My mother the Angel (Melek) - II

Year 1913, at the wake of the French revolution, national uprisings have been tearing apart the Ottoman Empire. Balkan wars are over leading the way to World War One. Grece and more so Crete, which had never fully submitted to the Ottoman invaders are in turmoil, "boiling over". Greek nationalists, who had suffered under Ottoman fist for centuries are rising up in revolt. There is the Ottoman clergy, who had controlled and converted masses of Greek peasants to Islam. There is the diminishing Ottoman miletary, which is being pulled out of Crete and Greece leaving those fought against local nationalists or collaborated with the Ottomans to their own destiny. The Greeks, who had converted to Islam under the sometimes brutal pressure of Ottoman ck=lergy and miletary have come to be known as Turkos. Akthough Turkoi Greeks and christian Greeks, when left to their own devices had lived side by side as good neighbors, times have changes: The loyalists, never converted to Islam, ousted and brutalized by Ottomans, stood their ground no matter what and have been massacered in scores in their monesteries and forts they tried to defend time and time again. The British certainly sees a great opportunity in these local uprisings. At least in the Aegean region in Anotolia, British aircraft drops agitative flyers against Turks over Greek villages, and against their Greek neighbors over mainly Turkish villages to trigger Greek Ottomans to turn against the Turks and sharpen fear in the hearts of Turks to turn against their neighbors. Why wouldn't that have happened in Crete. Many books and films have been created by both Turkish and Greek authors and fil makers, sometimes in collaboration to share wiht the world what autracities and miracles of humane care came out of that time on both sides. Roles had changed in Cretenat the turn of teh 20th century. The once in danger Greek loyalist nationalists are now getting stronger and stronger, when the Ottoman clergy and the converted Turko-Greekss find themselves in danger of massacre. Both my mother's and father's people happened to be Turkos and Ottoman clergy. My father's entire ancestry and my mother's paternal side were all Turkos, descendents of Greek peasants converted to Islam. My maternal grandmother's lineage on the other hand consisted of Ottoman clergy, assigned to Xhania by the Ottomans. They all fell into the two groups that had to leave Crete. , otherwise... I grew up hearing stories from the paternal side of my family that had they not left Crete right away, the loyalists would have "cut our throats". Irony is that, their christian Greek neighbors told my Turko ancestors thay had better leave that night "tomoorrow, they are coming to cut your throats". So they leave, on a ship in 2013 heading to the other side of "The Water", meaning The Aegean. My father's family finds their way to Torbali and Izmir, my mother's to Ayvalik and Edremit, all along the Aegean coast. My paternal grandparents and maternal grnadfather were adolescents when they completed the voyage in probably British ships! My mother's mother was a 10 month old infant. Their parents were all given land equivalent to what they had in Crete to farm. They all go into olive farming. My mother's maternal side turns out to have the largest land given to them, considering their clergy background, they must have served themselves well in a land they were occupying. Yet, the pain of having to leave their own land, moving to foreign land under pressure and crisis circumstances, and world war I that follows their voyage leave such drastic scars on all of them, even the fourth generation of my ancestry is still dealing with this intergenerational complex trauma. And this blog will be the story of this multigenerational journey on both sides of The Water for some time...

My mother the Angel (Melek) - I

My mother the Angel (Melek) - I My mother’s name is Melek: literally “Angel”. Few people live up to the meaning of their name. My mother did, through and through. The cleaning lady coming to our house was her guest at the breakfast table. They would clean the house together all day long, lunch together, and do afternoon tea before it was time for her to leave. My mother would make sure to pack food for the lady’s children to take home. She was the to-go-person and mentor for many a young women in the neighborhoods that we lived throughout my childhood into my young adulthood. I remember a construction worker, Bayram and his wife, Saniye, who had moved to our neighborhood from their village in a remote and poor province in Anatolia with their skinny son, Cengiz. They were living in a dark studio in the basement of the next-door house. My mom took Saniye under her wings and not only taught her how to read and write but also how to knit and crochet, two of many talents, my mom had mastered. Saniye, under the loving guidance of my mother, learned how to be a better woman, mother, wife, and neighbor; I could observe, even with the limited understanding of an 8–11 year old girl. Saniye starte3d getting dressed not like a countryside woman, but as a working class urban woman; she wasn’t screaming at her son with his wrongdoings after a while, but redirecting him lovingly, she learned to speak Izmir Turkish and gained the respect of the other neighbors, all I could tell was due to my mom's influence on her. There’s no end to the stories about how angelic she was to her neighbors, to some of whom she taught how to cook, for some she made dresses, for others, she knitted sweaters, on and on it goes… The elderly in both my mother’s and father’s side of the family enjoyed my mother’s excellent nursing skills and loving care at the end of their lives; my paternal grandmother, my paternal two great-aunts, my paternal aunt, and finally, my maternal grandmother, who lived with my mother for the last two years of her life with her terminal stage colon cancer. Her home and summer house were always pristine clean that disseminated light and peace. Not only that, she was omnipresent in even the homes of her three adult children with whatever was needed thanks to her bigger than life heart, endless energy, and boundless love. Whenever I invited my friends over to have dinner at my house, her angelic invisible touch would appear at my house and prepare the most delicious dishes the day of and before the dinner party. Her home was open to my friends, most of whom knew my mother intimately, who enjoyed many a dish, unique to our Cretan cuisine at her kitchen and always returned to have more of it over the years. Then, an unfortunate accident left my dear angel disabled, unable to use one half of her body with poor short term memory and she became a dependent adult. The accident left her with less than optimal inner resources to deal with this most difficult task one can experience. Becoming physically dependent on others would require drawing such humility and letting go to trust and leave the care of her body to others, which my mother's cortical brain could not accomplish. The need to control her life was diminished to smoking as much as she pleased and her elimination functions. Mama, you spent the last 20 years of your life with this disability since 2002. One half of my brain says with the voice of the adult that I am, "You challenged life with such fierce passion when it challenged you Mother, to persist with as much dignity as you could muster despite the difficulties your disability imposed on you, it is time to rest in peace surrounded with all the light you deserve”. But the other side of the little girl in me that I cherish, sobs “I will miss you Mama, your soft hands, your eyes full of love, your hugs, despite my white hair, how safe I felt in your arms, the sparks reflecting your old self even in the last 20 years; I’ll miss you unbearably”. It’s been barely 48 hours since you left us. Do you know how many people already told me “Auntie Melek has a very special place in my heart” followed with unique experiences each had with you that I didn't even know. İzmir is lucky to have raised and seen an angel like my mother, who spread peace, happiness, and love to all those that she touched. Thank your mother, for being the woman you have been, for making me the woman that I am. Rest in peace and light, at last...

