Paradies

In order to provide the pictures for last week's post I went for a little walk.  A few months ago, as we drove by, I had noticed what looked like it was an old parking lot that had been abandoned and was being reclaimed by nature.  That alone I find pretty compelling.  As you'll see from the pictures below, it turned out to be a part of the railway system for the coal mining that hasn't been in use since at least the 1960s*.

What I found most compelling were the manmade structures with the trees growing up through and the contrast between the two worlds fighting to exist in the same space.

Along my path, I came across an older gentleman.  I tried to pass him at one point, because I walk faster than he does. It seemed to be disturbing him when I was walking behind him.  Further along the path, as I took this picture:

he caught up with me and moved up the walkway (aka the ramp designed to inspire mischief in adults):

Seriously - who wouldn't want to go soaring down this thing on a bicycle?  It doesn't even lead to traffic or anything dangerous.  Best part:  That's what it was designed for!! (I'm pretending that's true even though I'm sure I will soon be informed that there's some rule making RIDING down "Verboten")

When I finished taking a series of pictures, I moved ahead and found him waiting for me at the top of the last curve.  He called me over to the railing and pointed.  German wasn't either of our first languages, but he was insistent that I take this picture:

I happily agreed to and then showed him the result.  His face beamed and he excitedly explained how this was paradise.  It doesn't get better than this.  The water.  The trees.  I tried to tell him how I saw it and explain that's why I was outside taking pictures, but he was less impressed with the contrast of man vs. nature and mostly just content that we both had the opportunity to see this view.  I'm still kicking myself for not asking to take his picture but am glad to at least have his story and enthusiasm for Paradies!

Here are a few more photos I took that day.  I also want to point out that at no point did I leave the city.  That is one thing I love about this place.  Nature has claimed its corners. Partly due to remnants of war and partly by choice, man has allowed and fostered that presence within this proud city.  

*It could have been the 60s, or the 80s, or maybe the 70s ... my source on this is a little less certain than the first time I heard this explanation, however, in order to maintain truth in perception and storytelling I've decided not to research it, but simply let the story be as it began. 

Sights and Sounds

Hanging out in an old (mostly abandoned) mining town, I often come across neat little treasures of a time gone by.  Now that the weather has started to warm up a bit, the windows are open bringing in the sights and sounds of the town around me.

Yesterday, as I sat at my table writing, I heard what sounded like a shift change bell.  I thought that it was rather odd that the shifts change here at 2pm, but also thought it was nice that some of the local factories still use the old bells.  It creates a neat atmosphere of times gone by and still serves a functional purpose.

Today as I sat writing and heard the bells again, a friend of mine went running to the window, "Der Eiswagen!"  Apparently what I was hearing wasn't the end of a shift at all.  It was the ice cream truck.  A steady electronic bell sound, reminiscent of the bell signaling the end of a school day is played as the truck drives down the road.  The bell lacks any real festivity or lightness to it.  I thought perhaps that is mostly due to the sentiment that I have placed on the sounds of the ice cream trucks where I grew up.  I quickly located a YouTube video to demonstrate the jaunty Turkey in the Straw melody I was more accustomed to.

Apparently here, that's the kind of tune that is used to let the old men who recycle copper and other metals know that the collection truck is on its way!

Running, running, running ... Shiny thing!

Some of you may know that I run sometimes, but I'm not really much of a runner.  Of late, injury from over-zealous training has resulted in more interval training and fewer running miles, and therefore more photography.  I present to you, my motivation for running: 

Dusk along the trail - best part of my run = it's mostly unpaved.

Because it oddly feels like home even when I'm very far away.

Sometimes the cherry trees, daffodils and tulips (not pictured here) are in bloom.

Okay, maybe not, but "kopf kino" always helps.

Perspectives not Places - Not Safe for All Workplaces.

I am going to use this picture as a symbol of varying perspectives.  When I first came upon this statue I was traveling with someone who lives nearby and explained that this piece was supposed to portray femininity and the beauty of the female form.  I was astounded.  How in all humanity could this be feminine?  Try as I might, I just couldn't see what he was seeing.  I even asked ... but clearly created by a man, yes?  He didn't know and the author was not identified on or around the piece.  Insanity.  I just couldn't see how this could possibly be a representation of the female form.

The Statue As He Saw It

Although the greater theme of this blog is indeed travel, the not so often referred to blog title – Worlds Unseen and Lands Unknown – came from a journal that I had years ago.  I knew that my travel wouldn't fill the book, but I suspected that there would be so many new places and differing experiences to perceive, each its own little world to explore.  Really not so profound when you consider it, but also nice to reflect on periodically.  My writing tends to be most frequent when I'm traveling because that is the easiest time to perceive these differences and learn from them.  

Over the past three years I have had the privilege of working with some pretty amazing people in an environment which fostered growth, learning, quality improvement and integrity while striving for excellence.  I worked hard.  I knew I worked hard, just as those around me did.  We put in some pretty astounding hours and supported each other.  In fact, I remember in my initial interview my soon-to-be manager even said something along the lines of, "here we have a culture of yes.  If asked to take on extra work, people say yes.  If asked if a project or improvement is possible, the answer is yes.  If asked can we make things better, it might take some time but people are committed and we will get to 'yes'." I think she was saying more here than she intended.  It is in some ways the American work ethic.  Through hard work, commitment and a little know how all things are possible.  While I do value all of these things, it is only after taking a few weeks to do NOTHING, and a few months to selectively volunteer my skills that I've started to realize just how much I was missing.  The chronic stress and 60 hour weeks, while productive, were also subductive.  I'll have to leave it to my geology readers to make sure I'm using that correctly.  What I mean is, in a culture where people with the flu at most take 24 hours off from work, some amazing things can happen, but amazing things will also be missed.  By giving ourselves completely to work (whether it is our passion in life or not) we miss so much that just didn't happen to fall within the original perspective in which we approached life.  

I give you, The Statue As I Saw It: