Europe in the Morning

Helsinki

Is it not always dawn in Helsinki in the wintertime? The pale, transparent sky and the slanting sunlight give it that luster of morning at most hours. The city responds in kind with its pale, white buildings that catch the stray beams of light at odd corners. The mighty cathedral floats above the city like the New Jerusalem about to descend from the frozen firmament, dazzling and all flush with the red light of the distant sun. But this is a description of noon in Helsinki. In the morning it is dark and cold. So cold that you can feel your bones creak and the air freezes the edges of your eyelids and the inside of your nostrils. The dark hours have their own ethereal luminescence. The snow - crunchy, dry - reflects the streetlamps in a million brilliant mirrors. Before dawn, I walked a long ways (a recurring theme in my travels) to the ferry. The city was cold, perhaps dead. Occasionally a car would slide past. Or one of the trams would snake through the white street with effortless silence. My feet meeting the crisp snow was the only sound in the whole harbor.

Tallinn

I reached Tallinn later in the morning. The ferry cut quickly and quietly through the foggy Gulf of Finland. For the duration of my hours on board, I could not see for more than a half a mile before the world was enveloped in gray monochrome - a sea of battered steel giving way to ghostly strands of orphaned clouds. But then the spiky, Teutonic citadel of the Estonian capital pierced through the mist like a knight slaying the monsters of gloom. Rosy light lingered on the frozen rooftops. Dawn, happy light, glinted off the snow. Smoke billowed from chimneys as the Sunday bells tolled calling the Lutherans and the Orthodox to their turreted temples on the rocky hill.

Riga

No rosy light of happy morning touched Riga. Riga was continuously and thoroughly gray. Even the people seemed gray. My lodgings were but a two-block walk from the grim bus station - itself situated on the ominously named Road to Moscow. My predawn walk to meet the bus out of town (I, inexplicably, traveled mostly by bus through the Baltics) was a panorama of grayness. Charcoal-colored puddles of salted slush clung to the edges of the tunnel that led under the main road and connected the station with the city. The station itself was more transparent gray. Dingy glass showcased people in large black overcoats aimlessly awaiting their ride. But perhaps it is all just a facade. Awaiting my bus, near a dirty pile of snow, I thought back to the deep, majestic blues and golds of the Orthodox Cathedral with its amber candles and rosy-cheeked old ladies crossing themselves. The inside of my nearly empty hostel was blue and lime green. The delicious beer and salmon were brown and pink and flavorful and rich. Perhaps in the morning, by contrast, everything feels a bit gray?

Vilnius

On my way out of Vilnius, I walked through the snow again. The snow was more brown than in Riga or Tallinn. It was not luminous like in Helsinki. It was a dull snow - wet, heavy. It was dark again, as always. The early bus tickets are the cheapest and most time-efficient. My backpack seemed heavier by the time I was leaving Vilnius. Perhaps it was because the wet snow weighing down my feet made the uphill walk to the station seem longer. I think words like "trudged" get bandied about a bit too nonchalantly. But, I must say, Vilnius was a place of trudgery. I trudged to the city gate. But then I stood up straight. Someone was watching me. Her eyes that have seen so many centuries (some would say eternity) caught mine. Through the many clear prisms of the old window I saw her, clothed with the sun, supported by the moon, crowned with the radiance of the stars. A young man near me saw her too. I imagine he sees her often. He bowed, made the sign of the cross, looked up at her, and walked through the gate. I followed him.  

Winter wanderings

My thesis is reaching that crucial time when decisions must be quickly made, committed to, and expanded upon. From now until dim days of December, it shall be one headlong, maddening plunge toward graduation. Architecture students, much like architects proper, are often to be found talking about ourselves and our work - and all of its invariable complexity, and difficulty, and depth, and philosophy, and, oh, you should be both pitying us and marveling at our tenacity at this point! We, as a profession, share a bit of character with the Irish - the greater the number and intensity of your struggles and misfortunes, the higher your rank in a room. Needless to say, a bit of exaggeration goes on. Yet, I shall indeed be very busy for the next two months.

When it is all over, I will be heading out on another journey. It is perhaps a bit of the "millennial goes traipsing before growing up" genre, but there you have it. The prospect of two weeks vacation for the next ten years means that I shan't be heading to Europe again for awhile. So, I'm going now. In the wintry depths of January, I'm going to go to Helsinki in Finland for a few days. From there, I'll make a quick tour of the pint-sized Baltic countries before continuing into Poland. I'll be making a point to visit the famed Jasna Gora monastery, home of the holy icon of Our Lady of Czestochowa -- the spiritual heart of Poland. After a stay in Krakow, I'll hop over the Carpathians and across Slovakia to Vienna. The Austrian capital is another place that has always held my fascination. I think it will merit the better part of a week. I may make a trek up into the Wiener Wald to the Cistercian monastery at Heiligenkreuz, where there are relics of the True Cross and a growing community of monks. After Vienna, things are hazy at the moment and are dependent on friends and the ability of their couches. The goal is to end in Paris for a few days before coming home.

