Saturday 17 September 2016

Put Touching back in Keeping in Touch


This summer I tried something a little different, something that some of you will be familiar with but most of you won't have ever done. As part of My Grand Tour of Europe from Greece to UK, itself a fairly retro form of international travel. I decided to reevaluate another old-world holiday habit, postcards.

A few months ago my students did very well in their exams, I could have facebooked their success or tweeted it for all to see but I chose not to. I'm very mindful of how I use my social media, I do not 'friend' my students, I do not post my kids' faces and I even ask my wife's permission to post a photo that she's in. My social media is my social word, an adult world where I communicate my thoughts to people I know and I know all my friends. So, I sent them greetings cards, a Hallmark moment in their postboxes. The reaction was incredible. The mums told me of the glow as the kids opened the postbox to find an envelope for them, "Is it for me, mummy?" Another nailed it, "It's such a shame that few will ever experience this."


It was then that I decided to make a change. At each of the cities we stayed at I bought a brace of cards and stamps. I spent a little time composing a brief but personal message to each child ending with the words "Can you guess where your next card will be from?" Then popped them in a postbox. Simple.

We all love to share our holidays with friends and family. Part of the joy of travelling is telling others about the things you've done and seen. We post pictures of ourselves drinking cocktails on the beach, standing, smiling in front of exotic landmarks and telling everyone that we are having the time of our lives. But I didn't want to advertise the fact that our house was empty and ripe for picking.


When we returned and I met up with my kids, they were curious about where I had been and what I had seen. They appreciated that there were little pieces of shared joy in their postboxes and their parents described the excitement and anticipation of opening them to find or not find another card. One was away at camp but phoned almost daily to enquire about any new arrivals.


Smartphones and social media has made sharing our experiences so much easier but in that convenience has gone a little of the effort that makes something special. The joy of waiting, the uncertainty of delivery and the contact of something that went from your hand to another's without being digitised.


Please share your postcard experiences and let me know I'm not the only one.

Friday 16 September 2016

Donald Tusk finally concedes EU's role in Brexit




European commission president Jean-Claude Juncker grabbed headlines in his 'State of the Union'  speech with carrots of internet connectivity. He promised universal 5G internet connection for all Europeans by 2020. He also laid into Britain's decision to leave the union as a result of 40 years of lies from British politicians. But it was Donald Tusk's comments that were most telling. Could it be that the EU might be ready to consider its own failings as a root cause of widespread discourse in the European project and even Brexit.


The huge backlash against Britain's decision to invoke the Lisbon treaty and retire from the bloc may still be evident but it is finally giving way to more constructive consideration of why it happened. In my humble opinion it is only in that question 'why' can any progress be made, ignoring it will doom Europe to a cycle of repeated mistakes and eventually its demise. UK may suffer as a result of its decision but did the British people make the right choice for the wrong reasons.

Donald Tusk in an interview outside the EU summit in Bratislava (that UK were not invited to) urged EU leaders to take a "sober and brutally honest" look at EU's problems. This is an attitude that has only appeared since the UK referendum. Bolstered by this brave or reckless move (depending on your view) other member states have begun in/out discussions. 

On my tour of Europe this summer, I went through 11 EU countries and saw partially closed borders and heard constant dissatisfaction with the Union. Some even expressed envy at UK's decision. 

There are huge benefits to Europe standing together on the world stage and a key role for UK in that but the European commission needs to get over itself and start serving its citizens and not its own political agendas. I'm not supporting the rise in popularism that is gaining momentum pandering to popular fears and whims. 

Let us not forget that losing the UK will have significant impact on EU. The UK was the second largest contributor to EU as well as its financial, services and technology industries. If EU doesn't look very hard and long at itself it could trip into hole that it can't get out of. 

