Amsterdam: Jewish Historical Museum

Before I knew Amsterdam's most famous Jew, Anne Frank, I had studied about it's second most famous Jew, Baruch Spinoza in Will Durant's "The story of philosophy". Spinoza ranks alongside Immanuel Kant as possibly the greatest modern philosopher. In two pages, that only Will Durant can write, Durant traces the arc of Jewish diaspora from its expulsion by the Romans unto the day Jews settled in Amsterdam and the birth of Spinoza. Spinoza was excommunicated by the Jewish community for his philosophy fearing that it angered their Christian hosts in the city.

Failing to find a home or museum of Spinoza I visited the "Jewish Historical Museum". Durant writes that Jews persecuted in Spain by Ferdinand , during Spanish Inquisition, fled in search of safety. "A large number of them embarked in the frail vessels of that day and sailed up the Atlantic, between hostile England and hostile France, to find at last some measure of welcome in little big souled Holland. Among these was a family of Portuguese Jews named Espinoza. Thereafter Spain decayed, and Holland prospered. The Jews built their first synagogue in 1598; and when, seventy five years later, they built another, the most magnificent in Europe, their Christian neighbors helped them to finance the enterprise. The Jews were happy now, if we may judge from the stout content of the merchants and rabbis whom Rembrandt had given immortality". Only Will Durant could write a passage that compresses so many meanings within a few lines. I had missed seeing Rembrandt's home in Amsterdam due to lack of time.

The Jewish museum had a permanent exhibition detailing the history of the first synagogue, Jewish rituals, artifacts that gave a vivid picture of one of the world's most ancient culture. One plaque mentioned the loyalty of Jews in Amsterdam to the Dutch royalty for the relative peace with which Jews could live in Holland unlike the rest of Europe. When Spinoza, like Uriel a Costa before him, had expounded beliefs that angered their Christian hosts the Jewish community excommunicated him as a price for their peaceful existence.

In what could happen only in Western museums typical of Western attitudes the Jewish museum had an exhibition titled "My name is Cohen". Cohen is the priestly name referring to Aaron, brother of Moses, who is considered the first priest for Israel. The exhibition is about people whose last name is 'cohen' (http://www.mynameiscohen.com/) and what it means for them to have the most famous Jewish surname. One Cohen, not a resident of Israel, said that he bears a burden that people who come to know his surname ask him about each and everything Israel did. A Jew, anywhere in the world, is considered a representative of Israel and has to bear the brunt of that association said he. Another Cohen bristled that just because he is a Jew he does not have to support all that Israel does (sadly no Palestinian would say that of Al-Fatah or Hamas, at least not publicly). One Cohen recounted sadly how a customer ate at his restaurant and left saying "I will not pay a Jew". To one Cohen it is a badge of pride, to another it is a "losing brand value", another is sheepish about her Jewish identity.

The exhibition brings to the fore that this race has suffered uniquely amongst all races in history. Centuries of persecution, in every single corner of the world, reaching its climax, if one call it so, in the Holocaust has left its imprint on every member young and old. Durant waxes eloquent in his introduction to Spinoza, "what drama could rival the grandeur of these sufferings, the variety of of these scenes, and the glory and the justice of this fulfillment?" (the fulfillment Durant refers is the creation of Israel)


As I exited the museum, as always, I browsed the gift shop. I was very surprised to see books by Spinoza. The community that excommunicated him in different situation 400 years ago has now embraced its greatest genius amongst the so many geniuses produced by that race.

All was not well for Jews of Amsterdam. That no host country is ever safe for Jews was illustrated in Holland. Nazi Germany invaded Holland in 1940. The Dutch initially protested deportation of Jews by organizing a strike. Virtually unheard of in any other state under Nazi occupation but it later morphed into tragic and cruel co-operation. Between 1940-1944 in just 4 years nearly 75% of Holland's Jews were exterminated with the active co-operation of many Dutch citizens. The Holocaust's most famous victim Anne Frank is a searing tragedy for another day. 

