Josefov

Yesterday, we spent the entire morning visiting various synagogues and Jewish museums that stand in what was once the Prague Jewish ghetto, today known as Josefov. The tour consisted of visits to the Old New Synagogue, the Spanish Synagogue, and the old Jewish cemetery.

Our tour guide revealed the history of Jews living in Prague since the early 9th century, and how the Medieval crusades contributed to the construction of Jewish ghettoes across Europe. In 1781, Holy Roman Emperor Joseph II emancipated Jews with the Toleration Edict, and in 1850, the Jewish ghetto changed its name to Josefstadt or Joseph's City to reflect the benevolence of the emperor.

From 1893 and 1913, much of the ghetto was demolished in order to remodel the city of Prague, but several synagogues, museums, and the Jewish cemetery were left standing. During World War II, the Nazis planned to demolish the lasting remnants of the old Jewish quarter, but instead allowed several Jews within Prague to maintain the Jewish museum and create a collection of objects belonging to Jews forced to leave or escape Nazi occupation of Bohemia/Czech Republic. Our guide shared several possible rumors about the Nazi reasoning for allowing the Jewish museum to carry on, one being that they would have a museum commemorating an extinct race should they win the war.

The tour was very enlightening and clarified several misconceptions about Judaism such as the difference between the menorah and the chanukiah. The exhibits themselves were also very informative, and it is no surprise then that nearly 5000 tourists visit the Josefov each day.

Cool Nights

Heat waves have officially hit Europe, especially the Czech Republic. The temperatures here are rivaling both Houston and Austin temperatures, and droplets of sweat are forming across my forehead as I hurriedly type this blog post from my air conditioner-less apartment here in Prague. I assumed, being from Houston, a notoriously humid, sweltering city, and also my several years as a lifeguard, that I would be accustomed to such heat. But I think the past several weeks of grayness and floods and frigid temperatures have unprepared me for this heat.

That is why night time becomes the most welcome hours of the day here in Prague. The temperature drops, walking around Prague becomes pleasant yet again, and the expressions that play on the faces of passerby grow more relieved and rejuvenated. I suppose that is why there are also more inhabitants in Town Square in the evening, more tourists choosing to frequent cafes with outdoor seating as the sun sets, and even city workers choosing to make repairs later in the day.

Yesterday evening, we walked about the city for several hours following a tour of Prague's art nouveau, cubist and modern architecture. As we returned home to blog before hitting up a jazz club later in the evening, I witnessed the men above make repairs to several of the city's tram tracks. The flame torch/welding torch threw beautiful sparks into the air that mirrored the oranges and reds of the setting sun over Wenceslas square. Waiting for the 24 or 14 tram to take us all home, everyone at the stop stepped a bit closer to the tracks in order to watch this light play against the evening darkness. Yes, night has become favorable here in Prague. Though, a mere week ago, I was begging for this heat. Prague, you never cease to surprise us.

Mona Lisa

Can you really visit Paris without stopping by the Louvre, without seeing the large glass pyramid, and without snapping a photo of the Mona Lisa? Apparently not. On Sunday, we got lost in the Louvre museum for a good three hours, until our feet ached and complained, and until Madison, Caitlin and I were lost and all separated by several centuries of art (Egyptian to the Greek art). The museum itself was very large and consists of three great halls, filled with numerous pieces of art. To say that I was surprised by the exhibits and the great works of Gericault and Jacques-Louis David would be an understatement. The whole thing was truly overwhelming.

The greatest shock however was the attention directed toward Da Vinci's Mona Lisa, by both tourists and the Louvre itself. Stopping at the information desk, they drew a path to the Mona Lisa on my map. "But I want to see Raft of the Medusa and Gericault," I proclaimed. Then within the Greek sculpture exhibit, I saw taped signs directing me to the Da Vinci painting. No, no, no, not yet. I wanted to proceed chronologically. I did not want to skip several centuries of significant art for one painting.

When I inevitably arrived at the Louvre's crown jewel, there was a spectacle to behold. Cellular phones, iPads, small digital cameras, and professional SLRs were all waving about in the air. The paparazzi had staked out a permanent spot in front of the 77 cm x 53 cm painting. I watched old women push past young children, and one family occupied the front until every family member had a solo portrait with Mona Lisa. It was ridiculous. And yet...I inched my way to the front, I took a terrible photo of the painting with my 30 mm lens (complete with light glare, and from a great distance away), and I also took a photo in front of the piece, being the tourist that I am. Still, the spectacle was ridiculous.

