When I last
brought everyone up to date on my status, I had just spent my first Christmas away from home, and my second New Years Eve. Since then, not a heck of a lot has gone on, but enough to warrant an update. (note: click on any of the pictures in this post to see a larger version)
I spent the first few months of 2007 as I spend most of my months-going to debate tournaments and slacking off from doing any real work. The debate season is much less intense after the Christmas break, so there were only a few IVs (tournaments) to go to, though we did quite well by and large (I generally went with DanB). We went to Glasgow twice, Edinburgh, and London and made it to the final or semi-final in each. Many escapades occurred at some of these, though I won't get into that, even if I could remember all the details.
The most interesting one was Tilbury House. Tilbury House is the debate society for the University of Cologne, Germany, and is legendary amongst Manchester debaters for being the most fun IV of the year. Aside from the fact that the Tilbury guys are some of the coolest, nicest and easiest-going debaters, it's also a chance to see a really nice city in Germany, and they provide all sort of entertainment and spectacle.
As is traditional with foreign IVs, we spent a few days just exploring Cologne itself.
The highlights of this are the
gorgeous cathedral and the Lindt chocolate musem. The Cathedral is a massive testament to the Catholic church's penchant from dramatic architecture and the spires affords some amazing view of the city (in addition to a cardio workout that is
non-pareil, given the number of steps one must climb to get there. Massive, vaulted ceilings, beautiful stained glass and works of art, and a series of enormous
bells give testament to what you can achieve with nearly limitless untaxed financial resources, and a dedication to a higher power. Simply put, if you want to inspire a sense of awe in the almighty in people, a building like this is a great way to do it.
Interestingly, though, I found the interior of the cathedral to be somewhat... austere... compared to others I've seen. Notre Dame and Le Sacre Coeur in Paris, for example, absolutely drip with ostentatious opulence and grandeur. The Cologne cathedral, on the other hand-while grand and well-ornamented to be sure-had an interior largely devoid of excessive decoration. The massive walls up to the vaulted ceiling, for example, were largely bare, and presented an almost ascetic view of the church. Don't misunderstand-paintings and stained glass still abound, but they are more confined to specific areas than I've noted in other such grandiose churches.
The Lindt chocolate museum, on the other hand, was sugar-sweet fun.
It showed a history of both the origins of the cocoa bean and its cultivation, and the Lindt company itself. A wander-at-your-own-pace experience, I was able to see everything from the earliest tools and canoe used to harvest and transport the pods of cocoa beans, up to currently-operational chocolate-making machinery. Quite an interesting process to get from giant palm-frond-bearing trees with nearly tasteless, bitter beans up to chocolate so yummy it borders on being a controlled substance. Plus, the entire place smells of chocolate, which is always nice. There's also a gift shop, which is just mean, because after spending an hour and a half learning about chocolate, how am I supposed to resist spending way too much on cool varieties of chocolate (including my favourite-dark chocolate with a hint of chili powder).
The tournament itself was fun, though I did disappointingly poorly. In general, I'm not too fussed about doing well or poorly, but in this case, I felt my team (Hannah and I)
were clearly robbed in one round, which I do find frustrating. Still, one of the advantages of being thoroughly non-competitive is that you can still enjoy yourself even if you don't win. And we did that in droves. From a "bar crawl" that covered all of two bars (the latter of which I almost immediately fell asleep in despite being only tipsy) to a basement club buffet and party, to Kenny and I fake-smoking rolled-up vanilla wafers (while wearing a ridiculous shamrock Guinness hat I'd brought because it was St. Patrick's Day), it was a good time all around, and I eagerly await going back next year for more. And, in fairness, Manchester was represented in the final, as Tom and Kenny defended the right of people to gauge in incestual relationships
(note: the sides of a debate are chosen randomly, and debaters' views do no necessarily represent what they argue in the round).
The next big event was my trip to Krakow, Poland. This was a fairly spur-of-the-moment trip, organised all of ten days before we left. Mo and his MBA compatriots were set to finish their
course near the middle of April, and Mo wanted to take some time off to travel before starting work. Therefore, he recruited myself and his friend Sam into a trip to Eastern Europe. We settled on Krakow fairly arbitrarily, insofar as it was cheap, none of us had ever been there, and I'd heard it was great (I have several friends who had spent some time in Krakow, and all raved about the experience). And I have to say, I'm glad we went.
I had misconceptions about Eastern Europe, largely based on the dated stereotypes of a run-down, desolate wasteland, held over from the days of the USSR and its iron curtain (see
Eurotrip for the classic view of this stereotype). In fact, it's quite the contrary. Since the collapse of the Berlin wall and Soviet-era communism, and aided by the EU, the former Eastern Bloc countries have pushed for greater integration and prosperity, and it shows. Yes, there are still pre-fab construction apartment blocks, but there's also a wealth of old and exquisite architecture. Honestly, it's one of the favourite trips I've taken, and I cannot wait to go back.
