Nondas sent me this interesting reproduction of a post-war (that is, World War I) card, showing the town of Thessaloniki from the air. He’s also fond of these other, modern views of his town from the air.

“American Soldiers marching down the Rue Royal, July 14th, 1918, in the parade celebrating the Independence Day of France. In the background is seen La Madeleine, formerly the temple of glory which Napoleon I built in honor of the ‘Grande Armée’.”  From a painting by Josephe-Félix Bouchor, official painter to the French armies, who both saw and painted World War I.

This card was a gift from Eddy at D’hier à aujourd’hui (From Yesterday to Today), who presents antique picture postcards of Paris along with modern images of the same scenes.

A clarification: Bastille Day (or, as the French call it, the 14th of July), is not exactly “the Independence Day of France”; it simply marks the start of the French Revolution, in 1789.  Granted, there are military parades during the day and fireworks at night, but nobody in France is having people over for a cookout or drinking a toast to the Revolution.  More’s the pity.

Here’s an interesting card that Sean found whilst boondoggling in Oxford to research his latest tome. “Built in 1898 as a hospital ship, Chauncy Maples needs a complete refit to serve the people around Lake Malawi who have no access to health services.”

It’s an interesting ship, and an interesting endeavor: the vessel was built in Glasgow, shipped to Africa in over 3,000 pieces, hauled upriver by barge and overland by tribesmen, reassembled over the course of two years, then launched on Lake Malawi.  In the last hundred years Chauncy Maples has served as a missionary school, hospital ship, refuge from Arab slave traders, World War I gunboat, and troop carrier.

Now owned by the Government of Malawi and having sat idle and in disrepair for over a decade, she is being refitted for use as a hospital ship once again, mostly through donations.  Malawi needs all the health care improvement it can get; Malawians have a high rate of malaria, dysentery, and AIDS, and the life expectancy is only 36 years.  Eleven people out of every hundred die before the age of five. Chauncy Maples will serve thousands of villagers living on Lake Malawi.

You can read more about the project at the Chauncy Maples website. (Once you’ve done that, check out Sean’s new project Charge of the Write Brigade, a blog dedicated to fiction writing.)

For this week’s sortie into Postcard Friendship Friday, let us consider this photograph of friends.  Two of them are clearly soldiers, and the notation “1918″ puts them at the end of World War I.  But whence?

I puzzled over the origin of this card for quite a while.  First there was some ambiguity as to the handwriting on the back — the only clue whatsoever on this real photo postcard.  Tig lieu, perhaps?  Researching several permutations finally yielded success after I decided that the word was “Jiglau”.

It turns out that “Jiglau” is a variation on the spelling of Iglau, which is the German name for Jihlava, a city in the Vysočina Region of what is now the Czech Republic.  Its predecessor, Czechoslovakia or the Czechoslovak Republic, was created on October 28, 1918.  Previously, it had been part of Austria-Hungary.

Let us assume that two of these young men are newly minted Czech soldiers, and that the three of them are posing to celebrate the end of hostilities and the birth of a nation.

Be sure to check out the other blogs celebrating Postcard Friendship Friday.

This Turkish card shows the cover image for the book Son Ülke (“The Last Country”).  It’s also a detail of the painting “The Tempest” by Giorgione, painted around 1508.  (According to the card, the title of the painting in Turkish is Fırtına, which is the Turkish word for “storm”; not a lot of synonyms in the Turkish language.)

Yasemin sent me this card from Ankara, writing (in Turkish): “This is my first time writing to someone who knows Turkish, I am excited.  I hope you like my card.”  I do like it, very much.

I also like the stamp, which shows Iğdır, a city in eastern Turkey.  On the right of the stamp, you can see the Ermeni Soykırım Anıtı (Armenian Genocide Monument), which is a memorial to non-combatant Turks killed by Armenians during World War I.  Off in the distance is Mount Ararat, alleged by some to be the final resting place of Noah’s Ark.

Postcard Friendship Friday once again brings us a card exchanged by postcard friends from long ago.  This card was sent to Kay Anthony on 7 October 1946 from Beason, Illinois, from her postcard pal Mrs. Logan Edwards.  Mrs. Edwards writes:

“This is a card I got in North Dakota as we traveled to the West Coast by train. We were gone right at five weeks and I will never forget the lovely scenery. We went as far north as Vancouver B.C. and as far south as San Diego, Cal. Our relatives out west showed us such as nice time.”

This is a Curteich “C. T. American Art” postcard, number 103046-N, and it’s a linen postcard, though the card stock is heavier than typical of these types of cards.  The serial number indicates that it’s a reprint of an original run, and records weren’t kept of those types of runs; I can tell, however, that the original run was made in 1925.

The history of the building itself shows that, the more things change, the more things stay the same.  In 1919, the North Dakota Legislature granted an appropriation of $200,000 (adjusted for inflation, that’s about $2.44 million) to construct a building as a memorial to those who fell during the Great War (that is, World War I).  Consequently, some committee sat around for several months trying to decide what sort of design they wanted and, time being money, they decided to hurry up and get the basement poured while they finally got around to telling the architect how it should look.  Construction of the basement alone wound up using most of the appropriation, and so an additional appropriation of $150,000 was requested — in other words, the building went over budget by about 75%.  But why should the government care?  Hey, it wasn’t their money.

This card was sent from “James” in Dawson, Pennsylvania to Great-Grandpa Phil on December 4, 1907, or 101 years ago today. On the front of the card, James asks, “Do you like to go too (sic) school? We have lots of fun at school.” On the back, he continues: “Halloo Philip. I am well. How are you the kids are all well. Good bye. James.”

The illustration on this card is signed by the artist, Bernhardt Wall. (Click for other artist signed cards.) According to Jerry Kosanovich and Paul Hageman at their Propaganda Postcards of the Great War website, “Wall, born in 1872, was a Connecticut Yankee. He wintered in La Porte, Texas, his wife’s family home, for many years. (He) was mainly an etcher who illustrated many books…. During the First World War (he) designed a large number of patriotic/comic postcards.”

I don’t know that we would refer to this as the Bishop’s Palace today; I believe that the correct term is the bishopric. Both buildings obviously bear the scars of German artillery taken by the town during the Battle of Verdun, which lasted almost the entire year of 1916.

Of course, anyone who has taken French lessons will probably recall Verdun as the home of the neighbor of le gentil garçon qui prononce bien.

In addition to the usual notices one would find on the back of a postcard in any language (that is, Post Card, This Side Reserved for the Address, This Side Reserved for Message), this one also says that Aucune inscription n’est admise du côte de la Vue — basically, you’re not allowed to write on the side with the picture. Through most of the first ten years of the 20th century, one was only allowed to write one’s message on the side with the picture, and ten years later the French won’t let us write on that side at all. Make up your minds!

You can find more French postcards (and others) at Cpaphil Vintage Postcards, whose webmaster (webmaîtresse?), Marie, was kind enough to send me a comment recently.

This is a memorial in my hometown which is inscribed with the names of all the local folks who have gone to war, including my stepfather. My mom found this card and sent it to me inside of a greeting card, though I guess she originally planned to just send the card itself through the mail. “Saw this card and remembered your visit and the monument with Joe’s name. Here’s one for your collection. Hope all are well. Oops! I wrote upside down!” That’s my mama.