October 6, 2025, Sarajevo- The vivacious young lady engaged all her patrons, in a charming yet suitably guarded way. She made us all feel welcomed and appreciated, but remained a bit of a mysterious presence. Her father, nearby in the kitchen, was watching all. Sebilj is a bit of Turkiye in Old Sarajevo. True, there are lots of bits of Turkiye in this city, but Kemal and Harina (not their real names) pack the house, with local regulars, day and night because of their Turkish welcome and the quality of their food.
I was very blessed to enjoy comforting split pea soup-not something I had associated with Turkiye before tonight, but it was golden, especially after a jarring day at Srebrenica. The shish was also well-seasoned and tender.
There is lots of resilience across Sarajevo. This evening, I focused on a swath of the Old City, the area that embraced Islam, the story goes, because the Ottoman Turks had a policy of not taxing those who converted to Islam. That story came from a man who has not embraced any organized religion, so who knows? I thought better than to ask any of the fervent Muslims I encountered here, as to such matters.
Here are some of this evening’s scenes.
Evening at the Edge of Old TownMinarets light the night. Harina lights our hearts.The Central Circle of Old TownBascarsija Mosque. Here worshipers were still very active, at 9 p.m.
Some streets were bustling; some were quiet. All were safe.
Old Town streets (above and below)A quiet alleyContrasting spiresA Mosque courtyard. The Imam only said “no worshipers!”. The empty courtyard was okay to photograph.
Old Sarajevo is filled with beauty-and that includes the lilting voice of the lady of the house, at Guesthouse Yildiz, as she offers her prayers in morning and afternoon. That includes the rug merchants, the shoppers haggling with the vendors, the children squealing with delight at their taste of ” Authentic Turkish Ice Cream”, and it includes people like Harina, who love what they do. Old Sarajevo was the perfect salve for the heart that was broken by what was shared in Srebrenica.
October 6, 2025, Sarajevo- Once again, I found myself looking at piles of children’s shoes, mounds of abandoned luggage, faces of frightened families being herded onto to trucks-instead of train cars, with the same promise of “a better life”. I looked into hundreds of pairs of eyes, of men of various ages; indeed, some of the “men” were only 14 or 15. Every last one of the more than 8,000 male human beings killed in July, 1995, in and around Srebrenica, Bosnia& Hercegovina was “guilty” of only one thing-being a Muslim in what their captors conceived to be a pure, Christian, Serbian nation of Yugoslavia.
The Srebrenica Memorial Center sits in what is styled the Republic of Srpska (Serp-ska), its existence and its mission protected by the overarching government of Bosnia i Hercegovina, under the Dayton Accords, which ended the war in Bosnia, in 1996. The Bosnian Serbs make no pretense of liking the message the Museum offers, but they abide its presence. In that sense, it is no different from, say, the Civil Rights Museum in Montgomery, AL or the Sand Creek Massacre National Monument, in southern Colorado. Those who view things only one way cannot easily accept even established fact, when it disrupts their world view.
Three of us were taken to this Museum, by a man named Adis. He is a veteran of the Bosnian War for Independence. He is also an accomplished de-mining technician, and has helped remove mines in over two dozen countries, since 1998. Adis is a Bosnian Muslim. He told us of the background of the horrors that nearly tore his country apart, in the years 1992-96. He told us, as did staff members at the Museum, of the unreliability of United Nations Peacekeepers, held back by the envoy of the U.N. to Yugoslavia and by their own commanders. These men told us what was the result of overemphasis on preserving the status quo. The Big Picture fell on top of the people who only wanted to live their lives in peace.
Here are some of the scenes presented us at the Museum, in Srebrenica itself and at the Memorial Cemetery, down the street from this powerful institution.
Srebrenica Memorial Center, Polocari, Bosnia i HercegovinaRijad Fejzic’s story
Riki was 18 when he died, probably alongside his father and most likely not when engaged in combat. He had no training, no weapon, only his faith and love for his family. Riki’s story is a recurring presence in the 26 rooms, in which the story of this conflict unfolds in the Memorial Center. His remains were only identified after the war had ended. His father’s have never been found. Riki was beaten to death.