Amsterdam: An Afternoon With Van Gogh

I spent 2 days in Amsterdam and a week on a road trip in UK from March 2nd-10th. Travels always widen our understanding of the world and provide a perspective too. I spent an afternoon in Amsterdam visiting the Van Gogh museum.

Coming from a provincial town in South India I've only a nominal familiarity with painting as an art form. The only paintings that an Indian gets to see mostly are fetishistic expression of male fantasies of courtesans and kings. Study of human anatomy to depict human form, portraying common men and women, expressing philosophical points etc are almost non-existent on the Indian tradition. Learning to appreciate Salvador Dali's surrealism or appreciating why a Monet picture could start the impressionist movement or why is Michelangelo's David revered is all a conscious learning process. Here is Monet's famous painting that launched an era.

I visited the Museum of Modern Art in NYC and could not understand a single thing. Even for a layman like me the Van Gogh museum is an easily accessible one, intellectually. Van Gogh is considered to belong to post-impressionism. I'd not be pretending to understand the nuances of those terms. In another sign of technology wiping out jobs now museums offer audio-guides. No need of a person to standby and explain.

Van Gogh, barely 37 when he died in 1890, lives an eventful itinerant life that makes his biography a compelling read, not to mention his eventual suicide. Van Gogh as was common to geniuses of that era travels between France, Holland and England. France, the capital of arts, influences Van Gogh with its art and literature. the museum painstakingly has arranged all his paintings chronologically across 4 vast floors also divided according to where he lived in that particular period. Each painting has an explanatory note and most have a head phone symbol with a number to be used on the audio-guide. Press the number and voila you get a succinct summary of the painting. The summary while succinct is not trivial or flaky.

Van Gogh gained fame with his portrayal of a group of peasants eating potatoes around a table, the painting titled "potato eaters" had a note that, in typical Western fashion, unflinchingly said, this masterpiece had flaws and proceeds to specify what the flaw is. This is a museum to celebrate a great genius and in the picture that supposedly gave him fame the museum curator is brutishly honest to note its shortcomings. This is what happens when you celebrate true genius. You can be comfortable in pointing out the flaws.

Spend a few minutes looking at the picture above (or this link for a full resolution "potato eaters"). Its a common scene, the people are unremarkable, the setting is pedestrian, the act is as routine as you can imagine BUT its the painting of the shadows, the light, the portrayal of anatomy that speaks, the details of the room etc.

When I visited the Louvre in 2009 seeing the many Christian themed paintings I thought that without having some familiarity of the Bible one cannot appreciate much of Western civilization. Van Gogh's "Still life with open Bible" reiterated that thought.

At first sight the picture does not tell much. The audio-guide filled in the details that an untrained eye like mine would not see at first sight. The big open book is the Bible, a faint title indicates that the page is open at "Isaiah", an even fainter scribbling tells it is Isaiah 53 which is called the 'Psalm of the suffering servant'. The smaller book next to it is French author Emile Zola's "La Joie de vivre" (Joy of life). The commentary said this was Van Gogh, one time candidate for priesthood, rebelling against his pious father.

Van Gogh was influenced by Emile Zola and Victor Hugo. To know what influences a genius especially beyond his particular area in a cross-disciplinary manner is interesting. Knowing that his painting took clues from another painter is one thing, knowing how Van Gogh drew upon Zola's characterization to inspire a painting is another. This also helps us understand the nature of a man who makes himself a student of all forms of art and imbibes inspiration from other forms to better construct his primary artistic expression.

An even more stunning influence was that of Japanese art on Van Gogh. Japanese art of woodcut blocks with bright colored paintings found its way to Paris. Japan, until 1854 Kanagawa Treaty used to trade almost exclusively with the Dutch. After the treaty Japan opened trade with Europe and USA. Japonaiserie, wikipedia teaches, or Japanese art influenced the French impressionist and then Van Gogh too who produced very brightly colored pictures. Famous amongst his Japanese art are his portraits of bridges

Like any typical Western genius of art Van Gogh travels hither and thither, schools himself, lets himself be open to influences, creates his own oeuvre, enjoys cross disciplinary influences and leads a very eventful life that includes affliction of Gonorrhea. Van Gogh formed a deep friendship with famous painter Paul Gauguin . Gauguin was Somerset Maugham's inspiration for his protagonist in "The moon and six pence". Van Gogh after a fight with Gauguin famously cut off his ear and gave the severed part to a prostitute telling her to 'keep it carefully'. Van Gogh is supposed to have suffered from hypochondria too. Finally, of course, like any museum in this part of the world they have a nice gift shop.

