I amsterdam!

Just over 4-hours later, we arrive at Amsterdam Train station apathetic that this was our final train ride  for our passage around Europe. We catch a tram to Velariustraat where Ram's apartment to find him waiting for us.

I had met Ram at vipassana back in Italy. The brief exchange on the tenth day of the course led to his invitation of Amber and I staying with him if we were planning to be in the neighborhood. We did, and I accepted! He revealed to me that he was an artist then, but I was only to find out how  passionate and accomplished upon our arrival into Amsterdam. www.ramkatzir.com

Breakfast with Ram

Ram is very sociable. That evening we had an unexpected visitor - an old and dear friend of Ram's. Corolla is fashion designer/illustrator from Argentina and also very sociable. They haven't seen each other in almost three years and it is clear that their friendship is endearing. Late into the evening, Amber and I are invited to share a joint with them. It is Jamaican, I'm told the mildest kind I'd find in Amsterdam. I strike one of the things off my 'Amsterdam "to do" list.' Interestingly, I notice my linked negative connotations of smoking weed with "failure." The last time I was stoned, my life was in a bad way, so here I found myself in strange 'new territory' smoking weed in a very different context in the company of a "successful" and very inspiring human being.

Excited kids rolling a joint

I wake up feeling heavy and groggy the next morning. Still, without any disinclination, the three of us sit together in meditation. Ram was delighted to find that Amber and I have been meditating regularly since our last course and was eager about sitting with us over the next few days. We were too!

Ram has a couple of bicycles which he let us use and we ride off for the first time into town. After 20 minutes of haphazardly traversing the busy but charming conglomerating city streets of Amsterdam, we cycle past a couple in distress. 'B' is on her side lying on the pavement with her head on her backpack shivering uncontrollably, while her partner, 'J', is standing by her side, seemingly calm but hinting discombobulation. Amber is the first to stop to see if they need help. J tells her that they have had some space-cake and B is having a strong reaction. I notice that J is also pretty 'out of it' and merely keeping composure, and doing a pretty good job of it! B, however, is in a much poorer state and laments about how she can't feel her legs and that she needs to go to a hospital. While Amber is locking up our bicycles a few meters down the road, I  curiously find myself on my knees, on a random street in Amsterdam, vocally and physically consoling a stranger who is in an acute state of distress. I run across the road to a corner shop and ask to call 112 (Ambulance). She helpfully complies but advises that the paramedics will charge 200+ euros for their service. I run this by J which he readily consents to. His body language tells me otherwise. Amber suggests a cab to the hospital, and the taxi driver down the road demands 250 euro compensation if she throws up in his Mercedes. He is hesitant about taking her in his car and keeps expounding how he will be 'responsible' once she gets into the car. He was obviously very concerned about something of what I am still uncertain. In the meantime, passerby's are incessantly stopping to see what is going on and voicing their concerns and opinions, "Give her lots of sugar," or "Take her to the hospital!" or "She needs to vomit!" Having a little experience with the drug itself (okay okay, more than just a little..), I felt that all she required was reassurance and moved to a safe and less conspicuous space, so we drag her to her feet and go into the back toilet of the infamous 'Ice Bar' across the road where we spent the next hour or so, while Amber and I, still feeling like she wasn't 'out of the woods', had caffe lattes. The staff were cool and even handed us glass of sugar water for her. Two lattes and two vomits later, B resolutely walks out of the toilet and sits down awkwardly next to us, clearly concerned about the whereabouts of their backpack. J, not far behind her, attentively takes a seat, thanks us, and hands us 50 euros for helping. Refusing at first, I recognize the genuineness and uncompromisingness in his eyes and readily accept our financial reward. After exchanging emails and well-wishes, Amber and I get on our way, feeling thoroughly satiated by our good deed. (*Thanks J and B! The 50 euros has gone towards a lovely Canal ride and a hearty Tibetan dinner of sizzling duck and sweet and sour fish. Mmmmm!)

