Beowulf Revisited

Perhaps the one thing I will never forget about my high school freshman World History course is our final assignment. We were told to read a book written in the middle ages, or about, the Middle Ages. As I was already obsessed with the works of JRR Tolkien as a fifteen year-old, I naturally decided to read Beowulf, the Anglo-Saxon legend of a Geatish hero who liberates the Danish King Hroðgar from the monster Grendel. Hroðgar is a semi-legendary king of the Danes, also known as Roar, who is believed to have lived sometime in the 6th century. Little is known about him from the sources, except that his lived in a great hall called Heorot, said to be so spectacular that it was called the Byzantium of the north. Several early Danish historians, most notably Saxo Grammaticus, wrote that Heorot was located in the town of Hleiðra, known in modern Danish as Lejre. Lejre is situated on the Island of Zealand, a mere 40 kilometers southwest of Copenhagen. In 1986 a Danish archeologist discovered a Viking age (c. 900) hall there, and then nearby a hall from the mid-6th century, the exact time Roar is said to have lived. This hall, some fifty meters long, is now believed to be the very same Heorot from the Beowulf legend. It is a stone-throw away from several ship-setting burials, which could even be the burial place of Roar himself. Last weekend, I was giddily surprised to discover that my Nordic Mythology class would be visiting Lejre as a field-study. We were actually able to stand on the spot where Heorot stood, and where Roar is buried. Although all one can see are a few stones or a sod-mound, it was an incredible experience to be able to see the places I had read about so many years ago. It was certainly one of the most amazing experiences of my trip to Denmark so far, even if there wasn’t that much to actually see. The idea of being in places where great things are said to have happened is very satisfying for me, especially when they took place so long ago, and have captivated the imagination of the northern peoples for generations.

A ship-setting burrial

The outline of Heorot

Our field trip also featured a trip to the Roskilde Viking Ship Museum

(which I had already seen, and wrote about here) as well as to Trelleborg Ring-Fortress. Throughout Denmark there are five ring-fortresses, built all virtually at the same time, and seemingly as military facilities. It is believed that they were built in the late 900’s by the Danish King Harald Bluetooth (who also erected the Jelling Stones described here). Harald is said to have made the Danes Christian, and likely did so using forces housed in these ring-fortresses. They are impressive structures, even today. Surrounded by as massive earthen mound, and symmetrically arranged, they certainly would have looked intimidating in their day, when nothing of their kind had ever been seen in the north. The Trelleborg museums has also reconstructed what one of those halls might of looked like, so our class was able to sit inside for a while, around the fire pit, and quite fittingly, drink a little mead.

Trelleborg Ring-Fortress

A Reconstructed Mead-Hall

The Alp Mountains and the Nature of Travel, Spring Break 10 of 10

If I were perfectly honest with myself, I would admit that the prime motivator for my recent vacation to the Alps was an irresistible desire to see mountains again. I have lived a majority of my life in the shadow of the Colorado Rockies, and have become accustomed to, and perhaps even dependant on, their persistent reminder of the vast majesty of nature in the face mankind’s seemingly impressive achievements. One of my favorite memories from childhood is driving south on Colorado’s I-25 highway on a July 4^th evening. We passed by several small towns and cities who were all celebrating their independence by releasing fireworks high into the sky. Although close-up the fireworks often appear to reach into the heavens, I could see from the road that they hardly seemed to approach the base of the mountains, let alone their summit. Good mountains dwarf everything in the vicinity, and remind us that we truly are miniscule when it comes to the absolute immensity of our planet, let alone the universe. This is why I love mountains, apart from their obvious and often overwhelming natural beauty. During my stent in Europe, I have seen many countries, and even a few small hills. But nothing had come close to what I had at home, and I therefore set out to conquered Europe’s largest mountain range, the Alps. The Alps are a result of the ongoing collision of two continental plates, and are therefore, like the Rockies, relatively young. The peaks of young mountains haven’t had time to erode into the gentle and elegant peaks known to the Appalachians. Rather they are rough, jagged, and oftentimes aggressive looking. This makes them all the more striking, more in contrast to the clouds into which they cut, and perhaps even more beautiful. I was continually awed by what I saw during my time in the Alps, and I simply cannot wait to return as an adult, when I have more time and more resources to spend exploring these wonderful mountains that felt so strangely familiar.