As of now, I am planning this as a solo trip. I have traveled by myself only sparingly. I think there is a lot to learn about oneself in solitude, especially in unfamiliar circumstances. The practical side of things is that I can spend my time exactly as I would like - indulging my idiosyncrasies at will. It is weird not to talk to people though. I went to Caen in Normandy last October and didn't speak the whole day apart from ordering lunch. It was liberating in an odd way. Sometimes I talk too much (see first paragraph) to no profitable end. Silence and solitude are valuable teachers.

The floating red house

The other day, I finished reading The Skin by the Italian author/political chameleon Curzio Malaparte. The book is chilling, bizarre, and basically a-moral, but, more than any other book I've read it captures well the absurdity of war and its aftermath - in this case Naples under American "liberation". I would have never encountered the work of Malaparte had I not visited his home in Capri in September as part of a three-day architecture workshop. Below is an excerpt from my journal:

For the better part of this afternoon, Maria and I sat in the wood-paneled dining room at a heavy wooden table next to a little window that faced the sea. In the corner was a German stove - the kind you might find in a Munich bierhalle. On it were stacks of Malaparte's literary oeuvre in all of the languages of Babel. From where I sat, in the corner, I could see into the small foyer and out onto the front patio that blazed red in the afternoon sun. There was no relief in the typically azure sea beyond - the sun was at its zenith and the crests of the undulating waves were stark white. The sky was pale and dehydrated. The two became one flesh where the horizon should've been. The cat, Luna, had given up her pestering and was guarding the open front door. Outside of the window at my right, shady pine trees of the peculiar Mediterranean variety screened the view out toward the towering cliffs - cathedrals of a type that soar out of the water and continue to the heavens. But, like the mighty Cathedral of Rouen commanding the end of the narrow street, the cliffs stopped my view abruptly with a jumbled jaggedness of dry earth.

I had begun to feel more and more unsettled the longer I sat on that dark wooden bench. I got up several times to have a glass of water from the adjacent sparkling silver kitchen. But, every time I sat down, the twirling of my stomach would return. Looking out the window at the otherwise magnificent scenery was akin to looking at a flat, foreshortened tableau, not unlike a painting from the early Renaissance or a Chinese mountain print. The psychological problem, I later decided, was that I could not see the horizon nor the sky but was able to see very far laterally. It was as if I was constantly looking through binoculars at the cliffs. The only other time I've had this experience was when I was once on a cruise ship - as we sailed past that variety of mountain that plunges itself into the sea. That's what my body and mind were expecting. They thought - I thought - that I should be sailing along the coast of Capri, sitting in a German cabin enclosed in a floating red cloud. When the afternoon of work was done and it was time to go upstairs for espresso and orange cake, I stared at the horizon from the main room. The sky was purple and the sea was gray. I had missed that dear boundary between boundless expanses.

I have not had this experience since. It was visceral, physical, and extremely odd. It is one of the many reasons that extraordinary house will stay burned in my memories.

Here, you can see the house perched on its promontory, with the cliffs beyond. The dining room is on the other side.

Here, you can see the narrowness of the house on its little sliver of rock.

Of Slovakia

I wrote a lengthy post the other day about some of my French Canadian and English Puritan ancestors and some of the intriguing portions of their lives. In fairness to my father's side of the family, I thought I'd post a little bit about my grandmother's Slovak roots. My grandmother's parents immigrated to these United States from the small village of Jakubany in eastern Slovakia (at that time a part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire). The village itself is nestled in the foothills of the Carpathian Mountains in a region historically contested among the Austrian, Prussian, and Russian forces.

Seems like a rather idyllic place to me. We have records of my grandmother's family living in this same village since the late 1600s. An interesting note is that they were all Greek Catholics - Christians whose liturgy reflects Eastern Orthodox traditions but who are in communion with the Pope. The only church in town (pictured above) is Sts. Peter and Paul Slovak Greek Catholic Church.

This is the interior of the church. Note the Eastern influences including the iconostasis (icon screen), and the rich iconography. My grandma's parents left Jakubany in 1913 and moved to Windber, Pennsylvania. My great-grandfather mined coal and my great-grandmother raised twelve children. When my great-grandfather died of the black lung, the family moved to Detroit, where some of the elder sons had already found jobs at Ford. When my grandma married my grandpa, she stopped attending Greek Catholic services in favor of his Roman Rite tradition.

The Amsterdam Stock Exchange Competition

The Amsterdam Stock Exchange by the famed Dutch architect Hendrik Petrus Berlage is a fine structure. The imaginative use of brickwork and steel in the main hall displays a mastery of color and material.