Especially considering how relatively little knowledge people possess about Leonardo Da Vinci's Mona Lisa. Many complained about the small size of the painting, while one of my friends visiting Paris with me simply assumed that the significance of the painting concerned the subject's smile---"it was unusual that he painted her with a smile because painted portraits of that time did not depict smiles" or something along those lines. But the Mona Lisa is so much more.

I wish I had my art history book with me here as I try to recall, but Da Vinci employed various shapes, and colors, and techniques in order to create "the most visited, most written about, most sung about, most parodied work of art in the world." It is about more than just a smile. Da Vinci employed a pyramidal organization for composition, played with light and shadow to create various layers in the painting, the subject sits before an imaginary landscape, Da Vinci painted from an aerial perspective, and Mona Lisa's eyes gaze at you from every angle.

Today, the painting is protected by bulletproof glass. 8 million visitors of the Louvre each year stop by this image. They are "cultured" by witnessing a fine piece of art. But unless you purchase an audio guide from the museum to accompany your visit, or you happen to be an art historian, or carry with you a book or brochure, you do not really understand or grasp what it is that you are looking at. The Mona Lisa is so much more than a smile.

Locks of Love

Cliché blog post title aside...about 42 million tourists flock to the city of Paris, the city of love, each year for a variety of reasons: for the extraordinary architecture as described in my last post, for the wonderfully rich French food, for boutiques that line boulevards and contribute to the city's fashionable reputation, and for the general romantic atmosphere of the city--from an evening in front of the Eiffel Tower to placing a padlock on a bridge and throwing the key into the Seine.

The love lock phenomena itself is worth noting. The trend began to garner attention and adoption in the early 2000s within Europe and throughout much of Asia. Today, love lock bridges appear throughout Asia (China, Japan, South Korea), in Russia, throughout Europe (France, Czech Republic, Germany, Italy, Spain, Switzerland, UK), in Canada and Australia and Uruguay, and throughout the United States (Napa, San Diego, throughout Utah, and in Hawaii).

I feel as though the Paris love lock bridge has become the most well known. As you approach the bridge, the gold locks make the crossway glimmer in the sunlight. The bridge itself seems to be made of gold. Then as you cross the Seine, you can watch couples work together to pick a special place to attach their lock, they crouch together and work together to fasten the decorated padlock to the bridge, and then they take a photo, they preserve the moment.

I hope to one day to return to the lock bridge with my own lock, though that may sound incredibly cheesy. In the meantime however, I enjoyed watching the couples who had traveled from Germany, from the US, from Latin America in order to partake in this permanent gesture of love (which is probably safer than a tattoo). The particular couple photographed above I believe capture quite a bit of the essence of the the love lock bridge and Paris' reputation as a city of love. For these two men, maybe their love is not legally recognized in their hometown, maybe they cannot exchange rings in a church. But, their love is real nonetheless and they hope to symbolize that with a padlock.

Sculpted

After traveling to Prague and then Vienna and now Paris, I have concluded that no city in the world compares with Paris in terms of architectural beauty. Prague, I applaud you for your castle and Charles Bridge. Vienna, your transportation system is supreme, the Albertina is my favorite museum, and I love the summer palaces and "beaches" along the Danube canal. But Paris!

From the Gothic feat of Notre Dame, complete with flying buttresses and several rose windows, to the stained glass of the Saint Chapelle, along with the Luxembourg Palace and gardens, and the Louvre museum; Paris exceeded my expectations. I once visited New York City and found it to be dirty and grey, and I assumed the same of Paris and all large, popular cities. Clearly, I was mistaken.

Our trip of Paris consisted mostly of walking about and just staring around in awe. At Notre Dame, I wished to spend hours studying the western facade---the horizontal frieze depicting kings, and then each portal beneath with figures lining the arches and holding sculptures of Jesus and the Virgin Mary. Then we ventured to Saint Chapelle, a favorite Gothic cathedral of mine since high school. Here, I cried as I looked up at the stained glass that lined the room.

Later, we visited the French Pantheon, which is inspired by both the Greek Parthenon and Roman Pantheon. Then I read some Les Miserables at the Luxembourg Palace and Gardens, then a exterior visit of the Musee de Louvre, and finally we ended the first night with a spectacular, albeit touristy, light show at the Eiffel Tower.