Canal ride

We get back to our bikes and find my Macpac jacket, which Amber had stored in one of the bicycle pockets, stolen! Immediately, I observe prickly waves of emotion gushing throughout my body, at a loss at how to react, Amber clearly upset with herself. In the antsy moments that follow, I observe a myriad of thoughts and feelings run riot, incapable of coming to a serene conclusion. Recognizing that my deepest desire and practice is to be non-attached to 'things,' I remind myself that this is not worth getting upset about, and making Amber wrong for losing my expensive jacket only devalues my experience of her and myself in the here and now. 10 minutes later, after contemplating very uncomfortable state(s) of mind, I imagine seeing the person who took my jacket on the street, wearing it. We meet, and having the option of take the jacket back, I choose to gladly give it to him. "You have it." - followed by a comradely smile and feelings of goodwill. This briefly described sequence of mental events may seem frivolous, but my resultant subsequent feelings were invaluably insignificant and peaceful.

"Coffee shop"

Today is our last day in Amsterdam, and so much still has happened which I long to share on this blog but yet not practical to convey. We have this morning been to the Ann Frank museum, and decided not to see any more museums. As Amber recently declared, "We are completely museum-ed out!"

Very cool cafe lounge area where we hung out for hours.

Maybe later I'll write part deux about our workout, Shutter Island, Ram's fabulous bookshelf and orange couch, the red-light district, Casa Rosso, the happenstance meeting with Tina and Brenden from New Zealand, and the angry pedestrian who bellowed "FUUCK YOUU" when I cycled too close to him on the sidewalk. What a captivating city to (almost) end our tour around Europe!

I amsterdam

In Bruges.

A ‘Christian’ God

My audacious comment about my notion of what God was not in a recent post has instigated farther exploration into my Christian perspective of what God is. And coincidentally, my earnest running of fingers across a row of books at Massolit Books stopped at publication entitled Divine Milieu, by Pierre Telhard de Chardin – A French philosopher and Jesuit Priest whose personal truths conflicted with some of the Catholic Church’s which resulted in some of his books being censured. I believe wholeheartedly that there is truth to the essence of Christianity and that the Bible holds much wisdom and insight into the phenomenology of man - incidentally also the title of Telhard’s primary book and latest addition to my reading list. I am just now delving into the irreplaceable ideas and experiences of a kindred seeker of the Christian persuasion. 

Justice

I have also relevantly been disconcerted with thoughts of justice and nature these past few days. I keep recalling a particular excerpt I watched on television back in Poland about the “plight” of a species bird (I don’t recall the name). The documentary goes something like this: When the mother leaves to find food for her newly born chicks, a snake encroaches on the nest. The mother returns to find the snake unhurriedly swallowing her chicks one by one. She remains there powerless to do anything about it. When the snake finishes and leaves, she enters the empty nest looking around bewildered that her chicks have vanished. She abandons her nest to search for another location to build another. She finds one, distinctly different from the previous: Vines with no branches for snakes to slither up on; She lays her eggs once again, and patiently watches for predators before leaving her eggs. A cuckoo cunningly watches from afar, and when mother is gone, lays a single egg in mother’s nest. It is slightly bigger than the rest, but mother does not spot the difference. She instinctively goes back to sitting on the eggs to keep them warm as if her own. Soon, the eggs hatch, and the imposter chick appear markedly different from the others. It is much bigger and darker than the rest, but mother is blind to this disparity and continues to feed it along with the others. Because the cuckoo bird is inherently self-seeking, it nudges the other baby chicks out of the nest and they fall to the ground helplessly to their deaths. Father and mother watch on perplexed but continue to feed the cuckoo as their own. I watch aghast at the injustice of this phenomenon of nature, yet I have to accept that this is what ‘is.’ Mothers’ chicks were food for snake and her maternal instincts fostered the “enemy’s” children - all perfectly natural to perpetuate the broader ecological cycle of nature. It is my own judgment that deems the action ‘unjust’ or ‘malicious’ even 'evil'. Yet any interference on my part would be to intrude on the natural order of things.