However, the exterior as executed by Berlage leaves a bit to be desired. It is a bit too severe for a city that has such a fine heritage of building in brick.

I, for one, much prefer the design put forth by Berlage in conjunction with his partner, Theodorus Sanders.

This design by Johann Frederik Lodewijk Frowein isn't bad either.

Nor is this one by Ludwig Klingenberg and Ernst Tauschenberg.

Bauakademie by Schinkel

Karl Friedrich Schinkel was the chief proponents of the Neoclassical style in Germany. His most active period of designing was during between the 1810s and the 1820s, when he oversaw the transformation of Berlin into the showplace of the Kingdom of Prussia. In the latter half of his career, Schinkel would turn from the Neoclassical to a stripped-down version of the Gothic (as can be seen in his design for the Friedrichswerder Church). Another landmark commission of this later era was the Bauakademie in Berlin, a building for an architectural and technical school. It is a building that I rather enjoy. It has the simplicity and harmony of the modernism that would eventually be perfected in Germany, while still employing traditional construction materials and decorative elements. Sadly, the building was demolished in 1962. Plans to rebuild are currently under study.

These Will Make Fine Ancestors

I am rather interested in the history of my own family. I am what you could call a mutt of Catholic Europe with parts French, Czech, Polish, Slovak, and Austrian. The Austrian branch is the most intriguing part of things for me, since it is the source of my surname. However, sadly, I know least about them, aside from some generalities and locations. This picture shows some of my Austrian ancestors - regrettably, I don't know their names or relation to me. I do know that this picture was taken in Sankt Michael im Burgenland, a small village in eastern present-day Austria that was under the dominion of the Kingdom of Hungary during the time of the photo. I am unsure if these persons emigrated, but their sons and daughters may have. The cause was likely Hungary's intense program of Magyarization around the turn of the century, which sought to stamp out German culture in Hungary. Interestingly, this social movement caused the bizarre inclusion of another consonant in our last name, rendering it the even-more-unpronounceable Schmalczel.

Thoughts on Europe

"We were making sand castles, and now we swim in the sea that swept them away" - Rem Koolhaas

"Once abolish the God, and government becomes the God." - G.K. Chesterton

Rem Koolhaas, a Dutch architect (whose work I do not particularly enjoy), has some interesting thoughts about the future of the European Union and the European project in general. His general premise is that Europe needs to be fixed. I believe we can all agree on this point considering recent greatly destabilizing events. He goes on to say that the economic union of the EU cannot go on being viable without political union of the EU. This is something that I've suspected for awhile now. Europe has a somewhat united economy without any means of enforcing economic policy across the continent, the European Central Bank notwithstanding.

However, the underlying problem with the entire European project is that it is a top-down scheme. The entire system is utterly superficial. Often we Americans look at Europe as if it were the United States: with countries that are basically the same living peacefully together. This is emphatically not the case. Europe is a fractured continent - the Greeks are a decidedly different people than the Italians. You cannot, then, foist a bureaucratic mess on to both countries and expect the same results. No number of eurocrats in Brussels will be able to make the Portuguese and the Spanish identical.

A parallel stream of thought on Europe suggests that since Europe has lost its shared Christian culture, it cannot truly unite in a meaningful way anyway. The basis of the word culture is the Latin word cultus, which means veneration. Thus, a culture is a group of people who venerate things in common. For Europe, this was Christianity, until the so-called Enlightenment and afterward. Nowadays, Europe is about as religiously arid a place as you can find. It is a sad fact, but it underscores the point that any European Union-esque project is bound to be unsuccessful because the last substantive bond among European nations - Christianity - has been egregiously eroded.

What could result is a super-national government in Europe. It's possible. However, it would likely possess only one leg of Western Civilization. It would be Roman rule of law, devoid of Athens' reason and Jerusalem's revelation. In short, European bureaucrats would be constructing a government in their own image, an image dependent, not on the cultus of Christ, but on the cultus of power.

The Daily Niblet: Jesus, the first Gothic architect

Yes, candid reader, I have resurrected the "daily niblet" as a way to post some more or less intriguing - but brief - errant thoughts without bogging you down in more than three paragraphs or so. Expect meatier niblets than those of the past, but nothing more filling than your average appetizer. Firstly, from the great thinker G.K. Chesterton:

"Christ prophesied the whole of Gothic architecture in that hour when nervous and respectable people (such people as now object to barrel organs) objected to the shouting of the gutter-snipes of Jerusalem. He said, "If these were silent, the very stones would cry out." Under the impulse of His spirit arose like a clamorous chorus the facades of the mediaeval cathedrals, thronged with shouting faces and open mouths. The prophecy has fulfilled itself: the very stones cry out." - Orthodoxy, Ch. 7 The Eternal Revolution

Pictured below is the great Cathedral of Strasbourg, France.

Bibliotheque Nationale de France

Libraries, like churches, are unique among structures in that they contain our collective culture. Churches, of course, are houses for our sacred culture, passed on through the centuries. Libraries, on the other hand, are houses for our secular culture, the accumulated knowledge of a civilization on display for all to see. The chief difference, of course, is that the sacred culture relies on a living thing - the liturgy, to occur within the church. The library is a mute observer to individual edification. That said, I wish to draw your attention to the splendid main reading room of the Bibliotheque Nationale de France (National Library of France) located in Paris. The building was designed by two different architects, Henri Labrouste and Jean-Louis Pascal. I am, however, unsure as to which was responsible for this portion of the building. The architecture is still rooted in classical ideas about proportion and form, but the thin steel columns and arches demonstrate the innovation made possible by the Industrial Revolution.

Otto, a mortal, sinful man

You may not have heard, but on the Fourth of July, as we were celebrating our independence from monarchy, the last heir of one of the great monarchies of Europe passed away. Otto von Habsburg, the last Crown Prince of Austria-Hungary died July 4th at the ripe old age of 98. His life was marked with all of the turbulence of the Twentieth Century's major events, from the deposition of his family from the Austrian throne to the Second World War to the birth of the European Union. A tireless campaigner for recognition of the God-given dignity of each human being, Otto von Habsburg continued his family's legacy of using the monarchy as a way to work on behalf of his people. You can read a full obituary of this great man here. 

One of the most moving parts of the entire gamut of funeral events was the traditional knocking at the door of the Kapuzinerkirche in Vienna where the Imperial Crypt is located. The text of the dialog is reprinted below.

The herold taps three time on the gate with his rod. 

Capuchin friar: "Who begs entrance?"

Herold: "Otto of Austria, once Crown Prince of Autria-Hungary, Prince Royal of Hungary and Bohemia, of Dalmatia, Croatia, Slavonia, Galicia, Lodomeria and Illyria; Grand Duke of Tuscany and Cracow, Duke of Lorraine, Salzburg, Styria, Carinthia, Carniola and Bucovina; Grand Prince of Transylvania, Margrave of Moravia; Duke of Upper and Lower Silesia, Modena, Piacenza and Guastalla, of Auschwitz, Zator, Teschen, Friuli, Ragusa and Zara; Princely Count of Habsburg and Tyrol, Kyburg, Görz and Gradisca; Prince of Trent and Brixen; Margrave of Upper and Lower Lusatia and in Istria; Count of Hohenems, Feldkirch, Bregenz and Sonnenberg, etc.; Lord of Triest, Cattaro and in the Windic march; Grand Voivode of the Voivodeship of Serbia; etc. etc."

Capuchin friar: "We know him not."

The herold knocks again.

Capuchin friar: "Who begs entrance?"

Herold: "Dr. Otto von Habsburg, President and Honorary President of the Paneuropean Union, Member and Father of the House of the European Parliament, honorary doctor of numerous universities and honorary citizen of many municiplaities in central Europe, member of venerable Academies and Institutes, bearer of high and highest state and Church decorations, orders and honours, which were granted to him in recognition of his decade-long struggle for the freedom of peoples, for what is right and just."

Capuchin friar: "We know him not."

The herold knocks for the third time.

Capuchin friar: "Who begs entrance?"

Herold: "Otto, a mortal, sinful man."

This small ceremony epitomizes the virtues of Christian monarchy. The monarch's soul, in the end, must be commended to God in the same way as that of the poorest peasants of the empire - my great-great grandfather's for instance. Otto von Habsburg, despite his positions of authority and honor, is at his core a mortal and sinful man, as are we all. Video of the ceremony, the last ever (since Otto was the last born into the monarchy) is shown below.

Blaubeuren, Germany

Blaubeuren is a small village located near the city of Ulm in the Baden-Wuerttemburg region of southern Germany. It is a delightful little place with two major landmarks; the Blautopf (a natural spring with a vivid blue color), and the Klosterkirche (an old Benedictine monastery). During my visit to Europe last May, we spent a couple of hours in Blaubeuren enjoying the sights and the atmosphere of this picturesque town.

The Blautopf, a spring colored by minerals in the water

The Klosterkirche across the Blautopf

In town

The cloister of the monastery

Detail of the high altar

Interior of the Klosterkirche with the high altar

Exterior of the monastery

Technische Universität Graz, Spring 2012

The Murinsel, an architectural intervention in the Mur River, Graz

Well folks, the decision has been made: I am officially beginning to take the steps necessary to study in Graz, Austria next spring semester (more specifically, from February to June). This was a tough choice to make, and I must remind my readership that it is in no way binding.

For now, I have a lot of meetings to get to and a lot of logistical nonsense to sort through. Wrangling some sort of studio credit (in English) out of the whole ordeal is my chief concern at the moment. Once I figure out that I can fill up a four class schedule (one German, two architecture, and one other class), I will begin the application, which is due August 15th.

