Mar. 30, 2011 at 12:01 pm2007 European Trip to Prague, Poland, Auswchitz, Slovakia, Hungary & Spain

Dear Friends,

Many of you have asked about my  trip to Eastern Europe so here are a few ramblings:

October 3, 2007

There are three of us that are going. One is my friend Bill who was wine maker of the year in the United States a few years back. Bill along with his lovely wife Phyllis own and operate McGavick cellars as well as having a host of other interests.

The other traveler is my long time buddy Stan who owns his own T.V. production company and has earned thus far in his career 13 Emmys for outstanding photo journalism. Stan is also a wine maker and still photographer. As I write this he is on a five day shoot in Idaho for the forensic files.

We are flying first to Prague where we will be staying in the five star Hotel Hoffmiester for four days and will tour the city as well as I will be looking at several glass studios for upcoming works.

Next we will travel to Vienna for classical music, sidewalk espressos and culture. We will be there for two days or so.
 I should say at the outset that his trip is not planned in the regular way. We intend to go where ever the wind blows us.

Next we will be in Buda Pest and Hungry in general for 4-5 days for wine tours and cooking school. 

Following this we will take a plane to Croatia and the Dalmatian coast, Dubrovnik, Split, Diocletian’s palace, Roman ruins, the islands and, of course, the gorgeous beaches, food, wines and architecture.

From Croatia we will visit Venice and then toss a card…  Maybe we will take a ferry to Sicily, or fly to Barcelona and visit the Priorat region in the mountains 50 miles west of Tarragona in Spain where my good friend Carles Pastrata runs one of the top 100 wineries in the world, CostersDel Siurana. Think rocky hill sides of wild thyme, sheep, no tourist facilities, winding roads exquisite foods, and wines from Scalla Dei, stairway to heaven or….

We might go to France and the champagne region around Reims and taste Champagnes, truffles and chocolates…

Or we might do all of the above or none of the above, wherever the wind blows us.

We intend to be gone three to four weeks.

Most importantly we will be meeting artist, writers, musicians, creators in all of these regions and areas, also recharging our creative batteries from castle walls and sea side villas. We want to feel the wind, rain, sun and the joy of being alive, to smell the lavender and rose and rejoice.

I intend to write during this trip and if time allows I will update my web blog every couple of days.

Bon Jour. D.

October 10, 2007 

Ostrova , Checko, is now a hazy dream as we left there this morning and headed for the Polish border under a cover of heavy fog. Eastern Europe and Checko in particular is busy. What to expect in Poland, we had been led to look for the worst. The weather was clearing as we headed east with thoughts of Nazi blitzkrieg, and farms in rolling hills of oak, all lovely to behold. The Polish border was a grey smear on an otherwise verdant country side. The border guards indifferent stamped our passports where sixty years earlier Jews were transported to darkness. Road signs with d’s and z’s and x’s in combinations that made no sense, but who cares here we are in Poland. How lovely, how bucolic, small towns come and go, Donimirski, Straszewskiego, Maltanskim, red roosters, cows champing the dewy grasses, fields of drying corn, small creeks and finally on the horizon, Krakow. What to expect, all expectation a-drift and then, Oh my living god a city so alive, so thriving, vibrating, children laughing, people on benches kissing, musicians playing music in quiet doorways enough to make one weep. Restaurants, filled with red wines, goulash, fillet of sole, deserts with cheeses, Turkish coffee, love of life where are we, dying Jews, Nazi bombs, laughing people, beautiful women, handsome men, stores filled, perfumes and everywhere we hunt people and life with our cameras like hunters hunting grouse without cover. All life should be filled to such over flowing.

Thoughts from Doug - October 11, 2007 

In as much as lucks a chance and given that, I rolled out of bed this morning in Krakow and noticed a clear autumn blue sky, and in as much the blue street cars chased pigeons off the gleaming silver rails of track and in as much I resolved to live rich and die poor I decided after a stretch in front of my window which faces Planty park where, even at this hour, men sat on benches and smoked, women walked and quietly talked, and somewhere a church bell rang. I am alive and, well I had coffee and eggs, with yolks the color of the setting sun and bacon such as I never had, and bread, ah the bread no one makes bread like the Polish Jews. And while I drank my coffee and ate I dreamed of a secret place somewhere where Tolstoy roamed and Lermontov wrote and I began to write. To write is an act of faith. And the day had the kiss of country smoke, ripe wine grapes and vistas across the Vistula River, a place where my heart soared and home was a place in my heart. In this place among laughing people in streets filled with vibrant life, we, Stan, Bill and me, walked to the Restauracja, Wierzynek, established in 1364, in the gathering fresh cool of the setting evening. At the door we were led to a table overlooking the grand Krackow square, in a room warm and antique, a room where 400 years ago seven kings sat to dine, and monarchs all. In this room Bill chose our wines, Moet Chandon ruby, Gevrey Chambertain red in cut crystal glasses reflected in hand made candles. Veal cheeks in raspberry, forest mushrooms, crayfish creamed soups with fresh dill, assortiment de poisons fumes, Tokay and petite sweets and cheese, and the room swirled and we walked home though the park and marveled bewitched with tradition and stopped now and then to contemplate on this feast. Whoever would dare ask of this feast of sights and sounds and foods, and smells would be a madman; for one should not ask about it, they are all wonderfully received and boost our lives in ways as elegant as a richly laid table.

