Museum of Communism

Fellows like this Distinguished Gentleman have replaced those of Lenin, Marx and Stalin. (Wonder why, in a country so far from Britain?) This one happens to be in "Churchill Park", happily a short jaunt from my hotel. I'd LOVE to know what it was formerly, "Blood of the Martyr's Marching Forward to the Inevitable Worker's Triumph Guided by the Spirit of Comrade Lenin Square", perhaps?



Cue the "Death Star" theme from Star Wars: "Dum Dum Dum Dumdaddum DumdaDUMB!" (or a Socialist Worker's anthem in any Slavic language, if you prefer). This is a recreated workspace typical of the period.




AND LOOK AT THIS! posted by the time-cards: "Timely Arrival to Work Deals the Decisive Strike Against the American Aggressors."



This is one of my favs. An actual Olympic propaganda poster. Note the healthy Aryan socialistworkerathletemartyrherovanguard, with a token black man and Asian thrown in, to connote world-wide revolution. Look how stereotypical the caricatures of those two are, despite the artists best artistic intentions (worst ideological intentions). I'd wager they'd never met a black or Asian man and had to base it on the last remaining copy of "Little Black Sambo" in the Soviet sphere. (just look at those two!) What these other healthy specimens must have looked like to a starving population . . . How did that escape the censors notice? ( . . . dumb question, for an historical calamity of the magnitude of communism.)

Inspired

Architecturally sublime

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The Streets of Prague

These are the sidewalks you walk on. (My Asics sneaks, stars of this blog, make a reappearance). In Prague, its the little things you notice; a richness in detail; a refinement that spirals inward, drawing you nearer and more curious at each level - the deeper you look.

Or at least it did me! . . . Stop laughing! There's 2,000 years of uninterrupted history, deliberate refinement and ART in these streets. You'll see what I'm talking about in the pics to come!

This is a view up the sidewalk near my hotel, well outside the city center. Stop and think about the work involved in building a patterned sidewalk out of little, 2" x 2" square stones, let alone their upkeep!

So you never laid a brick patio before? Deggie knows what I'm talking about. . .

This is a view up that same street.

. . . . And down it. Note how the cobblestones that compose the street itself are arrayed in overlapping, ascending arches. This serves several purposes that I can think of - but again - what city bothers with this stuff! (2 miles outside the "historical district." ) Prague is an art display! A history museum! Look at the irregular and mishappen stones themselves, among the newer-looking refurbishments. How old do you suppose the oldest ones are?

Same street, (same dead-horse being flogged).

Rainbow Row, eat your heart out! (Charleston, SC's famous, colorful, battery-side promenade - for the uninitiated).

to Praha!

Travel By Train; the ONLY way to go. Here, I'm somewhere between Eastern Germany and Prague. A scenic, tranquil, isolated little river valley seems to be the only way through western Czech. I took loads of pictures of dubious quality from the train, (pics I'll post later). The valley was a spell-binding place, the pictures will fall far short, I'm afraid.

Which makes this picture selection a little counterproductive, and perhaps . . . well . . . stupid. Somewhere before entering the valley, (or after?) this pic was taken . . . with a nuclear cooling tower in the background. I look like a poster-stooge for nuclear power in communist Russia. "Nuclear power- YA!"


Michaela Vesela was my travelling companion, for most of the way. A Czech Doctoral student, returning home from her university in Bremen, Germany.








Praha: This is a view up the hill toward Prague Cathedral and its environs. This is the bridge I crossed, up-river from the world-famous Charles bridge, in order to photograph it.

This bridge probably has a lengthy pedigree as well, but for tourists like me, (and the rest of the world), it is the "bridge upriver from the Charles Bridge."


And there it is. Full of artists, street performers, and the tourists from as far away as Korea. The Charles Bridge is to Prague as the Eiffel Tower is to Paris. The history of this iconic bridge is the history of Prague.