I remain baffled at the phenomena of nature and spontaneous self-imposed judgments, observing with renewed understanding that all the artificial and restrictive shackles that society has placed upon me are entirely mine to relinquish. 

Me, Pierre and Krishnamurti.

We are here in Massolit Books having coffee and entranced by all the beautiful books that surround us, trying to make a decision on a couple to take with us on our onwards journey. Soon, we will catch a train to Balice airport terminal to board a flight to Brussels Charleroi, where we will catch another train to Bruges.

I've decided on The Divine Milieu, by Pierre Teilhard de Chardin and The Awakening of Intelligence, by J. Krishnamurti. Very excited!

Good bye, Poland!

Auschwitz-Birkenau Death Camps.

Amber and I got up just past 5AM this morning to catch the 6:10AM train to Oschwiem (Auschwitz) station 1 hour and 40 minutes away - we like doing things the hard way y'see. Tour companies around tour were offering Auschwitz-Birkenau tours for 90-120 Zloty's (NZ$45-60) per person, but we agreed that we'd want to miss the hordes of tourists at the museum between 10AM-3PM. Besides, how much more adventurous is it to find our own way there! At Oschwiem station we took a short bus ride to the gates of the infamous death camp just before opening time, 8AM. Perfect! Only a handful of visitors were had the same idea, but probably arrived by private car. Finally, we had arrived at the much anticipated Auschwitz and Birkenau death camps where merely 65 years ago Nazi's murdered approximately 1.5 million people they considered 'inferior', mostly jews.

The ironic 'WORK GIVES FREEDOM' sign that marks 

the entrance of Auschwitz death camp.

As Amber and I sauntered upon the solemn ground of Auschwitz, we tacitly took separate directions to immerse ourselves completely with the experience. I ended up at the sole crematorium on this camp, converted from a bunker (photo on right). As I entered and walked through the dark and cold sequence of concrete rooms, I felt a waves of heaviness and prickly chilliness wash over me. Standing by a lit candle and bouquets of flowers, I became overcome with emotion thinking about the thousands who had perished around me. Bumblingly I tried to gather myself and make my way out of the cellar, flummoxed by the seriousness of my thoughts and how I should behave. An hour later, tourists begin to arrive en masse, and I was glad on the decision to come early. I would not have allowed myself to feel completely what I felt in that cellar with many people around me. 

Our tour group started at 930AM after a 15 minute screening of a relative documentary. We were assigned a very articulate and phlegmatic guide (my after-tour assessment) and I observed my negative involuntary judgements of how she was too unattractive and antagonistic to be a good tour guide.  

AUSCHWITZ

Taken on the outside of the double fence 

that border the death camp.

The main parade square where the Nazi's would conduct daily roll call. 

Prisoners would be made to stand here up to 12 hours a day whatever the weather. 

Not surprisingly, many died during from exhaustion and extreme temperatures. 

That small structure with the pointed roof in the middle was 

for the conducting officer during inclement weather.

Execution by firing squad was replaced with a single bullet through the back 

of the head because it happened so frequently, the Nazi's thought it 

was a waste of bullets.

Another form of torture/punishment, as our tour guide enacts out, 

is to have your hands tied behind your back and hoisted 

up to the point of shoulder dislocation.

