My maternal grandparents moved to Ursus in the 50s for work, while my paternal grandparents were born there. And even though we’re a scant 45 minutes by bus from the centre of Warsaw, it still feels like a small town. But it’s growing… everywhere I look, the old is being torn down and replaced with the new.
So this is my little corner of Ursus as it is, as I remember it. It’s always been home.
There’s not much more I could say about Kraków that wouldn’t sound like gushing. I loved the city, and I dreamed up ways I could move there and spend every day exploring its streets. And someday, I might. After all, it’s only 3 hours by train from my family.
Family: if you’re reading this, don’t tell Babcia & Dziadek and get their hopes up!
A few favourites from Kraków which stick out in my mind:
Szambalan
A little nook full of liqueurs and meads and nalweki and some non-alcoholic goodies that I don’t recall tasting… erm, seeing. I think I made it home with honey and nut liqueur, and a rose/turkish delight liqueur for my bestie. More would have come home with me had I needed to drag it to Prague and then through Canadian customs.
Sukiennice
Central Europe’s first shopping mall, the Cloth Hall has been tempting buyers for centuries. Today, full of touristy trinkets, it’s still a great spot to visit.
St. Mary’s Basilica
Easily one of the most beautiful houses of worship I have ever visited, I’d happily sit in a pew and stare at the starry skies above for days.
House of Beer
Let’s not judge that two of my favourite spots involve spirits. The House of Beer had some great local draughts on tap and a lively atmosphere. I think.
Kazimierz
Kraków’s Jewish quarter has experienced a revival over the last decade. This area is now teeming with tourists and filled with cafés, but there is much work still to be done, both in restoration and education.
Piwnica pod Aniołem
M’s guide pointed us to this lovely little restaurant – Cellar under the Angels – which is one of Kraków’s top restaurants. Serving up traditional Polish delicacies in a gothic cellar, the ambiance alone would be worth a visit. The food was wonderful, the service quite good … for Poland. But a note for the squeamish: the fish is served with the head still on. I won’t tell you how M dealt with that!
I also have to say that the staff at the Kraków Sheraton and Cracow Tour were unfailingly helpful.
When we got to Port Glasgow, I set up on a little patch of beach and got to work playing with my new filter. The weather was still rather uncooperative – for me – with gray skies and little colour. But the end result is what might be one of my favourite seascapes to date.
It had started out as one of those days: terrible weather, feeling poorly, strange electrical problems with my car AND camera, water in my camera bag… but in the end, I’m really pleased with what I came home with.
But you don’t come home with a memory card full of goodies when you’re shooting long exposures at sunset.
This was the first shot of the night at 4:47pm:
And the last, just after sunset as my camera went all Exorcist on me (5:37pm):
Remembrance Day was a few days ago, and I’ve only just now been able to bring myself to even look at the photos from Auschwitz. The whole experience was overwhelming, but there is one memory that really sticks with me above everything else.
It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining. The birds were singing. The sky was full of fluffy clouds.
All of the grainy black and white documentary footage hadn’t prepared me for the idea that there could have been sunny days in such a monstrous place.
The very least we can do is remember.
Click through to see the photos, if you wish.
I thought I’d start off our time in Kraków with a visit to St. Mary’s Basilica, which is one of the city’s best known landmarks and is especially famous for its wood altarpiece carved by Wit Stwosz.
The basilica is stunning, one of the most beautiful houses of worship I have ever visited, and I could have spent hours wandering through every inch of it.
Last Saturday, I was invited to tag along with three of my favourite photographers while they trekked out to the windy shores of Lake Erie. I’d been out to Erieau before, but I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to return, and learn from these amazing people. Thanks again to Jennifer, Darren, Bob and Val for a great night, and for supplying me with a few of the bare necessities 
Visit Jen’s site, blog, or etsy shop.
Visit Bob and Val‘s photostreams on flickr.
And coming up this week if I ever get a moment to catch my breath: Krakow, and updates to my etsy shop!
This blog post is brought to you by the girl with the magenta hair.