Sunday, we trekked up 674 steps to the second platform of the Eiffel Tower. Truly, more grand that I ever imagined, this structure is an incredible architectural feat of the late 19th century. Then we spent an afternoon at the Louvre. The museum itself, constructed sometime in the 12th century, was converted from a palace to it's present purpose. Within, great artworks by Gericault, Vermeer, Delacroix, and Michelangelo stand in large, ornate Baroque rooms. Ultimately, I was lost in the sights and architecture of Paris for the whole weekend and I must conclude that it was all a dream.


Artist sketching the Winged Victory of Samothrace

Welcome to Paris

Nothing says welcome to a new place quite like standing out. Similar to entering the wrong classroom during the middle of a lecture, or showing up late to a dinner party, entrances can occur seamlessly, or transpire horribly. For the most part, our arrival in Paris around 8 AM on Saturday was uneventful. We managed to apprehend the transportation system, purchase rail tickets, and set off for the Notre Dame in relatively little time. Then we hit the ground running (not literally), and immediately began our Parisian trip with a tour of the grand Notre Dame cathedral. We explored the stained glass and flying buttresses before we finally worked up an appetite. My two companions and I all agreed upon breakfast....crepes.

As it happened, we walked along searching for a cafe, when I saw a scene I wanted to photograph. Two members of the Paris police force were communicating with a man sitting on the curb. It seemed he was doing nothing wrong, merely sitting upon a purple suitcase with two small dogs for company. As I knelt down to take a photo, the man glared at me. Then he pointed at me. Then the police man and police woman glanced my direction. They beckoned me over. Everyone began to speak at me in French. Total language barrier. But from their tones, no one was too pleased. The man seemed to demand reparations for my photo, while the woman cop declared, "You have to ask for permission to take photos."

I stood dumbfounded. I barely knew how to move. My jaw probably just hung open. Do I pay the man for his photo? Do I delete the photo? Do I attempt to explain myself? The French man continued to point at me and tick off French sentences. Finally, the police man urged me to leave that place.

Prague had become comfortable, taking photos of strangers had become natural. Paris though, seemed as though it would be different. I was caught. All of my confidence in photography kind of disappeared for a moment. I ended up compensating for my fear by taking over 1700 photos over the weekend in Paris. 700 of which were crap, and overall, none of them really communicate anything. The trip served more as a tourist trip that anything. Thus, on that rather optimistic note, good morning and welcome to Paris.

Foreign Thrills

Tourists. I am one, you are one, and there are quite a few of them here in Prague, in Cesky Krumlov, in the Czech Republic, in Paris where I sit writing this, and in all of Europe. We have chosen to flock to this place because it is new and offers thrills different from our hometowns--whether museums to visit, architecture to photograph, food to try, or women and men to admire. We battle language barriers, and crazy Euro prices, and airport security, and long lines for the Eiffel Tower all for a new experience. We want something different, we want the promises of the postcards, we want to take stories back home to our friends and family, and really we want something greater than the souvenir, we want the memories.

The photos are from Cesky Krumlov, where the old man fondles a seat chair. I think he was German, not that it matters, but I think he desires something that he hasn't had in awhile. As he posed for this photo, several of his tourist comrades stood around him laughing. He is the brave one, the jokester, the comical vagrant. I think as tourists, we also realize that we can sometimes get what we want, and what may usually be unattainable for us. As a photographer in a foreign place, I definitely am more adventurous with my shots. I will put a camera right up in someone's face because if they yell....well I don't understand. For the young-en's in our program, they have access to beer and wine and alcohol. We get what we want in a foreign country.

For the packs of Asian tourists that trek across Europe, their personal foreign thrill lies in technology and the photograph. They are rather comical, the peace sign pose is a real thing, and they mov in unique ways. Possessing the latest digital cameras or expensive SLR lenses, they hold the devices outstretched from their bodies. Their subjects pose solemnly or throwing up the peace sign or lean against a statue, attempting to be model like. I like them. The elders allow their faces to fully display expressions of awe. The younger ones seem to pose for fashion blogs.

Ultimately, you have to love and embrace the tourist. It's in every one of us. Often, I forget to remind myself that I am a photographer first and then the tourist. Nonetheless, the role of the tourist allows us to get away with breaking the rules, going after the things or the photographs or the thrills that we so desire, and allows us to fully witness these new places.