Europe
 |
| Wicket shenanigans by David at Phillipe's kiln near La Bourne |
 |
| Bottle kiln built during the firing of the kiln at Phillipe's place |
 |
| Pottery at St Amand en Puisaye |
 |
| Slovakia |
 |
| Rila Monastry, Bulgaria |
 |
| Poland |
 |
| Poland |
 |
| Lithuania |
 |
| Unloading the kiln in Poland |
 |
| Berlin, Germany |
 |
| Norway |
 |
| Scotland |
Continued from Australia 2007
This trip was a culmination of 7 years of working for the Auckland Studio Potters as its’ Co-Director and taking very few holidays. I saved up and realised that what I needed was a complete break, a year of exploring, recovery and getting to know my new girlfriend, Charade. So here’s my year off.
May
After Australia I headed to England, stayed with John Dawson for a couple of days before heading to the metropolis of Tytherington, north of Bristol (or rather Bristol is just south of Tytherington) It’s a tiny place, one pub, B&B, shop and football club. But my mate Ian lives there and so did I for about a month. I used it as a base for cycle touring the local area – that is when it wasn’t raining. I also used it as a chance to relax, unwind, and take loads of photos. This part of Britain is hugely interesting, the countryside is flattish and there are loads of delightful villages to explore and an impressive collection of industrial revolution leftovers to poke through.
Then, at the end of May Charade turned up and again we made use of the Dawson Hotel and I showed Charade around some bits of London. I think the markets made the most impression – they certainly did on her wallet. But we had a great time and managed to cram a bit of everything in including a visit to the Anthony Gormley exhibition at the Hayward Gallery.
June
We caught the coach to Amsterdam and so started the European leg of the trip. Luckily we moved out of the hostel to the campground or else our budgets would have been crippled in the first week. But it did mean getting used to sleeping on next to nothing on really hard ground. I guess the bruising will go away eventually. We spent the time using the trams and jumping off whenever anything interesting presented itself (usually markets – we discovered three in three days). Didn’t get to any Museums, but saw lots of cool stuff on the streets.
Antwerp in Belgium was next on the list, recommended to us by a bar tender in Amsterdam as being better than anywhere else in Belgium if stretched for time. And what a brilliant pick – the campground was just across the river and we walked into town each day via an 80-year-old tunnel with creaking wooden escalators at each end. The beer is cheap and to die for; served up in quirky and interesting pubs, that’s after having scoffed a plate of the national dish (French Fries or chocolates or waffles). The city is full of old buildings, a port, a funky arts district and the strangest red light district we’ve uncovered.
Paris was next, and after an expensive first night in a hotel we moved to a much cheaper option still in Montmartre – by far the best area of Paris we decided. Funnily enough my French contact, Philippe, also lives in the area. We spent an exhausting 3 days seeing as much as we could and fitted a fair amount in, all the ´big´ sites were at least past by and admired from the pavement. We did indulge in the Louvre and spent about 2 hours wandering its spacious halls. Its Egyptian collection is brilliant and worth the 8.50 euros alone.
After Paris we did a long haul and highly un-recommended bus ride to Barcelona; which turned out to be worth every cramped leg pain endured to get there. It's an amazing city that re-ignited my interest in architecture – obviously Gaudi, but in a way it was the influences of other styles that have endured – like modernism. After a few days we headed back into France to Nime and spent our time exploring Roman remains, aqueducts, and nearby pottery villages. Then onto Grenoble and exploring mountains followed by Bourges and ending up by the 1st July at Philippe's parents place.
July
We were finally at the location that brought us to Europe in the first place – the Young International Woodfirers Association's first event. It was part of La Borne S'enflamme and included potters from all over the world in a frenzy of woodfiring. Lasting about 3 weeks we made pots from completely unknown materials, loaded them into unknown kilns and fired them with a group of unknown potters; the results were unpredictable. The enduring benefit for all was in the contacts made and the friendships that developed over the 3 weeks. Some of the work emerging from the kiln was worthy of exhibiting in La Bourne, the rest of the pots we abandoned to Philippe's back yard and we absconded to nearby St Amand.
August
Again we were caught up in another woodfiring festival, this time fewer kilns were involved but the kiln we were using was larger. So large that when loading we ran out of work and hurriedly dashed into the throwing room with piles of clay and a 6 hour deadline to make enough tall jars to fill the kiln. Fired only with Oak and mostly in oxidation was a new experience for us, but hugely enjoyable. Each new kiln is teaching me something new. During the cooling down cycle we built a smallish Phoenix fast fire kiln in a disused corner of the pottery using old arch bricks, giving the kiln a jaunty look. Then, in a panic that our European visas were expiring, we fled to Istanbul.