On my second last day in Prague, I had intended to visit the Church of Our Lady of the Snow. Not for any particular reason, mind you, just that it was on the way back to the hotel from the Leica Gallery and the guidebook said it was lovely. Sold. However, I was running late and completely forgot. The next morning before my flight, I had just enough time to pop back in that direction and check out the church. I had impeccable directions, but found myself standing on the right corner, wondering where in the world this large church could be. I’d almost given up when I decided to slip through the door in the yellow building just to see what was there.
Imagine my surprise when this plain building – by Prague’s standards – revealed an even plainer church and courtyard with the most wonderful surprise within.
I was lucky to find it all but empty, and as I wrapped up my explorations, a tour group disrupted the silence of the shrine. I moved to the empty and locked chapel next door. As I admired the simplicity of this space in comparison to the other, a monk approached me. To my great surprise, he spoke Polish and asked me if I wanted to get a better look at the chapel. Of course, who would say no?
He then asked if I was part of the group, and learning I was not, he asked if I wanted to see something special. He was scheduled to be at confession, but no one showed up so he had a little time on his hands. At this point in the story, most of my friends shook their heads at me, incredulous that I would follow a strange man through the courtyard, into a locked building, up a flight of stairs, through a locked room, into a tiny closet, and then… through two sets of locked doors…
In what would be the antithesis of the Small-Town Ontario Project, please let me introduce you to a beautiful European capital city… Prague
We arrived at 7am after taking the night train from Krakòw. I’d always wanted to visit Prague and couldn’t pass up this opportunity, but I have to admit that as the last stop on our whirlwind journey, I was exhausted. Of course, three nights on rock hard beds didn’t really help my state. I’m a princess; I need my beauty sleep!
Prague, as expected, was gorgeous. While the city was bombed during World War II, it didn’t suffer nearly as much damage as other cities such as Warsaw, so much of the Old Town is still the real deal. To be honest, I had no idea Prague was such a huge tourist destination, and the Staré Město was positively overrun with visitors and traps catering to them. At times I felt like I was on an R-rated Disney ride… but I thoroughly enjoyed it.
I was pleasantly surprised to find that everyone – and I mean EVERYONE – spoke English. It was a blessing for me, since Polish and Czech are so close that I couldn’t keep my pronunciation straight between the two languages and quickly found myself vacillating between making no sense or being mistaken for Czech and not understanding most of the conversation.
My regrets were few. I wish I had more time, and that I’d been able to see more than the Staré Město and seen more of the living city. Maybe next time…
Today’s One-Shot Wednesday turned into a bit of a frenzy while still staying true to the mission: vision first, one shot, finish. I’m trying to decide what gear to bring on my trip and the macro lens has come out of hibernation. I hope you enjoy these bright, vibrant and summery photos!
Credit to Dee Snyder for growing such pretty blooms… and I also can’t fault her for baking up delicious treats which I simply can’t resist.
Built in in 1827, the Forge is one of Sparta’s many remaining pre-Confederation buildings. With two foot walls made of straw and clay, it once housed a bustling blacksmith’s shop and is now home the Sparta Forge & Anvil Museum. Filled with 19th century furniture, clothing and artifacts belonging to local settlers, the Forge is also home away from home to Bill Fishleigh.
Born in Sparta in 1926, Bill vividly remembers the times depicted on the old sepia postcards available at the Forge. Bill’s family has been in Sparta back to at least 1850: his grandfather ran the stage coach, ferrying travelers from Sparta to London, his father had owned the butcher shop across the street, and according to the little concession map, the Fishleigh family farm was just a couple of kilometers from the village. As a boy, he remembers visiting the blacksmith’s shop, with its rough dirt floors and windows so high he had to stand up on his tip toes just to peek out. Today the floors have been raised and covered with wood planks, and you now have to bend at the waist to get a full view out. And while the streets are now paved and cars have replaced coaches, the residents of Sparta have made a concerted effort to keep the village feeling as it did 100 years ago.
He escorted me around the museum, pointing out little items I might have otherwise missed: the quilt embroidered with the names of all of the town’s inhabitants circa 1900, a frame filled with buttons from a long-disbanded button club, or the hand plastered frames filled with portraits of early residents. He recounted Sparta’s place in the Rebellions of 1837, when the Forge served as a meeting place and storage cache for weapons. Two Sparta natives, including the son of village’s founder, were hanged in London for their part in the rebellion.
And as Bill’s already-prepared tombstone says, thanks for stoppin’ by.
