The Grand Tour and beyond.

We’re all familiar with the rolling hills of Tuscany, the cliffs of Santorini, the Eiffel Tower in Paris. But Europe is so much more than classic postcard images. As the continent’s Eastern half becomes more accessible, spots like the ports of Dubrovnik, the caves of Slovenia, and the Renaissance towns of the Czech Republic are becoming more popular as travelers venture off the traditional backpacker’s route. As everywhere, sustainable tourism practices are needed to protect this region’s intense natural beauty.

(above) Appenzell Innerrhoden, Switzerland

Pembrokeshire, Wales, UK

Telc, Czech Republic

Cyprus

Bua, Sweden

Reykjavik, Iceland

Istanbul, Turkey

Mariazell, Austria

Kiev, Ukraine

Crete, Greece

St. Petersburg, Russia

The Pyrenees, Aquitaine, France

Wick, Scotland

Aalesund, Norway

Berlin, Germany

Amsterdam, Netherlands

Eyjafjallajökull, Iceland

Capri, Italy 

Karkonosze, Poland

Postojna Cave, Slovenia

Paris, France

Margam Park, Wales, UK

Dresden, Germany

Barbarin, Spain

Berg, Austria

Florence, Italy

Copenhagen, Denmark

Dubrovnik, Croatia

Luster Kommune, Norway

Porto, Portugal

Boka Kotorska, Montenegro

Plitvice Lakes National Park, Croatia

Lanzada, Spain

Castelluccio di Norcia, Italy

Moscow, Russia

Skradinski Buk, Croatia

London, England, UK

Lake Baikal, Siberia, Russia

Neuchâtel, Switzerland

Santorini, Greece

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ColumnA Vaclav Havel memorial in Prague, photographed hours after the announcement of his death Sunday.

Vaclav Havel, the prolific and politically-incendiary Czech writer and intellectual cum 1989 Velvet Revolution leader, died last Sunday at the age of 75; a decades-long devotee of tobacco, he passed due to respiratory complications in the privacy of his country home in Bohemia. Havel’s works – including 22 plays, nine non-fiction books, and the Charter 77 human rights manifesto – galvanized not only the disfavor of the Communist government, who imprisoned him on multiple occasions because of his texts, but conversely the esteem of his countrymen, who elected him as the first democratic ruler of then Czechoslovakia.

Havel’s creative output spans the gamut from absurdism to children’s stories, and he leaves behind an impressive oeuvre of books and letters rich with imminently quotable passages. Over the intervening days since his departure, I’ve been rolling around certain Havelian turns-of-phrase – cold, dark marbles on my tongue.

With quiet but ruthless exactitude, Havel called out of hiding small, hard secrets about the human condition. He of course exposed and documented systematic abuse and civil rights violations in former Communist Czechoslovakia, but also delivered a fair share of reckoning with our species’ systemic frailties and follies.

He wrote that people “are compelled to live within a lie, but they can be compelled to do so only because they are in fact capable of living in this way. Therefore not only does the system alienate humanity, but at the same time alienated humanity supports this system as its own involuntary master plan, as a degenerate image of its own degeneration, as a record of people’s own failure as individuals.”

To form a bridge between his quote and this weekly column’s core theme – love and intimacy – doesn’t require elaborate architecture. While Havel is talking here about the nation-state and body politic, the principle of self-propagating defeatism also holds fast in romantic pairings. He implicates not only the government, but also the governed; in doing so, he examines macro structures and also micro figures within a system – both of which inform, and feed, the other. The whole is a reflection of its sum parts. The major movements and themes of a piano concerto sound not without the harmonization of individual ivory keys pounding the chords.

Relationships – whether you’re like me exploring the sublime nuances and also sour notes of being a single woman after a lifetime spent otherwise or, like my little sister in the United States, married to the very boy you met and fell for in junior high school – are an inalienable, inexorable feature of our existence. Pair bonding’s resultant transcendence is illusory, albeit recurring, giving way at times to tedium, pointlessness and a rot of existential rubbish.

Havel wrote his own way out of it: “Isn’t it the moment of most profound doubt that gives birth to new certainties? Perhaps hopelessness is the very soil that nourishes human hope; perhaps one could never find sense in life without first experiencing its absurdity.”

Berlin-based Abigail Wick is a contributor to The New York Times and National Public Radio. ‘From an Ex-Pat…with Love’ is her weekly EcoSalon column about cultural dislocation, romantic relationships and lifestyle choices – filtered through the lens of an American woman living and working abroad in Europe.

Author Image: Alina Rudya; Article Image: Megan Ouellette

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I know this is a big claim, but I have to say it: Prague is the most beautiful city in the world. Every corner opens up to some new architectural wonder and the detail of statuary that adorn the buildings is constantly exciting the senses. There are few places on earth where one can sit drinking coffee in a square, surveying the architecture for hours without seeing the same detail.

