by Diane | Jul 19, 2013 | Travel
Akureyri in North Iceland – photo by www.icelandair.us
The countdown is on: 46 days until my long-delayed vacation to Iceland. And 46 more days of fielding the question “Why Iceland?”
It’s become a popular destination — my flight sold out though I’m travelling in shoulder season — but I guess I shouldn’t be surprised by the frequency of the question. After all, most Canadians are smart enough to vacation in warmer climates, not colder ones. What’s next, Antarctica? (Answer: maybe someday.)
The simple explanation is that, as usual, when I came back from my last major trip I instantly started planning the next one. And immediately after Egypt two friends and one boss showed me photos of their recent Icelandic vacations. So the short version of this list is:
1. It’s OH MY GOD SO BEAUTIFUL and unlike any other place on earth.
But who writes a blog list with one item on it? So here’s other reasons why Iceland is cool. (Keep in mind I haven’t actually been there yet but I’ve read my Lonely Planet and the Iceland Wikipedia entry so I’m totally an expert.)
2. Iceland is literally cool. Have you heard that truism about Greenland being icy and Iceland being green? It’s only true-ish. The average high temperature in Reykjavik in July — the warmest month — is 14C (57F). So when others are sweltering in the heat of Vancouver’s 18C average high in September, I will be cooling off in Iceland’s 9C.
3. On the other hand, Iceland is green in another sense. Renewable sources — geothermal and hydropower — provide all of their electricity. All that geothermal activity means pretty geysers and volcanoes that disrupt Egyptian vacations, too. (Word nerd tip: we borrowed geyser from the Icelandic geysir.)
4. They (mostly, kind of) believe in elves. Roads have been rerouted so as not to disturb them, and there’s even an Elf School where students can learn about the country’s hidden peoples (I hope to take the class and get the promised certificate in … elvery?)
5. If you ignore pesky issues like a colossal banking collapse and almost always having an unstable coalition government, they have some cool politics. Arguably the world’s oldest parliamentary democracy, Iceland also boasts the first directly elected female head of state and first openly gay head of state. Plus the Pirate Party is represented in their parliament.
6. Iceland has no standing army and the Global Peace Index calls them the most peaceful nation on earth. So clearly they’re ripe for a Canadian invasion. (46 more days!)
7. Icelandic parents must name their children according to a state-approved list, so everyone in the country is called Bjork. (It’s possible only the first part of that sentence is true.)
8. Iceland is consistently ranked among the top three countries in the world for women to live in. However, being a single woman might not be as fun since the datable men are probably your cousins.
9. They have the highest number of bookstores per capita in the world. Granted only 57 people live in Iceland so that means one bookstore. (Kidding. The population is 320,000 and I have no idea how many bookstores but Wikipedia says it’s the most.)
10. I can’t believe I got to 10 without mentioning Vikings. They’re (mostly, ancestrally speaking) Vikings. Vikings are cool.
If that’s not enough for you, let’s go back to #1 and check out some gorgeous Icelandic scenery in Bon Iver’s Holocene video:
by Diane | Jul 18, 2011 | Travel
To her fair works did Nature link
The human soul that through me ran;
And much it grieved my heart to think
What man has made of man.
– William Wordsworth, Lines Written in Early Spring
The gates of Dachau
What man has made of man
In high school, like every self-respecting teenage girl who would go on to be an English major, I went through a phase of adoring the romantic poets.
In “Lines Written in Early Spring”, Wordsworth meant the disconnect between the natural world and the civilized world, but I’m no believer in the intrinsic good of man, and the line “what man has made of man” stuck with me more as a comment on our capacity to choose darkness over light.
I don’t know why or how – The Diary of Anne Frank was too feel-good for me? – but it was also in high school that I discovered Elie Wiesel and read his autobiographical novels Night, Dawn, and Day, a trilogy about his experiences during and after the Holocaust. It’s also when I saw the documentary Shoah by Claude Lanzmann, who interviewed survivors, witnesses, SS officers.