Presentation at Memorial Center, Polocari
This man’s father was a Bosnian Army soldier. He himself has been a presenter at the Memorial Center, for almost fifteen years. He is showing the course of the attacks on Srebrenica, which had been deemed a protected zone of the United Nations. Bosnian Serb forces, aided by the Serbian regulars, decided to ignore the UN’s presence in the area, and marched on the town, on July 11, 1995. The UN’s troops, a Dutch battalion, were under-equipped and outnumbered. It could have been different, but those in control of the situation simply had other priorities.
A relative few of the abandoned shoes left by fleeing children, in July, 2011.A mother’s sorrowTaking a page from Nazi Germany, the Bosnian Serb and Serbian commanders overruled even the misgivings of their own rank and file soldiers, many of whom had known the Bosnian Muslims as neighbours- for decades.Some of the 8,000 men and boys killed in July, 2011.Survivors gathered at the site of a mass grave, in 1996.The city of Srebrenica is a shell of its old self, but its young people still hold it close.The city from a former healing spa, high above. The spires are those of two mosques.Peace Monument in the central square of Srebrenica.An estimate of the total number of Bosnian men and boys killed in July, 1995. Posted at Memorial Cemetery.Row upon row of Muslim graves, all from that fateful day in July, 1995.
No one should condemn the Serbian people for what happened, any more than one could condemn the German nation for the Nazi reign of terror or the average Southern white male for the horrors of slavery and Jim Crow, or the majority of Hutu farmers for the slaughter of the Tutsi, in Rwanda. Adis put it clearly: “Most people just want to live their lives in peace and provide for their families. It’s as true of the Serbs around us as it is of we Bosniaks.”
The lesson of Srebrenica, of Auschwitz-Birkenau, of Rwanda, of Cambodia, of the oppression of Indigenous peoples the world over, is that the people of any given community cannot just leave the affairs of a community, state/province or nation to the ambitious and those with an agenda. Each of us has a say in what goes on around us. This is one of the keys to peace-It starts within and radiates outward, lest it die on its own vine.
October 5, 2025, Sarajevo- The bus driver had a long face, as we all boarded his vehicle, in Split. I don’t think the man’s demeanour changed much, even after he had a sit-down meal at a nice roadside restaurant. The weather was equally gloomy, but I felt a comfort that transcended both the driver and the skies.
We went down the coastal highway, very close to tourist haven Dubrovnik, and then turned inland towards Mostar and Sarajevo. Here is a view of the Adriatic from Jesenice, the first major town south of Split.
View from cliffs near Omis, Dalmatia
At Brela, the wonders shifted to the mountains above the southern Dalmatian coast.
Limestone mountains above Brela, CroatiaHeading inland, near Ljubuski (Lee-oo-boo-skee)These lakes are near the well-known Kravica (Kra-VEET-sa) waterfall .
Passing through Mostar, a worthy stop in its own right (for me, maybe on a future Mediterranean visit), the weather was really getting nasty, but the mountains are always stunning.
Prenj Range (Pren-yeh), outside MostarNeretva River, near Donja Jablanica (Donya Yablanitsa), Hercegovina. It was near here that we stopped and the driver had his lunch. I opted to wait until Sarajevo. Below, are the rotating barbecue wheels at Lamb House.Old-style roasting spits, Lamb house, Donja Jablonica
About an hour later, we were in Sarajevo. I caught a taxi in short order, and that driver, from Libya, was determined to find Guesthouse Yildiz. He was very close, but it took asking around the immediate Old Town neighbourhood to get the exact spot. Now, he has another hard-to-find address on his phone.
I found a gem of a place, with a dear young couple from Turkiye, the owners. (Since we’re on a pronunciation binge- it’s Tur-kee-yuh). Here is how to spot Guesthouse Yildiz, on a short alley way off Old Town Sarajevo’s main road.
Guest House Yildiz, Old Town Sarajevo
Here is the junction of Yildiz’s street, with the main road through Old Town.
