it, said dictator had recently issued a decree allowing me five days visa free travel to Belarus. The catch being that I had to enter and leave from Minsk airport, which is how I ended up on my shortest international flight of my life, a 25 minute hop from Vilnius to Minsk in a Belarusian national airlines Antonov aircraft.

    Minsk airport is 35 km out of town, and so it was with a sense of irony that my taxi took longer than the flight, but it was a highly entertaining drive as my taxi driver who spoke no English tried to get drivers in neighbouring cars at red lights to spend 30 seconds translating for us. Seeing as English is almost nonexistent in the country this was met with limited success. Eventually after a late night tour around the town centre where he tried to point out sites and/or a translator, he mercifully dropped me off at my hostel.

    The hostel was full of Russian tourists, and my dorm was full of what looked like Russian gangsters, covered in tattoos and shaved heads, which was not the most welcoming vibe. It was already past midnight and the gang seemed settled in with lights blaring, conversation and music. Not wanting to press my luck I decided to head out for a walk and to get my bearings, hoping that they’d settle down by the time I got back. At night the city looked soulless, lots of hulking communist style apartment buildings, with a smattering of over the top and blingy modern buildings. Minsk was almost completely destroyed during the Second World War, which never bodes well for cities that ended up on the Soviet side of the wall.

    This all probably contributed to my immediate impressions of Belarus, which were far from positive and, while drinking a beer in a deserted bar, I was seriously thinking I’d made a serious mistake allocating my full allotment of five days to the country. Eventually I figured it was time to check whether the mafia had either gone out or gone to bed and headed back to my hostel, where I had a terrible sleep wondering why I’d come to this god forsaken country, or at least just got an airbnb and at least been comfortable and not at risk of having my kidneys removed in my sleep.

    But, as they say “the darkest hour is just before the dawn” and the new day showed a whole other side of the city that had been hidden by the dark. A few things struck me immediately in the light of day - firstly Minsk has got to be the cleanest place on earth! I had heard this was the case, but you really can’t comprehend how clean the place is until you arrive. Every sidewalk is spotless, every building is shining, every park is pristine, it’s kind of eerie. Secondly, was confirmation that language was going to be an issue, no English text, only Cyrillic, and no attempts to accomodate the western traveller. It struck me that there were only a handful of places I have been where I have truely been lost with communication, Eastern Turkey and southern Laos springing to mind. These occasions are always a good check on my western white privileged, but confronting nonetheless. Thirdly, this place is dirt cheap, cheaper than probably anywhere I have ever been (including Asia), which is saying something! We are talking $1.50 for 0.5 litres of beer in a bar, a full meal in a restaurant with wine no more than $10, subway ride around 10c, a show at the national opera $3 (largely explained by the national average income of less than US$6,000/year). Fourth, they (well at least the President) hold onto their Soviet heritage like I have never seen, Soviet flags everywhere, Lenin statues (including new ones erected in the last few years) and other Soviet statues, spotless and taking pride of place (including my favourite KFC in the world hidden beneath a large and imposing concrete Soviet mural) and the city’s largest and most impressive museum being dedicated to the heroics of the Soviet army. Fifth, this is one extremely ordered society, jay walking is unheard of, queues that would make the English proud and a raft of bizarre laws that could only come from a country ruled by an iron fist President with a penchant for issuing decrees for the most bizarre things (my favourite being a law that forbids more than five people clapping at any one time). These laws are ultimately enforced by a huge and visible and invisible police force, soldiers who’s most important job seemed to be standing guard at every bush at the beer festival I went to for the explicit purpose of preventing public urination, and the KGB, the only state security apparatus in the ex Soviet Union still going by its original name, with a reputed network of 200,000 informants (one for every 10 citizens) and occupying one of the biggest and most impressive buildings in the city.

    There was a free walking tour though in English, so I headed there hoping, at the very least, that I’d meet up with some other western travellers to at least have someone to talk to over the next 5 days. It was a small group, but the well worn strategy paid off again and on top of a number of great tips about how to spend the next few days, I hooked up with Mike and Jo from the US. The tour guide told us about a beer and food festival being held that day in a park just out of the city, so after lunch and a few errands, including picking up an invaluable SIM card, we jumped into an Uber and headed out the most socialist beer festival I have ever seen. 54 stalls all selling the same three beers and the same repeating selection of food options, attending with two Americans, this was a bit of a culture shock, but the beer was cheap and quite tasty and a festival is still a festival. The headline act happened to be Sophie Ellis-Baxter, summing up the general feeling that Belarus was still stuck in a time not long after the wall fell.