On the shuttle bus that transported us from Auschwitz to Birkenau camp, I overheard someone asking another "How are you finding it?," and following it up with "Depressing, isn't it?" I recognized that her words were intended more to proliferate social conversation, and since I wasn't the recipient of her banter, it allowed deeper reflection into my feelings. I did not feel "depressed" per se. Rather, my experience was thought provoking, paticularly my thoughts about what 'God' is. How could a 'loving and merciful' god allow such a thing to happen to ordinary people? Musicians, teachers, doctors, artists, whose only "guilt" was their ethnicity? Auschwitz was hell on earth, and I can only imagine what these casualties went through. Death seemed like liberation! Any rational mind would refute a god sitting on a throne in heaven looking down upon us, granting us prayers on certain occasions where he deems fit; allowing us to come and join him in heaven only if we accept Him and no other gods; pleased when we do good works and frowning upon when we do 'bad.' Imagine my surprise to realize that however gullible and naive this belief seems, I glimpsed in a moment that essentially, that that was to some extent what I am/was (?) operating from. Even now I still sense fear in completely denouncing this view, even though my rational mind and feelings from the depths of my soul is convinced that this is false. What if I chose not to "accept" this God, and in the result spend an eternity in hell after I die!? However embarrassingly callow, this is essentially my understanding of Christianity. The tenets of vipassana seem overwhelmingly pragmatic to my sensibilities: 'Heaven' and 'hell' are states of mind you experience in the here and now; God is Not an old guy with a long white beard judging you in from some celestial throne; and you frantically running around like a lunatic with your arms in the air proclaiming his name at the top of your voice (be it Jesus, Allah or Krishna etcetera) is not going to get your ass into heaven.

BIRKENAU

View from the main tower and entrance of the larger Auschwitz II - Birkenau. 

75% of jews (those who couldn't do hard labour) who came through these gates were 

sent immediately to the gas chambers on the far end of these railway tracks.

Brick quarters that housed prisoners

English memorial plaque located between the two Nazi-demolished 

crematoriums in attempt to hide their war crimes.

"Those who cannot remember the past are doomed to repeat it."

                                                  -George Santayana

Enchanted in Krakow.

I just told Amber I could live here! So far its been a fabulous experience. Just this morning we moved out of our 'Sun" apartment, into a smaller 'Grand' apartment. These two apartments were last minute arrangements suggested by 'Apartments Apart' in light of my recent error of reserving an apartment for 2011! Just as well I requested a confirmation email whilst in Prague and they revealed my mistake. It was a bit of a hassle to move over this morning, but we got a discount for our troubles and we're living in a different part of town (near the Jewish quarter).

Last night we did our evening vipassana hour early to walk in Krakow twilight. Serendipitously, while walking along the northern Planty (unique stretch of gardens surrounding the town center), Amber and I were approached by a friendly lady who told us about a piano recital being held in the Barbacan (a fortified tower over a drawbridge) in a few minutes. This one in particular is the largest military structure of its type in Europe. It was a magical evening in a magnificent historical structure, unlike anything I've experienced before. The performer was by Bartlomiej Kominek, an accomplished scholar and musician and his selected pieces were a tribute to the famous Polish composer Chopin. My experience of watching and hearing sounds coming from the grand piano were absolutely divine, and I observed in myself a heightened appreciation of all 105 minutes of his masterful performances. (*Papa, i've heard you playing Chopin's Nocturne and Polonaise umpteen times before and I'd LOve if you taught me how to play one when we're in Singapore!)

Here is a clip of him on youtube performing a piece we enjoyed last night. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LjqvNp_K1Eg

Totally inspired.

Old Town Square at night

Prague.

We arrive in Prague on a Sunday evening after a 5-hour train ride from Berlin. My first impressions of this much anticipated city is desolate, fraught and frigid. As we walk towards Katerina’s apartment from the mental image of the map imprinted in my head, we walk past a guy who Amber notices has disturbingly large pockmarks on his forearms and a middle-aged woman under a highway on the verge of tears. From the discolorations of her face, clearly a crack addict.

We find Katerina’s apartment easily enough, but already drenched in our own sweat from the searing heat. To our dismay, we find the apartment not air-conditioned. The place is nice though, modern with all the amenities for required for a comfortable stay – wifi, kitchen, walking distance to the town center. Our host was also very accommodating when she offered to buy our overnight tickets to Crakow on our behalf while we were still in Berlin (I found out that the cheapest available tickets were from over the counter at the Prague railway station).

Katerina informs us that during the weekends, locals go to their houses outside of the city to escape the tourists and heat of the city, hence the empty streets. Also, the railway station is located between the apartment and the Old Town Square so we are outside of the touristy areas. I think this is great as we get to see the ‘real’ Prague as well. There’s a very strong booze culture here unlike New Zealand’s. People do not seem as well off and look somber and gloomy. My first impression.