In case I sound like an overly serious teenager here, I also read Judy Blume and crushed on Corey Hart. But from the taste of history we got in school, I didn’t understand what man had made of man. I thought that by learning more it would be understandable, beyond simply a glimpse of what evils man is capable of perpetrating.
When I found out this year that I was being sent to Munich for work in June, my colleagues who travel there regularly had two sightseeing suggestions for me: beer gardens, and Dachau. They knew nothing of my historical interest — or my distaste for beer — only that it was a powerful experience of a part of our history we should never forget.
I’m not German or Jewish, but the “our” is important.
The remnants of a guard house at Dachau
I arrived in Munich, a pretty, orderly city, to find it more modern than I expected, apart from the historic centre. But history is hard to ignore. As my Fodor’s guidebook says, “Munich will always be associated with Adolf Hitler. Indeed, he once remarked ‘Munich is the city closest to my heart. Here as a young man, as a soldier and as a politician I made my start.'”
Wandering around the city streets, surrounded by smiling and friendly Bavarians, walking through the cemetery by our hotel, those words stuck with me too. I know the story of World War II through my grandfather’s eyes, a man who helped liberate a Dutch town from the Nazis, but those German gravestones with years that spanned the war – what had the people beneath them thought, felt, done?
I reject the idea that there’s something in the German character that made the Holocaust possible — as do the results of experiments such as Milgram’s experiment on obedience to authority figures. There is something in us that made the Holocaust possible, and it combined with a socio-economic climate and political force that centred it in Germany. The hatred and fear behind it went beyond those borders, and go beyond those borders today. Could it happen today? It does, on a smaller scale, in African countries we choose to ignore. And it could closer to home, given the right conditions.
The Jewish memorial, with a prayer room underground
On the plane to Munich I read The Help by Kathryn Stockett, a novel about African-American maids in 1960s Mississippi. Before I left I’d nearly finished The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks by Rebecca Skloot, the true story of a black woman whose cells — unknown to her or her family — led to some of the greatest medical advancements, and whose family today can’t afford medical insurance.
Skloot dives into medical ethics, particularly the American medical community’s use of black patients for experimentation without consent. The infamous Tuskegee syphilis experiment occurred at the same institute where Lacks’ cells were mass produced … and occurred after the Nuremberg Code, which came out of the Doctors’ Trial against prominent Nazi physicians.
However, the Nuremberg Code wasn’t law in either Germany or the United States. It outlined principles for human experimentation, including the need for informed consent and avoidance of unnecessary physical and mental suffering. Many American doctors in the Tuskegee and Henrietta Lacks era weren’t fully aware of the guidelines, or thought of it as a Nazi code meant for those monsters, not for them.
But what if we’re all monsters, at least a small, dark part of us?
A disturbing thought I had after reading The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks was that at least part of what separates the Tuskegee and Nazi doctors from today’s scientists is regulation. A disturbing thought I had after visiting Dachau was that we try to separate ourselves from what we think of as inhuman acts, instead of examining what humanity is.
Behind the crematorium and gas chamber buildings
“To forget the dead would be akin to killing them a second time.” – Elie Wiesel
The Dachau Memorial Site was established in 1965, through the efforts of survivors who didn’t want to allow history to be forgotten or relegated to a textbook.
Because I was in Munich for work, my options for visiting the site were on my first day in Germany or my last. I left it until last.
By that time, my coworkers had departed. I set off on my own to the lovely little town of Dachau, intending to join the guided group tour of the site. The train line was out of service that day so I arrived by bus to the terminal and chose to walk the half hour there.
The route from the station to the camp is the path prisoners took, lined with informational signs on the conditions in the camp and life in the town at the time – including how visible the prisoners were to townspeople.
Walking their path, trying to reconcile the beauty of my surroundings with the horrors of the past, recalling the words of Wiesel and Shoah, I found myself again feeling helpless to understand – not just the why of it, but the how of those lives who walked that path. My mind tried to put it in a familiar context. What if it were people I loved? If I had lived then and there, what choices would I have made? It’s unimaginable. I don’t want to imagine it.