Every now and then I thought wistfully of the Naicker and Maratha paintings in a 1000 year temple in Tanjore, the many other treasures that wilt away without attention. I read that even today reaching the Ajantha caves,  Khajuraho etc is a chore let alone audio-guides and knowledgeable commentary. To celebrate Maratha influence in a state that has been intellectually castrated with empty jingoism and ideological charades is too much to hope for.

Time and again what impresses me most in the West is the celebration of cross-cultural influences. Voltaire admires the English. The English are suckers for anything French as I'd see from my visit to Blenheim Palace near Oxford, UK 2 days later. Bruges in Northern corner of Europe buys a statue by Michelangelo. Trade and commerce coupled with the university system of Europe creates a veritable whirlpool of intellectual atmosphere.

Europe Vacation 2: Paris

We arrived in Paris on Aug 2nd evening 4 PM. I did not factor in the local time of Paris being an hour ahead of UK so we had to scramble at Gare du Nord to get out. Du Nord was very much like central station, Madras. As an Indian who has lived in US for 11 years my prism of reference was a juxtaposed frame including India (to lesser extent) and US (mostly). The vehicle trolleys were interlocked and required 2 euros to unlock. No credit card facility unlike US. A kind woman seeing us with a child lent 2 euros. I paid her $5, more than what was the rate but we needed the coins.

Trying to get a cab was more chaotic for 5 passengers. We finally decided to split up. Two cabbies, ours a woman, drove us to Marriott at St.Denis, just outside Paris city. The route was just ugly, imagine Renganathan Street, Madras and multiply it 100 times, take away even the little cleanliness on R.Street. It was Paris' seedy underbelly. The French disdain for Hollywood is well known but Hollywood reigns. I saw many a poster for movies. We checked into the hotel, freshened up and hired a cab for Eiffel tower. Being the first day I was not comfy with trains.

Seeing Eiffel tower was anti-climactic for my dad, Preeth felt elated. The area around Eiffel tower had souvenir vendors hawking ugly cheap replicas of Eiffel tower "3 for one Euro". Most vendors were Blacks, mostly from Morocco. France's colonisation of Northern Africa is a much bloody one. Even today France's colonial interests hold sway in Africa (that is why American's foam at their mouth when France lectures US). The hawkers were frequently chased by the cops, all white cops. Every now and then tens of these Afro-American hawkers would run helter skelter across the esplanade near the tower, the white cops would chase them grinning like cheshire cats. One cannot miss the racial element there. France recently had an outburst of racial violence. Unemployment amongst blacks is in double digits. Just last month Sarkozy stirred the hornets nest saying "burqas are not welcome in France". Sikhs had to fight to keep their turbans on. France 'prohibits' showing off the religion in order to be secular. Undoubtedly method like these are self defeating.

We were hungry and went to the nearest restaurant. It was pricey but exquisite. Service was polite. Europe is an extremely difficult place for vegetarians especially those who cannot take salads. Even for non-veggies if they abhor veal/pork/beef the options are minimal. I've heard about Europe restaurants charging for water. Its true. In many places its cheaper to buy wine or for a few cents more you can get wine. English is truly a world language. I've survived with it easily in Paris/Zurich. In fact if your vocabulary is good many words would sound familiar. Credit cards are always swiped at the table.

Having fed ourselves we headed back to the tower. We wanted to go to the top. The queues were prohibitively long. Then we chose to go on a cruise on Seine. It was full moon night as we sailed on Seine listening to "le Paris" sung with an Edith Piaf like renditiion and "oh Champs Elysees". All along the banks of Seine many small parks were there with romantic couples. Nothing untoward though. Just simple love.