I also spent a lot of time while I was traveling the Alps reflecting on my entire travel experience, and what it really means to travel. Up until that trip, I had traveled to many different cities, in order to see churches and museums, to learn about history, people, and their customs. It struck me that the best of these trips, both by my standards and by general tourist standards, were the cities with the most beautiful churches or the best museums, both obstinately human creations. Even those with wonderful city parks were not truly natural, as most of those parks are carefully planned and maintained. I wondered why I would want to travel at all, why I needed to see the old-yet-beautiful buildings, and why it all mattered in the end. Parts of my Alp-trip were completely different, spent more or less enjoying nature’s creations of mountains and valleys, lakes and trees. I don’t know how I should compare these disparate experiences, or even if I should. I love churches and museums, but I also love mountains and lakes. The former represent the highest form of western consciousness regarding the importance, and indeed relationship between, truth and beauty. However, the latter, the mountains and lakes, are physical and genuine manifestations of this relationship. I have spent a lot of time looking at beautiful things in beautiful places, and although I enjoy them profoundly, I still don’t understand why I should, or even why they seem so imperative to me.

Perhaps they are special, at least in the European context, because we have recorded histories of events that have occurred, both in cities and the mountains, often hundreds of years ago. Maybe this is where the two come together. Both are beautiful, but in different ways, and both fill the pages of history, and are even, oftentimes, visual reminders of those histories. Perhaps that is why I have enjoyed traveling Europe so much, because I have devoted at least part of my life to learning about what happened here, and now that I am here, I get to see it all. It somehow makes me feel more connected to that past, something I feel is lacking, especially in the Western US. Our history is shorter, our cities less grand, our mountains less historical (though just as beautiful). Hannibal crossed the Alps, not the Rockies. Napoleon dined in Berlin, not Denver, and Queen Elizabeth I is entombed in Westminster, not Colorado. That doesn’t mean less important people lived or live in the territory now known as the United States, just that we can only read about the last 100 years there, and not the last 10,000. I look forward to traveling more, both in Europe and in the US, though I am interested to know how this experience will change the way I travel. I want to see as much of the world as possible, both its churches and its mountains, however I feel Europe is somewhat unique, to me anyway, in that it is connected to a past I identify with. America is culturally a product of Europe, it is a continuation of European history, and returning to Europe is in a sense returning to a long-estranged cousin, one that has moved on from its past, but which hasn’t forgotten it.

Vaduz, Liechtenstein, Spring Break 9 of 10

When I realized that I would be visiting the Alps, and that I would be only a few hours away from Liechtenstein, I knew that I would have to go. The Principality of Liechtenstein is a small nation tucked in the Rhine Valley between Switzerland and Austria. It covers an area of about 160 square kilometers (or 60 square miles) and is home to about 36,000 citizens. It has a long and confusing history as an assortment of medieval counties and principalities, which were eventually formed into the independent nation of Liechtenstein in 1866, as a constitutional monarchy ruled over by the Princely house of Liechtenstein. Today, their head of state is Prince Hans-Adam II, whose grandfather Prince Aloys was the first Prince of Liechtenstein to actually live there. Most of the family used to live in Vienna, and participated in the courtly-life of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. That being said, it seems the people of Liechtenstein are a patriotic people who are proud of their history, and of their monarch. The Liechtensteinische Landesmuseum (National Museum) tells the story of the country from its first inhabitants in the Neolithic up until the present in a seemingly honest way, but stops just short of criticizing past monarchs for their mishandling of the country. Besides the Landesmuseum, there is also a very impressing art collection in Vaduz, as well as several administrative buildings, and a church or two. On a hill overlooking Vaduz is the castle, which is the current residence of the royal family. Although tourists are free to climb up to the castle, it is not actually open to the public, which is a rare thing among European castles in general. Nevertheless, it offers a great view of the city, the mountains above, and the Rhine valley. It was great to spend a few hours in one of the world’s smallest countries (the 206^th by population, and 211^th by area). Although it is very expensive, using the Swiss Franc, it is also very beautiful and somewhat quaint. If you can afford it, there are some wonderful shops and restaurants, as well as banks. However, most importantly, it will give you the good fortune of having the right to say: “Believe it or not, have indeed been to Liechtenstein, have you?”

Southern Liechtenstein

Vaduz

Vaduz Castle

Views from Above

Zürich and Sargans, Two Faces of Switzerland, Spring Break 8 of 10.

