GRACE & HISTORY

Notes from The Amber Trail: Journey Through Eastern Europe - Natascha Scott-Stokes:  Phoenix,  London, 1994.

The complete title seems to vary, with another version being: The Amber Trail: From sea to sea: Baltic to Aegean, by bicycle; and there are other titles too; but it this second one that defines the subject more clearly.  

The Amber Trail is a chatty travelogue that uses what is said to be the Viking amber trail as a pretence for a structure for the trip; apparently to give it some direction, meaning, and an assumed relevance. The journey loosely follows what might have been the route taken by the Viking traders - this is no clear or certain trek or track - and there seem to be many assumptions and sundry random detours that remain mysteries: one feels a little disappointed. The actual history of the route plays hardly any part in the piecemeal bicycle trip which is undertaken by Natascha and her partner.

The book is chatty and homely, somewhat naïve, and seems to be based on a simple pattern devised from travel guides in the ‘Bryson’ style without the ironic humour: cycle for the day complete with the usual 'hiccups' and arduous times; arrive somewhere; find place to stay; check out a few landmarks and record the hassles; move on and repeat.

The book would have been better with more rigour and varied invention, some real discovery rather than confirming travel guide ‘revelations’ that just reference the clichés in the places visited. One keeps hoping for some substance that relates to the amber trail – perhaps even some amber, or maybe a museum relic - but nothing appears. There is no evidence or any place that can be related to the core history of the route identified in the title; the whole rationale for the book seems to have been fabricated just to impress.

One is left disappointed that the publication is more a personal memoir than anything to do with its title. Still, one does read a few asides worth pondering. These relate to various places, paths, and items, observations made using the traveller’s eye and unpretentious language rather than the professional’s trained approach to places: here 'unacademic' words like ‘grace’ and 'spirit' are used. A few of these comments have been noted here.

Gdansk

Gdansk

p.31

old Gdansk . . . a pleasant mixture of grace and history.

Gdansk

Eastern European village

p.45

Maybe the reason for my unease was much simpler. It is possible that exposure to Western European culture and history through schooling, television, and travel created a subconscious familiarity and my plain ignorance of any Eastern European country inevitably made a first encounter feel like a meeting of strangers.

Eastern European village

Black sea shells

Black sea shells

p.48

Specifically shells from the Black Sea, which have been found in prehistoric sites as far north and west as Poland and Germany, and were probably used for tools and ornamental purposes. Just like anyone else, early societies liked to keep their traditional way of life and went to great lengths to get supplies of the things they wanted.

Black sea shells

Eastern European mountains and valleys

Eastern European mountains and valleys

p.48-49

The traditional paths between the Baltic and the southern cultures of the Black Sea, Adriatic and Aegean were established following river valleys and low mountain passes where travel on foot and with animals was easiest.

Eastern European mountains and valleys

Petrzalka

Petrzalka

p.82

. . the hideous suburb of Petrzalka (Czecho-Slovakia) . . .

Featureless housing blocks spread over a flat expanse of four square kilometres: box upon box in a huge nightmare of anonymity, where 160,000 people are crammed into their hutches, and it is no surprise to discover the estate has the highest suicide rate in the country.

Petrzalka

Austrian village

p.86

The perfection and efficiency of the Austrian villages was somehow unattractive, lacking in something which I can only call generosity of spirit.

Austrian village

Austrian village

Budapest

Budapest

p.14

Budapest . . . the whole city impresses with its dimensions, but somehow lacks grace.

Budapest

Novi Sad

Novi Sad fortress

p.134

Novi Sad . . . A huge fortress thrones on a promontory opposite the town, where attractively dilapidated streets present a faded nineteenth-century film set below its walls. The gas streetlamps still hanging on their cast- iron frames, but none work, and many of the crumbling houses are abandoned, their ancient window- panes hung with dusty spiders’ webs.

Novi Sad

Novi Sad

Natascha Scott-Stokes and her partner eventually do reach the Aegean by various means as well as the bicycles mentioned in some titles; then, almost as an anti-climax, seemingly wondering why they might be there, they pack up and go home - without any amber. Might it all have been to please the publisher who wanted another best seller?