Intersection near Guesthouse Yildiz
I was in a comfortable place for the evening, and after a well-prepared dinner of Chicken Stir Fry and rice, settled in to get ready for tomorrow’s visit to Srebrenica.
October 4, 2025, Split, Croatia- Boris met me at the designated spot, which I found only by happenstance. This was another of those “We can’t help you because you have no Internet connection” catch-22s that Spectrum/Safari plays with abandon. (They are the ones denying Internet service, btw). I went to Pazar 1’s gate and waited just a bit-and there he was, telling me that I looked more like a Croatian local than he would have imagined. That felt good.
Pazar 1, Split
Our game plan was a full one: We walked through Pazar (the city market since Ottoman times, or longer.) The south and east areas of Diocletian’s Palace were next on the agenda. Diocletian was a native of this area, an Illyrian, born and raised in Salona, over the mountain, from what is now Split. He rose through the ranks of the Roman Army and became co-Emperor, at first along with Maximian in 286 AD/CE. This started the process of the Empire being divided into East and West. Diocletian built his palace at Spalatum, claiming the East for himself. Although he was an autocrat, Diocletian went along with Maximius’ plan to further divide the Empire, this time into four units, with Galerius and Constantius as junior co-Emperors. This arrangement actually helped the Romans defeat Persia, in 200, with the sacking of the Persian capital, Ctesiphon.
Diocletian carried out a bloody, but unsuccessful campaign to eradicate Christianity in the Empire. When the campaign failed, Diocletian retired from imperial duties, in 305. Co-Emperor Constantine, son of Constantius, recognized it as the official religion of the Roman Empire in 324. He lived out his days at this palace of Spalatum, now known as Split.
Pazar 1, east gate of Diocletian’s Palace and the Church of St,, Domnius
Domnius was sent, by the Apostle Paul to Dalmatia, the region that encompasses Croatia’s coast and the immediate interior, to preach the Gospel to the Illyrian people. Despite Diocletian’s imprisonment and execution of Domnius, in 304, Dalmatia became a steadfast Catholic region, under the encouragement of Constantine. Croatia is still a largely Roman Catholic country, as is neighbouring Slovenia.
Church of St. Domnius, SplitOriginal paving stones from the time of Diocletian
Here is a more complete view of the east and south areas of Diocletian’s Palace.
South courtyard of Diocletian’s Palace, Split
Diocletian’s Palace is the only place, outside ot Rome and Gizeh, that still has sphinxes (There are two here).
One of the two Sphinxes of Diocletian’s Palace, Split
We left this part of the palace, heading toward Marjan (marYAN) Hill. To get there, we had to pass through the “Street that can fit only one at a time”. Here I am, having gotten through it.
“The street that can fit only only at a time”.
The next photo shows the melange of architectural styles that can be found in Split’s oldest neighbourhood. These are Roman, Venetian,Ottoman, and Austrian.
Four styles of architecture, in one neighbourhoodThe place to be seen in the Split of the mid-Twentieth Century.A martyr for freedom from Fascism-and a Dalmatian
Vahida Magajlic was a Croatian Muslim, who fought the puppet regime that was installed by the Nazis in Croatia. She gave her life for the freedom of Croatia-and of all Yugoslavia.
We took many steps up Marjan Hill. (Mar YAN).View from first overlook, Marjan Hill
Boris enjoys coming up here, when he needs peace and quiet.
Boris at Marjan Hill’s Botanical GardenThe Adriatic, from atop Marjan Hill
Orofessor Humbert Girometta was the man who spearheaded both this park and the promotion of hiking and wilderness training in the Split area. He was a mentor of Boris’ mentor.
Memorial to Dr. Humbert Girometta, Marjan Hill, SplitThe Adriatic, from the third vantage point on Marjan Hill, SpliJewish Cemetery of Marjan Hill. Jews have been in Dalmatia since shortly after the destruction of the temple in Jerusalem, by the Romans.
We next had a delectable Croatian lunch, of beef in marinade, with a side of gnocchi and beet salad. Ice cream, dipped in chocolate, at Split’s oldest ice cream parlour, followed.
