<x-html><!x-stuff-for-pete base="" src="" id="0" charset="windows-1255"><!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.0 Transitional//EN">
<HTML><HEAD>
<META content="text/html; charset=windows-1255" http-equiv=Content-Type>
<META content="MSHTML 5.00.2614.3500" name=GENERATOR>
<STYLE></STYLE>
</HEAD>
<BODY style="COLOR: #000000; FONT-FAMILY: Arial"><LABEL id=HbSession
SessionId="22118887"></LABEL>
<FONT size=2><STRONG>A very old wisdom claims that one should never go
back. Not to a place, or to a person, or to a situation which has been cherished
in the past. Things may have changed so much! And if things have not changed
..the one seeking them has certainly undergone some
change.</STRONG></FONT>
<FONT size=2><STRONG>Going back to my hometown after nearly half a century
was such a mixed feelings experience! I remember the tremendous excitement
I felt in the bus, after a long, long ride, when we finally entered Czernowitz
and I recognized the Neuweltgasse, which the bus was slowly climbing up. This is
not a very steep street, but in the course of time it became in bad need of
repairs, and our modern bus had trouble avoiding the many
holes.</STRONG></FONT>
<FONT size=2><STRONG>The Tcheremosh hotel. A modern building, lots of
space, marble and glass.</STRONG></FONT>
<FONT size=2><STRONG>"There is no hot water!" I was warned by a
co-traveller. But what does it matter? I celebrated the reunion with the city in
which I was born, so why should a cold shower upset me?</STRONG></FONT>
<FONT size=2><STRONG>Next day...there was no water at all. Neither hot, nor
cold. But nothing could interfere with my elation of being
back.</STRONG></FONT>
<FONT size=2><STRONG>Until...my husband and I walked along the Herrengasse
and he said:</STRONG></FONT>
<FONT size=2><STRONG>"Let's step into a cafe, I feel like a cup of coffee
and a piece of cake!"</STRONG></FONT>
<FONT size=2><STRONG>We stepped into a cafe and ordered. The coffee was
miserable, but we've tasted this kind at other times in other places. The
"sweet" however was completely unedible. It tasted like flour mixed with water
and some vanilla. It was undescribably bad. After the first taste of it, we left
it standing.</STRONG></FONT>
<FONT size=2><STRONG>a young woman entered the Cafe, she seemed not older
than 16, or 17,maybe more, who could tell, she was so completely emaciated
and dressed in rags. She saw the two plates on our table and she fell upon them.
Like a hungry animal. She swallowed and swallowed while my husband and I
watched in complete horror.</STRONG></FONT>
<FONT size=2><STRONG>Is this the life people lead now in the city which I
had so loved?</STRONG></FONT>
<FONT size=2><STRONG>Disenchantment is too mild a word for what we felt
then...</STRONG></FONT>
<FONT size=2><STRONG>Lucca</STRONG></FONT>
<P></P></BODY></HTML>
</x-html>
Received on 2004-02-01 08:17:22
This archive was generated by hypermail 2.2.0 : 2005-05-08 15:24:13 PDT