Na zdrowie!

Well speak of the...

2009-02-26T18:14:00.001-06:00

http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=100699944

Good job, NPR.
I wonder if this will make the Division St. Bath House any more crowded...

Pączki tally = 6

2009-02-25T20:31:00.002-06:00

It's taken a couple not so gentle reminders from Annie for me to get on the ball and post before the end of February. As always, I find it difficult to even begin to catch up. Let's just say that my one February goal –to learn all of the words to House of Pain's "Jump Around"– has not yet been accomplished. The clock is ticking, yo...

Also, from the view where I am now I can see all the way to summer, and even though the valley of June-August is shrouded in mist, I think I see myself staying in Chicago. The situation, however, comes with the anti-Obamist (Obamanian?) "preconditions." I can't stay at my job that long/forever. If I can find a marginally interesting internship and go part-time, then I will gladly cat-sit for Fave Bro and Fam at DreamHome. Ideas thus far: 826CHI, the 2016 Olympics campaign for Chicago, SAIC summer school, something Spanish related... The hope is that come next fall, I will have a destination in Europe awaiting me. Otherwise, hello again, St. Peter, and then I don't know what.

Chicago is pretty rad. Here are some things that I love (in random order): 826CHI workshops, morning swims with Saratonin, Ukrainian Village, Eastern European accents, cupcake stores, running club, and the Russian Bathhouse. This last items refers to one of the best things to ever happen to humanity. I have been twice now, with Annie and Annie + others. Both times have coincidentally coincided with holidays - New Year's and Valentine's Day. What goes on in the steam room must be seen to be believed. Any and all descriptions of barely clad men, beatings by foliage, funny little wool caps, scrubs, soaps, soaks, and gender dynamics will fall short of the magnificence it all deserves.

This video clip makes it look a heckuva lot less awkward than it actually is. Turns out it's not traditionally a girly place. Good thing Annie and I love awkward situations and are not made uncomfortable by inordinate amounts of male butt crack. Also, the hot to cold pool was great practice for our New Year's Day plunge (pictured below).

Other news:

Congrats Fave Bro on Lil' Mason! Although Amy deserves more credit. I hear he has an expressive forehead.

Lydia recently came to visit. That was totally fun, discovering new places in the city and tak się spotkać (znowu) fajnimi ludzmi.

This year I rocked rocked rocked Tłusty Czwartek AND Pączki Sunday AND Fat Tuesday. God Bless America.

Chiditarod = March 7th. Do we have a team yet...?

On March 8 DreamHome#1 will host our First Annual Sauerkraut Contest. Annie, you sure make bitchin birthday plans.

Oh yeah, we have a new president wOOt

Turns out I can't speak Polish in social situations.

Here's to hoping I can make it back here a tad more regularly.

no. explanation.

2009-01-01T20:19:00.001-06:00

Happy New Year!

Success!

2008-12-07T21:56:00.005-06:00

Ahh Sunday once again.

I spent last night and a very lazy today day with Annie while she is house/dog/cousin-sitting in a northern Chicago suburb. While I missed DreamHome, it was nice to be in a real, lived in home. But the real reason I am writing is to post an update on the baking project. Friday night, thanks to the wisdom of Teany, I made vegan petit fours. Yum. And easy. Yesterday, Annie and I took a baking break to eat some of the past project and still some Thanksgiving leftovers. We did bake our own pizzas from scratch, however. That could count, right? This morning, to cap off our anniversary of the Klobouky Mikulašska jarmek, Annie whipped up a batch of pani dough. Fueled by slivovice, naturally, we braided, rolled, and baked some nice little angels, mermaids, devils, birds, and other strange yet vaguely traditional shapes. Happy Saint Nicholas Day!!

So this is going to take discipline, kids

2008-12-04T22:17:00.002-06:00

December.
Deemed the month of Baking One Cookie Recipe Per Day.

So far Annie is kicking my butt.

Background: A while ago, anticipating the baking of Czech gingerbread, I came up with the idea that was voiced something like, "Hey, wouldn't it be awesome if every day in December we baked a different cookie recipe??" Annie was all about the idea, but as for me... when push came to shove and the calendar page turned, I rather lost the momentum. Annie is living for a few weeks in the northern suburbs, therefore her enthusiasm for this idea hasn't been translated well through the distance. December 1, she sent me a text message saying "Happy Cookie Month", and when we met the other night, she made me renew my promise. (I should mention, though, that she has the help of a younger and overall impressionable to the whims of her cool older cousin relative. For the record, I too think Annie is the coolest cousin ever. BCEFL, even.)