    

Saturday 10 September 2016

My Grand Tour: Nuremberg




Nuremberg sits a way from the motorway and driving through the suburbs was as innocuous as any European conurbation, this could have been Basildon in Essex, the outskirts of Brussels, anywhere. But these suburbs nestle a dark heart. We very nearly didn't put Nuremberg on our route but i'm glad, no that's not the word, let's put it this way, had we not seen Nuremberg we would have missed another side of Europe. A side that hides in plain sight all over Europe, if not the world but Nuremberg is the home of its monument, the phantasm that is still too tangible to be called a ghost. Europe's malevolent ego, hibernating until memory is shadowed by hate, again.

Welcome to Germany
We dropped our stuff at the hotel and showered off over 500km. About 5km after the border traffic was stemmed down to a crawl for checks and a number of cars had been channelled off for inspection. We didn't tick any suspicion boxes and were waved through. These are borders that until recently simply had a sign declaring "Welcome to Germany".





Nuremberg's medieval centre was a sight but I needed to relax with a beer before we began exploring. We soon found a pavement pub. and settled in for some well-earned refreshment. The atmosphere in the pub was a little more raw than the gentile business people and tourists of Vienna. Definitely not a hipster hangout, the patrons were the young and disaffected of Nuremberg, punk by necessity not style-choice. I watched a young Muslim couple sit on a bench in the square, apart from her hijab they were no different from any teenage couple. Sitting opposite was a young German man alone with a large bottle of beer, apart from his cropped hair, no different from any other teenager. He began shouting at the couple. Despite my scant knowledge of German, I knew exactly what he was saying. The Muslim boy tried to ignore him but he wanted to be heard. He continued belligerently, waving his arms around. The Muslim boy continued to ignore but by the time the other was standing over him punctuating his words with the bottle he had no choice. They were soon standing toe to toe.



A bull skinhead with a pitbull and mutton chops bowled into the pub and sat at a table behind us. He was obviously a bit of a face as he was enthusiastically welcomed and spoke loudly. The others sat and listened as dutifully as his dog.

The boy with the beer bottle backed down and the young Muslims made to leave. The boy followed with abuse and got on his phone. The next day we learned of the knife attack on a train in Wurzburg, the next city.


Nuremberg is a magnificent medieval citadel that straddles the river Pegnitz. Much of the old architecture is well-maintained and the newer buildings are for the most part sympathetic. The castle sits up above the town commanding a picture postcard view but it is not Nuremberg castle that dominates, it is the church. St. Lorenz and St. Sebald are twin sisters and big girls they are too. The type of churches designed to put the fear of god quite literally into the townsfolk, I felt quite humbled by its huge dimensions and dark foreboding stone. As a Briton I'm just not used to such overbearing ecclesiastic architecture. I think after Henry VIII the shift went to the dominance of the crown over the church so our cathedrals are quite weedy compared to Europe's. Gothic buildings on such a scale are, well Gothic!

I could go on about the sausage shops and the cuckoo clocks, the twee little shops full of beautifully crafted souvenirs, but I won't. I will, however tell you about a conversation with a lady in one of these shops. My wife struck up a conversation with her, it was her who first informed us of the attack in Wurzburg. We introduced ourselves as being Greek and British and Brexit came up. "Good luck to you." she said. I took this defensively as an affront to the British decision, that we wouldn't make it without the Germans (and the EU). "If you pull it off and control your borders, i'll be moving there for sure!"


Inspired by this sublime example of Teutonic life and values, a certain failed Austrian artist declared it The most German city and chose it as the backdrop for his new Rome that he would build complete with Colosseum and Cathedral of light. Of course, the failed artist was Adolph Hitler and much of his Rome still stands, in stone and hearts.

The Colosseum, full of stories and lessons 
Just 10 minutes from the medieval citadel stands the Dokumentationszentrum Reichsparteitagsgelände as big and imposing as its name. I had intended to have a stroll around the grounds and get an idea of what it had been. I'd looked it up on the net and just saw some ruins, but we arrived as the museum opened and decided to go in. The museum is housed in the main building, this was to be his Colosseum. Built despite resistance from the soft ground that tried to defy support for this huge edifice. More and more forced labour was brought in to sure the footings by the Großer Dutzendteich lake. Eventually Hitler won and continued his plans.