Next were the northern and western sides of Diocletian’s Palace
The exterior of the north side of Diocletian’s PalaceArchway, north side of Diocletian’s PalaceEntrance to North CourtyardAgain, three styles of architecture in one building.The grand north courtyard, Diocletian’s Palace
Here is the most astonishing view: The vestibule of Diocletian’s Palace, which once led to his living quarters.
Vestibule, Diocletian’s PalaceUnderneath the palace
We closed out this extraordinary day with a visit to Split’s Athletes’ Walk of Fame. Many of Croatia’s stellar athletes came from Split.
Toni Kukoc, “The Croatian Sensation” of NBA fameGoran Ivanesevic, a great tennis player
With a few more views of the Walk of Fame, I bid farewell to my friend, Boris and headed back towards Hotel Pax, and a restful night, before the next leg of the journey: Bosnia and Hercegovina. Split will long shine in my heart.
October 1, 2025, Zagreb- The two young men standing on the dark street corner were not at all menacing. Just two guys having come off work at a nearby nightclub. Seeing me trying to access a door code, they offered to call the building’s owner and find both the door code and the code for the key box that would get me into my room. (Start-ups like this in central Europe frequently have a building entry code and a key box. I found that out, too late, at the original venue in Vienna. Tonight was happily different.)
In the end, I had no luck finding a small memorial that was recommended to me by friends in Vienna. I have a Plan B to remedy that, next week. Vacating Radisson Red and getting to Vienna Hauptbanhof was not hard, though I had to book another train, as my quest for the memorial took longer than I thought it might. It was not hard to get on the second train, which was going through Budapest, instead of Graz. I had a nice seat, initially with one other person, a Hungarian man in his 40s. We exchanged views on a few matters of common import, before he was berated by a conductor for not having a proper ticket. At Gyor Station, a family of three and a woman in her 30s entered, and he exited, for Standage.
Fun part #2 took place at the station at which I planned to disembark. The conductor glanced quickly at my ticket and said that I should stay onboard, until the next station. Once we were underway again, something told him to look at my ticket again. To both of our chagrins, he had told me the wrong information! We got off at the second station, and he brought me to the Information Center. The lady in the info Center offered to put me on the same train, tomorrowevening. As that would have had a serious domino effect on my plans for visiting my friend in Split, Croatia and for the time I have scheduled to spend in Sarajevo and Srebrenica, Bosnia-Hercegovina, I asked her for information on getting to the International Bus Terminal. Budapest has an excellent tram system, so with the note in hand, I went to that terminal and got on a bus bound for Zagreb.
A few notes are in order: I have a Eurail Pass, good for a few more weeks, so the train snafus were minimal in cost. As for the Budapest train stations, there is Kelenfold, on the west side of town and Keleti, in the center. It was at Kelenfold, that my ticket said to switch to the Zagreb train. The conductor had me wait until Keleti. So, if you are ever taking a train and are going through Budapest, en route to somewhere south, mind the spelling of the station. Had I not already have made plans that were eight years in the making, it would have been a pleasure to spend a few days in Budapest. The lovely city will wait, until God knows when, but I am sure I will be back, at some point.
Here are a few scenes of my wanderings about Vienna.
Karlskirche, Karlsplatz, Vienna (above and below)Statue of Johannes Brahms, Karlsplatz, ViennaWien River, central Vienna
In the evening, once truly underway from Budapest, the sight of the mighty Danube came into view.
Danube River, at Budapest
There would not be a train trip, without an attempt at a sunset photo. Here is a mysterious glow to the west of south Budapest.
Sunset near Budapest
As the evening winds down, I am in a comfortable little apartment, having not been put off by the “work in progress” as I entered, downstairs. This sort of thing is meant for those who can excuse a bit of dust and debris, before getting to a fine bit of silver upstairs: Alora Heart of Zagreb.
September 30, 2025, Oswiecim, Poland– Today would have been Penny’s 71st birthday. Each year since I first met her, including the fourteen years since her passing, the day always brings a special event, either Baha’i teaching or a visit of significance.