By the time I got to the camp, through village parks, past the gorgeous former SS houses, I knew I couldn’t speak or be with others, especially strangers, so I decided to forgo the tour and wander on my own.
A sculpture based on the triangular patches used to identify the type of prisoner – Jewish, homosexual, Gypsy, etc.
You enter the Dachau Memorial Site through metal gates inscribed with the ironic Arbeit macht frei – work will set you free. Though it wasn’t one of the main death camps, Dachau was the first Nazi concentration camp in Germany and the model for those to come.
Museum exhibits give detailed information about the history of the camp and the treatment of prisoners – initially political prisoners, but soon Jews, Gypsies, Sinti, homosexuals, clergy, and other undesirables.
The museum, housed in the former administration buildings, isn’t terribly sophisticated. The displays consist mostly of text and images, with a few personal effects from former prisoners. Yet hours passed as I passed in front of one panel after another, hand pressed to mouth as if keeping the words in, though there were no words.
A sculpure depicting the death marches, when prisoners were evacuated on foot from the camp prior to liberation
We all know the broad details from history lessons: the lack of nutrition and medical care, brutal beatings and torture, medical experimentation, overcrowding, the complete dehumanization that occurred within the camps and without, a dehumanization that allowed people to fear and hate the prisoners and turn a blind eye to what was happening in their town’s back yard.
Then, finally, liberation. US troops, horrified by what they saw, were accused of killing guards after they’d surrendered, though charges were dismissed before witnesses were called. They also brought townspeople in to help clean up the camp, to force them to witness the conditions in the camp first-hand, including the bodies stacked like cordwood in rooms next to the crematorium.
Still, once you get past the panels about liberation, the horror isn’t over. Survivors lived there for years after the war was over, with no homes to go back to and no countries who wanted them. Some Jews returned to their homes to find themselves still the target of virulent anti-Semitism. The war was over; the prejudice wasn’t.
A memorial sculpture outside the administration building
Outside the museum is the huge, empty roll call area where prisoners were made to stand motionless for hours. The area is flanked by barracks with reconstructed bunks — which toward the end of the war crammed several prisoners into each bed — and memorial sculptures.
Though Dachau wasn’t primarily an extermination camp, over 25,000 died there. There were crematoriums to dispose of the dead, primarily from disease and malnutrition resulting from overcrowding and mistreatment, and gas chambers.
Those numbers don’t represent the real death toll, however, since prisoners were often transported to other camps to be executed.
Behind the buildings that house the crematorium and gas chambers are wooded paths that were home to shooting ranges and mass graves, more juxtaposition of natural beauty and man-made horror to absorb.
The path behind the crematorium and gas chamber, lined with shooting ranges and mass graves
“To remain silent and indifferent is the greatest sin of all.” – Elie Wiesel
On the grounds of Dachau there is a Jewish memorial, a Catholic memorial, the Protestant Church of Reconciliation, a Russian Orthodox chapel, and a Carmelite convent. If it’s difficult to reconcile nature with these atrocities, it’s even more difficult to reconcile religious belief with them.
In Night, Wiesel talks about the loss of faith: “Never shall I forget those flames which consumed my faith forever. Never shall I forget that nocturnal silence which deprived me, for all eternity, of the desire to live. Never shall I forget those moments which murdered my God and my soul and turned my dreams to dust. Never shall I forget these things, even if I am condemned to live as long as God Himself. Never.”
But there has to be some hope out of such horror. I find hope in remembering the past, realizing that it’s part of us today, and understanding that we have the power to choose light over dark, day over night.
Never again
by Diane | Jul 17, 2011 | Travel
Our recent trip to Montreal was the first time my brother and I have voluntarily travelled together. We visit each other in our respective cities, but there’s something different about taking a trip together – something that can lead to hands at throats if people aren’t compatible. I wasn’t worried, since Steve and I get along well. I consider him a friend and he’s the one person who’s been there for me my whole life.
(If you don’t have an older brother, I highly recommend you get one. In fact, in case this has been too sappy, let me add that some days I’d beg you to take mine.)