View from the podium
The museum is a grim reminder of one of humanity's darkest hours but I couldn't help seeing it as a masterclass, it laid out the rise of the Nazis from a workers party channelling popular resistance to the terms of the treaty of Versailles to a hate for the injustice of its neighbours. Those neighbours were the British, the French and the Russians who had imposed such harsh reparations on the Germans after the Great War (the war to end all wars) but they started a little closer to home with their own neighbours who for one reason or another were a little less German than them. They whittled out the weak and the disabled then moved to the dissidents and any group who did not fit the great plan. Let us remember that the Jews were not the only group victimised and exterminated by the Nazis, it was also the Gypsies, Poles, homosexuals, anyone who was easy to hate.As a psychopath starts with domestic animals, Hitler began small.

The Cathedral of light in its heyday
The exhibition tells of how Hitler gained political power and began levying membership on the workers which he used to stage festivals and rallies. At these rallies Nuremberg was overrun with over a million visitors and he made sure there was beer for everyone. This combination of carrot, stick and common purpose is still a familiar tactic.


Once he gained momentum, he took the positions of Chancellor and President to be the supreme dictator and the carrots stopped.

Debranding
The Zeppelinplatz was his podium, now debranded, and at its height was a cathedral of light designed for over 400,000 rank and file who were integral to its architecture. A 2km road was built for parades and a monument to the fallen Germans to maintain the hate and purpose to regain German pride and place at the top table of world powers. The site would have been on the scale of the Acropolis, maybe bigger but don't get me wrong, the buildings were obviously thrown up in a hurry, their function was big-picture. Inside the Dokumentationszentrum the rough brick and concrete work shows no attention to detail. The Zepplinplatz podium is at best soviet era concrete utility. There is none of the finesse and artistry of Rome or Athens, this was broad stroke art to be seen and feared from a distance. 


Some of the buildings were destroyed after WWII and others remained unrealised but what still stands is a monument to megalomania. I pondered what should have been done with the site, should it have been razed? No, the reminder warns of what mankind is capable of. Should it be maintained? No, this would pay homage to its architects. The site sits between these two, a little dilapidated and re-purposed. The Zepplinplatz is the starting grid for the Nürnbergring race track (not to be confused with Nürburgring). The irony is that Hitler always intended it to be used as a sports centre for Aryan athletes, now it is a boating lake and football stadiums, the dream lives on. 


A private company took over Prora, a beach resort on the island of Rügen. It was to be a huge holiday resort for good Aryans but was never completed. His legacy may have tripped in the bunker in Berlin but that was not the end of anything.


See the journey so far


Friday 2 September 2016

My Grand Tour: Lost in Vienna

The rain chased us from Budapest, not that Hungary's capital loses any of its grandiosity in the rain. Far from it, its foreboding opulence is well suited to dour weather. Like London, some cities just don't look right in the sun. It's just that we had limited time and we were headed for England, we could wait for rain.


Vienna is a short drive from Budapest, 2½ hours under normal conditions, but these were not normal conditions. Hungarian roads are equal to anything in Europe but visibility was dire. The rain may well have been chasing us but we had to creep away. 

OMV time

Just outside Budapest I filled up at an OMV petrol station, my new favourite. It has reliable free WIFI and good services. Petrol was about €1.15 a litre for 98 premium. I also bought a vignette for Austria, which was €15 and only payable in cash. 