    It was incredibly busy and by late afternoon the orderly lines for the beer and toilets were becoming unbearable, so we decided to head back into the city for dinner. While waiting for our Uber at the entrance, another truth became evident, Minsk local are incredibly friendly. This just backs up my working theory that the best and most friendly people are those living in the most repressive regimes and in the most poverty. A couple of locals, in broken English, approached us asking where we were going and asked if they could join as they were running late to their favourite Russian singers concert at a bar in the city. So we joined them, meeting up with a larger group at the concert, who were all young professionals and had a basic level of English, and spent the entire evening asking endless questions about life in Australia and America. Thus backing up my other theory that the best places to visit are those where tourists are still a source of curiosity and good. We are now Belarusian social media famous (they have their own version of facebook), being featured in a number of photos from the night posted the next day. After the concert it was off to see some bars, including an awesome mad men themed one, before finishing the night at the most quintessential Eastern European karaoke bar, the kind of place you could imagine my hostel room mates would hang out.

    And thus, Minsk got well and truely under my skin. I had had plans to head out of Minsk to do some day trips, including to Mir and Brest, but in five days I never left the city, beguiled by its weirdness, beauty and hidden secrets. Having a group of locals to show us around turned out to completely transform the city from a, seemingly, soulless Soviet utopia of broad boulevards, imposing buildings and endless suburbs of concrete apartment blocks, into a city with so much soul. A place where entire neighbourhoods of abandoned Soviet factories have been turned into hidden labyrinths of courtyards full of food trucks, performance spaces and the cleanest and most pristine street art I have ever seen (not one tag to be seen), huge featureless walls, turned into amazing, bright and fantastical scenes. A city full of ordered and impeccable parks, beautiful old Soviet metro stations (photos unfortunately being a big no no!), little pockets of original colourful neighbourhoods that survived WW2 and endless pockets of Soviet murals, mosaics and statues. Much of this would have been missed if not for our awesome local guides, who took an inordinate amount of pleasure showing us around their town. Even while they were at work, we would get a constant stream of messages telling us where to go next, where to eat and what to see.

    Minsk may not have the same charm as the capitals of Lithuania or Latvia, but it’s easily more imposing and, most importantly, different. This for me is the most important thing about travelling and Minsk encapsulated the adage that travel is “that glorious feeling of teetering into the brink of the unknown”.    Читать далее

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  • Tom KrijnenOnce more unto the eastTom Krijnen
    7
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    Minsk

    11 августа 2018 г., Беларусь ⋅ ☀️ 25 °C
  • Tom KrijnenOnce more unto the eastTom Krijnen

    Minsk

    12 августа 2018 г., Беларусь ⋅ ⛅ 20 °C
  • Tom KrijnenOnce more unto the eastTom Krijnen
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    Minsk

    12 августа 2018 г., Беларусь ⋅ ⛅ 20 °C
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    Warsaw

    15 августа 2018 г., Польша ⋅ ⛅ 22 °C

    Eastern Europe is a hipster’s wet dream, endless post industrial ruins and neighbourhoods ripe for ironic gentrification and the perks of good bars, coffee and craft beer. The speed with which the invasion is happening is incredible, like a blitzkrieg proceeding the wave of tourists finally waking up to the wonders of the east. Where Minsk this invasion was still raw and tentative, Warsaw, being further west and with a much more secure beachhead of tourists, had tipped over into full blown gentrification. Praga, a neighbourhood across the river from the centre, and a no go area after dark only a few years ago, now boasts the coolest, newest and most expensive real estate, which is slowly destroying decaying neighbourhoods, street art and markets. Not all is lost though, a few amazing examples of street art remain, the Soho district (really!) is a fantastic example of reuse of an old industrial area for the purpose of museums and public event spaces and Bazaar Rozicki remains, increasingly hedged in by increasingly shiny apartments on all sides.

    Bazaar Rozicki, was once Warsaw’s premier market, the epicentre of Warsaw’s thriving black market during the days of communism, since 1989 its popularity has waned significantly and is now a shadow of its former self. Today the lure of illicit goods has gone, but one could still easily outfit an entire polyester wedding thanks to the variety of cheap wedding dresses, kiddie tuxes and chintzy mother-of-the-bride gowns. It is still a great place to visit though with the characterful faded green wooden store fronts providing an atmospheric reminder of a time when Warsaw was a Communist backwater.