Entrance to Auschwitz-Birkenau Museum
Today, I had the opportunity to visit the sites of one of the darkest chapters in human history. Auschwitz and Birkenau were concentration camps, separated by 3 kilometers, but under the same commander: The infamous Rudolf Hoss (not to be confused with Deputy Fuhrer Rudolf Hess), implemented the use of Zyklon B, a pesticide that became the nerve agent which alone killed a million people. Hoss was tried, convicted and executed in Poland, in 1947. (Rudolf Hess, as is well-known, flew to Scotland, believing he could convince Scottish “opponents” of the War to hasten British withdrawal from World War II. The Scots were not amused, Hess was imprisoned and then transferred to Germany’s Spandau Prison, in 1947. He was the sole remaining prisoner there, when he committed suicide, in 1987, at age 93.)
My late father-in-law was a Jewish-American, served as a soldier in the final months of World War II, during which he was captured during the tail-end of the Battle of the Bulge, and was held in the POW camp at Berga, in eastern Germany. I have been to Berga and seen the V-2 Rocket Factory’s remains. Pop was sent to work the salt mines. When he was rescued by a unit of American soldiers, in June, 1945, he was nearly skeletal.
That was the fate of many, if not most, of the survivors of Auschwitz and Birkenau, as well. They numbered about 6200, out of over 1,100,000 who had been held in at the Auschwitz Complex. Jews, who Hitler and his henchmen wanted above all to exterminate, were the preponderance of victims. Men between the ages of 17-60 were made to work, usually until they were broken, physically and mentally. They were then executed. Women, children, the elderly and the infirm, including the mentally ill, were summarily gassed to death.
Besides the Jews, Romany, Russians, Poles, Czechs, Freemasons and the occasional Afro-Germans, were also sent to concentration camps, and executed by poison gas. Auschwitz and Birkenau were the two largest facilities for such hideous practices. in time, even Christian critics of Hitler found themselves in the gas chambers. Birkenau, being the larger camp, had 30 gas chambers. Auschwitz, with four sectors, had ten. As the Soviet forces closed in on Auschwitz, the fleeing German Army forced most of the remaining prisoners west, on a Death March to Germany and Austria. Thus did many die on their feet, though not as many as were gassed.
Here are five scenes that are here to remind us that the Holocaust was no Hologram.
“Barracks” # 1, AuschwitzTorture House,, AuschwitzWomen and children victims, on their way to the gas chambers. (They had been told they were on their way to a glorious new life.)Discarded children’s shoes and a father’s suitcase, with his son’s name written on it.Hana Reiner would not let herself be forgotten. https://www.writeoutloud.net/public/blogentry.php?blogentryid=139212The Nazis themselves destroyed this barracks, rather than allow it to be preserved by the Soviets and Poles,for what it had been,
I thought back to the early morning, when I boarded a train in Krakow, bound for the city of Oswiecim, (the Polish name which was translated into German as Auschwitz). A mentally disabled man chose to sit across from me. He was an Italian, who had little vocabulary, in any language. He knew “English” and “Deutsch”, as well as a few words in Italian and Spanish. While he was annoying to the young man sitting by the window and the well-dressed Italian man who sat across the aisle, I let him show me the soccer games on his phone. At the end of the one-hour trip, he cheerfully said “Grazie!” and went on his way.
That gentle man would not have had a chance to ride the rails, in Hitler’s Germany. He’d have ended up in the pile of corpses found by the Russians, or in one of the piles of ashes that were dumped in the Vistula River or behind the Subcommandant’s House at Birkenau. He can ride the rails, as he pleases, in today’s Europe, not being harmed and harming no one,
Auschwitz-Birkenau, and all places like it, are needed reminders of exactly what levels of depravity can come from a deluded pursuit of false perfection.
September 27, 2025, Berlin- Today was a momentous day, for both me and for Berlin itself. After breakfast at St. Christopher’s, I headed over to Berlin TV Tower. From the observation deck, on the 21st floor, I had a panoramic view of about half of Brandenburg. The great city never should have been divided, but since it was, there are remnants of the Wall barely visible from this vantage point. Brandenburg Gate is also discernible, to say nothing of the prominent buildings, like Berlin Cathedral (I saw the exterior), St. Nikolai Kirke (also could only view outside) and the Bundestag (off-limits, for the reason I will mention in a bit).