The weather was easing up but about 5km before the border traffic came to a standstill. We found out nearly an hour later that 3 lanes plus all the smart-arses cruising up the hard-shoulder to push in at the head of the queue were being bottle-necked down to one lane of border checks. Over 15km of cars squeezed down to a snail's pace as EU free movement becomes one of the first victims of the migrant crisis. We passed the old checkpoint building that may soon be getting a lick of paint and put back into hasty service. Among the traffic were hundreds of HGVs taking goods to their ultimate destination somewhere in the free trade zone, commuters as well as tourists of every nationality. I spotted every number plate from Ireland to Greece. 

As we entered Austria the first thing that struck me was their commitment to wind power, the turbines went on and on for miles. 


Vienna


Vienna was built sometime last week in baroque and classic styles then opened to the public, a huge theme park of architectural diversity all polished and daring you not to be impressed. White teethed families cycle through the streets with babies sleeping in cots mounted on stretched front ends. It's only when you get lost that the idyll of Vienna drops its veil and I got lost. 


Parking in Vienna looks difficult, everyone seemed to have a pass and everywhere needed one. Fortunately, we arrived Friday night and weekends are free. 

Not me
We wandered around the neighbourhood stumbling across the bars and clubs near a railway station. Some guys were selling from the streets, I didn't ask their business but their area of commerce was clear. We turned back toward the hotel and found an 'Irish' pub. Along with pizza and McDonald's 'Irish' pubs have gone global.

Mozart's Vienna?
The next morning we leaped out of bed to explore the home of Mozart, Beethoven, Brahms, Schubert and Strauss (I,II and III). I plotted a route to the Hundertwasser Village, a Dr. Suessian block of buildings and a welcome change from the opulence of Imperial European offerings. Of course, it was tough to avoid some grandiosity but we made our way down to the Danube sculking past the Rathaus, strolling nonchalantly round the Ringstrasse and past the Votivkirche. Ok, we failed and you will too! Vienna aims to impress and it's bloody persistent! 


Unfortunately, The Hundertwasser village is bags of wow in photos but up close you miss too much of its charm, like Dr. Suess translated into sensible. That's not to say it was a disappointment, it may not be as bonkers as the Waldspirale in Germany or on the scale of the Rogner-Bad Blumau Hotel but it is in the centre of Vienna and it really stands out but it needs to be seen from above. I'm a fan now and put him along with Gaudi's irreverence for the straight line. (Note to self: bonkers building tour) 

I bought postcards (more about them later) and we went over to the Belvedere Museum. Wow. Yes and that is about all i'll say about that as I really was becoming desensitised to Grand. Just look at the pictures.




Belvedere,Vienna




At last we settled in Karlsplatz for a cold beer. Our trip is a mission, so little to see, so much time (stop, reverse that!) and it took real determination to stop exploring and enjoy the moment. Beer helps.

As we left a couple of greebo types accosted us, i'm guessing for some change. He, heroin thin in shiny black yoga pants, her McDonalds round with her arse hanging out black jeans probably made for him. I declined and they got quite abusive. Well, this was Vienna, maybe they we great eccentric composers, or maybe not. 

That night we ate Wiener schnitzel at a pub down by the Rathaus, at last local fayre! 

The next morning we packed up before the traffic wardens hit the streets and took one last drive round Vienna before heading north-west to Nuremberg. But first supplies. On the other side of the Danube I found a supermarket to stock up on travel food but there was nowhere to park. I dropped the good lady and told her I'd wait. Some particularly vindictive looking traffic wardens homed in on me and I ran off cowardly. I got locked into one-way systems and couldn't get back. Google maps took me through some low-rent neighbourhoods with old men sitting alone on the street with bottles of beer. I swung into a road that took me straight through a park, the one with the ferris wheel. Strange, there was no other traffic but some gesticulating joggers and a small battalion of policemen cleared that one up quick enough, I smiled, apologised and hit the gas (very gently). Christ! would I never get my beloved back, left outside an Aldi for all eternity. Was this fate? I asked myself. That kinda thinking could be fatal enough if she ever found out!    



Next time: Ominous Nuremberg



From Under Dark Clouds

The Century of DIY