    While not Poland’s premier tourist destination, Warsaw was a shock after Minsk. Where the entirety of Belarus gets 100,000 international tourists in an entire year, the same number must have been in Warsaw on my first afternoon. Endless tour groups from every corner of the world and selfie sticks jostling for space and airtime in the tight streets of Warsaw’s beautifully reconstructed old town. Warsaw was completely obliterated in World War 2, what wasn’t destroyed by being in the middle of the be and flow of the eastern front was destroyed during and after the Warsaw Uprising in 1944, when the local population rose up in open rebellion against the Nazi’s. The uprising lasted just over 2 months in the forlorn hope of achieving the backing of the western powers and reestablishing an independent state before the Soviets arrived in town. 45,000 underarmed Poles kept the Nazi’s pinned down in bitter street fighting, before capitulating having run out of ammunition, food and water and receiving only limited support from the Allies, despite multiple promises of support. In retribution the Nazi’s ordered the destruction of the entire city, systematically going block by block blowing up every building. By the time the Soviets ‘liberated’ the city 85% of all buildings had been completely destroyed, and from a prewar population of 1.2 million people, less than 1000 remained living in sewers and basements. As a final nail in the coffin, the Soviets quickly rounded up all members of the Polish liberation forces and sent them to Siberian Gulags to ensure that any hope of national independence would be quashed. Finding themselves once again being “prisoners of geography”, experiencing first hand the manifest unfairness of being born in a small country in the no mans land between the east and the west.

    Other than the incredibly good Uprising Museum and monuments, today you wouldn’t know this was the case. The Old Town has been beautifully and faithfully restored, incorporating a huge number of original decorative features, which had been salvaged and hidden by locals in basements and houses for decades post war and using original stone and brick salvaged from other towns and cities across the country.

    My second day in Warsaw happened to coincide with a national holiday, Soldiers Day, a day similar to ANZAC day, but taking on an added level of gravity when you consider the countries geography and history. The city came to a standstill and there were various commemorative events culminating in an appropriately impressive parade of goose stepping soldiers, tanks and aircraft. A lot of the countries I have travelled through are celebrating 100 years of independence this year, which I have found a little ironic seeing as most have only been truely independent for a fraction of that time, but Poland is no different and so the parade was supersized this year, moving streets to a larger thoroughfare and including a large contingent of American servicemen and military hardware underlining the importance of NATO forces in bolstering the eastern front against an expansionist Russia. With the parade and formalities over it appeared that the entire city descended on the old town as one for an afternoon of eating and drink. This made the previous days crowds appear like a mere small gathering. The place was packed and I wandered the streets struggling to find anywhere for lunch or a drink that didn’t have lines stretching a block. As I was giving up and heading out, I heard someone call my name, and it was Tim, an American I’d met back in Riga. Tim lives in Germany and works for NATO and was randomly in town as part of the American contingent for the parade, it was serendipitous and another example of our crazy small world. Even better they had a table and a jug of beer and so I had somewhere to sit back and watch the passing parade and incredibly talented buskers who took over the town in the evening.    Читать далее

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  • Tom KrijnenOnce more unto the eastTom Krijnen
    2
    11111

    Warsaw

    16 августа 2018 г., Польша ⋅ ⛅ 22 °C
  • Tom KrijnenOnce more unto the eastTom Krijnen
    6
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    Warsaw

    16 августа 2018 г., Польша ⋅ ⛅ 22 °C
  • Tom KrijnenOnce more unto the eastTom Krijnen

    Krakow

    19 августа 2018 г., Польша ⋅ ☀️ 27 °C

    I left with mixed feelings about Krakow. On one hand it is an undeniably beautiful city, but on the other, like so many beautiful cities further west it has been long discovered and thus overrun by hordes of tourists. This was only made worse by the fact that half of Poland was on holidays this week due to the Wednesday public holiday. If I thought the crowds in Warsaw were too much, Krakow was something else, which severely tested both my patience and reinforced my unabiding hatred hatred of organised tour groups.