On Aug 3rd we started out early and headed to Louvre. When we visited London in 2003 we felt so easy to decipher the subway maps, trace the junctions to find changing trains etc thanks to having lived near NYC and DC. The same was true for Paris. The stations were dilapidated rivalling NYC subways. The trains were clunky metal boxes, the doors had to be manually opened. Louvre has a station right underneath. We took the tickets and headed to the 'toilets' (not restrooms as in US). We had to pay 2 euros for each. It was the most posh toilet I would ever see. The toilet papers were being sold at 9 euros a roll, they were artistic, they even had sudoku puzzles on them. We are ok wih buying charmin toilet rolls from Sam club, 16 rolls for $11, wipes as well these fancy ones.

The agenda was to see Mona Lisa. Everyone cautioned us to head out there as early as possible. So off we went. Da Vinci is a great crowd puller, more so after the blockbuster novel & movie. There are signs everywhere pointing to Mona Lisa. The small picture is housed in a glass encasement embedded in a huge standalone wall. Crowds mill around it. Its funny to see people snapping away with cell phone cameras from 30 feet away at the most famous picture in the world. Not even the best SLR can duplicate the eye and here are these guy using a cell phone, well each person to their own. There are thousands of art works. Da Vinci reigns supreme. Close second is Raphael. A bit of art knowledge would help, knowledge of Christian literature would certainly help. David slaying Goliath, St Michael, Madonna and the child, Stations of the cross are popular themes.

The statues were mostly of Greek gods, Diana the hunter etc. I was surprised to find the statues of all males showing them off in un-circumcised state. Circumcision was an important Judaic ritual. Some art historian might explain. But the hall of statues was no place for a prude. Knowledge of human anatomy owed a lot to these artists.

The famous glass pyramid is loved by many and hated by purists as having spoiled the purity of Louvre. Louvre was constructed as a fortress first. We did not have much notes on how France acquired all these treasures, mostly by Italians. What Shakespeare is to Stratford, Da Vinci is to Louvre. Its amazing how these two personalities stride like colossus.

Given my very compressed schedule this entire trip is more to get a flavor of the cities than to soak in the culture etc. So we skipped Musee De Orsay that houses art from Van Gogh etc. After Louvre we headed out and got onto a hop-on-hop-off. The first stop was Notre Dame church.

The Notre Dame church is immortalised in liturature by Victor Hugo's classic "hunchback of Notre Dame". On screen Anthony Quinn played the repulsive looking hunchback Quasimodo who would rescue Phoebe and shout "sanctuary, sanctuary", the famous gargoyles atop the steeples. Its an imposing work of faith. Thanks to a baby we had to hurry to a restaurant, then came the ticklish issue of finding some restaurant that would serve some palatable veggie stuff for my mom. Culinary taste mismatch in a group during tours can really be a flash point, a lesson learnt from an earlier trip with friends.

The bus tour was interesting from another perspective. Street names were "voltaire", "anatole france", "Montaigne" etc. France honors its literary giants.

The "Place de la Concord" where the guillotine stood during the revolution is chilling. An obelisk stands today and it marks one end of the majestic mile+ long Champs Elysees, with the other end marked by "Arc de triumph". Hearing the commentator say "this was where Marie Antoinette was guillotined" I thought of Edmund Burke's lament "I thought one thousand scabbards must have leapt out of their scabbards to avenge even one look that threatened her with insult, the age of chivalry is dead". Wordsworth sang of the revolution as "Bliss was it in that dawn to be alive, but to be young was very heaven". Unlike the American revolution, the French revoultion did not establish anything remotely democratic but only bequethed Napoleon, the Son of the revolution. Is it ironical then that Napoleon should construct an "arch of triumph" celebrating his military victories just opposite to where a queen was beheaded. Interestingly one railway line is named Robespierre after the most blood thirsty general of the revolution who himself was guillotined finally.

Champs Elysees is just like Rajpath, Pennsylvania Avenue in DC is a poor cousin of these two in imperiousness. Posh stores, typical parisian bistros, trees line the Elysees. When Paris was occupied in the War Nazis would take flag marches on this street to humiliate the French when finally America and Britain liberated Paris. Hitler's instructions was to burn Paris when his rump army retreated. He would ask "Is Paris burning". His general with the last remaining vestige of humanity in him refused to burn down worlds most beautiful city. Dominique Lapierre and Larry Collins traced all this in "Is Paris Burning".