NEW ENGLAND AT THANKSGIVING: FIRST TIME AWAY FROM HOME...

New York City… Fourth time I am visiting it since I left during the summer of 2001. The first two were professional visits. The last two a combination of personal and professional to see if the big apple has any offers I can accept to end my career path where it started. As my daughter would say, to see if NYC can help me complete a circle with a 19-year diameter. But what I would like to share with the reader regarding my last visit to this never-sleeping city is my experiences with the regular "Joe"s that try to make ends meet in this "country" of its own…

From a distance the NYC skyline does bring out nostalgia under the November sky...

 

Three Uber drivers that I came across between Long Island and New Jersey, between New Jersey and Manhattan and between Manhattan and Long Island, two young men, and a middle-age woman will unfold in this story. The first one took me from my daughter’s house to Hackensack New Jersey, a 45 minute ride. This young Bangladeshi-American man, named Anjhali (not his real name) is an Uber driver full time, meaning 60 hours a week on the streets of the Big Apple. He is married to a woman, who works at Domino’s, in fact that’s where they met, before he started his job at Uber.

My daughter and her partner prepared a lovely and very healthy welcome dinner for me...

They now have a 4 year-old son and the mother works at Domino’s only over the weekends when Anjhali is more available to their child. However, the mothers in law take turns in coming to the US to live with them to take care of the “baby” as Anjhali calls his son… He is limited (!) to work 60 hours a week due to NYC ordinance for taxi drivers. He tells me how difficult it is to become a taxi driver in the big apple. In addition to your regular driver’s license you have to get a taxi license, which requires an additional exam. His English is still developing after nine years in the US, and it isn’t hard to understand why it took him several trials to pass that test.
 

During my one day break in NYC, I visited the Cloisters Museum: Walking up to the museum in Fort Tryone Park
 

It looks like he is settled into being an Uber driver, is it for life? Don't know. I am curious about what the monthly income is, but I don't feel comfortable asking him that and I don’t push any further with questions. A sweet, subdued young man, an immigrant, who is doing his best to become an American, take good care of his family, with no health insurance, no retirement benefits, nothing but his body and his car to rely on to earn a living, to live and make America great again! 

Closer to Cloisters the vistas get even better

My second trip is with a woman originally from Dominican Republic, who has moved to NYC after separating from her husband five years ago with her two sons. She was a lawyer in DR and is now a full time Uber driver. My heart aches with how much immigrants may be willing to sacrifice by moving to the US. Through our conversation, I learn that it wasn’t really the US that attracted her to NYC, it was her family... Most of her family has been living in NYC for decades. At the time of her divorce family reunion to reconnect with her strong social support system had become, understandably her priority. I admire her humility to accept whatever life threw at her to make it work for herself and her then two young boys.

Finally in Cloisters...

Angelica (not her real name) is fifty-four now; five years ago at almost fifty, she didn’t feel she could go through the hassle of going to law school, bar exams, etc to become a lawyer here, instead she did this and that until she found her way to Uber. She is working 60 hours a week, during day hours only; as a woman her priority is safety... She is taking home $1800/week. She tells me about the taxi license, which is a must to pick up passengers in “The City”, although she lives in New Jersey. However, it took her one trial to pass the exam, which she thinks was no big deal.  

Intricate doorway inside one of the cloisters... All brought from European cloisters of the time...

My daughter will explain later “being a lawyer, she probably had better “studying skills” than the Bangladeshi guy of my last trip. Makes sense… Angelica is renting two bedrooms, two bathrooms and a kitchen from her landlady, who also lives in the same house “upstairs”. She chuckles with the two bathrooms comment and volunteers "I am not going to share a bathroom with my son (her younger son still lives with her).  She pays $1200/month and is happy with this arrangement. I am happy to hear that she can make over $7000 a month in the east coast jungle, not realizing I forgot to ask her about overhead in detail… She minimized the amount of taxes she paid, though... I am hopeful for a friend, who is looking for increasing his income. I wonder if he could do Uber then. I don't know yet, that there may be a lot of overhead involved in this business. That will wait until my third Uber driver…
 

An inner courtyard in the center of the Cloisters complex, one of several in fact...

My last driver is Jose (not his real name), from Mexico, who also is proud of his taxi license. He is not as content with what he is doing as my previous two drivers, though. He has two children and his wife is a nurse with benefits. He finds himself lucky that he and his family have health insurance and other benefits through his wife. He tells me his take home income varies anywhere from $4500/month to $6000 by working 60-70 hours/week. He tells me Uber drivers are allowed to work 7 days a week but not more than 10 hours per day. This hour counting actually takes into account the time a driver spends actually driving customers from one place to the other, not the time spent on the streets... 
 

Cloisters up against the New Jersey promenade...

Jose works the second shift, but what time he ends ranges anywhere from 2-3 am till 6-7 am. The reason: If he has made good money, he goes home earlier, if not, he is on the streets of the big apple until early morning hours. My heart skips a beat recalling my in-house calls during my residency and early professional years in pediatrics… He tells me this is transitional work for him. He will eventually become either a policeman or a fireman and he is applying for both. I ask him what is frustrating about the job. Wow, is he full of anger toward Uber Inc.!
 

On the way back to the city along the waterfront...