I am understandably excited about the prospects of this endeavor. I think it would be just awesome to spend a semester in a place that I love, where I would actually have to integrate with the culture and live like an Austrian student. It is at once a bit scary but also very thrilling. The experiences (especially with the language and culture) could help change my life. And, no offense to any Ball State abroad centers or things like KIIS, but I really want to get out there and find my own way in a way that only an exchange program like ISEP can provide. Matter of preference, I suppose.

Styrian countryside, near Graz

As for location: Graz is the second-largest city in Austria and is located in the southeastern state of Styria (Steiermark, in German). It is a hilly region that stretches between the Alpine Austrian heart and the border with Slovenia, Croatia, and Hungary. Vienna, the Austrian capital, is two hours north, while Salzburg is three hours west, Venice is four hours south, and Budapest five hours east. Graz itself is a well-preserved Medieval town of typical Austrian elegance and charm. There is the token castle, a treasure trove of fine churches, and enough Baroque street scape to keep your humble scribe busy doodling for quite some time. The immediate surroundings of Graz are mainly vineyards (I can see my mother's face turning green with envy already), as Styria is Austria's chief wine-producing region. In fact, southern Styria is often termed "Austrian Tuscany."

Graz is home to two major universities; the Karl-Franzens Universität Graz and the Technische Universität Graz (TUG). The Technische Universität is where I will be enrolled (hopefully, of course), while I will also have the opportunity to take a class or two at Karl-Franzens Universität, which is the school more focused on the humanities. TUG is one of only two technical universities in Austria, and draws many students from both Austria and the surrounding European community. In corresponding with a current CAP student who is in Graz now, I learned that he has had the chance to meet and get to know people from as diverse places as Serbia, Croatia, and Nigeria.

Of course, Graz's location makes it an ideal home base for trips around the region. Me and my fascination with Google Earth have developed ideas for trips to such places as the Austrian Alps, Vienna, Salzburg, Budapest, Venice, Slovenia, Croatia, and Prague. Hopefully time and money will permit these excursions, as I believe that travel to other places is an essential part of studying abroad.

I suppose that is all for now, but I will, patient audience, keep you posted as to my endeavors in this regard. Pray for me, that I might be blessed with a smooth transition into this process.

Oh Where, Oh Where Shall I Study Abroad?

Ladies and Gentlemen, I apologize for not blogging in some time, but things have been horribly busy on this end. Architecture projects and other pests have been conspiring against me recently. But, things are looking a little less stressful during this week and a half lead up to spring break. One thing that has been (and will surely continue) keeping me busy is my exploration of study abroad options for next spring semester. I met with a person in the study abroad office yesterday and we discussed a number of possibilities. My long-held assumption that the Danish Institute for Study Abroad would be my perfect fit was shattered when it was revealed that none of my scholarships or aid would be applicable. This, combined with a number of other logistical nightmares, has made Copenhagen no longer a viable option.

Enter everything else.

Basically, because all architecture schools around the world are same in method (i.e. studio), I have decent latitude in determining where I want to study. Of course, things like credit transfer, language, geography, etc. need to be taken into account. Through ISEP (International Student Exchange Program) I can basically enroll in a partner university abroad while paying Ball State tuition and room and board. Basically, I pay for my spot on my campus, a foreigner pays for his spot on his campus, and we switch places. This, of course works nicely with scholarships and financial aid, since I would be still paying Ball State.

So, that being said, ISEP institutions are fairly limited when it comes to architectural instruction in English. The two most interesting programs I've discovered so far are the University of Strathclyde in Glasgow, Scotland and the Technische Universität Graz (Technical University of Graz), in Graz, Austria. For a variety of logistical reasons, TU Graz is looking ever more appealing.

For those of you who aren't keen on your Austrian geography, Graz is the second-largest city in the country and is located approximately two hours south of Vienna near the Slovenian and Hungarian borders. It is the capital of the province of Styria (Steiermark in German) and has a very well-preserved old city complete with a castle. Styria is the driest and sunniest region of Austria, which gives it a Mediterranean flair and makes it all the more appealing. It is a foothill region of the Alps, with the main high elevation regions in the north of the province. Graz is well connected with the rest of Austria (and Europe) via many rail lines and bus connections.

There are a number of universities in Graz, and it seems to be a lively, younger town. Of course, Graz's close proximity to other major European cities make it appealing: Vienna and Bratislava are both two hours north, Salzburg three hours west, Budapest three hours east, Zagreb two hours south, and Venice four hours southwest. Of course, location is not everything when deciding where to study, but it does help the decision process along.

