Travel

Gdansk and Solidarity

The memorial to the Solidarity movement in Gdansk isn’t pretty.  Large lumps of concrete and steel shape the formidable memorial. The museum behind it is constructed of rusty steel representing the ship building industry and provides a fitting backdrop. 

 But then again it remembers shipyard workers who gave their lives to free Poland from Communism. The movement that started in the ship yards of Gdansk was a struggle of life and blood and ended with the collapse of communism as it was. The hard brutality is quite appropriate. 

I found it quite moving. It speaks of hardship and struggle, brutality and victory. All through Poland we have found tributes to the events that started in Gdansk and spread throughout Eastern Europe.

My hope is that Poland will hold on to these events because it is clear that rampant capitalism wants to take the place of the old enemy.

  

  

  

 

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Leipzig 

Now, a few hours in a city certainly won’t make you an expert but it does give some first impressions.

My dominant impression of Leipzig is one of culture. The statues are to great writers and musicians. We encountered Bach, Schumann and Wagner. Among the writers Schiller and Goethe got a guernsey. The number of bookshops was astounding as were the number of secondhand and antique book shops.

As part of the National Library there is a small but beautifully presented German Museum of Books and Writing that takes you on a journey of how humanity has communicated via writing from scratching on stone to the Kindle. It also looks at printing, fonts, censorship and the different ways manuscripts have been created in various cultures.

We entered two churches. In one an orchestra was practising for a gospel presentation and in the other there was a display of how the gospel of Christ played a role in the freeing of the city from communist rule.

As I said to begin with, I am no expert. There are many things I could write about – good, bad and ugly but it is certainly a city I would like to visit again.

   
   

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Crossing the Channel

Some people quote the adage,”It’s not the destination but the journey.”  Well some journeys go horribly wrong. It happened to us on Thursday. We packed up our tent at a camp just outside Dover so as to get to the ferry in time as well as return the hire car. The lady at Budget had given me clear instructions on how to get the car to the right level of the car park. We entered Eastern docks headed to the car park only to find it blocked off. Traveling further we passed an unattended French customs booth (in the UK) and found that all lanes led to ferries. Panic set in. I stopped a hiviz vest worker and he suggested a route. That seemed to get us into further relentless one way lorry traffic. Finally after asking about 6 different people at 6 different points I got the car to the car park which turned out to be just a few metres from the original entrance. My wife was most surprised that I had asked for directions ( she calculates) a dozen times.

THEN after a smooth and eventless Channel crossing, we met our Peugeot rep. He passed on the car after explaining its bells and whistles. He did add that it had very little fuel so the first thing we should do is buy some diesel. So using the GPS we asked it to take us the nearest petrol station. We faithfully followed its directions onto the freeway. “Take the next exit.” Problem. It’s is fenced off with a high security fence and razor wire. The further we travel the fences continue, left and right. Police patrol every few hundred metres. Next problem, the only place that this road goes is onto the ferries and I find myself in lane marked for “trucks only!” I stop, surprise and shock my wife again, and ask two non English speaking French policemen how I get out of this mess. They wave me towards the open jaws of the ferries. Finally I see a black man in a hiviz vest. Is he an escapee from an illegal camp or the real deal. He shows me where I can do an illegal turn and pretend to be a lorry leaving a ferry. It took about half an hour but I think the morning took years off my life I can little afford.

On this occasion I was quite happy to forget about the journey and just reach the destination.

  

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Richard lll and Leicester

A couple of years ago I was mesmerised when an archeology team from Leicester discovered the possible remains (later confirmed) of Richard lll who was killed in Bosworth field in a battle with the person who would become Henry VII. 

Yesterday my wife and I visited the new Richard lll visitor centre and the Cathedral. The visitor centre tells the story of Richard and explores the historicity of some of the conspiracy theories about him. It attempts to redress the Tudor flavoured imbalance that Shakespeare used to write his play. The story of Richard is told as well as the story of finding him and the scientific processes involved in proving the bones authenticity. The carpark from which the bones were excavated has also been made part of this centre. In all it has been tastefully done.

Across the road in the Cathedral you can see Richard’s new resting place – a simple block of stone with a cross cut into it has been placed in the area where the choir stalls had been previously. The cathedral goes to great lengths to remind people that the cathedral isn’t about Richard but rather the gospel of Jesus Christ. However it still uses the attraction that Richard creates to remind visitors of its first priority.

In all I was impressed with the tasteful way in which it has been done. It is not overblown or disneyfied. If you like history  a visit here will not disappoint.

   
    
   

 

  

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Church Nerds

My wife and I are church nerds. We love visiting old churches in particular. Over the last few days we have seen a few. One was located at Wharram Percy which is the site of a deserted medieval village but the ruins of the church still exist. This church is particularly interesting because it shows evidence of 12 distinct phases starting with a timber church in the 900s  through to a stone church that was last used in the 1800s long after the village had been deserted.