He tells me Uber management is very mean toward its drivers. When they first started, they wanted the car owners sign up with a car up to 3 years of age, no older: I think, to impress the customers. I recall how impressed I was with the car of an Uber driver about a decade ago in Miami. The cars that I rode this time are no different than mine: The answer is, Uber now accepts cars up to 10 years of age. Customer base swallowed the hook, obviously, no need to impress them any further…
 

Back to my daughter and her partner, and this time we are all visiting his parents where all his extended family will get together for Thanksgiving

Worse is yet to come. When Uber first started, they would share 85% of the charge with the driver, now it is down to 65%! Once the drivers swallowed the hook, they didn't have to share fair amount of income with them, it looks like… He tells me Uber does nothing for the drivers, all overhead expenses are on the drivers, which includes, repairs, gas, tolls (I discovered by reviewing one of my receipts from Uber that tolls actually are paid by the customers!), taxes, taxi license (initial cost of $900) that needs to be renewed every three years ($400/renewal), Uber initial membership ($4500) on and on and on… Wow… This is not a full time job one would be happy to do unless trapped in a rat hole with no other options… Jose clearly feels like he will get out of this hole as soon as he can, which he thinks will be no more than 3 years

Wonderful bunch of family of Mike's scattered all around the country, but mostly along the east coast, in New England...

I am glad I had lots of change with me and I tipped all of my drivers generously in cash. Who knows, Uber may take 1/3 of the tip as well if I tip them on Uber app… Otherwise, why would the Uber app be soooo excited about the tip when I gave 5 stars to each one of them after my rides… I am also happy that I gave a hug to each one of my drivers wishing them and their families well. The “sweat of their brow” deserves every single dollar they make all day long, all night long… 


Mike's cousins and their children at Thanksgiving party and the football they play day after thanksgiving very year!
 

On the way back to NYC, the beautiful view of Manhattan was breathtaking... the black and white medium is totally unintentional...

  

PRAGUE, CZECH REPUBLIC 2018 - 6 - WALKING ALONG VLTAVA IS A TREASURE

Being able to walk is such a gift. With that gift, I have been able to walk to and from the apartment and the convention center, where the 22^nd world child maltreatment conference was held on September 2-5^th.

XXIInd World Child Abuse Conference was held in Prague, in 2018

Once I figure out where the conference is held, every morning, I will find my way to the riverfront from my apartment, and savor the beauty of the Vltava until I have to start climbing up the hill to Vsherad via some couple of hundreds of steps. These morning walks along the river will become the cherry on top of the cake! Such a lovely way of starting the day each morning, reminding me of the walks along the river in Paris some years back. Vsherad is on top of a cliff along the east bank of the river with full command of Vltava. It is embedded in a big expanse of green space, which in and of itself is a great treasure. The close to ½ mile long promenade on top of this cliff provides the most beautiful vistas of Vltava as it heads south. 
 

One of the many breathtaking views of Vltava I tried to document  

On day one of the conference and my fifth day in town, my goal is to walk to the convention center, not knowing that I marked the Convention Center Hotel instead of the Center itself on my city maps app. On my way to what I think will be the Center, I bump into a beautiful church, which happens to be holding its Sunday morning mass. I enter. As everybody is enjoying their religious devotion, I savor the beautiful hymns and meditate alongside my temporary neighbors...

Sunday mass in a new town neighborhood in Prague

I am surprised that the more I walk, the more I feel like I am diving into the depths of residential neighborhoods. When I get to the marked location and see nothing that resembles a convention center, I have to ask two young people chatting in front of a middle class apartment building. It turns out there is a hotel around the corner but the actual Center happens to be 2 miles away from where I am! They feel sorry for me, not knowing that I am fully enjoying myself. With this mistake, I was able to see what kind of neighborhoods current middle class Prague residents inhabit. As one of my friends used to say, one gets to see many unintended wonders when lost. Although all I see is standard apartment buildings on streets meandering up and down the hills of south Prague, I am content. My young friends are kind enough to find the actual Convention Center onto my city maps app, I am all set and start my extra two-mile hike toward the Center.

One of the residential streets of a middle class Prague neighborhoods

I walk through a vast green area that takes me to the Vsherad metro station, which happens to be adjacent to the Convention Center, beyond which toward the river is the infamous Vsherad. It turns out the Sunday workshops are to be held some place else across the river! That is fine, this now gives me the opportunity to find my way through Vsherad to the riverfront. That is when I first walk on the Promenade and devour the beautiful vistas of Vltava from on top of a cliff this close to the water.
 

When I first see this view, my breath is taken away, not knowing the best is yet to come...

 

The more I walk up on the promenade toward the east, the more breathtaking the views of the river become. Thus, my on-foot commute route to and from the convention center is set. I will discover, the waterfront is a different story at early hours of the day. Curious crowds non-existent, water is calm and at peace with no vessels piercing its glimmering surface. The bridges enjoy their elegant reflection on the water just as I do. On a gloomy day Vltava is beautiful in one way, on a sunny day in another. Had I been born here, it would have been difficult to leave it, if at all. I wonder if that is the reason why Istanbulites can never leave Istanbul despite its hustle bustle. 

At the very top of the Vsherad promenade, this is how Vltava stretches to the south 

One must give credit to the communist regime of this country that they didn’t destroy the cultural heritage and texture of Prague as their peers did in Bucharest for instance. What a treasure this city has encompassing at least a millennium. I just can't get enough of the beauty in this magical city to such an extent, on the last day of the conference, I skip couple of hours of the sessions and explore a different path down to the river. I discover that every so often there are staircases with a few hundreds of steps leading from the top of the cliff down to the waterfront. This not only keeps people fit, I must say, but also allows them quickly get to the water without having to travel along the roads. Despite all the beer consumption, I haven’t seen any significant obesity in Prague within its population that was out and about.  

Infamous Vsherad

 

When I reach the waterfront, I find a path to a restraining wall by a river inlet. There is nobody around me, what peace...  Watching the clouds’ reflection on the water, while the little breeze not only caresses my arms and face but also the surface of the water… That little caress causing vague ripples on the surface of the water making the clouds dance… A few ducks and swans finding their way to the peaceful inlet… This memory will stay with me for a long time... When it is time to go back to the conference, I notice the antique store with all kinds of Czech porcelain in its display window. I find a gift for my Greek colleague, my daughter, and finally myself for my international mini-treasures wall. Unfortunately, my cash is 10 korunas short. The lady is somewhat upset, I offer her to fill in the gap with dollars, she refuses. I apologize profusely. Her face softens, I make a namaste sign and thank her in Czech, she smiles and tells me something, which probably means “no problem”, that is what her face tells me. I am grateful, she is at peace.