The city of Prague was spared during the massive bombings during World War 2, and now in modern times, Prague is becoming one of the most artistic and cosmopolitan cities in Europe. It’s truly an international city and though some find international influence a sign of cultural dilution, I can see nothing but benefit (yes, I’m biased towards loving international cities). To see this city celebrate the world is something very new and incredible – the Czech Republic has had a long history of being subjugated by other states. Finally, after centuries, it’s coming into its own and what’s emerging is something truly divine. Never mind the Starbucks and the MacDonald’s – they’re barely visible as the aesthetics of the city’s architecture are so defining that they dwarf most any Western imperialism. Sure, multinational corporations have moved in to capitalize, but when one surveys the street, it’s not like looking at Times Square. No, Prague is herself.

Yes, there are museums, symphonies, arts centers – but just walking the streets with a bit of a beer buzz is pure joy. Just be careful because it’s really easy to get lost. Even my friends who have lived there for ages rely on their iPhone’s GPS at times because every street bends and opens to weird squares with tangential corridors shooting off in all directions. But the vertigo adds to the effect. The buildings are tall, too, which makes navigating by the sun difficult – it’s no wonder that so many movies feature ‘getaway’ scenes from here. If you can outrun your chaser, you can lose him in a heartbeat in this city.

And sex. There is a lot of it for sale. Walking the red light districts means being bombarded by ‘Cabaret’ barkers on the street promising pleasure for your pennies. Even when walking arm and arm with a woman the barkers persist. My favorite bark, “Come, come to here…for inspiration.”  What the hell does that mean anyway? One thing to note – sex barkers here don’t necessarily speak English or Czech, so the euphemistic phrases they concoct are hilarious. I talked with a guy named Neil, whose job is essentially a facilitator. He hangs out in the square by the train station and helps people find what they’re looking for – whether its sex, a hostel, or an opera. I asked him about sex (not for me, I will note.) as I was curious about the sex tourism. I asked how it goes down, wondering if he has to suggest options to the would be prostitute seeker. “No mate, they tell you what they’re looking for, in precise detail.” Neil gives them what amounts to a business card that is presented to the place he guides them to. This is how he gets paid.

Czech Republic is one of the least religious places on the planet and thus, moral absolutism doesn’t so much factor into culture. The iconography here too is largely amoral, which is actually a bit startling to the senses. We are used to iconography being religious. The Czechs, by nature, are exceptionally tolerant people and after the iron curtain was lifted in the late 80s, a new era of freedom and expression reigns. You can feel it here. Not all Czechs would approve of the seediness, but they certainly will tolerate it; the days of mindless oppression are over, and Czechs are experiencing a serious cultural renaissance. No one is going to look at you funny for smoking pot on the streets.

And drinking. Czechs drink a lot. More than any other country in Europe. I was lucky enough to be there during the Burcak season, a short window in fall where Czechs drink a young wine from the Moravian Region. Burcak is a sweet, unfiltered young wine that tastes like a cross between sweet apple cider and Kombucha. It’s amazing, and also, dangerous. But I was a most thankful victim. Prague, I’ll be back someday to live with you.

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I’m currently in Czech Republic for a UN strategic planning meeting on a campaign that my non-profit, The 5 Gyres Institute, is working on to spread awareness about plastics in the oceans. Plastics that work like sponges for pollutants that ultimately end up in fish that people eat. The scope of the campaign is broader, but it’s my intention to position ourselves as a dominant force within the scope.

I’ve been to a couple of these retreats, working with an international cast of UN folks and contractors. All of which are brilliant in their own right. But I’ve become close with one of my UN contractor counterparts, an artist named Barbara Benish, who is an expat living and working in the Bohemian countryside of Czech Republic.

Barbara works in many mediums and from my perspective, she’s a master. Where she lives is a work in progress as well. Adjacent to a lake above, her estate is an old flour mill, (now called ArtMill), which at one time used a gravity fed stream from the lake to power the pump that fuels the mill. When she first took up residence here, the place was in shambles. Though it would be much cheaper to rebuild from scratch, Barbara has rebuilt the place into a massive, sprawling studio that reinterprets the functions of the mill for art – while still preserving its historical significance. When the area was occupied by the Nazis, Czechs were forced to produce flour for export, and the village would see no benefit. But the workers, working in secret, would provide for their families at great risk to their well being.

I walk the grounds, replete with installed sculptures, a rabbit hutch, a stream with carp, friendly dogs, a horse pasture, an organic garden, duel fire pits, side studios – you name it, it’s there. It’s a dreamy place. When one conjures that image of ‘going to the countryside to write a novel’ or such, this place is what you’re imagining. This is the platonic form of art consciousness and nature.

Yes, there was work. But when the day was complete, there were sprawling meals of fresh carp and organic pork roasted over a wood fired grill, stews, salads, sweets and local wine. These meals lasted for hours, as they’re supposed to, and the day would slip into night as the wine went down. The romance of the place filled the senses and the spirit with something we often look for in this world when we travel – pure joy. And joy and romance is what I found. And I will be back.

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