These changes, indicating the growth and the decline of church numbers,  are reflected in the stone work.

One of the other churches we visited was at Beverley – the largest parish church in England. It has all the hallmarks of a Cathedral but it is not the seat of a bishop. It is quite a magnificent building and showed signs vigorous use as a church – which is not always the case.

 

The church at Wharram Parcy

  

Here we can see and earlier round column being covered by a later square one

  

This photo shows an arch that has been in filled with wall and window

  

Inside Beverley Minster

   

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Iona Travels

I enjoy exploring the history of the church. Iona is one of the places that looms large in the the story of faith in the UK. The arrival of St Columba from Ireland, the writing of the book of Kells, Viking raids, Celtic crosses (reinforced with circles to support the arms of the cross) and iconic traditions all occurred here.

Today many of the sights are simply tourist attractions. As in Glastonbury, the new age crowd love to promote their wares in “spiritual places” like Iona. And the bed and breakfast trade makes a killing. 

Yet to tread these paths is a special thrill which is hard to reason out. But here were Christians a few hundred years after Christ in the far corners of Europe contending for the faith and often dying for it. We may not agree with all their methods or understandings but we must admire their courage and determination. Iona and the neighbouring island of Mull are spectacular so the trip along with the island hopping Caledonian Macbrayne ferries is well worth the effort. 

Today a spiritual community still operates out of the restored monastery  – so the tradition, in a way, continues.
Below:

Celtic cross

The Priory

St Columba’s Cove

The Nunnery   

    
 

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Tallinn – a last look

We left Tallinn this morning and we’re sorry to leave. It is a friendly and delightful city. We made one last journey to find Linda, a statue to the wife of the founder of Tallinn, Kalev, a giant, whose death caused Linda to grieve deeply. She was so overwrought that she heaped up stones as a memorial to him and so created Toompea hill and in the process she turned to stone – or so the legend goes. We then walked around the city wall watching the first PE classes of the day on the local sports field. There were the eager children and the less so. Some things never change.

On returning to the Hostel we gathered our belongings and headed to the bus stop for bus No 2 to the airport. As I was sitting near this stop for a while I couldn’t help noticing elderly people come past one by one to fossick in the bin. Once again the contrast of the flash cars and designer clothes with the the town’s poor struck me. These weren’t the young beggars we often see on Australian streets trying to get enough for another hit. It was a sobering conclusion to our stay. 

The Old Town Square

    
   

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Tallinn – Old City

There is an ironic mystery about medieval towns. Ironic, because on the one hand we idealise them but in reality they were dirty and brutal places.  This irony continues today with the old buildings being surrounded by the latest Benz’ and Audis and designer labels.

Despite all this Tallinn is worthy of its World Heritage status if only they could get graffiti taggers to cooperate. The walls, towers, unique buildings plus the fact that parliament and many embassies find their home in the old city make it quite special and tranquil in comparison to many cities. Step outside the walls and one is immediately reminded of a citiy’s usual mayhem.

I particularly love the alleyways. The stones and walls bear the scars of numerous centuries.
 

The Three Sisters

  

Katariina Kaik

  

The Old Wall

  

Looking down on the old town

   

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History Doesn’t Make You Nice

The Church on the Spilled Blood is case where the memorial doesn’t match the man. Like many leaders Alexander ll wasn’t the most gracious. Although he had introduced some reforms he also sent thousands into exile in Siberia. It wasn’t an accident that people wanted to throw grenades at him. Alex aside, the memorial to him is a triumph to the art of mosaics. Nearly every surface is covered in stories of biblical events and saints. Both the outside and the inside are highlights.

               
    
   

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When I woke up this morning …

This morning I woke up bright eyed and bushy tailed at 1:30am. Being awake I did the Facebook thing, contacted nearest and dearest and then forced myself back to sleep. It will take time to get used to this 7 hour time shift.

When I woke up the second time, Hetty and I had breakfast and headed off to a local museum. We followed this with a visit to an intriguing island – Suomenlinna or Sveaborg. It is essentially a giant fortress originally built by the Swedes in the 1700s in their battles with the Russians. From 1808 to 1918 it was under Russian control. In 1918 the Fiins rebelled and took it back. Today it has been decommissioned and the island is a haven for artisans – glass blowers and the like.

The church on the island is particularly interesting as its fence is made of “retired cannons” – a bit like turning swords into ploughshares.

    
We have finally made some sense of the Helsinki transport system. Not only are the trams painted like Melbournes rattlers their inter city trains are run by VR!

Sibelius is a highly regarded Finnish composer. We were able to get to see his memorial in a park to the north west of the city. When we arrived there was a bus load of Japanese tourists. Note to self, I must learn “All aboard” in Japanese. When they left I was able to get few photos of this fascinating piece of art.

 

the pipes are meant to resemble organ pipes

  
 

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