It is so easy to find a peaceful spot along Vltava.. 

The conference gala dinner is held in Menace restaurant on the east bank of Vltava. It is a lovely place and our Czech colleagues invited good musicians to display their best to their visitors. The soprano sings the infamous arias from Dvorjack and other Czech composers. The folk band plays and sings the best of Czech folk and classical pieces that boil the blood in all of us interested in music and dance and are able to let go. At some point, I could see, Turks, Indians, Pakistanis, Czechs, Americans, Spanish and who knows what other nationalities all dancing to Czech music in their own way…

Early morning calm and peace on Vltava

That is how we are interconnected if we could focus on our shared commonalities rather than our differences... I can’t help but think, this is what humanity should live like. Together, interconnected, respecting, embracing and feeling for one another. As I was taking my last walk along the river, I was paying attention to how we all have commonalities. We are all impressed with the beauty the castle emanates under the pale light reflected upon its walls. We all love the reflection of lights on the still surface of Vltava. We are all so alike, why is all this fight, all this othering, all this avoidance or ignorance. Why can’t we connect? I know we are gradually but surely, the peoples of the world are connecting more and more, and it is all beacuase of globalization, as a side effect...

At dusk, the castle and Vltava

Castle under the bridge!

Band on Charles River on my last day in Prague

 

East side of river fired up by setting sun

 

PRAGUE, CZECH REPUBLIC 2018 - 5 - INCREDIBLE WOMEN OF MIDDLE EAST AND DIVERSITY IN PRAGUE

I wake up around 7 am after only 6 hours of sleep this morning, my third full day in Prague. Apparently the jet lag is over and I am up and about before 8. I prepare a healthy breakfast with multi grain toasted bread, cheese, tomatoes, and banana. I am ready to cross the river and explore the castle complex and beyond. To get there early, I decide to take the tram for the first time since my arrival in the city. Tram 22 is very easy to catch and takes me all the way to the castle gate!

One of the magnificent stain glass windows at the Cathedral in the Castle 

I enter the complex before 10 am, boy will I be happy about this early start since only in an hour, when I complete my visit to St. Vitus Cathedral, I will be astounded to see that the entry line is a block long, already! This is the actual cathedral that is the icon for Prague. A huge building the towers of which are piercing the gloomy August sky over Prague. Most of the tourists I notice are Asians. I hear occasional German, Portuguese, French, British and some American accent, but Asians surpass even Slavik languages, most of which must come from other Czechs. The cathedral is a symbol of King Charles IVth again, who united the old town and the new town into one state, who started building this monument in 1344. It is indeed a monumental bulk of stone and steel, full of grace, I must admit. This 23 year-old architect friend of Charles must have indeed had some taste and a lot of competency in building forever lasting buildings. Ticket for the cathedral is needed only to walk along its inner perimeter to visit all the statues for those who are interested in religious history.

I am always mesmerized with the architecture in Gothic buildings, Cathedral is no different... 

My internal tour of St. Vitus Cathedral, which is externally very impressive but not so much internally, is relatively brief and I head out to the Old Royal Palace. This is a bit more intricate a structure, although externally it is not that impressive. The construction started in the 12^th century and was expanded as the centuries went on. I heard from somebody that it is the oldest presidential palace in Europe that is still in use with its original remains. Its green room must have been named after the huge green stove in it, again floor to ceiling. Vlatislav Hall has been used and still is being used for official receptions, I hear. Chancellery room catches my attention since it was the site of second defenestration in 1618. Czech history is interesting, apparently, when there is a coup, the assailants come to a meeting room and throw, literally throw the rulers that are toppled down out the window!!! Hence, the term defenestration.

Freezing bride visiting the Castle and the Old Palace on her wedding, I don't find it that romantic, but I congratulate them with a smile... 

I learn today, it didn’t happen once but twice, at least. The Deit Room, where the nobles met to discuss land ownership, taxation, and other justice matters has on display a portrait of Maria Antoinette’s mother, who was a Habsburg empress. The exit from the palace is via a steep and wide slope of cobblestoned lane that almost looks like a driveway. I learn later on that it was made so on purpose to allow knights to enter Vlatislav Hall on horseback for some form of tournaments. That’s quite a visual image for you…
 

The ceiling of the Basilica of George

From there I head to the Basilica of George, which is a beautiful old Gothic church. Its construction apparently started in 920, which makes it the oldest church in the castle, and perhaps one of the oldest ones in Europe. When I check the internet, I learn that at least 20 oldest churches in the world were built in the 3^rd and 4^th centuries, perhaps I need to withdraw my above assumption. Early forbearers of Premyslid Dynasty that is an important one in Czech history are buried within the basilica grounds.
 

Golden Lane consists of multiple side-by-side cottages, once the lane where all goldsmiths were located in the castle 

Golden Lane becomes the most interesting part of the castle for me. It is a narrow lane, probably named as such because it was the site of goldsmiths who set up shop on this lane for a time. The lane is lined with one row of over 20 small, I mean small shops/rooms, that were initially the residences for Emperor Rudolph II’s guards. The two rooms furnished as the residence of a seamstress and herbalist are both perhaps 6x8 feet. The bed occupies one of the walls, probably 2-2.5 ft wide.  A small china cabinet, table and a few chairs are the only other furniture in the room. To both sides of the entrance are two alcoves, one to be used as the bathroom with a chamber pot, and the other as storage space.
 

Seamstress' room on Golden Lane, note how small the bed is!

 

None had running water or other hygienic needs met on site, even later on during the last century, there were only two bathrooms for the entire “neighborhood”. After the 17^th century, goldsmiths, masons, and other craftsmen inhabited the lane. People like Kafka (#22) and film historian Josef Kavda (#12) lived here for a while in the 20^th century until 1952, when the lane became a designated historic site. Of course I didn’t miss the opportunity of watching in his cottage, the black and white silent movies that Kavda had saved.   
 

Military paraphernalia on display in the hallway stretching almost the entire length of Golden Lane

 

The upper stories of all the cottages are united into one big hallway that displays military artifacts as well as torture devices. Dalibor Tower at the east end of the lane was used as a dungeon and a torture site, looking at the torture devices displayed. Again, my blood boils with recognition of how cruel mankind had been in the past, and still can be in parts of the world, even in the jails of known to be democratic countries if one looks deeply into them: Recall, the movie “sleepers”.  