Courses at TU Graz are taught in English or German, depending on which you register for. However, all international students take an intensive three-week German course before classes start in order to be better prepared for the culture. This is another plus for the program. I am currently enrolled in a Bachelor of Arts degree, which requires foreign language. Having this practical German experience could make acquiring those credits easier and provide a springboard for future study in German-speaking lands (considering their deep commitment to sustainable design).

So that's the Austrian option. I'd be independent, living with other international students from all over the world, and largely on my own as far as my studies are concerned. This seems not a grave objection considering I came to Ball State not knowing a soul. Part of the adventure I suppose.

Another, totally different option is Ball State's Australia Center in Lennox Head, New South Wales. This is a program operated entirely by Ball State for Ball State students. A team of Ball State and Australian faculty teach. There are many nice benefits of this program from a logistical standpoint. The director of the Australia Center for Spring 2011 is an architecture professor, which would theoretically make studio credit transfer a breeze. Also, everything is done as a group, which makes the possibilities of something going wrong decrease. I would be well-connected with a group of American students and familiar faces, which on the one hand would be really comforting. Also comforting is the fact that student housing is in small cabins that lie steps from the beach.

Australia would be much less of a cultural immersion compared to Austria. That's the one major, major drawback. I want to study abroad to get a different experience than that which I'm getting here, and if I'm with Ball State people in a place which is similar to America culturally, I'm not sure if that goal is going to be met. Then, the other half of me says, "But, you'd be living on the beach!"

Dilemmas and decisions, to be sure. The weeks ahead will be filled with meetings upon meetings. I have to meet with this and that advisor, financial person, study abroad person, etc., etc. Lots to think about on this front. Readers, feel free to voice your opinion on the issue.

The Churches of Munich

Munich, Germany, boasts a treasure-trove of excellent architecture ranging from Romanesque castles to ultramodern museums, however, the many and varied examples of Church architecture add immensely to this world class city's cultural patrimony. Below is a sampling of my photos of churches in the city from May 2010.

Frauenkirche (Church of Our Lady) - Cathedral of Munich

Michaelskirche (St. Michael's Church of the Jesuit Order)

Burgersaalkirche (Citizens' Church, dedicated to Our Lady)

Damenstift Sankt Anna (Convent Church of St. Ann)

Alter Peter (St. Peter's Church)

Heiliggeistkirche (Church of the Holy Spirit)

Theatinerkirche (St. Cajetan's Church of the Theatine Order)

Bellinzona, Switzerland

Bellinzona is a village in southern Switzerland that is the capital of the canton of Ticino - a predominantly Italian region. It has much in the way of Italian language and culture, and sits very beautifully in a mountain pass in the southern Alps. Bellinzona is known for its three castles which were built to collect tolls from merchants passing from Germany in the north to Italy in the south. It has a nice Medieval flair mixed in with the more stereotypical images of an Italian village. Enjoy a few of my photos of Bellinzona:

Bellinzona from the Castelgrande

Courtyard of the Town Hall

Castelgrande from the Castello di Montebello

View toward Lake Maggiore from the Castello di Montebello

Interior of the Church of Santo Stefano

Piazza Collegiata, the heart of Bellinzona

Gandria, Switzerland

On this cold, snowy Muncie day, I was daydreaming about one of my favorite destinations on my EuroTrip 2010 - Gandria, Switzerland. Gandria is a small, Italianate village that sits on the rocky shore of Lake Lugano - an aquatic jewel that separates the Swiss canton of Ticino from Italy. It maintains its historic character of a small fishing village with its crooked cobblestone alleys tumbling down toward the water. Enjoy some of my photos of this little slice of paradise.

The Schmalzel Story

Many times I am asked what I am. By that, usually the person asking is trying to understand what kind of people my ancestors were and where they came from. I never have a clear-cut answer, meaning I'm not one of those people who can rattle off that they are German, Irish, and Italian and be done with it. As far as I'm aware (and I'm very aware of my family history), I'm mostly ethnic German by way of the Hungarian part of Austria-Hungary, with touches of Slovak, Czech, Polish, Irish, and French by way of Quebec tossed in the mix. I find genealogy a very engaging thing to study, because I'm a nerd like that. I simply appreciate who "my people" were and how they or their descendants ever ended up in the US.

Generally speaking, my ancestors on all sides have been fairly recent immigrants to this country. The vast majority of my forefathers were of various ethnicities of the Austro-Hungarian Empire and came to the New World during that empire's demise around the turn of the century. The major exception to this rule are those who were French Canadians. That end of the family has been present in North America since the early 1600s, but in Quebec, not the United States. That branch worked its way up the St. Lawrence from Quebec City to Ontario, finally jumping from Ontario to Michigan in the mid-1800s.

There are plentiful records of this French-Canadian branch due to the copious records kept by the churches of New France and compiled by a priest by the name of Fr. Cyprien Tanguay in the 1870s. These records stretch back to the original immigrations from France in the 1620s and 30s and from there a few generations back to the time when the families were still inhabiting Normandy. This is an interesting study because some of the family lines stretch back to the 14th and 15th centuries and are intermingled with some of the minor nobility of feudal France.