Once down from the tower, I headed to Berlin’s oldest neighbourhood, Nikolai Platz. I spotted the original spelling of the name of some extended family members, attached to the name of a museum, in what is described as Berlin’s oldest standing house, built between 1759-1761. Knoblauchhaus, the creation of Johann Kristian Knoblauch, a merchant of hooks and sockets, and of his builder sons, Carl and Christian. The family business continued, and thrived, under Carl’s watchful eyes. He became friends with several other prominent Berliners, including the brothers Wilhelm and Alexander von Humboldt, whose surname graces the city’s prominent university.
View of Berlin TV Tower, from St. Christopher’s InnView of Old Berlin, from Observation Deck, Berlin TV TowerView of River Spree, from Observation Deck, Berlin TV Tower
I was able to spend time in Marienkerke(St. Mary’s Church), as the planned demonstrations had not begun to form.
Marienkirche (St, Mary’s Church), BerlinInterior of Marienkerke, Berlin (above and below)Statue of Martin Luther, near St. Mary’s ChurchRotes Rathaus (Berlin City Hall), about a block south of MarienkerkeSt. Nicholas’ Church, in Nikolaiplatz (Oldest Berlin neighbourhood). You can barely see the guard at the door to St. Nikolai’s. He was there to turn away visitors.
I could not enter St. Nikolaikerke. I was able to visit Museum Knoblauchhaus. I got a lot of insight into one of Berlin’s oldest families, who were merchants, builders and patrons of art and science. They knew the brothers Wilhelm and Alexander von Humboldt, for whom Berlin’s great university is named. (Carl Heinrich) Eduard Knoblauch was an eminent builder in Berlin, in the mid-19th Century, designing and initiating the building of Berlin Synagogue, along with dozens of family homes.
One of the branches of my extended family has a variation of the name, Knoblauch.
Museum Knoblauchaus (Oldest house still standing in Berlin)
I also could not enter the great cathedral, nor could I visit the greater portion of the Museum of German History, because of this: 50,000 people, give or take, were taking part in the largest protest march I have ever witnessed.
Berlin speaks out
The focus was on Gaza and the ongoing military operation there. Yes, I stayed on the sidelines and minded my business. Besides,the Berlin police were there, peacefully, in force. It remained a peaceful event, from all accounts, but I focused on making my way back to the hostel, after an insightful two hours at two special exhibits of the Museum of German History.
Berlin Cathedral, on River Spree
The first exhibit pondered the question, “What if things had turned out differently, in the decades leading up to and during, World War II? ” It presented the causes of the Fascist takeover, and the various events that occurred under Hitler, as well as the long aftermath, up to German reunification. It asked several questions: “Suppose someone other than von Hindenburg had led Germany after the Versailles Treaty was signed? ” “What if Hitler HAD been assassinated?” “What if Patton HAD gone all the way to Moscow?” “What if there had been no policy of Ostpolitik, in the 1970s and early ’80s?”
The second exhibit showed various aspects of the Nazi occupation in Europe, with a particular focus on Poland, the former Czechoslovakia and France. There was no sugar-coating of what was done, so this exhibit made for a tough, but well-crated, prelude to my coming visit to Auschwitz-Birkenau.
Back at St.Christopher’s, there was little talk of the march downtown. The focus was all on soccer and rugby finals. I enclosed myself in my own world, and focused on this blog-and on my e-mails. Those were enough, after a momentous day.
September 24, 2025, Copenhagen- Kongen Have, the King’s Garden, was the third place where I experienced quiet today. It was certainly filled with people, but it was day’s end. People were quietly jogging, sitting on a blanket enjoying a picnic supper or closer to Rosenberg Palace, walking among the flowers for which the edifice is named.