Imagine a foot bridge of medieval construction, sturdy, lenghty, pedestrian, cobble-stone lined; linking the old heart of Charleston, with the old heart of Boston, and you have something like 4.2% of the living history and pageantry this bridge connects. I could live as a bum on this bridge, and count myself lucky.


Here's the view of one end of it. It meanders a good length. Slowly yielding to the city on either side after a few hundred meters, as opposed to abruptly ending at the waters edge.

Night Out

My Reunion with Guinness. Sweet indeed. Here's some of the locals. From Right to left: John, (English expat banker in Frankfurt), Joe, (Irish expat banker in Frankfurt), Martin Hind, (Scottish Resident scholar and pub intellectual), and Un-named, (ubiquitous English drinking fellow). Martin I'd met last trip. He's a gentleman and a scholar, with an unbelievable memory capacity - who can name all fifty state birds, mottos, and nicknames - for starters. Only this time he was hosting trivia instead of participating on our team. We lost by two points, in the end.


John took the camera so I could jump in. It was a good "Craic" as the Irish would say. That is, a Crack-ing good time! Many Guinness disappeared.

Sheisse! What I would give for one now!






ES RATZT!

On the way home we found these Cardinal Ratzinger placards, either celebrating his election to Pope Benedict XVI, or welcoming an upcoming visit from him. These were the dumbest faces we could make, (in no way meant to disrepect Il Papa, and the joy faithful Germans feel at having their first Pope). But after about 16 Guinni -the correct plural form of "Guinness"- everything's funny.



John, not particularly religious, feels the faith too.

Frankfurt

This is the view of one side of the River looking south (?) You can see the spire of the Frankfurt Dom, or "dome" which stood in some form since the 10th century. We bombed the roof off it, along with everything else in Frankfurt circa 1945, and it was rebuilt to its former glory after the war.

(The shnazzy, stylish Polo tee is courtesy of Engie.)




Here you can see the other bank, with its equally inviting promenade, full of blonde, German amazons on roller-blades. Here I am closing my eyes and meditating on the Prophet Muhammed, to avoid any un-Islamic thoughts.







This is Joe Mernagh, most famous sometime resident of Kanaya-cho, Shizuoka-ken. This is the view north from the same bridge, and you can see some of the buildings that make Frankfurt the European Banking Capitol.






Joe - known to some as

"Shmoe",

"Sleepy Joe"(cause he passes out in pubs),

"the Fluffy Roy Keane" (cause he's got fluffy, boy-band hair and dainty little ballerina feet which usually allows him to nudge a few by the keeper),

"the Strawberry that shouldn't" (maybe when you're older I'll tell you that one),

and other monikers known only to the tribesmen of upper Tibet - relaxes in front of the city he's conquered. Joe's recently been promoted - TWICE! The first one he earned, the second one was a liile early - a front-office mistake - which STUCK! He's moving to London now and into the Jet-set. We'll miss him back here in "reality".

Germany

My feet on German Soil. Had to photograph 'em. Had to leave the airport, before gettin' a taxi and just breathe the cool, moist, unpolluted air of civilization.








I musta spent a good 45 minutes here, just taking it all in.











Signs of a new Germany? Jurgen Klinsman took the host team all the way to the semis, and German flags were suddenly and unabashedly everywhere. Its about time . . .

This ad was for a Korean electronics company, reminding me what an interconnected world we all live in now.



Nobody knew what I was talking about! This is the grassy lane on either side of the river, (it was MUCH grassier before the world cup throngs trampled it). And THIS is the little kebab boat, selling drinks and food up and down the river to folks strolling by, or picnic-ing.

Martyr's Memorial

This is the Martyr's Memorial, or Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, as seen from the sunflower and vegetable patch the soldiers that guard the place have sown. (I assume it was them - ?) Its a bizarre, UFO-shaped monstrosity that is very much not out of place in Baghdad. Getting out of a space or time-ship is the first sensation one has when entering the Middle-East. Really, someone needs to write a book (or a series of books) about these Arab potentates and their garrish and confused sense of borrowed styles. I'm sure the place left a better impression before it was looted clean.