Torture chamber in the Tower of the Castle 

My next stop is Loretta square and church. This is a unique church built in 18^th century, which is dedicated to Mary. The cubic ornate structure in the middle of the courtyard is reported to be a reproduction of her residence in Nazareth, hence the name Santa Casa. Upstairs in the treasury behind merely a thin glass is a sunburst-style monstrance, reportedly studded with 6,222 diamonds, some of which are as big as a large chick-pea! Imagine under what circumstances the populace was living in Europe when the clergy was accumulating this kind of wealth just for appearances and power. Time to refresh a bit out in the nature to recover from all this religious themed heaviness. I head to Petrin Hill. On the way to the hill, I cross the courtyard of the Strahov Monastery, which was founded in 1143 by Premonstratensian Order, the existence of which I was unaware until this trip!

Santa Casa in the courtyard of Loretta Church

The monks and nuns here are known with their dedication to art, knowledge, and beer brewing. They must indeed be truly devoted to the institution, since generation after generation they helped the monastery survive numerous dynasties, imperialist fervor as well as communist oppression, and here we are the institution and its devotees are still alive…

Petrin tower is calling my name and I feel I have had enough exposure to religion and its related philosophies for one day, I move on. In 15 minutes I am climbing the steps of the Petrin Tower, which is a smaller sister of Eifel tower, after which it was modeled.

Part of the Monastery Complex

I can’t begin to tell you how much I regret that I didn’t climb up the Eifel Tower when in Paris. I hope I will have a second chance… I had the best of the best of vistas up on top of Petrin Tower. Although I will try the St. Nicholas Church’s Belfry tower, which was built in the 17^th century after I get down via the funicular, it will be nothing like the experience from the Petrin Tower. Petrin Tower, which is located on top of the highest hill overlooking the Vltava River commands everything about Prague circumferentially. One can view the river for miles and miles in both directions and savor the beauty of how it meanders between both sides of Charles Bridge. I circle Petrin Tower's deck multiple times at slow pace to take in everything I can. Not only the deck but also the twisting staircase provides the best of the views, exposing to the visitors a different section of Prague at every turn.

 

Beautiful Vltava River from the Petrin Tower

 

Time to go back again via Charles Bridge. On the bridge I bump into him again, a man in his late 30s, early 40s, a photographer, who sells various views of Prague photographed by him with all the Prague moods displayed on his station. I like a black and white one with views of the east end of Charles Bridge.  He is interested in showing me other black and whites. When he pulls out the one I will eventually purchase, I know that is it! It is another black and white view of the same area except that there is a tram entering the bridge and it is the only part of the photograph that has color other than black and white.

The castle is much more impressive from Petrin Tower

I fall in love with it right away, only to wake up from this love affair, when I realize, it is not the natural view of the bridge as I wake up the following morning: The bridge has only foot traffic nowadays. Then I recall him mumbling "Some people don't like it". I will mumble then "He was referring to the fact that he inserted this tram on the bridge...". I will then return it and get another foggy spring day view of the same area that looks very mystical and natural...

 

Castle still impressive as I climb down the stairs of Petrin Tower

But, when all this has not happened yet, and I am not aware of his mischief, I love the color contrast. I tell him about my photograph from the first snow of last year that is my most favorite: Sky, lake, and ground all white at Terry Trueblood Park except for the faint blue railing of the terrace of the Lodge by the lake. He listens to my story attentively and adds very justly so “But you can’t add the feelings to a photograph, can you?” I tell him “Well, those go into words, I wrote about it on my blog.”
 

My most favorite photograph I ever took: First snow of the year in Iowa in 2017, Christmas eve's day..

 

He asks for my blog’s address. I ask him about his family. He is originally from Bulgaria, came to Prague 20 years ago, married a Czech woman, took some photography and architecture courses at the Charles University, but resolved to doing this. He takes photographs of the city in the morning and at night and sells them from mid-day till 8-10 pm depending on the business. He has two children with his “Czech wife”. Good luck to you and to your family Jasen (Czech pronunciation Yuhssen)… I will think of you every time I go downstairs in my house, where the photograph I bought from you is hanging on the wall.
 

Another dinner in Prague right on the water, on the east promenade... 

When I leave the bridge, I decide to go back to the apartment, pick up my lap top and find a waterfront café and enjoy the last bit of Prague before the conference starts tomorrow. This time I go to the south of my apartment and I do find a lovely café, Vltava Restaurant right by the water.  They have installed a bench as long as the length of this old barrack-turned-to-restaurant. Every so often they have screwed an L-shaped post on top of which sits a 2x2 square foot wooden table. The tables cannot accommodate more than two, which is fine with me.
 

This is the view to the south from where I sit at the Vltava Restaurant 

I set up shop, order a dark beer, people of Prague are big on beer and I am doing as Romans do, when in Rome. Fried calamari is not as good as beer, but it goes together OK, the shrimp I order later tastes much better. Swans come and go to the pier, the water is only 20 feet away from where I am; people come and go, a friend of mine attending the same conference as I will tomorrow, comes and goes after some chat, words on my computer come and stay…

 

As the daylight disappears, this is what I see to my north...

 

Daylight gradually goes away, I pay, take a zigzag stroll around the river crisscrossing it on couple of bridges, and just as I think I should call it the day and the trip to Prague, my stomach says otherwise “I am still not full enough and there is that Esterella vegetarian restaurant close to home, let’s try that”. Tummy wins and after meandering through a maze of streets, thanks to my city maps app, I find it in a hole in the wall, but what a pleasant hole, full of lovely young people, and some of them might be gay. Happy to see there is tolerance and space to gays in Prague. 

Czech sweet trdelnik you find everywhere...

Sure enough, I sense the male server may more likely be gay. Just as I am getting ready to leave, a hand over my shoulder, I turn around, the hand’s owner is a beautiful Middle Eastern looking female with dark complexion, with hair full of white streaks. Her warm and friendly face with a big smile is asking “Your hair is beautiful, is it natural?” My must-be-surprised sounding voice answers “Yes.” I bet with a facial expression that must have conveyed to her “Why are you asking?” She quickly explains to me that her hair started graying very early on due to her genetics, she is only 38 and she does have too much white hair, true.  