OK. It's now the 4th, and I have a half-failed batch of Mexican Icebox Cookies half baked and half still in the icebox and some cooling cups of custard in the fridge. "Custard?" you may be asking. Yes, Custard. I was wrested from the reverie of my bank coffee break by a nearly year-old copy of Good Housekeeping. Given my ever-growing reverence for Better Homes & Gardens, I thought I'd find something worthwhile while flipping though the glossy pages. And voilá, custard still counts as a sweet, goshdarnit, and if I am forced to make something sweet, it should at least fit into my evening's dessert plans.

One moment while I try to flip over the cup and give my creation a taste.
(In the meantime, take a look at what I hope to have achieved.)

Loosen the edges with a small spatula - check.
Flip on to plate, and let sit so the caramel can drip onto custard - check.
And now try to soak up soppy mess with a spoon - hmmmm....

I have a jiggly custard and no caramel. Maybe it didn't bake long enough. Maybe the sugar didn't thicken enough. Maybe it was the rum I thought would be a good idea to add to the caramel. Whatever. Maybe December will just be the month of my failed desserts.

Bon apetite.

Sunday is becoming my favoritest day

2008-11-30T21:28:00.005-06:00

How did November just slip away? I'm glad to get one more post in here, so it looks like I'm not totally ignoring my blog. I know how I keep saying that I should update about all the less obvious things and changes happening in my life, but I'm not sure what keeps me from it. A full time job may have something to do with it, but that's mostly just an excuse. Home alone on a Sunday night is the perfect opportunity to catch up with my thoughts.

This last weekend in November coincided with Thanksgiving this year. I had a lovely time for at least three reasons: the bank gave me a freaking 20 lb. turkey, my kitchen successfully brined and cooked that bird and many other Thanksgiving staples, and my family was all under one roof for the first time in months. That last point felt nice. Of course there were the expected stresses, but having my own place provided a nice escape. Whenever people come to visit me, I often feel responsible for showing them fun things and places to go, so the fact that parents and brother had a good time is contributing to my contentment. Oh, and also, my brother and I again fulfilled our tradition of going on an adventure for Polish food when he comes to visit me for Thanksgiving. 2003 was a little deli in Greenpoint, Brooklyn. This year was an all-you-can eat buffet on Milwaukee Ave, the "Red Apple" or "Czerwone Jabluszko" Restaurant. (The cooks from that restaurant came to do the pierogi demonstration that I went to a few weeks ago at the Polish Museum of Chicago. Seriously, best pierogi in my life. No joke.)

*I just need to mention -by way of praising my culinary mastery- that this Thanksgiving meal was brought to you by Cafe Brenda, Alton Brown, Better Homes & Gardens, the Polish deli on Cicero Ave, Stanley's Produce Market, and my parents for providing supplemental cookware and cutlery. Julius Meinl stepped in with a fabulous Black Friday brunch, Vienna style. Oh for cafe melange.*

Another thing that has been on my mind is that of my body. I'm sure I have mentioned how living with Annie is like a crash course in physical self-awareness, but I've become aware (or at least more aware) of some new sensations lately. First off, I have been physical in different ways than I am used to. It began with my women's running group. I go once a week to run along the lake shore trail. Now, after training last winter for the Warsaw Halfmarathon, distance running through the cold is nothing I haven't done before, but running here has given me knee pain. It began with my worn out Asics, but I also have IT band and tight quad issues. And I'm only running about 5 miles once a week. What's the deal with that? And biking. I'm doing a lot of biking. The simple act of commuting puts about 10 miles to my legs each day. I'm sure the biking is what has increased my stamina for running -- I can easily do 6 miles now!-- but I'm sure it is also what's making my shoulders and lower back constantly sore. If I get a decent Christmas bonus from the bank, it's going towards a nice massage. Maybe I'll have some cash leftover for a session at the Russian baths, complete with a beating of oak branches. (Subsequently I have invested in -and brought back from the depths of my closet for use, finally- some nice pieces of clothes for winter training.) And today being Sunday, I took advantage of the free yoga class at a studio in my neighborhood. After one simple session, I can be sore for days after, but it is one of those good sore, happy sore feelings. Yoga is one of those things that can blend pleasure and pain so wonderfully to make my body feel balanced. And though all this, I have been on a trial of birth control for to try and ameliorate a rogue ovary. I've actually enjoyed the regularity of my cycle, and I have been experienced significantly less of the associated pain. Shall I continue with the abnormal hormonal levels? And should I have shared all this here? Hmmm...