This is one of the works of art atop it, viewable in the previous picture. I believe its meant to evoke the Tower of Ur, an ancient Babylonian landmark, if I've got the place correct.















This is a view inside the space-ship. This piece beneath space-ship hatch represents the blood and sacrifice of the soldiers, if thats what I remember the guards telling us. It consists of identical cut sheets of aluminum, terraced or shifted to one side or the other, atop red plexiglass. Same on all four sides.








This is a time-delayed exposure, which accounts for the messiness. There is NO LIGHT down inside the Space-ship, and these faux-swords mounted to the center support, are all that remains un-looted apart from some various and sundry broken display cases. I couldn't validate what used to be in the display cases. They were the size and shape of a man . . . . . Hey! - - - I wouldn't put it past 'em!











The view as we strolled back down the gang-plank to the top. Lt. Olsen and CPT Boulais in foreground.

The Grandstand

The Longview: This is the view from one end (underneath one pair of swords) to the other. At left in the middle-distance, (beneath the largest light-array) is the grandstand where Saddam would review his lackeys. Many famous photos and clips were shot here. Most notably, the one with Saddam in Western attire (trench-coat, tie) firing his shot-gun in the air.







This is the state of things now. This is the view looking back across the walkway to the speaker's platform which is front and center and prominent. The graffitti is American, of course.











In the complex to the rear of the grandstand is a labyrinth of stairs and interconnecting hallways and VIP rooms - well past their former glory - looted and in ruins, (and DARK - without any light!)










This is one of the chairs (unlooted) that sit row upon row behind the speaker's or Reviewer's (read "Saddam's") platform. There are small lap-desks that fold up and out, and if you'll look closely on the right-hand side you'll see a black-tube emerging from under the seat with a partially viewable exhaust vent. These are individually dedicated air-ducts, blowing cool, air-conditioned air on each of the seats occupants. (This is all OUTSIDE, if the pictures don't make it clear . . . I should've taken one from the ground level, but the stands are so high, the angle reveals nothing but a wall of concrete).

The Crossed Swords

The hand holding the sword.





















DETAIL: These hands were modelled on Saddam's own, we're told. The chain attached links to the next picture.

















Behind the hands: Here's the idea; attached to each is this netting that evokes a fishing trawl. Spilling out of this cornucopia are hundreds of Iranian helmets, (fixed in cement).












Up Close: You can see the hodge-podge of different styles, (looks like WWII British and American mostly, plus some others I've never encountered - assuming these are in fact "Iranian helmets".) In any case, the GI's in '03 made them forever theirs, (read the graffitti).














This is in the road - to be driven and marched over. Showing someone the bottom of your feet is a supreme insult in arab culture, and this is surely the purpose. Most of the helmets have caved in/worn away. And you can see the reinforcing re-bar within them.

Cliff's Re-enlistment (JULY 14th)

MAJ Pacheco (Major Mike "Greene") reads the oath for SGT Phipps to repeat. SSGs Macdonald and Bacon hold the flag.

This ceremony took place at the "crossed swords", the place Saddam had made to commemorate his "victory" in the Iran-Iraq war, and for general Martial purposes like grandstanding and malingering with his Baathist co-asshats. Note the giant light-stands, the likes of which I've never seen, in the background. These could light up the night, I'm sure, if they only had power.








Froma a different angle: This shows the columned arc leading away from the grandstands, where dignitaries could walk amongst the memorials. Regular folks were kept at a great distance from these events, not readily apparent in these pictures.











Cliff making a goofy face after all is said and done. Now that he'd re-enlisted, he said he'd be going to Disneyland.












There are two sets of crossed swords at either end of the grand parade-route. This is the one nearest us, the stone waves evoke a hand reaching up from the water, and the small shapes you see are captured Iranian helmets, anchored in the cement, to be stepped upon and driven over, (more in the next post).