Doug's thoughts on Auschwitz - October 13, 2007 

I believe for every drop of rain that falls a flower grows. I believe that over every blade of grass an angel hovers urging, grow. I believe that in the darkest night dawn is near. I believe where there is hate there is more love. I believe! That the forces of dark can never match the forces of light. That ignorance is no match for wisdom and intelligence. That men are created equal, dignity in the face of verbal and physical abuse is a virtue that love is healing. That beauty in spirit is noble, that greater good triumphs evil. Auschwitz with its icons, the gate of death, the dividing yard and crematorium it’s overwhelmingly sad barracks are now only vanishing evils. That these pathetic attempts at corruption in the name of good are deceptions of a disfigured monstrous will.

However standing in that vast ruin I heard children laughing, birds singing, saw flowers growing and instead of crying, which I felt like doing, I was strengthened and reaffirmed in the goodness of all of us. That each prayer, and I felt them rising silently from the crowds around me, were a flood of words like a grand wave of light cleansing this evil again and again until it vanished. But no one who has ever stood here should ever forget what happened here. Peace.

Sunday, October 21, 2007

Did I ever mention Click Air to you? If I did forget it! We flew out of Buda and Pest on Click Air, read sardine can, the seats in front of us were so close that Bill said he couldn’t focus his eyes. Or as my dear sweet mother would have said, you did to step out in the isle to change your mind. Well the good news is the damn thing flew and we are now ensconced in royal splendor at the Rey Juan Carlos in beautiful Barcelona. Sauté of endive instead of cold cabbage, Coquille St Jacques instead of tripe in pickle juice. Happy smiling Spanish faces instead of crushed people struggling to get ahead. East Europe was wonderful but it isn’t Spain and at this juncture in my life Spain suits me and all of us to a T.

Start with Stan he is  always running and crouching around some plant with his camera with his 9000 mm lens, getting shots that seem miraculous. Where the rest of us see a crowd he dissects the crowd and finds art. Then there is Bill, He pours over the vin de carte like a biblical scholar to find the only wine on the list that is remotely good enough for us and when the cork is pulled and a quaff is in his glass he stares at it. The picks up the glass, checks the legs, swirls it, puts is nose deep in the glass and then holds it at arms length then swirls it again, puts it to his lips and pulls a bit into his mouth. Next he breaths in over the pool of wine, closes his eyes, swallows, opens his eyes and finds the sommelier and says “not as good as they make in Grapeview but we will drink it” Our buddy Crist, fresh from the states is the deer in the head lights, more on him later. And me? Hell you all know me its all work and all play, all joy and all sadness, but most of all it is fodder for creation. Creative Best!

Wednesday, October 24, 2007

Life is to be lived. This is never more evident than when one is traveling. do not go gently into the grey, little grey people in little grey houses with little grey thoughts dressed in penny loafers driving white golf carts. An analogy? Maybe a golden trout in a mud puddle or an eagle in a cage? Never allow it!

Where to start? How about Catalan cuisine? anchovy-olive pate’, grilled wild mushrooms, broad beans with blood sausage and bacon, gratineed mussels, salt cod salad, rice with custard, sweet Minorca potato cake, veal loin and pears, mint sorbe’ to name a very few. Did I leave out chocolate? So sorry, how about Mexican chocolate, espresso and whipped cream?

I raise my cup filled with the brilliance of the Catalan. I drink to the sun and the snow, to sorrow and joy. I drink to love and to pain, I drink to fire and rain, I drink to life.

Today is day 25 of this ever so fascinating odyssey. We have moved into this experience like moving into a Dali painting or a Gaudi spiral staircase. We go where the wind blows us, a dandelion seed a-drift on perfumed autumn airs. We take our travels extremely serious, and though we dance the dance gastronomic, savor the toasts of espana, musica with castanets, nights filled with sweet ( dolche’) wines and Cuban cigars, we are still serious and steadfast. Our travels leave us at home in our own minds. Our front door is always in front of us, where ever we are. The front door of our families are far across whale tossed seas. In our minds there is now a kaleidoscope of images and color, a place where each spin of the tube brings up magenta contrasts. Where purple night blends tokaj grapes, where prada boots ride atop of village burros, where fish mongers vie with golden gilt concert halls. What is this thing called life? This rejuvenation, this pulsing in the smallest and largest, the little twitching heart of the amoboe. It does beat! The green fuse that drives the flower. what is the loop of the everlasting? is it only the cry of another lonely heart? Or is it the sun on a blue prison flower in a prism of glass? Translucency and golden youth, chaotic age and mysterious mist edged cliffs where I, we stand and hold aloft trembling symbols

Life mimics travel and keeps coming and keeps going. Who can encompass it even the smallest part.

The beating heart is love and everywhere we travel we see it.