We timed the trip for the Montreal Jazz Festival, although that was more or less an excuse for making a decision about a time and place. Don’t get me wrong, the fest was a huge draw, too, but I’m not a big jazz fan.
Jazz Fest is more than jazz, and Montreal has one of the the biggest in the world. There’s blues, funk, and pretty straight-ahead pop and rock. The B-52s were the closing act, for example – though we weren’t around for them. The names we missed out on should give you a taste of the fest’s variety (and our lack of advance planning): Prince, Robert Frampton, Diana Krall, Sade.
And our trip to Montreal was more than Jazz Fest. I did this with Egypt as a low-effort way to get some pictures and trip comments posted, so I’m doing it again – here’s illustrated tweets of my Montreal trip:
(more…)
by Diane | Nov 1, 2010 | Travel
In our first attempt to go to Egypt, the Icelandic volcano cancelled our flights and I got stuck in Edmonton, where Teresa and I tried to recreate an Egyptian experience. This time the trip went as planned. And it was incredible … but it was no Edmonton.
Once we landed in Egypt, we searched for something as spectacular as the glass pyramids of the Muttart Conservatory, and came upon passable replacements in the Pyramids of Giza.
We didn’t encounter any zoos, so settled for camels in their natural habitat.
The North Saskatchewan River in Edmonton’s beautiful river valley – the best feature of my hometown – is unparalleled, but the Nile has its charms as well.
We didn’t see any malls to compete with West Edmonton Mall, but the local markets were full of wares and entertainment, and some of the buildings in Cairo looked a little like Europa Boulevard if you squint a little.
The graveyards we saw in Egypt had none of the flowers and tombstones we found in Edmonton, but the Valley of the Kings did have some interestingly decorated tombs, and the Egyptian museum had other fine objects that had been found within.
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| Above and below pics from Wikipedia – no photos allowed at Valley of the Kings or Egyptian Museum |
So it may not have been Edmonton, but don’t hold that against it: Egypt was great in its own unique ways.
by Diane | Oct 30, 2010 | Travel
I hope to write more substantial posts about the incredible trip to Egypt, but for now here’s an annotated and illustrated compilation of tweets I wrote while it was happening. Unfortunately pictures aren’t allowed in the Egyptian Museum (so no pics of King Tut’s treasures or the mummies) or in the Valley of the Kings (so no pics of the tombs).
It’s Egypt Eve! I’m as excited as a kid at Christmas and as terrified as an adult about to fly across the world in a tin can.
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| It really happened this time |
Woke up, checked Twitter, 1/2 expected news that’d cancel today’s Egypt trip. RIP Tony Curtis, loved you, but thx for not being a volcano.
by the Icelandic volcano, news I read first on Twitter.]
Heading to the airport for Egypt! Well, Edmonton for now, but as Teresa & I proved last time – same thing
Napping at the Edmonton airport, hair askew, bags piled around. Only thing distinguishing me from a hobo is Twitter.
[No picture. Duh.]
Teresa’s here! We’re through security & at the gate! Reunion Trip 2: Actually Getting On The Plane is underway.
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| Plus, it’s rare to see Diane in glasses in the wild. |
In Cairo, exhausted but exhilarated. Egypt doesn’t seem very similar to Edmonton after all, though. Huh.
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| View from our first Cairo hotel. Not like Edmonton. |
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| Take my word for the “exhilarated” part |
Day 1: wandered Cairo streets (got lost), survived 42C weather (turned into puddle), made friends (fended off strange men). Loving it.
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| Checking the map during one of the many, many times we were lost. |
Pics will be: here’s us sweaty & gross at pyramids. Here’s us sweaty & gross by Nile. Here’s us sweaty & gross at Abu Simbel.
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True. Also us with dorky headwear. And yet there’s no way I’m posting the worst examples.
This is our closeup in front of the great pyramid. |
Pyramids, sphinx, King Tut’s treasures – so surreal to see in person. Flying to Aswan now to make friends with a camel.