What a change; from a miserable, cold and wet summer in France to a sudden hot flush of Asian late summer heat, it caught us un-prepared and heat stoke was narrowly avoided only by dashing into carpet shops that were air-conditioned. The street life was suddenly alive after the stupor of small French villages. But our real destination was Eastern Europe, so hopping onto a train we headed north to Bulgaria.
The Bulgarians we found to be a friendly lot with the best salads anywhere. Despite not being able to read any of their alphabet we managed to navigate our way around their train network and visited castles, monasteries, ancient villages, depressing cities and also some stunning and un-looked for mountain ranges. We even passed through the valley of roses but smelt only truck fumes. It was during our circuit of Bulgaria that I encountered a dose of tonsillitis, it started with a large swelling erupting out of my neck and gave me every paranoid thought imaginable – suddenly I had tumours, cancers, boils, the lot (not helped by the Lonely Planets health section). But the doctors and my sore throat eventually convinced me otherwise, and a 2-week antibiotic course sorted it out. The only downside for me was touring whilst under the influence of tonsillitis, not a recommended treatment by any means, interrupted sleep, massive headaches and not being able to eat anything other than soups for 2 weeks lent a surreal edge to this country
September
Romania was next on the agenda, and it too surprised with its spell bindingly beautiful mountain scenery. We headed out to the mouth of the Danube as an excuse to avoid any tourist hot spot. It turned out to be a desperate place, full of grey skies, chill winds and ship wrecks. Strange characters lurked in even stranger buildings. Packs of puppies following us everywhere meant a shorter than anticipated trip to the coast; we high tailed it out of there on the 'fast' boat, only a 4 hour journey and not 4.5 hours. In Transylvania the chance to observe bears in their natural habitats was too good an offer to pass up, it turned out that by ‘natural’ they meant the city fringe where all the rubbish bins are stored. The site of a brown bear upside down inside a huge bin, hanging on by its claws was comical (we were luckily ensconced inside a nearby car) until it emerged to scoff some tasty morsel wrapped in a plastic bag.
Hungary followed and we enjoyed our trip to Budapest a lot – what a charming city and so well focused on the river Danube. Again my interest in the architecture of Europe was aroused; the detailing of the buildings and heights of rooflines was marvellous to see. We also visited the ceramic centre of Kesckemet and spent a morning peering at their permanent collection in the bowels of the building.
Slovakia was next. By now we were on a tighter time frame as we had been invited to Poland by a contact I had made in France for anotherwoodfiring event. So after exploring the capital, Bratislava, we found some thermal waters, an amazing castle and the Tatras mountain range. When walking one of the trails, up a steep hillside of the Tatras, I couldn't believe the number of other yompers. It was a highway of people; keeping left on a narrow rocky path was a new sensation; if you ignored this walking road code, a Gortex clad tramper was soon insisting on their right of way with a pointed walking stick.
October
And now we are in Poland. We spent about a week visiting places that featured highly in the news stories I remembered about the fall of communism. Gdansk and the ship yard were a highlight, as was finally getting to see first class socialist realist architecture. Poland was decimated after the war and to see the philosophy of the time affect the architecture is fascinating, the number of buildings and the reason for building them is like seeing the implementation of a social theory played out for real.
But now we're here to play once again with mud and fire another kiln.
The chance to take part in an international wood-firing event in Poland was too good an opportunity to pass up. It happened to both of us, as a consequence of attending the wood firing event, La Borne S’enflamme and meeting the Polish wood firer Michal Puszczynski. The invitation arrived whilst we were travelling in Eastern Europe at the time and, by fluke, were due to be in Poland at that time anyway.
The focus of this event was to encourage dialogue between the Polish potters and the international potters, achieved by making pots and firing them in a large Tokagama kiln (similar to an Anagama). The international contingent included potters from Ireland, UK, Germany, Switzerland, Korea and us. The Polish potters included a number of students, ex-students and tutors from the Wroclaw Academy of Fine Arts.
Once settled, sobered up and adjusted to the delights of the Polish countryside we were let loose on about 4 tons of clay. We poked, prodded and generally squeezed the 3 varieties of clays trying to decide which suited us best. Then followed frantic mixing, wetting and experimentation. Within a day or so a rhythm emerged that would see more than enough work completed in about a week.
Every morning a feast for breakfast was wheeled down the road from the local farmer. Meats, cheeses, salads, breads, pastries all helped to soak up the residual vodka from the night before. Then it was back to the tent (a giant marquee studio specially erected on a wooden platform and generously heated by electric fan heaters) to continue making, finishing, or whatever your pots needed. Lunch was a simple affair, a repeat of breakfast. More potting. Dinner at 5pm was a Polish gourmet experience. Mashed potatoes were a constant accompaniment to delicious meats and salads; again all cooked and wheeled to our door by the friendly farmer and his wife. We heard that two pigs were sacrificed to make our stay nourishing to say the least.