    This hatred came back to bite me on my second day in Krakow as I tried to get to Auschwitz. Every second person in town was selling package tours to Auschwitz, offering the same generic overpriced package. I’ve never been a fan of tours, but especially for visiting somewhere like Auschwitz, which for me would be a deeply personal and confronting experience, being stuck with a large number of mindless drones and passionless tour guide sounded like my idea of personal hell. Instead I took the independent option and grabbed a 2 hour local bus from Krakow to Auschwitz, arriving with a sinking heart to find a huge car park full of coaches and tour groups being corralled. Things only got worse as I ventured further in and saw the line to get individual tickets. It was 10am and the line must have stretched over 500 metres and showed little sign of movement, as tour group after tour group wandered straight to the front and through the gates. A couple of enquiries later confirmed that the wait was close to 4 hours for individuals, but that if I was happy to sign up then and there for a guided tour with any one of the many touts I’d be able to skip the queue. Faced with the prospect of selling out on my principles and seeing the place I had come so far to see I chose instead to shoot myself in the foot and headed back to Krakow. To be honest, despite wasting my day, I’m happy with my choice. I’ve been to concentration camps at various locations in Europe in the past and so I knew what to expect, and the prospect of going through that experience while being jostled by crowds and rushed by guides is not how I wish to pay my respects and reflect on one of the worlds darkest periods.

    It was a similar experience back in Kraków as I was frustrated in my attempts to get into various attractions, such as Schindler’s factory and the very impressive Krakow castle. Not that all was lost though, there was a Pierogi festival on for the length of my stay, so I ate my body weight in dumplings and once I got outside of old town and the crowds started thinning I discovered another fantastically vibrant city full of parks, life, street food and the very characterful Jewish district, which has remained largely untouched.    Читать далее

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  • Tom KrijnenOnce more unto the eastTom Krijnen
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    Upper Tatras

    20 августа 2018 г., Словакия ⋅ ⛅ 15 °C

    I knew nothing about the Tatra mountains, a tiny, but impressive mountain range that straddles the border of Poland and Slovakia so it seemed like an opportune diversion to escape the maddening crowds, reconnect with nature and do some hiking. I heard about them in Krakow, where the mountains can be reached by heading south to the town of Zakopane, but I was warned that its proximity to Krakow and the Polish holidays meant that it would likely be packed. So instead I headed to the less popular Slovakian side and chose Poprad as my base.

    Poprad is a sleepy town nestled at the base of the Higher Tatras and mercifully free of western tourists. The vast majority of visitors to the town appeared to be Slovak families heading to the towns Aqua Park or in hiking gear getting ready to tackle the mountains. There was very little English information online regarding hikes in the area and I was completely clueless when I arrived, so headed to the towns information centre where an enthusiastic young man gave me a couple of recommended day hikes, but strongly encouraged me to take a route from Vysoke Tatry, taking you from Mala Studena Dolina to Velka Studena Dolina, two big and beautiful glacial mountain valleys, via a narrow pass that connects the two (Priecne Sedlo, which I only found out later directly translates as ‘Vertical Pass’). He sold me a hiking map, marked the trail, mentioned something about chains and warned me to start early to ensure I got through the pass before the predicted rain came in the afternoon. Thus began another one of those terrifying and glorious adventures that can only happen through a combination of ignorance, lack of communication and overconfidence.

    If I had gone back to my hotel and googled Priecne Sedlo I would have discovered that this pass is considered the most technically difficult and dangerous stretch of trails in the Tatras, itself “an immensely dangerous mountain range ... where every year, 15 to 20 people die”. Oblivious to these facts, I got up early the next morning and caught the train to Stary Smokovec from where I took a furnicular to the trail head at 1100 metres. It was 8am as I started hiking and it was a perfect morning, bright and sunny, yet cool. Not long after I headed off I reached a view point from where I could see the opening of both valleys and my first real glimpse of the Tatras majesty and the challenge ahead of me. High Tatras have a tree line at about 1600 metres and much of the forest is still recovering from a massive storm that killed a third of it a few years ago, but it was still beautiful going as I walked through forest, next to streams, passing waterfalls, over small wooden bridges and through varied flora. When I stopped looking down at my feet as I struggled with the rocky terrain and gazed above the tree tops I could see the towering mountains, clean of vegetation and dressed in bare granite, it was overwhelming and daunting as it slowly dawned on me that I’d be scaling them to get from one valley to the next.

