Let Us Look Abroad

Hawke's Bay Herald-Tribune, Volume 81, Issue 76, 22 December 1937, Page 11

Let Us Look Abroad

A Christmas Holiday— Sometimt

lorne of ua may never be able to undertake that long-cherished trip abroad, but we can always hope, and dream. One day, perhaps, we will spend a Christmas holiday in Europe, and we may see something of the life portrayed in the following deseriptive sketches: the snow train The Carpathians are a glittering chain of icy peaks, and winte" sports are in full swing, attracting crowds of young students from Cracow's ancient university, only a few hours away. To serve such' young people, whose time and purses are limited, Poland has instituted the Snow Train, which, ieaving on Friday or Saturday night when weekly classes are over, transports them during the hours of tarkness towards the heart of the mountains. They wake up next morning to enjoy a day's^sport and return in time for Monday morning'a classes. Specially reduced fees, inclusive of meals at the nearest little mountain hotel, are arranged. In the old days before the war Polish girls — even girl students— were watched over and chaperoned with true Central European thoroughness. The cheery student clubs and cafes were not for them. nor would their parents have dreamed 'of allowing them to go off week-ending in mixed bunches. Today no one is more emancipater' than that blonde young woipan, for example, hurrying to the station skis slung over her shoulder, wearing breeches and hobnailed boots to save the bother of packing them. To suit more adventuroua spirits, there is a second S-nw Train, a mystery train into which you climb with not the slightest idea whert you may be set down in the morning. That, apparently, is left to the discretion ' of the engine-driver; since snow lies ' thicker in come places than in others, so the train balts along the line at the place which seems to offei good sport During the sparkling cold day you can use your compartment as tent and wigwam, feeding in the restaurant car, or you can explore lntii >ou :ome upon a tourist house, its steep roof carved and hung with icicles, and enjoy a big, crackling fire and a hot bath When the whiteness of the snow fades to the blue-mauve of dusk. and the train whistle shrills commandingly, you return your skis to the care of the kindly guard. who piles them, with the others. in his van Tumbling into your "sleeper." you know no more untiJ you wake up as the Trumpeter of Cracow founds his mediaeval calJ on the market place at 9 o'clock next morning. liying in warsaw No one is more insistent upon modern architecture and a practical home than the Polish woman of to-day; the more so as she has a considerable fmancial say in the matter of where she will live. At Warsaw it is the rule rather than the exception. for women to contribute to the family inoome. Indeed, there is a movement to introduce a new Bill which will force every married woman, wherever

possible, to shoulder some of the financial responsibility of the home. It is understandable therefore, that the new housing schemes which are changing the face of modern Poland should be greatly influenced by feminine ideas of the most pleasant and eonvenient ways of living. The huge blocks of flats, the garden cities being built around Warsaw's outskirts, illustrate this with their rounded, glassed-in corners to catch the sun and provide sun parlours in summer. Even quite small flats have separate entrances from the kitchens into the general hall, to obviate the awkwardness of provisions being delivered and messages received in the tiny halls of the flats, which are thus left free at all times for the passage of the residents. Central heating and double windows mitigate the rigours of the Polish winter. And the decoration of the rcoms themselves, with the lovely handwoven rugs (a revival of an old art borrowed from the East), hung round self-coloured walls, adds to the warmth as well as to the effectiveness and national' feeling of the flats. It is almost a point of national honour with the Polish woman to stick to the characteristic pottery, . glass and handwoven fabrics of her country for the furnishing of her flat. The beautiful red-brown ware of Korzee is no longer manufactured here; but the jugs and dishes of north Poland, with grey-green backgrounds and wavy, irregular decoration— suggested to the fishermen who make them by the nearby sea— fit in beautifully with modern ideas of decoration. Since modern flats do not go with massive antique furniture, the old shops of Warsaw are crammed with heavy Polish Empire pieces. With great carved chairs, with faded carpets of interminable length which once covered the now bare and dusty floors of the old mansion houses facing the park. The mice scamper over them now, while, outside the last leaves fall slowly from deserted gardens, alid the blotched statuary grouped about the crumbling fountains are reminders of an old magnificence and style of living which the war swept away. arcades of krakow Shopping seems much more attractive when done elsewhere than in the conventional shop. And the great arcades and central hall beneath the mediaeval Cloth Hall of Krakow present a paradise to the woman tourist with an eye for colourful effects. The hall can be entered at each point of the compass, through archways looking across the Rynek or great market square At the entrance to the archways the fruit and vegetable sellers have their stalls. and the carpet merchants have placed their rplls of merchandise upon the cobbles. The carpets are merely narrow strips of home-woven felt material, such as Polish women love to place slantwise across the polished oine floors of their homes. For anything finer, the shopper must search elsewhere than near the Arcades,' for this is the shopping centre of the people, who have little to spare save for necessities. The visitor threads his way between the colourful, striped bales, and plunges into the eool, arehed. receaes of the hall