Then started the laborious job of loading this large kiln. Our Polish compatriots had generally been more ambitious with their use of clay (the privileges of being more familiar with the material) and so made larger pieces, which required careful manoeuvring to fit inside the kiln, and then every nook and cranny was filled with all manner of other objects. It was a tight load, with spaces left for the flames to circulate through, with the end result that very few pieces had been left out.
A poignant ceremony conducted by Michal lit the kiln the moment the wicket was up and the schedule of shifts was pinned up. The numbers of participants meant the teams of stokers were still quite large, about 4 or 5 per team and the rotation period quite long, so to really get to grips with the various stoking rhythms employed during the firing it was important for individuals to hang around the kiln watching the stoking.
The drama of firing the kiln, watching the stacks of pots move slowly as the heat does its work, the lick of flame erupting from the side stoke ports all needed to be seen and felt against the backdrop of the quiet Polish countryside in the still autumn air, with the trees all turned a sympathetic golden colour. The closing ceremony echoed the lighting up ceremony apart from the amount of lethal vodka being drunk. Until now I’ve never finished a kiln at 6am and toasted the wicket being sealed with a bottle of Absinthe, but Poland was providing me with a number of firsts.
Waiting for the kiln to cool gave Charade and I a chance to visit Lithuania. This small country jammed into a corner of the Baltic was delightful, the two outstanding memories are; one, the women’s fashion sense – even in the perishingly cold conditions of winter, with the first snows drifting down they persisted in wearing skin tight jeans, fuck me boots, puff jackets and bare bellies. Two, the hill of crosses – a cob smacking beautiful site and at the same time oddly disquieting, this hill is smothered with crosses of all sorts in commemoration for the state of Lithuania and many peoples personal commemorations.
November
Then we were back in the Polish boondocks and nervously picking the wicket apart. It was the moment of truth and as the kiln disgorged its secrets we were in turns, enraptured, satisfied and horrified. Some of my experiments had worked, others not, the natural result of trying new forms and clays in a foreign kiln. Two days of cleaning and photography followed as pots were selected for the exhibition at Wroclaw’s main object gallery. The catalogue from the show is very impressive and informative; its only disappointment is Charade’s work is not represented in it.
Then onto Germany and we decided to spend a week in Berlin, rather than shredding our energies by squeezing in too many other places. Berlin is an amazing, cheap European city to visit and up there as one of the top 3 European cities we visited. It has a life about it, a melange of styles and approaches to urban issues that is both in your face and yet reticent. We did a cool walking tour and spent much of our time after that exploring and discovering the funkier side of the city.
But we couldn’t linger, Denmark was next and so onto Copenhagen. After Berlin we knew we were in for a different type of European capital, even so we weren’t impressed. The break away enclave of Christiania was the most fascinating bit, even if it turned out to be rather a depressing zone; filled with desperate looking guys dressed in black hoodies huddled round 44 gallon drums used as braziers and trying to sell us drugs as we wandered past. The redeeming feature was the vege restaurant’s soup. I had a quick side trip to visit Skaelskor and the ceramic research centre there – a lovely facility with a back yard full of the most delightful junk, ideal for all sorts of kiln building projects.
Then we took off for the bus, boat, bus, and train combination to reach the teeny tiny settlement of Hanestad in Norway, in the middle of a blizzard. Luckily our friend Kari found us and whisked us away to her parent’s organic farm. Next day the magic of the place worked its spell as we got up and looked about the gleaming winter landscape. It felt un-real to be in so much snow. We helped Kari in her train to workshop conversion and chased her dog through the snow. We then did a loop up to Trondheim and down to Voss to see friends, Linda and Francois, and catch up with their latest baby news. Then a quick visit to Treena in Stokke before catching a disgustingly crowded and shonky flight curtesy of Ryan Air to Scotland.
December
What a shock – the pristine, quiet, civilised nature of the Norwegians was flung into sharp contrast by the boorish, polluted and loud Glaswegians. The sole advantage was suddenly we could read every sign again, even if it was only advertising beer and chips. The trip around Scotland was a breeze, we were in the off-season and every hostel was deserted. The quiet beauty of the highlands restored our equanimity and Oban stands out as a memorably beautiful spot. Arriving in Edinburgh we struck by the shopping frenzy gripping the nation, Christmas was fast approaching and the streets were crowded with bag wielding shoppers.
Then we plunged over the border and ended up in York, a delightful medieval town that would have been hideously expensive if we actually bothered going to any of its attractions. The free Museum and the walks around the town satisfied. Then we started hooking up with friends and relatives and ended up in London just before Christmas. Our Indian visas were bought mid much relief and waiting in queues, preparation it seems for the actual country to come. Our epic Christmas dinner was provided by John Dawson and guests and was Brobdingnagian. I think it lasted on my waistline at least a month, even with an Indian lentil diet.
To continue following my trip onto India please click HERE