    As I ascended the valley the clouds started moving in, intermittently obstructing my view, but providing a very atmospheric backdrop. After about an hour I left the forest behind, the trail became progressively steeper until eventually I was clambering up large scree slopes. At one point I came upon my first “nosic”, a human porter carrying supplies to one of the two chalets on this particular route. These Chalet’s are one of the few in Slovakia where supplies are delivered only by humans and they are a sight to behold and incredible testament to human strength and endurance. As I read later, their load usually weighs between 60-80kg, but the record was a delivery to Chata pod Rismi (at 2250 metres the highest in the Tatras) of 116kg. At this point my load, which would have only weighed a few kg and already felt heavy, looked rather pathetic..

    After a final scramble up a series of switchbacks, which gave amazing views back down the valley when the clouds parted, I emerged at Teryho Chata, Terry’s cottage in English, a small mountain refuge located in a small saddle plateau at 2000 metres, with mountains on three sides and overlooking two small glacial lakes. It is a beautiful piece of landscape art in a way only alpine scenery can be. Since this is as far as most hikers go, it was dotted with tired people sitting and lying by the lakes, eating and drinking and catching their breath for the return journey. I stopped for a small break and to take some photos, but was conscious of the weather that was moving in and the need to get through the pass before it started raining, so quickly pushed on.

    As I continued to climb, the landscape got progressively rougher and more severe. The number of hikers also dwindled until I was the only one within eye shot until I’d come around a bend and see people off in the distance. At this stage I was still oblivious to what was to come and had lulled myself into a false sense of security as I clambered up small cliffs that had chains for handholds believing that this is what the information centre meant by ‘chains’. Within an hour though I had arrived at 2100 metres and was standing dumbfounded at the base of a near vertical 250 metre cliff looking up at the chain lines disappearing into the clouds. A small group of three people were also at the base when I arrived having a drink and catching their breath before the climb, so I figured I’d do the same and wait for them to start climbing and follow their lead.

    To say I was apprehensive would be an understatement, so it was lucky that at this stage I didn’t know that rescues are incredibly common on the pass as people get stuck or freak out, for which the Slovaks charge the princely sum of 10,000 euros a pop. I’ve never done much climbing and definitely have never attempted scaling such heights without a safety line, but with the simple choice of either turning back or pushing on, I chose the later and after some water and packing away my camera into my backpack I started climbing. The first section was comparatively mild with plenty of foot holds and a slope to lean into, but as I got higher sections opened themselves up that were invisible from the start, smooth granite surfaces, which either had had mental loops drilled into them or crevices to jam feet and hands into and vertical drops that screamed instant death. Having people in front of me was a godsend as I waited patiently at the base of each chain link watching and studying their route. After 30-40 minutes I mercifully reached the very narrow gap, which signalled I’d reached the top and from where I could see down both valleys. Unfortunately in my frazzled state I didn’t even think to get my camera out to take any photos and other than a couple of dodgy iPhone photos snapped in a hurry as I caught my breath on ledges I have no other evidence of the climb.

    My relief at reaching the top was short lived as I made way to the other side of the gap only to see that I’d be descending down another series of chains. Luckily the descent was less tricky and technically difficult than the ascent, but at least ascending I didn’t have to look down, which didn’t help my already shattered nerves. My nerves were not helped when I dislodged a stone the size of my head that narrowly missed a guy below me. I eventually got to the bottom though and was greeted with a further steep descent down incredibly loose small scree, which meant a good portion was done on my arse as I slid and slipped further down the mountain side.

    Not long after I started descending the rain started falling, which was frustrating, but also incredibly fortunate as it hadn’t started as I was climbing. I would not have wanted to climb the pass in any kind of wet conditions, the mere thought of which makes my blood chill. The trail was also very hard to follow at this point and after losing it multiple times I ended up traversing far to much of the mountain side, which at least was very impressive. Covered in huge granite boulders many looking like menhirs and covered in green moss that gives the landscape a pistachio colour.

    Eventually the landscape started evening out a bit and, to take a break from the rain and have some lunch, I stopped at Zbojnicka Chata where I had a big bowl of goulash, for sustenance, and a large beer, for nerves and pain relief. From there on, it was mostly downhill, but I still had almost 4 hours of trekking over the most ankle breaking, small and increasingly slippery and wet gravel and rocks. I was already struggling and my foot was complaining, but. Well. Unless I wanted a 10,000 euro helicopter ride there was only one way. Keep walking.

    Eventually I reached the trail head 10 hours and 20 km of gruelling trials later, exhausted and relieved, but with that calm warm feeling you get when you test your limits and overcome something bigger than yourself.    Читать далее

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