One final thing that nearly ruined my near perfect holiday weekend: the "Sex and the City" movie. Worst thing ever. Gimme "The Dark Knight" for three bucks at the Logan Theater any day over an excruciating Netflix pick. Next up on the queue, an Argentine flick about the war for the Falklands/Malvinas. Next week should be a good one.

Thanks for making through these digressions.

Memory Lane, all covered in snow

2008-11-20T22:25:00.004-06:00

Of course now I am all wrapped up in the business of looking at old pictures. Here is a look at how much snow there was on the ground already on this day in Kraków. And in Chicago, nothing more that a few minute-long flurries.

*sigh*

I'm trying

2008-11-20T21:59:00.004-06:00

No way.
I can't let November pass by without a single post. I just spent the last couple minutes looking over the writings of one year ago and thinking about what has happened in the space of one year. Even since I've been in Chicago, there is so much I could be writing about, but the time just slips away. I think it's that things are moving too fast for any time for reflection. My body moves faster than my brain, I guess. C'mon! there's my decent performance at the apple pie baking contest, my two jobs (teller at a bank and, although less and less frequently, "fitness specialist" for seniors), my running club, my French club, MY BIRTHDAY!, Chic-A-Go-Go, stress over a CO-emitting furnace, lots of Annie dancing, a saucy piece of performance art, and a six-hour production of "The Great Gatsby."

But speaking of the bank job, even if it is the kind of job where people tell you when you are allowed to go get a cup of coffee and where you have to wear a uniform, I think it will improve my Polish and at least keep my Spanish from rusting away unused. I got my little rubber stamp bearing my initials, so I am pretty much as official as an employee of Community Savings Bank can get. Clearly, I understand the benefit of a stable job in a time of economic volatility that provides health care, a free 20 lb. turkey next Tuesday and a Christmas bonus can't be all that bad. I just hope it will not resemble a career in any way.

I plan on writing more now that the love haze of a new routine is beginning to lift from my vision. Maybe it's just the freezing temperatures making me want to stay indoors and enjoy computers + Netflix.

See you soon, I promise.

Dream a Little Dream...

2008-10-20T21:25:00.003-05:00

Here is something weird that has been happening ever since I moved into my new apartment: I am remembering my dreams. I have always been the odd one out when any conversation turned to dreams because after about the age of 8 I was never able to remember the deep sleep musings of my REM cycles. However, for some reason, barely a week goes by when I don't have some crazy, split-second long flashes from my subconscious. Strange changes. Oh, and just as a side note, Annie and I affectionately called our apartment -before I knew what would transpire in the midnight hours- "DreamHome#1". Fitting.

Another thing that hasn't happened to me since I was I'm sure past the toddler age was waking up in the middle of the night out of hunger. That, too, happened to me last week. Turns out it was the beginning of a week-long stomach sickness. Luckily, my mom came down to Chicago to celebrate her annual flee from the Education MN conference (and to have fun for her birthday). There's no better time to be sick than when your mom is around. She brought me soup, made me cream of wheat and hot water bottles, did my errands, and was okay with skipping the Institute of Art in favor of sleep.

By Saturday night, I thankfully still had the stomach for my first, epic entry into the world of... competitive baking! That's right, I entered an apple pie baking contest. As if I were a 4-H -er! For some reason I really wanted to give it a go and to get some outside validation on my growing gourmand ego. Turns out my first ever entirely from scratch pie was a semifinalist! Out of 75 entries, ours made it in the top third! Of course, I wouldn't have even thought twice about entering if not for the fact that Minnesota Mama was here (her, and the other women of my family present in my kitchen through all the stories my mom was telling as she rolled out our secret recipe pie crust).

Just because it was a hoot, here is the website for the pie contest. Why was this contest so awesome –besides getting a free mug, a Home Depot gift card, and aggravating my stomach with more pie than was good for it...? Their slogan: "Pies You Can Believe In."

catholic = universal = multilingual at the very least

2008-10-07T22:07:00.003-05:00

There is a Catholic church about two blocks away from my Chicago apartment. It is known as Holy Innocents Church OR Parafia świętych Mąodzianków OR Parroquia Santos Inocentes. Yes, this church serves the three communities that live in the neighborhood - the Polish, the Hispanic, and the English. In other words, it's perfect for me. :)

I went to a mass the other week (which happened to be in Polish, and while it's not a church that will take your breath away like some grand cathedral, but it has it's charms. Like for example the two side altars at about the halfway point of the church. On the left as you face the altar is the obligatory tribute to the Holy Queen Mother of Poland, Matka Boska Częstochowska. <----- She is done in a mosaic of golden tiles and resplendent in all her jewels. It is a rich but subdued statement of devotion. Who does Matka Boska stare at from across the nave? None other than Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe! Yesssss, there she is. In duplicate, maybe even triplicate. Surrounded by 3-d tissue paper flowers of many colors. And other photos whose significance is lost to me. By comparison to her European altar, this one might seem a bit cluttered, but the point is the eclecticism and the vibrancy. This is a Mary with spunk! Contrast #1 in my perceptions of the two cultures that this parish serves.