Roses, near Rosenberg PalaceRosenberg Palace-It was closed by the time I got here, but the grounds were well worth the walkabout. So, too, was the main section of this salubrious public space.Foreground of King’s GardenFashioned boulders, arranged in a triangleThe garden runs the gamut, from wild….to the sculpted and curated.
All was calm and bright, even in the gloaming.
Rosenberg Palace, across the moat. Ariel was a bit off my path, but she would feel right at home here, especially in the moat!
The mandarin ducks were certainly delighted!
With that came the realization that my Copenhagen visit is coming to a close. An all-too-brief visit to the “foodie city” of Aarhus is next, and a visit to Berlin will give me a sense of another of the world’s great cities. I am sure there will be some special moments in each. Stay tuned!
September 24, 2025, Copenhagen– The amazing thing about today was the three instances of almost total quiet that enveloped a place where I happened to be, even though there were large numbers of people about.
First was Kastellet, a one-time regal fortress that was totally given over to the Danish military, following World War II. It had been fortified after a Swedish siege of Copenhagen, in the Seventeenth Century, but proved an effective deterrent against the British, in 1704. Today, I was impressed with the intensity of Danish troops engaged in individual and group training. Kastellet’s archives detail the various occasions in which Denmark has contributed to peacekeeping activities, since World War Ii. The nation is a vital part of NATO, and of United Nations peacekeeping efforts. It behooves other nations to keep this in mind.
Moat at Kastellet, CopenhagenAnother visitor from North America-a Great Blue Heron!Another view of the moat and ramparts, KastelletA view of the wallCommander’s HouseBarracks, KastelletCitadel ChurchDutch-style windmill-replaced an earlier mill that was destroyed in a storm.
After leaving Kastellet, I had only to walk a short distance before noticing a large dome. This turned out to be Frederiks Kirke, and it is the largest domed church in Scandinavia. Once inside, all are to maintain silence-and we all did. Soft, soothing music was the only sound. No loudly-clicking cameras or flash photography are permitted inside, either.About seventy of us were inside, and quiet.
Frederiks Kirke
After spending about twenty minutes in the great church, I went across the street to the large complex of palaces, which punctuate Frederikssgade. Below are the palaces, in a clockwise direction.
Amalianborg, on the left, with Christian VIII’s palace to the right.Frederik VIII’s PalaceChristian IX’s palace
I left the quiet atmosphere of the royal courtyard, and went back to the bustle of Old Town, via the Yellow Palace, which now houses many offices of the Danish government.
Yellow Palace, Copenhagen
It was time to get a bit of supper, and reflect. Ironically, both would take me the third place of solitude- Kongen Have (King’s Garden) More on this bit of heaven, in the next post.
September 24, 2025, Copenhagen- Today started out as a minor shopping day: I had to replace lost sunglasses and a knot cap, as well as worn-out socks. So, a visit to Magasin du Nord, a major department store of Indre By (downtown) was the first order of business. MDN is a throwback to the great department stores of old. Department stores still mean something on this side of the Atlantic.
In the afternoon, I set out on another random stroll, heading west on Adelgade, towards a church that beckoned towards the midst of that street’s span. St. Petri Kirke’s conical spire calls out to the party animals at Generator. Being one to roam off the beaten path, I walked its way.
St.Petri Kirke, Frederiksstaden, Copenhagen
A block or so later, I came to Sankt Pauls Gade, the Nyboder district, built by King Christian IV for naval personnel and now preserved as a national treasure.
Nyboder, Sankt Pauls Gade (above and below)
It was another three blocks towards Osterport that I came upon a Swedish Church, close to the waterfront, and bordering a small marsh. Here is a view of Svenske Kirkes Julebasar.
Svenske Kirkes Julebasar (above and below)Senske Kirkes Julebasar
The small marsh became a stream, which became a moat. The afternoon was about to show the majesty of Frederiksstaden, as Osterport swung towards the International Ferry Terminal.
Small marsh and pond, near Svenke Kirkes Julebasar
I am taking my time with this, so next up will feature Kastellet, Frederiks Kirke and Amalienborg, with Part III focused on Kongen Have (King’s Garden) and the exterior of Rosenberg Palace.
A Sagittarian Seeker 