itself. The white-washed roof is ornamented with the shields of the mediaeval guilds and the coats-of-arms of the chief cities of Poland, while at the sides of each of the four entrances hang the great iron challis which stretch across them at night. On either side the long central passage stretch the booths, each devoted to a different type of merchandise. Perhaps ihe most fascinating is the basket ware, of which there is a considerable industry near Krakow. Here you can buy everything, from the old-fashioned dress hamper to the baby's basinette; from garden chairs to cunningly woven baskets to hold knitting wool or bread rolls. You can buy other things, too. Things carved out of wood and painted in the vivid colours Poland loves .so well. Wooden plates, for instance, with peasant motifs painted on them, which would look charming on a shelf against a neutral tinted wall. The toy merchant at the further end presents a tempting array of dolls' house furniture, of tiny carriages drawn oy stocky brown horses of model farmhouses with miniature figures, pigs and cows that run on wheels, and granaries with thatched roofs and wisps of straw sticking out of the lifts above . . . No wonder the arcades represent heaven to the children of Krakow! leicester square Leicester Square is changing again, but t, the old name remains. In spite of the good, bad and mdifferent reputations allotted to the Square during the centuries, a certain romance still clings to ir possibly because so many vital and interesting people have lived there. The Square takes its name from Leicester House, which was built by Robert Sydney. Earl of Leicester. about the year 1636. For many years Leicester House was the home of this famous family, and the centre of brilliant circle of youth, beauty and r-telligence. The Earl's two sons, Viscount Lisle and Algernon Sydney lived here with their six beautiful sisters— the Sydney family was noted for goov. looks and talents— the Lady Leicester ruled with grace when her husband went to France as Ambassador. A clever famous .family, which was broken up by the fortunes of war and the execution of Charles I. Lady Leicester died. two young daughters died, and tbe others married. Opinions diifered regarding politics, and the two brothers quarrelled violently At the Restoration Algernon Sydney was in exile, Lord Lisle quarrelled witb his father, and the Earl, disheartened. feeling the loss of his brilliant wife more and more, retired to Kent. Then, when Elizabeth Stewart, Queen o. Bohemia, returned to England much against the wish of her nephew. Charles II., Leicester House was taken for her, and there she lived until her death, The next important visitor was Peter the Great of Russia When he came to England in 1698. he was lodged at Leicester House, and there he drank his brandy spiced with pepper. When he went to Deptford, to visit the famous John ..velyn. he ^lighted to run a wheelbarrow through Evelyn's perfectly cut Holly hedges rnd afterwards gloat over their peculiar appearance. W> the Prince of Wales quarrelled with his father, George I., he rented Leicester House for £500 a year, and held his Court there till he succeeded to the throne as George II. There are many tales of the poet Pope and the gay maids-of-honour who went walking in the moonlight in tho surrountling