Contrast #2 came from the church's 103rd anniversary celebration mass, which involved songs and readings in all three languages. I was already intrigued. (Plus, there were going to be refreshments afterwards. I was in.) In 103 years, this was going to be the first service in which all three languages were going to appear in the same Mass. There was a small paper program outlining the order and which readings or responsorials were to be sung in each language. For example, the first reading was read from the lectern in Spanish, but the program had the text in Polish and English.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. I'd like to back up to the beginning of the Mass. After the opening song, the next two parts of the Ordinary are also sung: the Kyrie and the Gloria. The Kyrie was in Polish. The text is as follows: Kyrie elesion / Christe elesion / Kyrie eleison, or Panie zmiłuj się nad nami / Chryste zmiłuj się nad nami / Panie zmiłuj się nad nami, or Lord have mercy / Christ have mercy / Lord have mercy. To me, the Kyrie seems like an acknowledgment of something done wrong, a plea for atonement. It is very solemn, and the way it was sung by one soprano voice invoked the modality of Gregorian chant. And the subtext under the Greek text points to the exotic and conflicted Baltic region and the weight of history on Baltic and Slavic shoulders.

Next up, the Gloria. Here is where I burst into laughter in God's house. The Gloria is a song of praise and thanksgiving. Its text is much longer and more complicated. It verbosely talks about the Father and the Son with metaphors and allusions to Scripture. So what better musical setting for this upbeat text than a Mariachi band?? That's what Holy Innocents thought. Keeping in line with its Latin roots, the lines were sung in Spanish accompanied by guitar, keyboard, tambourine (yes, tambourine) and a host of voices declaring, "Gloria, Gloria, cantamos al Señor," and other joyful, joyful strains.

Maybe it's just me and my experiences in a Slavic and a Hispanic culture, but the way I felt when these two peoples stood face to face, I couldn't help but deem their musical interpretations and choices as extensions of their cultures and their respective worldviews. No doubt about it, the whole experience was so cool! I'm not sure if other parishioners felt the same, but then again, I'm not sure if any others have had the chance to see spirituality from both (or all three) sides. The bottom line is exactly the motto of the church, as echoed in the words of the pastor's homily, the church is a house of prayer (dom modlitwy, una casa de adoración) for all people (dla wszystkich ludzi, para todas las gentes)...

Roller coaster, wah ooh ooh ooh, roller coaster, of loooooove (a.k.a. My roller coaster of an Indian Summer)

2008-10-04T14:17:00.001-05:00

Yet again I am face to face with that seemingly eternal problem of where to begin… Ever since leaving tennis camp in August, I’ve been burning the candle at both ends – and from the middle too. First, there was Vladimir’s visit, which lasted a good three weeks. We went together though Minnesota, Iowa, Illinois, Washington, D.C., and New York. I came back on a rainy Friday afternoon to my cheery, amazing Technicolor apartment and have happily stayed put since. Relatively speaking. My new task is to find that elusive beast called “job security.” In case I need any more evidence that the old adage “It’s not what you know – it’s WHO you know” holds true, I need to look no further than my dream house teammate, Annie. Annie works at a fitness center for senior citizens, and recently she told me that her supervisor had asked them to recruit possible new employees. And while I am typing this post sitting at Annie’s very own fitness center, I am still only less than part-time. A substitute. I do have a rather busy October, but now come the first time in my life where I really have to consider how to make ends meet (and how to justify my membership to Netflix and a pair of new running shoes…). The holiday season might be interesting since I did agree to work at an outdoor Christmas market for a Polish home goods store. At the very least I can practice my Polish with the shop owner and hopefully earn a tidy sum in an environment that I can only hope resembles the Rynek Krakowski.

Now when I sat down, I thought I would have oh so much to write about: our fabulous apartment and neighborhood, how much I love biking in Chicago, how my bike got stolen, how I found a new bike, adventures in domesticity (how I actually like cleaning and cooking!), being in Obamaland during election season, the orchestra I want to try out for, the books I’m now reading, my upcoming Fulbright deadline, the joys of paying bills, the hassle of banks, my fabulous running finds……. but it’s so hard to take the time out from living my life to write about it. Maybe that’s been my problem with feeling overwhelmed. The other day, when I simply did not want to get out of bed –and, in fact, I spent plenty of the day there– Annie did say to me that she thought I needed to write. Yes, I do. I have a good WDN article in me. I think I have some other things in me as well. Perhaps with the time and the office-like space we have at home, I’ll finally be able to get something down in the way of writing once again. Aside from the notable downs, there have been a lot of ups in getting to know not only the city but, after traveling around the world, I’m finally getting to know myself.