The following 3 days discovering the city turn out to be pleasant and much more colorful! I had made a list of the attractions I had intended to see, but did not eventuate. Reason being the heat just saps our energy here and walking is just exhausting! We easily decided not to see the castle (we’ve been to plenty), and Amber was very reluctant to go to the Torture museum even though I was keen (Half the fun for me was to watch Amber squirm). I decided against seeing it on my own - no biggie. Walking around historic Prague was beautiful in itself and we saw lots of wonderful art on the streets. The Jewish quarter, Old Town, and Charles Bridge were really the main attractions for us.

On the Charles Bridge

Old Town Square

I really loved this amazing painting (Sleepy Prague) in one of the stalls that is our current wallpaper on our MacBook. The other reminded me of Eve tempting Adam with an apple (I don't know if the artist intended to depict this). We were tempted to buy a couple of paintings for our future house back in New Zealand, but decided against it as it would probably get damaged on our journey and it wasn’t cheap. This is the first time I’ve ever really appreciated painted art. Here are a couple I enjoyed the most:

 We walked into a tiny Jewish art museum and the lady amiably asked our names so she could tell us what they represented(?) in the Kabbalah alphabet(?). I know nothing about this but her ‘interpretations’ struck us uncannily, describing “us.” Amber had ‘Tet,’(?), which translates as ‘intelligence,’ and my name had ‘Mem(?),’ meaning ‘unconditional truth.’ I liked and felt the connotations and have in mind learn more about Kabbalah.

On our last day in Prague we decide to treat ourselves to a Thai massage! Services are cheap-ish here in Prague and we each chose a 90 minute massage. It was good, but I preferred the broad full bodied strokes that I had gotten from the Ayurvedic one back in Italy. Thai massage can be a little rough and I found myself wincing at a couple of the stretching poses. Amber enjoyed it more than I. 

So now we're here in our very big and cool apartment right in the middle of Cracow, and what a  lovely town it is! Everything is softer and personable, and accommodation is cheaper. A large apartment such as this one is just over NZ$100 a day. I'm so glad I decided we stay here for 7 days and 8 nights. Amber and I set aside the rest of today to plan our next 7 days to cover all we want to do. Very exciting! Here's what we've come up with:

Krakow:

• Explore town center by foot.
• Kazimierz (Jewish quarter) 
• Schindler's factory.
• Auschwitz concentration camp.
• Aqua park (swimming complex)
• Bike trail in Wolski Forrest.
• Krakow Mounds
• Krakow Fortress bike trails.

Achtung, baby!

We arrive in Berlin after two giant train journeys: An overnight train from Venice to Munich (8hrs), followed by another after a brief transit from Munich to Berlin (6hrs). We set ourselves up in a luxurious 1st class 2 person cabin in the former and I slept like a baby!

The German ticket-master who greeted us for the overnight train seemed very unpleasant and he brusquely asked for our tickets and showed me how to operate the intricacies of the cabin door. He practically snatched my tickets from my hand and said he'd return them in the morning. He spoke with a very strong German accent and I felt like I had to stand at attention when we was addressing me! When he made his way down the coach corridor I had dreadful memories of room inspection back in the Singapore military. Amber and I had a good laugh! Intermittently, we would hear him yelling at other passengers for not getting their coach numbers right, or leaving their luggage around, or dilly-dallying. This all seemed very confusing. We paid for 1st class, so shouldn't we be getting first class service? Then I noticed it was only 3 minutes to departure, and I remembered how Europeans are very meticulous about punctuality. I suddenly found his curt behavior uncompromisingly necessary, understanding that passengers can be particularly uncooperative, even to the point of abusing a less resilient ticket-master. He Had to take this authoritative stance, we wouldn't have left the station on time otherwise, and he'd have to put up with passenger balderdash. I like him!