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| Pyramid of Khafre (not the big one) |
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| Sphinx and Pyramid of Khafre |
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| Sphinx and Great Pyramid of Khufu/Cheops |
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| Pyramids from a distance. |
Amazing, incredible day in desert near Aswan. Boat on Nile, camel to monastery, gardens, lunch in Nubian village.
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| In Aswan. Scenery unlike any I’d seen before. |
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| Krestina the Camel and I in front of St. Simeon Monastery. |
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| Banks of Aswan near the Kitchener gardens. |
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| Getting a henna tattoo in a Nubian village. |
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| The Nubian village. |
Up at 2:45am taking police convoy through desert to Abu Simbel. Teresa’s dream destination but too sick to come. Other girl puking on bus.
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| The “lesser” temple of Hathor and Nefertari |
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| Ramses II on great temple |
Just hangin’ out at Abu Simbel. Which is … wow.
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| Posing awkwardly, or collapsing from the heat? |
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| The greater temple. The scale of this complex is enormous. And they moved it all when the Aswan Dam was built. |
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Visited an essence factory/shop on the way back from Abu Simbel.
Bought essense of papyrus. It’s pretty. |
Perfect midpoint to trip, sailing down Nile in cooling breeze, doing nothing but watch camels, donkeys, cows, trees, sand, reeds as we pass.
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| Obligatory vacation foot shot |
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| One of our feluccas |
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| Hanging by the Nile |
Also? No one is puking or dropping from heat exhaustion. We’re saving that for Luxor tomorrow. Sleeping on the felucca deck tonight.
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| Relaxing on the felucca |
Docked for night, Teresa seasick so sat on Nile bank. Lovely man gave me Nubian name of Unati (moon) and promised to build house for me next …
Last tweet was supposed to say lovely Nubian man was going to build me a house next to his other wife’s. It killed the romance a little.
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| Teresa on the banks of the Nile, watching our felucca bob up and down. |
3 temples today, all spectacular. Karnak built over period of 2000 yrs. I can’t commit to what to do next weekend.
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| At Kom Ombo Temple |
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| Horus at Edfu Temple |
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| Sanctuary inside Edfu Temple |
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| Statue at Karnak |
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| Peeking behind columns at Karnak |
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| Queen Hatshepsut obelisk at Karnak |
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| Ram-headed sphinx at Karnak |
Shoutout to Sem Sem, our Egyptologist guide. By the time I’m home I’ll have forgotten astonishing amount about ancient Egypt.
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| The amazing Sem Sem, Egyptologist, storyteller, and tour leader extraordinaire |
Day began at 4am w/balloon over Luxor, then donkeys to Hatshepsut Temple, then Valley of the Kings. Last day in Egypt tomorrow. Sniff.
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| Sunrise over Luxor |
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| Valley of the Kings below |
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| Post-landing: another balloon landing in Luxor, Valley of the Kings in the background |
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| Only a little freaked out |
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| Luxor Temple |
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| Avenue of sphinxes – excavation ongoing in Luxor |
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Me and my donkey, who tried to knock me off by brushing against everything in sight.
“Yallah habibi!” (“Let’s go, darling!” That’s what the guides yelled to the donkeys.) |
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| Temple of Queen Hatshepsut, only female Egyptian pharoah |
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| Statue of Queen Hatshepsut |
Last day in Egypt. Said goodbye to tour leader. Now must make all decisions on our own. So Twitter, where should we go for lunch in Cairo?
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| Our historic hotel for the last night in Cairo |
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Not sweaty and gross for the first time in a week, enjoying a
drink with ice at Shepheard’s Hotel |
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| Teresa on the balcony over the Nile |
One of us got a bit of a tan. One of us got a lot more freckles. (Hint: I’m not the first one of us.)
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| But if my freckles would spread and join together, we’d be the same colour. |
Such an incredible couple of weeks I’ve had in Egypt and LA. Now back to reality. Sigh. Gotta plan my next adventure to anticipate.
[A hint? Next summer I’m going to
the country that
ruined the first attempt at an Egyptian vacation.]