Another beautiful view of Vltava River from St. Nicholas Church Tower

I tell her, I also started having quite a bit of white hair as early as 25-26, which was cute initially, since it was a flock of white hair occupying my bangs. But in my early 30s, it got too much and I unfortunately had to start dying my hair, those were the days and culture in Turkey. She asks me how I let my hair grow white like this, I tell her, when I decided “No  more dying” 5-6 years ago, over 8 months, I let the artificial color leave my body for good by constantly cutting it very short every month. She then tells me she wants her hair white just like mine. Well that will take time my friend. We both chuckle. 
 

Can you tell I am almost obsessed with all phases of the river around the clock?

 

So does the young woman behind her, who has been smiling kindly all along. They look so alike, I ask them whether they are sisters or friends. The one who will introduce herself as Bajha states they are partners. She then almost apologetically explains  “It is weird, we don’t know how to explain our relationship”. I assure them “Just like how you did it “We are partners” and that is that". It is lovely to see the relief and comfort on their faces still smiling warmly. They are from Bahrein and full of ambitions for women’s rights, respect and democracy for everybody and all. I bet, had we met at the beginning of our dinners, we could have talked a lot more, but they are on their way out.

This church through the east entrance to Charles Bridge somehow infatuated me throughout my stay... 

I am pleased that I listened to my stomach’s request and met these two lovely women on their way to moving to Prague to do better work both for themselves and for their country, just like I tried to do couple decades ago! When I walk out and toward my neighborhood, I notice that there are many such holes in the wall in this maze, in front of some of which are clearly gay men sitting, chatting, smoking… By chance, I might have found one of the gay hangout areas in Prague! I feel connected with these people. Is it because, in my immigration to the USA, I also felt discriminated against at times, although very subtly? Not in social connections since I live in Iowa City, one of the most democratic and diverse communities in the USA, but definitely at work... How many times I felt "Had I been an American born and bred man, this would not have been as difficult as it is..."? I bet that is the reason why my heart goes to any section of the society that finds themselves in disadvantaged conditions... Be happy good people of Prague… 
 

The Vltava River along the New Town

 

Swans are all along the river in Prague

 

PRAGUE, CZECH REPUBLIC 2018 - 4 - UNFORGETTABLE JEWISH QUARTER AND NAPRSTEK MUSEUM, RATHER ITS FOUNDER

I don’t know if it is Prague or the jet lag, but again I slept in until 10:30 am. If my body needs it, I have to respect it. My breakfast is richer this morning; in addition to my peach and banana, I have the delicious left over half a sandwich from last night.

 

Ingenious invention for kids to "walk" on the river!

 

Today, I want to find out where the supermarket that my hosts recommended is, since the prices at the mini-market downstairs seem to be outrageous even to my uneducated mind. I turn out to be right: When I do my shopping there at the end of the day, I will purchase 3-4 days-worth of fruit, water, bread, cheese, red peppers and tomatoes with very little amount of Czech Korunas. My cashier seems to be somber if not unhappy. I will be happy to bring a faint smile to her face when I surprise her with merely a “Dobri verce” (Good night) in Czech… How little people need to feel connected, respected, and accepted... 

This beauty of Charles Bridge and the Vltava River is so mesmerizing, I will keep coming back to it, every morning, every evening...

 

My goal is to go to Louvre Cafe to have a cup of tea, but by the time I reach the waterfront, I realize I missed it already. Later during my stay, when I manage to stop by at this café, I will be disappointed to find out that it is a huge restaurant consisting of multiple levels, with no appeal to me. On my path to find a place to have tea, I come across Naprstek Museum of Asian, African and American Cultures: It is not misspelled, Czech language is notorious with sequential consonants with no vowels, and this is not the worst sequence…I read in my mini-Czech language book a sentence consisting of 4-5 words; no word including a vowel!

Pottery from Naprstek Museum 

The museum is very lovely having brought together items of all kinds from all over the world displaying cultures of mostly indigenous peoples of Asia, Africa, all of North and South Americas, Australia, New Zealand, even the Arctic! But Mr. Vojtech Naprstek’s life story is one of a kind, laying out the man’s spirit that must have been bigger than life. He was born in 1826 to a couple running a brewery in Prague. Eventually he became a Czech philanthropist, patriot and politician, and even pioneering Czech language journalism in the United States, of all places in Milwaukee.

 The top floor of the Naprstek Museum

According to what I learned at the museum, some of which is in conflict with what Wikipedia describes, he was exposed to other cultures while growing up and wanted to study Oriental Sciences in Vienna. At the same time he was developing a Czech identity, although supported in that by his mother, especially after his father’s death, his mother expected him to take over the family business, when he wanted to travel the world. In the end, they agreed upon him studying law in Vienna.

Mr. Naprstek and his must-be-a-kind-woman wife Josefa 

However, with approaching 1848 revolutionary winds, he engaged in political activism and started organizing students in Vienna as he had done back in Prague. He was arrested in Vienna, but moreover, Czech government then banned him from returning to Prague. After his release, he and his then activist girlfriend went to the US penniless. Eventually, they moved to Milwaukee, where he found a larger population of Czech ex-patriots. He opened a bookstore and led Czech nationalism building efforts and became the spiritual father of Czech journalism in the US by publishing the freethinking newspaper Milwaukee Flügblatter in the ten years he lived there.

Milwaukee Flugblatter newspaper published by Mr. Naprstek during his tenure in the USA 

When he eventually returned to Prague in 1857, he first convinced his mother to allow him marry the family maid Peitcka (must be a nickname since her full name is Josefa Krizkova), who turned out to become his life and business partner. As soon as they got married, Vojtech adopted 5 orphaned children, and the couple, rather, Pietcka raised 7 children including her two orphaned nephews, proving that they were not only some of the most open-minded people of their time, but their hearts were also wide open to all that needed them. They engaged in all kinds of progressive ideas from women’s rights, to outdoors activities and naturalism, to nation building to enlightening their society in all fronts. It wasn’t long before his old buddies, who had also engaged in politics, arts, and world traveling like himself, started circling around him. This group of young people began discussing the possibility of establishing a Czech National Museum.