fields, and .of Caroline, the clever Prin-] cess of Wales, who was very fond of the house. Later, history repeated itself in a peculiar way. Frederick, the eldest son oi George and Caroline, arrived in England in 1728, from Hanover, where he had lived since his birth in 1707. He came as a stranger to his parents, a foreigner to the people, almost an enemy to his ounger brother, George, and it is not surprising to know that he quarrellt with the King. Indeed, his disputes witb his father were so violent that at last he took Leicester House and held his own Court there until, suddenly, he died. Round about Leicester Square lived Sir Isaac Newton, Sir Joshua Reynolds, Hogarth, and many oiher distinguished people. They all passed away, even the house, but there is still the name. berlin kindergarten Pausing in the entrance of one of Berlin's most famous sky-scraper stores, Freda's mother lets her look for a moment at the row of kennels, each with its occupant firmly leashed up beside a china bowl of water. The huge, blueuniformed commissionaire paces up and down before the dogs, whose mistresses are shopping inside. Possibly Freda's mother is unkind enough to wish that some such arrangement were available for children, too. She need not worry, however, for the owners of this shop long since realised the virtual impossibility of successful purchasing with a small child dragging behind. They have, therefore, free of charge, arranged a charming kindergarten, or playroom, where the children may amuse themselves under the care of a kindly assistant, leaving the mothers free to take more time — and, incidentally, speni more money— than when hampered by the boredom of wearied infants. The kindergarten opens off one of the large show rooms, with only a low wooden fence and little gate to divide it from passers-by, who pause to glance appreciatively into the charming green and rose room beyond. Here are tiny tables spread with gay checked cloths, at which the children may eat their 11 o'clock fruit or bread and butter. Entrancing toys litter the place. There is a miniature house in one corner, with windows that open and shut, a real doorway, and small-scale furniture, where Freda and Fritz can keep house to their hearts' content. Wise shopkeeper, knowing how powerful the children's pleas may be to persuade their mothers to shop here and nowhere else! Great and famous though the gigantic store may be, there are others just as famous at Berlin. But however far away, however inconvenient even to reach, the children of Berlin do their best to coax their parents into buying here, and thus ensure for themselves a happy hour or two. When elosing hour approaches there are tragic scenes as the small inmates of the green and rose room submit to having their outer garments placed firmly upon them by the kindly young woman in charge, and being led fcy th by their mothers out of Paradise, into the street again. * mil an silk market In these days, when we have learned j to substitute "art" silk for the real thing (and very good such modern substitutes J can be) women of northern Italy can still be luxurious. In such cities as Milan and Turin almost every second shop is a silk shop. Nothing else but fabrics — mostly pure silk— can be found in the little places beneath the shadowy arcades. Bales and bale* of ttiaterinl* are pilad upon fhalrw

t —mostly printed in colours a trifle crude and. garish to our eyes, but extremely effective under the brilliance of an Italian sky. In Tuin, however, if you want to be economical you wait for the great Friday market. At dawn the vendors are busy putting up their stalls, which naturally contain goods other than materials, although silk predominates. It is sold much more cheaply than elsewhere, and many of the big shops have stalls here to get rid of remnants and half-lengths at prices which make your moutli water. The metre is considerably more than a yard, but six or seven shillings will buy dress goods which would cost ten to twelve shillings a yard in England. Striped washing silks resembling the Macclesfield variety can be had for about two shillings a metre. But you must know how to bargain. The somewhat dingy gentlemen who run the soft material between their hands demand much more than they are prepared take, so you must bring an Italian speaking friend along with you if need be. And supposing you are vague on the length of material required harden yourself to being measured there and then upon the cobblestones! Nobody regards this proceeding as being odd in any way, for tourists always find it difficult., to calculate in me'tres, however well they may know the amount required in yards. You will take your material to a "little dressmaker" to be made up. She probably lives in a somewhat odouriferous backyard, with her sewing machine pulled out on the verandapassage which runs all round the building. She will look shabby and untidy, and in all probability will have bare feet thrust into gaping bedroom slippers. But she will mak® up your dress for five shillings— and make it well too! dalmatian honeymoon No more beautiful spot than Dalmatia could be found for-a honeymoon. Once partly# an Italian possesion and still Italian in atmosphere, Dalmatia lies along the Adriatic coast line of modern Jugoslavia. The coast is strewn with crumbling villas and forgotten gardens, while each little island with its own walled town or tiny fishing village, sends out at evening a clash of bells from the tall Campanile across the Waters, stained flamingo-pink with sunsets famous for their beauty. From the bridegroom's point of view, the place has the added attraction of being a storehouse of rare and lovely things to lavish on a bride. There is for instance, a dark little antique shop near the Pile Gate in Dubrovnik, where ruby red Venetian cut velvets lie on the shelves side by side with Turkish jackets stiff with real gold stitchery. • Next door to it is the filigree worker's place where trinkets in delicate gold and silver filigree vie with quaint boxes inlaid with black and gold according to Bosnian tradition. Opposite is the shop of the chief jeweller in Dalmatia which, if its modern wares hardly compare with those of Bond Street or the Due de la Paix, often shows in its window a pair of the magnificent baroque pearl ear-rings brought in for sale by some once wealthy peasant woman. The fishermen of Dalmatia often draw up sprays of bright red coral entangled in their nets. They sell them at the nearest souvenir or craft-worker's shop to be made into modern elips or bracelets set in hammered silver. The woman who likes white dresses is sure to add a touch of coral-red to her toilette to match her coloured sandals. Nor is the visitor . likely to leave the coast without ' a specimen or two of the delicate lace- - work which the fishermen's wives make ] In their lehstura hours, ,