We arrived at an enormous ultra-modern steel and glass Hauptbahnhof in Berlin at mid-day, and I have the most satisfying meal I've had this year at an Asian food outlet at a reasonable price - Unagi-don! Boy, was I glad I was not in Venice anymore. Then we catch a train to Potsdam, where we meet Roz at a cafe to go to her apartment by the lake.

Roz and Malte stay in a cool 2-storey apartment on the third floor and it so happened that on the day we arrived, Germany was playing Spain in the semi-finals. Malte invited several work colleagues over that night for a bbq and to watch the game on the patio upstairs. Germany lost but I thoroughly enjoyed having to spend time with some locals and watching Malte squeal extendedly every time Spain came close to scoring (and boy did Spain come close to scoring many times!) Lol!

We borrow their very old style bicycles the next day to see east Potsdam the next day. I love the city’s serenity and the excellent facilities provided for cyclists. Don’t be caught walking on cycle lanes though, I had inadvertently got in the way of a couple of cyclists who shot me annoyed stares as they whizzed by. We rode past a beautiful lake and noticed locals sunbathing by the lakefronts, many of who were naked! My feeling for Germans is that they are more attuned to nature and more inclined to express their ‘naturalness.’ This is a broad generalization however, as Malte does not share this predisposition.

The following day our hosts suggest we take the boat out for a paddle. The lake that the apartment is by is was lovely! We paddled to the other shore and people watched while dabbling in the water. Glorious!

Keiran is Roz and Malte’s beautiful baby boy! I loved being around him and noticed my feelings of antipathy every time Keiran threw a tantrum. On a bad day I think he threw 5 in a space of 30 minutes! I also noticed how quickly he got over each one and the smile that followed erased all my aversion I had for him but a few moments ago. I love him. He is my most recent, invaluable teacher.

How German babies throw a tantrum - in a yoga posture

Play horse

Happy

After 3 days and 3 nights in Potsdam with Roz and Malte, I book us into the Meininger Hotel in Berlin. It’s right next to the Berlin Hauptbahnhof (Train station) and I figure this will give us plenty of time to see as much of Berlin as we can in the time frame provided before leaving for Prague the next day. I had researched Berlin while at Roz’ and these were what I wanted to see:

Berlin:

The Reichstag

Brandenburg Gate

Under Ter Linden

Erotik Museum 

Potzdamer Platz, Sony Centre. 

 I had found Kitkatclub on a “Top 5 must do” list on the internet a week before. It’s a club owned by a German porn filmmaker who wanted to create a club where VERY ‘liberated’ could come and party. From what I’ve read about the club on the internet is that its got a very strict dress code (BDSM Fridays etcetera), and that people have sex freely at the venue either in ‘open rooms’ or on the dancefloor?? Recommended only for “open-minded” people. I decided against doing this as its location was quite out of the way and I didn’t enjoy the ‘party’ atmosphere of dance clubs anyway. I was definitely curious to see how “liberated” Germans party though! As it turns out, the Erotik museum we went to had plenty enough displays of private parts for one day.

Eeks!

We’re on our way to Prague now after only spending 5 days in Germany, which I feel is a shame. I want to come back and am wondering if our invitation from our new German friends we made during Mystic Tantra will still be open in the future. I have booked to stay at an apartment in Prague for the next 3 nights through AirBnB.com, a bed and breakfast website. Here is what I want to see:

Prague:

• Prague Castle Complex (apparently the biggest in Europe)
• Old Town
• Jewish quarter
• Charles Bridge
• Torture museum
• The Fred and Ginger Building (built by Peter Eisenman)

Achtung (watch out), baby!

So OVER Venice.

It's 7pm and we've parked ourselves in a diner just across the river from San Lucia train station where we depart for Berlin at 10:51pm. I've been seething over most of the day and am absolutely OVER Venice. It's a tourist trap, and since we checked out of our hotel (Agli Artisti), I've felt like I've copious amounts of money for very unsatisfactory foods and services. A meal costs us approximately NZ$60, and finding the restaurant alone requires strenuous effort. Everywhere, all I sense are people wanting to get as much money from you as they can. From the waiters to the beggars to the humanitarian aid workers who ambush you on the street. I won't miss Venice.