The trip to Louvre, Notre Dame visit, scurrying for restaurant, frayed tempers all tired us out and we headed for the hotel to cool down.

In the evening yet again I hunted for Indian restaurant since my mom was practically living on just soup and bread. We found one restaurant close to Notre Dame. Typical food, typical disappointments, typical frustrations. Interestingly the guy who served us was a Tamilian on a student visa. In our quick chat he expressed regret for not knowing Hindi enough. Mu.Kaa had crippled several generations with his linguistic chauvinism. We were seated near a window overlooing a very pictursque street lined with bistros. While I was eating undercooked, over priced, ill served Indian food, right outside my window people were sipping chardonnays on sitting on a rattan chair, tables with clean white linen, nice silver ware, ordering up nice pastas or desserts. Since we wanted to head out to Chateaux Versailles early next day we headed back to hotel after dinner. I was tad disappointed that we did not do little more sight seeing but then family was priority.

THe day I started dreaming up the Paris trip I was insistent on some day tour outside Paris, especially to Versailles. I shall stop for now. Versailles was the next day and I shall write about it and our trip to the top of Eiffel tower tomorrow.

Europe Vacation Part 1-- English at MacDonalds and Windsor Castle

After so much preparation for so long we arrived at Heathrow on August 1st. By a last minute arrangement Preeth's cousin who lives close by picked us up. I felt elated to enter UK with my US passport, no visa needed, no questions asked. This is my 2nd visit. Last time we had stopped en-route to India for 3 days. That time, 2003, we visited Bath, Stonehenge, Stratford, Oxford etc. This time I was just passing through. The agenda was to meet my parents and brother. Then proceed to Paris on Aug 2nd. We were put up at a very fine Marriott near Heathrow. The sing song British accent always impresses me. I was reminded of Henry Higgins singing "there are places were English completely disappears, well in America they have'nt used it for years".

After some freshening up we headed out. No jet lag though we really did not sleep. I had several books to read. After sparring with Jeyamohan (a literary pretender in Tamil) I picked up "Sophie's World" by Josteen Gaarder. JM had ranked it alongside my perennial favorite "Story of Philosophy". Gaarder's book is readable but its meant for probably high schoolers who need a "philosophy for dummies" kind of book. Will Durant remains a class of his own.

Preeth's cousin and her husband played excellent hosts. I always fret about people not going the "extra mile", they went two miles extra. We wanted to visit Legoland for Rowena's sake but since it was drizzling we headed to Windsor Castle, hear a Britisher pronounce "castle" and one would realise why English remains the 'queen's language'. The whole area was a quaint countryside fit enough for a picture post card. The nicely decorated shops, the grey sky, statue of the virgin queen, the floral arrangements on the window sills of the shops all conjured up just one word "picture post card". Parking was almost impossible the good hearted host stayed with the car in an hourly parking while we completed seeing the castle at his insistance despite my protestation to drop it.

Not being able to see Windsor Castle in 2003 was a sore point for me. Since time was on a premium we saw selective areas. We visited the Chapel first. It was ornate, simply ornate. Ofcourse the British pomposity manifested itself by prohibiting photos. If I can photograph Raphael, Da Vinci at Louvre why not the damn chapel (wait for my blog on Paris later). This had irritated me greatly in 2003 too. After that chapel visit we went to see Queen Mary's Doll House and the Staterooms. The Doll house was exquisite, it had dolls the queen had collected and a cut section replica of the palace.

The State Rooms is what took my breath away. Until seeing the Windsor Castle the only other palace I had seen was the Mysore Palace, which pales in comparison. I was surprised to find a bust of CHurchill in one room. I wondered why? Well after all he was the Empire's last defender. The most interesting room had artifacts of war. One whole wall is dedicated to spoils recovered from the wars with Tipu Sultan, including a gold tiger head, elaborate jackets, firearms etc. Tipu was the one who almost succeeded in uprooting the British. Well his success would only have meant French colonisation instead and the British were, by comparison, better at treating their colonies.