 

Some things are left to come back to with (a) dear friend(s), this one was what I left unvisited this time, in Prague: The Czech National Museum

 

This pursuit would take many decades. His role in the establishment of the current museum started as a Technological Museum idea. They got some funding and purchased many technological items of their time in London. However, his friends traveling all over the world were also bringing him gifts from various cultures that he was collecting.

Prague's streets are full of surprises like this "man"; couldn't find anybody to ask about its story  

As a result, the current museum was founded in 1862 as the Czech Industrial Museum in the basement of the family brewery. After his death, he left all his estate to a foundation, which oversaw the museum’s transformation to a focus on non-European cultures. And, in 1931, it was nationalized and joined the National Museum network. What is astounding is that this museum, which was one of the cultural and educational centers of the Czech intelligentsia in the 19th century, owns much of its collection that was either given to Mr. Naprstek as gifts or through donations by his friends who were Czech expatriates, travelers and ethnographers. As I debate, at a turning point in my life, on whether I should slow down and ease into retirement or invest a new energy into the last phase of my professional life, I bow to a guy like that, here is a man, who has changed his world in a brief span of time, which was his not too long life...

 

Here is tonight's show at the St. Gilles Church, Bolero, no less... 

After stopping briefly at the St. Gilles Church and the Baroque Library (Clementine), which was not open to visitation, I decide I’d better head to Josefov; the Jewish quarter of Prague renamed after the Austrian king Joseph II, who was the first European king that started the Jewish non-discrimination wave. He gave them their right to speak their language, to start Jewish schools, to pay taxes more or less equal to non-Jews among others. As a result, this movement spilled into first surrounding countries then to other European countries. Hence, appreciation by the Jews of Prague.  However, I would like to stop at a café first, since I am thirsty and hungry. Vola, I bump into a café named Kafka Snob Food! I check out the food; the lovely young woman, my size with a bright smile, who will become my server convinces me that the pistachio cheesecake is really good. That’s what I will eat then along with mint tea; all cafes in Prague have mint tea that they prepare from fresh mint  leaves and they know it needs to be served with honey and lemon!.
 

Amazing architectural pearls pop up around every corner in Prague

I have already made a mental note that she has an impeccable command of English. As I am taking notes on my scrap paper, she brings me my tea and cake. My brothers would say “No surprise”, I chat her up, who is more than willing to talk with me. Her name is Dina, originally from Egypt! Her English command comes from having attended an “Experimental” School from elementary school until the end of high school, where the educational language was English. Just like I. I tell her from the outset, I kind of saw my youth in her, same dark complexion, same curly dark hair, same sparks of curiosity in her eyes (I don’t know if my curiosity about all walks of life will ever end), and a gut feeling that told me she was not European. Her face is a big smile when I tell her that. She asks me about what I was writing all this long, I tell her about my blog, she is interested not only in my blog, but also in being in my story, and even letting me take a selfie of the two of us!

Dina, an Egyptian beauty, doing her PhD in Prague meeting a Turkish woman from America at Kafka Snob Food café! Globalization has some good to it...

She is in Prague because she is doing her PhD in sociology with a focus on non-profit organizations! I had sensed, there was more than complexion drawing me to her. She is supporting herself by working here to complete her PhD. She was also an activist back in Egypt just like I back in Turkey in 1970s-80s. I wish we had had enough time to talk more about our activist days. I wonder what her role was in the Arab Spring, since she is now 30. But she is busy with other customers. When I am ready to leave, she asks for the address of my blog. I give her a hug, which she warmly accepts since she is the same age as my daughter. I hope my daughter also meets people, who will give her warm, genuine mother’s hugs… I hope we will remain in contact Dina.
 

The first room in Pinkas Synagogue, walls of which are covered with dead Jewish families, victims of Nazis... 

A few blocks from the café is Pinkas Synagogue, the first of the six complexes I will visit today that belong to the Jewish Museum in Josefov. When I enter the synagogue, I feel an initial aversion to the place. It is empty, other than its walls, there is nothing. My critical mind comes into play asking “Why don’t they use this place?” In Amsterdam, all the old churches and synagogues had a contemporary function and I had loved it.
 

First and last names of the head of family is in read followed with other family members' first names... Wall after wall... 

Just as I am trying to open my judging mind to curiosity, I notice the red sparks on the walls and notice that all four walls of the first room are covered with lines of names and numbers: Instantaneously, I recall, I would visit a place where the names of all Jews from Bohemia and Moravia that died during Holocaust would be on display. That is why, the place is so bleak, almost emitting negative energy, very justly so. I remind myself kindly one more time “All initial impressions may be false, ‘pause and explore what is underneath what hits the eye’ is always a better strategy before jumping to judgment…”
 

The list of concentration camps and Jewish ghettos created by Nazis in Czech land... 

Truth is that five large rooms in this synagogue, which is a medium size worship space, with all their walls are covered with the names of the fallen. The last name of the first member of a family is in red, so are the initials of all first names, the following family members are listed only with their first names. For all individuals, the dates of birth and death follow their names, the latter falling between 1939 and 1945, with no exception. 78,000 names on the walls of five rooms… Has the room gotten chillier or is it me, my skin is covered with goose bumps and I am a bit shaky, barely able to keep in place the tears in my eyes, fighting to roll down my cheeks.

Here is a drawing by one of Terezin children, one of 4000 art work created by children at the ghetto 

How did humanity lose all its compassion in that impossible to comprehend period of time? How did they dehumanize millions to almost non-sentient being level? How did masses follow a mentally ill, narcissistic invalid to such extents? Did it feel as normal as it does nowadays with how we try to understand the Trump voters, with how half the population in Turkey follows Erdogan to their and country’s destruction? How does all that happen at sociological level? What should we do to prevent history from recurring?
 

No different than a prison's courtyard, child's view of Terezin 

With these thoughts, I go upstairs to a room where numerous drawings and paintings from 10,000 children, who were interned along with their parents in the ghetto or concentration camp of Terezin, an hour north of Prague. Some 4,000 such art work were preserved, some of which is on display in this room; another chilling experience. The Jewish self-governance body in Terezin had gotten permission from their jailers to teach their kids drawing, singing, and crafts, which must have been seen as not dangerous. Yet, with what the children drew and painted, they told the whole story of Terezin…
 

In all of Prague, the Pinkas Synagogue left the greatest impression on my soul... 