Partly, we got lucky. The entire time we were there, it was 22C and sunny, which makes any trip nicer (just wish I'd brought shorts). But it's more than that. Krakow, especially in April, when we went, isn't too touristy, so you don't get a throng of camera-wielding people wherever you go. Everything is cheap-food, beer, consumer products, all cost about 1/3 of what they do in the UK. The women are beautiful and plentiful, a wonderful-if rare-combination. The nightlife was thriving and featured a lack of cover charges in addition to the aforementioned cheap drinks. And there's tons of history, which I will describe below (since the nightlife stories don't exactly require a lot of explanation). There are three historic sites of note which I visited while there:
Kamierz,
Auschwitz,
Wawel Castle and the
Wieliczka salt mine.
Kazimierz is the Jewish district, which at one point was the largest Jewish community in all of Europe. Though many of the Jews fled during the Nazi occupation, the area still maintains its distinctive feel and atmosphere, and provided a nice walk on a sunny day. I also ate, with Sam, one of the best meals I had in Poland at a small restaurant called "Noah's Ark", which featured live traditional Jewish music, played by a three-piece band (bass, clarinet and accordion).
Auschwitz, of course, lies at the other end of the spectrum of Jewish significance.
The site of the largest concentration camps of the Nazi regime, Auschwitz and Birkenau, the location is steeped in morbid infamy. I unfortunately arrived late in the day, only about an hour and a half before the close of the camp (now a museum), so I didn't get to explore to the extent that I would have liked.
The front gates of Auschwitz are marked with the infamous slogan
Arbeit Macht Frei. This translates to "work will set you free". Which, as it turns out, was a lie. Auschwitz, and more specifically Birkenau (which I ran out of time for, and didn't get to see) were home to the worst parts of the Nazi "Final Solution". This is where people were herded onto cattle cars and gassed by the thousands. Needless to say, it's a sobering experience. However, what I found interesting is that the camp itself didn't seem as ominous as I'd expected; though obviously people were crammed in well beyond any reasonable capacity, the barracks looked like standard barracks, not the bastions of torture they really were. What
really drove the point home, though, was the little things. It was seeing a display of the hundreds of thousands of eye glasses, shoes or combs that were unearthed. Even though it doesn't seem like this should carry the same weight as the pictures and descriptions of the place, these displays of so many commonplace objects, combined with the obvious reason behind their being discarded, really drove home the magnitude of the atrocities.
It also created an interesting dilemma for me, as a visitor to the camp. After being chastised many times by my mother for taking pictures of places and things as opposed to myself in those places, I have made sure I get photos of myself whenever I travel. But, it brought up an interesting question: is it right to smile in a photo taken at Auschwitz? It seems very disrespectful to be smiling in photos of a place where one of the worst crimes in human history was perpetrated, where untold millions lost their lives. In the end, I chose to appear in the photos, but to not smile.
Wieliczka, on the other hand, is a much cheerier place.
It's a salt mine first opened in the 13th century, though surface salt had been discovered as much as 200 years prior. It's also, by far, the biggest salt mine in the world, extending down over 300m and featuring over 200km of internal tunnels and over 2000 caverns. This alone would make it an interesting site to see. What's truly fascinating, however, is the carvings. You see, as the miners (who were not professional sculptors) dug further into the earth, they created massive carvings along their way, of amazing intricacy. But these carvings and statues were not hewn from stone or wood; instead they were carved directly into the salt walls themselves. The big giant head you see Mo and I standing besides (and old king of Poland), for example, was carved directly from the salt itself as the cavern was excavated. Futhermore, the plaque behind the head, the walls and
even the floor and ceiling were similarly carved out of the salt walls. They even carved mosaics, including the last supper and other frescos. The work was amazing intricate and I verified that it was made out of salt (I licked the Copernicus statue). The amount of time and effort required for such a thing is truly mind-boggling.
Perhaps most impressive, though, was the main hall.
The picture you see to the left is a view from the balcony (also carved out of salt). What must be noted about this view is that
everything is made out of salt. The stairs, the floor "tiles", even the chandeliers! At one point, this entire hall (about 125m underground, by the way) was nothing more than a solid wall of rock salt. It was only as the salt was removed for sale and processing that the hall as you now see it emerged. And once more, you wouldn't know it, unless you you were told (or licked the walls and floor), because the floor looks like marble tiles, as do the stairs and walls; the chandeliers look like any other crystal chandeliers, and the wall carvings look like stone carvings. At the far end of the hall is an entire Catholic altar for church proceedings (most of the miners were very religious). It truly was a marvel to see.
Needless to say, I loved Poland. while there I ran into a random Canadian who was spending a year teaching English. I have to see, it's an idea whose appeal seems instantly obvious to me. I thoroughly enjoyed my time there, and cannot wait to go back; the idea of being able to spend a year really getting to know the city is one with great magnetism. No matter what, I know I will return, as soon as I am able.
And that brings us pretty much up to speed. My work is progressing, slowly. I have made up my first batch of samples, and have sent them off to the lab with which collaborate (in Marseilles, France). In the meantime, I'm back to doing more boring journal-reading and online research. Which is why I get bored and write in my blog instead of doing work. That being said, I'm hoping to get some real results soon, which is both encouraging and something I hope will spur further excitement-it's easy to feel the drag of long projects like this one. I hope all is well with any who read this, and look forward to hearing from you soon.