During the two days I spent in Switzerland, I visited two different cities, and they couldn’t have been more disparate. Zürich is largest city in Switzerland, and is situated on the spot where the River Limmat flows out of Lake Zurich, which is fed by the Linth River flowing from the Alps. It was first established in 15 BCE as Turicum, a Roman tax-collecting outpost, but has now grown into a city of almost 400,000 inhabitants, 30% of whom are foreign citizens. About 22% of Switzerland’s residents are foreign nationals, choosing to live here for a variety of reasons, most notably for its low taxation policies, but also for other political and economic reasons. The city therefore has developed into an international business center, as well as a popular shopping destination. The city is incredibly clean and well-managed, its streets are lined with glittering shop windows, and both cars and bicycles stop to let pedestrians cross at the crosswalks. The city also had some historic buildings, mostly churches, as well as a wonderful national museum, but the city as a whole is not a tourist’s paradise.

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Fifty miles south-east of Zurich is the small town of Sargans, Switzerland. It is located in the Rhine river valley, not far from Liechtenstein, and indeed I initially only intended to transfer to a Liechtenstein-bound bus when I first took a train to Sargans. However, once I saw the town, I knew I had to spend a couple of hours exploring. Although the town sits quite low in the valley (only 1,500 feet above sea-level), it is surrounded by incredibly high alpine peaks. On the north end of town is a 13^th century fortress built on a hill overlooking the city. Climbing up to the castle, one encounters a small church built after the plague in the 16^th century, countless vineyards, and eventually Schloß Sargans. From the castle, you can see down into the Rhine valley, an abundantly fertile area due in part to over 50 inches of precipitation per year. While in Zurich one grew accustomed to the sounds of cars and busses, all one can hear in Sargans are the birds, and occasionally a train passing through. It was a wonderful place.

Torino, Spring Break 7 of 10

My last day in Italy, Easter Monday, was spent exploring the once-Olympic city of Turin. My guess is that most of the venues were outside the city center, predominantly in the mountains, because there is little evidence in the historic old-town that anything of the sort took place. It was a wonderful day, much improved weather-wise from Milan, and I spent I lazily wondering about. Most everything was closed before noon, except the churches, which were all full of individual worshipers. I have read that Turin is particularly spiritual, especially for northern Italy, and I concur based on the little I saw. Perhaps it has something to do with being the home of the much-debated Shroud of Turin, supposedly the funeral shroud of Jesus Christ Himself. Irritatingly, I discovered upon my arrival that the shroud would not be open to the public until the 2^nd of May, less than a month from now. Nevertheless, I enjoyed still enjoyed the day. I spent the better part of one hour waiting in line to ascend the Mole Antonelliana, an incredible tower serviced by a glass elevator. From the top, you literally have an incredible 270º view of the Alps. It was well worth the wait. After that I toured some more churches, as well as surprisingly large collection of Egyptian antiquities, before strolling along the Po River. As it was a national holiday, every other Italian family was out, enjoying the beautiful weather and scenery with me. Along the river, there is a modern reconstruction of what a Medieval Turin would have looked like, complete with narrow passageways, public fountains, churches, and small merchants shops. I enjoyed Turin very much…the mood of the city was remarkably calm and relaxed, at least compared to Milan, and it seemed the most important thing in the world was simply enjoying the good weather.

Some of Turin's Churches

Main Square

Roman Ruins

Medieval City (re-constructed)

Along the Po

The Mole Antonelliana, and view from the top

(click to expand)

Milano, Spring Break 6 of 10.

Milan, the heart of European fashion, is a very metropolitan city. It is a lot like many other large European cities, but has some unique qualities. I was fortunate enough to visit on Easter, when it seems the normal rules were suspended. In the heart of the city all of the churches and cafes were open, although none of the museums were. In the less central areas, only the small restaurants and bars remained open. Most of the people, it seemed, were spending the day at home, as all of the shopping, and Milan has a lot of shopping, was closed for the day. The most popular tourist destinations in Milan were centered around the Duoma, a large gothic cathedral where regular services are held. There are also public parks, many museums and theaters, as well as generally interesting buildings, packed with Europe’s finest designer boutiques. I rather liked Milan, but I would like to see it at its best, when everything is open and alive, rather than on a very rainy Easter Sunday, when every dog big and small wears its own raincoat.