The elders not only wanted to keep their children engaged with a means of self-expression but also wanted to help them remain emotionally healthy. In the meantime, they secretly also taught their children language, history, and science. Since some of the best minds of the era were Jews and they were also interned, the kids got the best of the best of education, go figure! However, scores of adults and children were sent to all kinds of other concentration camps including Auschwitz, work camps, from where very few ever returned.
 

Many in Terezin and elsewhere were eventually loaded onto trains toward places with no return.. 

I am almost relieved to be in the Old Cemetery and take in deep breaths to shake off the guilt, shame, and despair Pinkas Synagogue triggered in me, not knowing yet, there is another story told here. For centuries, from early 15^th century until the end of the 18^th century, Jews of Prague were allowed to bury their dead only in this barely an acre of cemetery squeezed among the Pinkas and Klausen synagogues and the Ceremony Hall. As a result, in this space, nearly 12,000 gravestones are leaning against one another over 12 layers of bodies buried on top of one another, underneath.

Old Jewish cemetery, where 12,000 grave stones are squeezed together over 12 layers of graves, each... Jews were not allowed to bury their dead anywhere but here...

The rest of my visit through the Jewish quarter was not so very impressive since nothing could surpass at this point what the Pinkas synagogue and the cemetery had instilled in me already. If one cannot visit it all, these two are must-see places in Josefov. By this time it is around 4, and before going to the concert at the library in the evening, taking a 2 hour bus tour sounds perfectly appropriate. It adds very little to what I know about the old town and most of new town, but once we cross the river to the Hradcany area where the castle is things do change.
 

Closer look at the castle 

I think, this is the largest castle I have seen in Europe, considering, it is still a center of administration, it is indeed quite a big deal. Right in front of the castle, we take a half hour break to take pictures and stroll around. I must have used my time a bit too generously, when I come out, the bus is gone as the driver promised us to do upon releasing us! Apparently this happens all too often. No big deal, in the half hour before closing time, I visit the Sternbersky Palace, in which Old Masters’ art is on display. I must apologetically say, I am not much fond of Old Masters’ art: Their theme is all about Christianity, obviously there was no thinking beyond religion after Aristotles for close to 1200 years… Lack of light of the mind is reflected in their dark paintings… When I come across impressionism on the other hand, I can spend hours and hours in a museum. However, I can tell, in late 1500s, things started to shift. I enjoy the pieces where true facial expressions, body movements start reflecting on the canvas… “The Scholar in His Study” by Rembrandt being one of those: The scholar clearly is a thinking and feelings human being, despite still being engulfed in dark colors.
 

Rembrandt's "Scholar in His Study" painting from the Sternbersky Palace

After I come out, I figure, the winding down slope must be leading to town. However, before I turn that direction, I get a dark beer from one of the vendors creating a divide in the middle of the cobble stoned square in front of the castle. They have put out high bar tables with no chairs in two rows, around which customers are hanging out as they drink and eat. None of the food is appealing, except for a grill on which delicious appearing steaks are calling my name through immense aroma they are emitting. 

From the "Palace Square" looking at the hills crowned with Prague's mini-Eiffel Tower
 

There is a young dark complexioned man also looking at the steaks. The cook says it is not ready, we say, we will wait. Eventually, we learn that the steak in fact is for tomorrow, but he will sell us two pieces. We are happy by that time Phillip from Portugal and I have already introduced ourselves to each other since we became comraderies in this steak acquisition pursuit. He is the son of a teacher mother and a salesman father and the younger of two brothers.
 

The vendors, where I had a chunk of steak for dinner with my Portuguese young friend Phillip 

He is finishing his nano-chemistry degree this year and will hopefully get into bioengineering of nano-chemistry master’s program in Dresden, German. He has been on a Europe tour including Berlin, Dresden, Prague, Vienna, where he will meet up with his brother, who is doing his master’s degree there. He is delighted with the idea that with his degree he may contribute to finding treatment for currently incurable diseases such as traumatic paralysis. He is barely 20 and full of hope and passion.

Beautiful Vltava River cutting Prague into two 

What hits me most is that he loves traveling alone, he shares with me “Finding that edge of discomfort because of uncertainty and be fine with that patiently waiting for things to unfold is a good thing.” What an emotionally intelligent man he is. I wish I had acquired this intelligence when I was much younger. But I also like the idea of “Never too late…” In fact Pema Chodron says “We have to learn to be comfortable with the discomfort of uncertainty.” That is what I am trying to master for the last several years and the better I become with it, the more at peace I become… Thank you Phillip and best of luck to you…
 

An Asian mother trying to make her daughter look her best before engagement/wedding ceremony...

 

On my way down, I observe people living their lives. An Asian looking young couple must be getting ready for their engagement. The young woman has a bright red dress on, they are posing against the Malonstranke Church in their background. The mother of one of them is constantly repositioning her skirt tail to please the photographer. Sweet, everybody on the square is watching them with pleasant expressions on their faces… I come across a weed store with a striking sign at the door!

A deli selling cannabis/weed close to Charles Bridge 

As I walk across Charles Bridge again, I notice that beggars are again in their folded pose, is this their tradition, are they keeping their faces away from passers-by for fear of recognition, are they sleeping as they beg? Or are they meditating? Quite a mystery for the time being, which I won’t be able to resolve during this trip. When I befriend one of the shop keepers, I will ask her about this, she brings up "They must be ashamed..." I am not sure, if anybody knows the mystery behind this, please leave a note for me on this blog if you do. When I enter the bridge, it is again full of life, color, and vibrancy... A group of young musicians are making lively music with violins and a make-shift drum. I join the crowd and savor the sounds... Every time I pass across on this bridge, I can’t help but recall King Charles IV and how one person may change the history and trajectory of a nation, a community, a family… I am convinced every day that we should strive to do our best, with compassion and kindness. The seeds we plow will definitely lead to good crop sooner or later…

Yet another band on Charles River

Yet another beautiful moment on Vltava River at dusk...