France and New France were under the control of strong, centralized monarchs for most of their history. This means that records of birth (or more usually, baptism), marriage, and death are widely preserved and easy to locate. However, the majority of my ancestors are from volatile Eastern Europe, where many cultures have existed in competition alongside one another for centuries. Political power was divided among the Holy Roman Emperor and local lords in a complex system of feudal allegiance. Records were not well kept, save by the local parishes who were commanded to keep records of the sacraments administered in their churches by order of the Council of Trent (1545-1563).

That being said, the search for the Schmalzels has proven difficult. I can only directly trace persons back to the mid-1800s in the person of my great-great-grandfather Johann Schmalzel, whose son, Stephen, immigrated from Austria in 1907. From there, I can speak only in generalities, taking into account wider historical movements and other clues. Here follows a narrative of what I've discovered so far about my patronymic ancestors.

The name Schmalzel is most likely related to the German word schmalz which has been variously translated as over-sentimentality, kiss, lard, and goose fat. Not a particularly flattering start. One interpretation I have seen is that the name schmalzel refers to someone who handled wax, candles, or soap in Medieval households - termed chandler in English. Lard and goose fat are not a far cry from wax and candles, especially in Medieval times. We shall then claim that the original Schmalzels were in charge of illumination in some corner of the Medieval world.

But, which corner? In all likelihood, the Schmalzel family did not originate in the part of Austria-Hungary that they immigrated from. Why? Because for much of its history, that borderland area was fought over between the Habsburgs and the Ottomans. The emperors of Austria were begging people to settle that desolate land in the 1700s after they had finally vanquished the Ottoman threat. The most compelling argument is that the Schmalzels, like many other families who would eventually inhabit the Burgenland, originated in southwestern Germany in a region called Swabia. A big clue here is that many names and words in the Swabian dialect end in either -le or -el whereas this is less common in the rest of Germany. This could explain the uncharacteristic el at the end of Schmalzel.

When the Burgenland needed resettlement as a buffer between the Austrian heartland and Ottoman-controlled Hungary in the mid-1700s, the Emperors appealed to Germans living in other parts of the Empire - most notably Swabia. Like the American Pioneers, people in Swabia were in need of money and land for farming, and the Austrians had both. The people that would eventually leave Swabia for Austria were termed Donauschwaben or Danube Swabians because they settled along the Danube River which flows from Ulm, Germany (in the heart of Swabia) to the Black Sea, right through what would become Austria-Hungary.

Those that arrived first in Austria settled in the closer locales, such as the Burgenland first, before eventually filling into much of Hungary and the Transylvania region of Romania. The Schmalzels were likely among the first waves of settlers, since they remained in a region close to the Austrian Crown lands. The exact town of their settlement is unknown, but they were definitely in the region near Güssing and Sankt Michael im Burgenland, as evidenced by stamped family photos from a later time. My family was probably occupied by farming at this time. The villages in that part of the Austrian Burgenland were arranged in strips, so that a house fronted the street, and a long narrow field extended from the house into the woods, which was used for cultivation.

Trouble came with the Ausgleich of 1867, which set up the Dual Monarchy of Austria-Hungary. Since the Burgenland was just outside traditional Austrian lands, it was considered part of the Kingdom of Hungary. Thus, Hungary and Austria were effectively two separately administered kingdoms, united under a single emperor, a Habsburg of Austria. With the rise of nationalism in Europe around this time, the German minority of Hungary, including those along the border with Austria, found themselves in a predicament. The Hungarians, eager to regain a sense of their culture that had been overrun by both Austrian and Ottoman imperialism, set out on a social campaign of Magyarization (Magyar being the ethnic term for Hungarians, as well as the language spoken in Hungary).

Magyarization involved teaching Hungarian in schools instead of German (or any other minority language), and the squelching of German culture in Hungarian lands. Names, even, were Magyarized, with Schmalzel becoming the even-more-unpronounceable Schmalczel during this time. The local church was one of the only ways that the minority Germans in Hungarian lands were able to keep their local sense of community, as both Austria and Hungary promoted the influence of the Catholic Church. It was a less ethnically charged environment as well, since Latin dominated Church records and affairs.

Cause of Stephen Schmalzel's immigration is unknown, but probably fits in with the mindset massive wave of immigrants that fled Eastern Europe in the early 20th Century. He was likely searching for a more promising future in America. He immigrated around 1909 and settled in New York City. He was married in 1910 to Anna Jani (prounounced Yah-nee), who was from another town in Burgenland: the mouthful, Deutsch Tschantschendorf. It is unclear if they immigrated together, or met in New York. The marriage record is from the Church of the Assumption, which to the best of my research, is located in Brooklyn.

From there, Stephen and Anna moved to Bethlehem, Pennsylvania, and Stephen worked in some sort of industry there, perhaps coal mining or steel manufacturing. Around 1920, the couple was in Lincoln Park, a suburb of Detroit, with Stephen working in the booming manufacturing business there. It was in Lincoln Park that my grandpa and his seven siblings grew up. The rest, as they say, is history.

I hope you've enjoyed this whirlwind journey from a quiet corner of Germany, to an empty corner of Austria-Hungary, to an industrial corner of Michigan. So, if you ask, the Schmalzels were Germans, who came from what is now modern Austria, but what was then in the Hungarian part of Austria-Hungary. Sometimes I wish I could just say Germany, but that is not nearly as much fun.

Pictured are my great-grandparents, Stephen and Anna Schmalzel.

Kaybin's List For Munich

Exciting news, Ladies and Gentlemen! Our friend Kevin over at Bergen's Burning Thoughts, will be studying in Segovia, Spain, next semester. This is certainly a great opportunity for Mr. Bergen to enjoy another culture that is quite different from our own. Another opportunity that will present itself is travel to other places on the European continent. Given the proximity of great European cities and cheap airfare, the temptation is difficult to pass by.

Long story short, Kevin said that he was interested in visiting Rome and Munich over his lengthy spring break. I can't speak personally about Rome (though I know I would like it very much), I have been to Munich on two separate occasions and absolutely love the city. I feel like I will always want to go to Munich; it's just awesome folks!

Anyways, compiled below is a list of must-see and must-do attraction in Munich, according to the best advice of Yours Truly. I am by no means an expert, but I feel qualified to offer my best insights on enjoying the city (since enjoyment is the only thing I did there).

THE LISTS (all locations are noted by their German names first, with English in parenthesis, to make locating them on maps a bit easier).

Must-See Landmarks
Marienplatz (Central Square) - the heart of the city, fronted by the New and Old Town Halls, definitely the place to get a feel for the town
Neues Rathaus (New Town Hall) - the big, Gothic building on the Marienplatz, watch the Glockenspiel performance at noon (I believe) for a classic Munich experience (along with all of the other crane-necked tourists)
Frauenkirche (Cathedral) - imposing twin towers lord over the city, the cavernous interior is quite airy, the side chapels are worth looking at along the perimeter of the church, this was the cathedral of Benedict XVI before his papacy
Residenz (Royal Palace) - this enormous palace really can't be described, spend the money to get inside, worth every penny of admission
Olympiapark (Olympic Park) - a bit off from the old town, but still cool to see, the site of the 1972 Summer Games
BMW Welt (BMW World) - across the street from the Olympiapark is the headquarters of BMW, check out their awesome (and I do believe free) showroom - BMW Welt
Asamkirche - another church, probably one of the most interesting churches in existence, don't miss this one, the shock value is worth it
Michaelskirche - the beautiful Jesuit church ;) right on the main drag (Kaufingerstrasse), simply beautiful, one of my favorite churches, and that's saying something
Nymphenburg Palace: the Versailles of Munich, a bit to the west of town, but well worth the transportation effort (which in Germany, you'll find to be minimal-stress), have a look at the treasures of the interior
Allianz Arena: home of FC Bayern.

Essential Munich Experiences
Climb the Tower of Alter Peter: pay the one or two euros to climb the tower of Munich's oldest church for breathtaking views over the old town (and to the Alps on a clear day)
Eat/Drink at the Hofbrauhaus: quintessential Bavaria, enough said (watch out for the waitresses wielding six full beer mugs in each hand)
Eat Lunch at the Viktualienmarkt: have a very cheap, authentic German lunch at the city market, watch out for the Leberkaese (liver-cheese)
Eat/Drink at the Chinesischer Turm Biergarten in the Englischer Garten: according to my German acquaintances, this is the best beer garden in the city. I would agree. Go there in the evening.
Visit Dachau: Dachau is a suburb of Munich, but I recommend a visit. The concentration camp is chilling, but a necessary thing to see in my opinion

Odds and Ends
- public transportation is easy in Munich, and any subway is always a cheap thrill
- food is wonderful (and filling) in Germany. Try the weisswurst (white sausages) any time before noon. ooh, and don't miss out on German bread! The best thing... since sliced bread! Seriously.
- best beers: Franziskaner Weissbier, Paulaner, Hofbrau, Augustinerbrau, Löwenbrau, but especially the Franziskaner
- learn some German phrases, but don't pretend you speak German (they'll believe you).
- visit every church you see (seriously, the architecture and decoration is awesome, and they're free)
- get a good city map from the tourist office on the first floor of the Neues Rathaus
- Munich will likely be much cleaner and safer than both Italy and Spain

Can you tell I adore Munich yet?

Pictured above is the Chinese Tower Beer Garden in the English Garden, in the evening