The castle itself is of sheer grandeur and is still used as residence for the queen. Each and every room speaks of pomposity, a sense of imposing grandeur. Each room shows that it was designed by people who appreciated the effect of theatrical display and who valued it. Even the ushers and palace officials were dressed pretty pompously, no slovenly uniforms.

The homes in nearby areas resembled the dilapidated homes around New York/Newark. In the name of maintaining tradition homes are kept with inefficient heating and cooling. One shudders at the environmental costs of such homes. But these same Europeans grumble about American consumerism and lack of environmental awareness. The streets were more like alleys. Crowded street parking makes them almost one-ways. Cars were ofcourse mostly compacts. Gas at almost $8 per gallon is killing.

The big surprise was MacD's. The ubiquitous golden arches, the grand M's stood almost everywhere. The menu was pretty much same with some variation. But the ambience was certainly much better than what I am used to in USA. The real nice thing was to hear "English" in MacD. In USA I've practically given up trying to find a English speaking McD/Burger King/Wendy's. I better learn spanish if I want to get what I need. For an Anglophile it was nice to see this in UK. The McD near my Marriott was more like Panera Bread, the cleaning lady was attired like an air-hostess. Well everything has its price the food was expensive than US.

In the evening we had a grand dinner at an Indian restuarant. Great food. Fat bill too. Like every Indian restaurant I got an irritatingly nonsensical reply for something i asked. The menu stated "papadams cost 1 GBP per head". We were served papadams without asking when I asked the waiter I was told "we are charging 1 GBP for each person hence the papadam". Basically its a cover charge and they give papadam for that. Only our guys can conjure up a cover charge, on top of gratuity, then give you something you did not ask for. Anyway we went to that restaurant to celebrate my dad's B'day and in their interest chose Indian cuisine.

The conversation churned around many topics. My brother had arranged a fund raiser for Sri Lankan Tamils, they donated to 'Doctors without Borders'. My brother, who has faced blatant racism in UK, nonchalantly called the US racist, this to a country that just elected a BLack president and in a week when Time magazine ran an article in right wing extremism in Europe. Some Sri Lankan Tamils refused to co-operate because they felt that functions like these lend a implicit acknowledgment that Prabakaran is indeed dead.

Preeth's relative lamented how lack of knowing Hindi impacts him even in UK. I totally agree to it. We both work as Unix Admins amongst Indian colleagues who converse in Hindi and quite often the cameraderie suffers due to this. This is reality though one could argue as to why the rest are not polite to converse in common language, English. One of my former bosses once quipped, while playing 50's & 60's Lata Mangeshkar songs, "Aravindan you do not know what you are missing". How I wish I could understand Pankaj Udhas or Jasjit. Recently I downloaded a Talat Mahmood song (Jalte Hai Jis ke liye) after listening to it in a Malayalam movie (Kayyoppu, starring Mammootty, Khushbu). Wow Talat Mahmood. I had a curiosity to download that Talat song since my boss's daughter a pianist once referred to him. I do have some knowledge of Hindi, wish I had learned more.

Next day we went to London St Pancras to board the Eurostar to Paris. Unlike flight checkins these train checkins were over in 20 mins. The only problem was they open boarding just 20 mins prior to departure so you have to scramble a bit. Eurostar was cool. Since we had First class tickets ($150, at the time of booking it was cheaper than 2nd class) we had really spacious seats. Food just kept coming including nice wine. All was served with good silver ware, no use and throw plastic spoons that would break even before it slices a chicken. They even had different glasses for different kind of drinks. Goblets for red wine, glasses for juice etc.

I chugged through Gaarder and was amazed at how much I remembered from Durant. Reading Gaarder assert that every question has one and only answer I was reminded of the philosophical chaos sowed by Heisenberg's Uncertainty principle and how it upturned Newtonian deterministic model. Sadly Gaarder's book does not even nod in that direction.

Within 2 hours were at Gare Du Nord in Paris. It was more like Central station Madras. The rest later in Paris blog.