On the bright side, yesterday we opportunely decided to take the water bus to the island of Lido where the beach was. We rented a fun tandem-like bicycle and explored the several beaches that lined the far side of the island. Lido was much less saturated with tourists and we spent a splendid day on the beaches and shopping in the small town. Only once were we asked to leave a private beach. Apparently, lots of beaches are privately owned and visitors are required to rent a deck chair/umbrella to use them. What commercial bullshit - in my seething, indignant opinion.  

Ready to leave, prepared not to return.

Strange tandem bicycle we rented for a day on Lido Island.

Roaming through one of many typical Venetian "calle's" (streets).

Standing on bridge in Venice.

Locomotive Insight.

We are on the train to Venice via Florence, and here seated sedately I am observing my thoughts flow undirected:

Sapphire’s cards:

I recall being taken through that card reading by Sapphire (see previous blog title ‘Sapphire’) back in Feb/March in Costa Rica, which I had requested out of curiosity and skepticism. I pulled out two cards with the captions: ‘Drink more water’ and ‘Purification.’ So it is intriguing that I find myself, 5 months later, in a meditation retreat, in the practice of purifying my mind and drinking lots of water (I made sure I drank a glass of water before each sitting. My days in the retreat were literally drinking, sitting, peeing, drinking, sitting, peeing)! I cannot help but wonder what my chances were from picking up those two particular cards from an entire stack, and admiration in the conviction Sapphire had displayed in her cards before the reading.

Redefining “success.”

My meandering thoughts also lead me to Schindler’s list - the movie we rented back in Rome intended as an educational precursor to our visit to Auschwitz later this month. Schindler ran a string of unsuccessful businesses before the outbreak of war. During the war he became a high rank German Munitions Officer, and got very rich using hundreds of captive Jews for production in his factory, supplying the German front lines with shells and ammunition. During this time though, he witnessed the cruelty being carried out around him for the purpose of racial annihilation (his interest lay solely in ‘getting rich’ and didn’t play any role in combat), which slowly affected him. Soon, he intended his factory a haven for his Jews, and even sabotaged his own munitions production to curb the bloodshed. After the war, he was pardoned was recognized as a ‘righteous person.’ He went back to run several more failed businesses and his marriage fell apart. So here’s a guy who failed, as we have come to see it, outside of war. He saved hundreds of Jews (6 million exterminated), spending his entire fortune doing so, and then went back into the world as a failing businessman and husband. I found this story to have profound relevance to my own journey of learning how ‘best to live,’ and I cannot say that Schindler lived an unsuccessful life. In fact, I am more inclined to think he lived a successful one! Clearly a highly thought provoking Steven Spielberg movie. Also by Steven: Freedom Writers starring Hilary Swank. I had watched the movie with Amber last year, and only just now read the book. A tremendously inspirational story about a white middle-class teacher who overcomes insurmountable obstacles while challenging a dysfunctional educational system and changes the live of her students who come from the notoriously rough neighborhoods of Long Beach, LA.

Marcus Aurelius: Meditations:

This book I’m currently reading is a series of personal (was never intended for publication) spiritual reflections and exercises by a Roman Emperor and his “struggle to make sense of him-self and the universe.” After reading the introduction and the first ‘book’ (12 in total), I was astounded to discover indistinguishable similarities between the Stoic philosophies and the essence of vipassana. The insights and truths discovered from individuals from such different cultures reinforce my stance that race differences and bad religion only serve as obstacles to individual fulfillment and liberation. This soul/spirit within each of us is non-sectarian, and although I increasingly recognize that the essence of all religion endorses this phenomenon, there is this defect: Religion is fundamentally sectarian (separate), but spirit or God is universal.

We have arrived in Florence (for the second time) in transit for our train to Venice in just over an hour. Venice! WOOHOO!

San Vincenzo, Livorno