CHICAGO

2008-09-16T22:01:00.002-05:00

Dear Friends and Others,

I am still alive. I realize I have not been around in the blogosphere for a few months, but come Friday, when I will get incredibly expensive broadband internet installed in my new Chicago apartment, things will change. Fear not for plenty of exciting things have been happening in the Sarosphere, so stay tuned. :)

Pozdrawiam,
Sarah

Go Gdańsk!

2008-07-27T21:07:00.005-05:00

What lovely timing, just when I am really missing Poland and Europe, that this article came out in the NY Times travel section. It really paints a positive picture of Gdansk and Sopot. What is even more impressive is that the Times readers who voted where this correspondent should travel overwhelmingly chose Gdansk over Copenhagen and Hamburg. Plus, the writer gives props to the Solidarity museum - definitely one of my highlights.

I am so happy that I made it to this beautiful city. It was definitely one of my favorite weeks of the entire year; the Trójmiasto, coupled with the journey to my family's villages, northern Poland is fantastic. Take me back...

WDN article

2008-07-21T16:35:00.005-05:00

Here is the pre-publication version of my latest Winona Daily News article. (It certainly been a while since I have written one of these...) It felt good to get it down. I think finally that I am feeling better about being here/being back home.

What’s in a name?

We tend to think about foreign travel in terms of what we can gain: experience, photographs, souvenirs, new ideas, new friends, and a broader perspective. But what if we shifted our focus to think about everything we could stand to lose as a result of travel? Some answers are obvious. Keys, money, and passports stand among the most common. You can easily lose your way in an unfamiliar place. Meaning gets lost in translation – just think of reading the English on a menu in a foreign locale. You might lose your stomach if you are my mother on an airplane. (Sorry, Mom.) But one of travel’s prime benefits is that it can strip us of some of our stereotypes, our prejudices, and even our fears.

Now that I am returned from my year in Poland, I can thankfully say that I have gained everything from that first category and lost little among the materials from the second group. However, I might end up losing something more personal, something that is literally who I am. Thanks to living abroad, I might lose my “witz.”

I don’t mean that a year in Poland permanently damaged my hold on sanity, although certain moments during a dark winter brought me close to the brink. I am referring specifically to my last name. W-I-T-Z is not an ending common among the Polish nation; rather, it should end in W-I-C-Z (pronounced “vitch”).

In May, I took a solo trip up to Kashubia and to my ancestral villages in northern Poland. I gazed at the pages of an old church register over a century old. Sure enough, the children among my antecedents who were born, baptized, married, and buried all bore the surname “Merchlewicz.” CZ at the end.

Wondering if the change took place as one of those countless Ellis Island-type mistakes of orthography, I reported my find to my grandfather, the oldest living family member of the line, who replied, “Oh, no, it got changed when I was about seven or eight years old.”

That fact indicates that I am only two generations away from the way my last name, my very inherent identity, had been known for who knows how many generations before that.

The question now is whether or not I should do away with the American “invention” that hangs at the end of my signature and go back to my roots or to leave it and embrace the inevitability that both time and people change. Preparing for such a long period of time away from the United States, I anticipated having one big, life-changing experience. I didn’t expect, however, that my stay would have an effect on how I might introduce myself to other people.

The way the world sees you is an important factor on how you view yourself. As anyone who works with kids will know, if children grow up hearing enough comments about how they are “bad”, “stupid”, or “untalented”, then they will eventually begin to believe them regardless of their unlimited potential. We can think of ourselves as being a certain person, but, thinking exclusively of names, we are only what the world calls us.

In this quest for authenticity and who I have become after visiting the so-called motherland, I frequently think about the name of my forefathers as it relates to my identity.

There is one aspect to a name change back to the way it was that could bring an undesired association: the altercation in English pronunciation would render me as Sarah Merchlewitch, and that, I think, might actually drive me crazy.

Give Me A 'T'

2008-07-09T10:51:00.002-05:00

My right forearm is so sore. I am nearly two full days into my fourth summer as a tennis instructor at Gustavus Adolphus College's Tennis and Life Camps. (Some of my muscles are having a rude awakening to that reality...) Based on the fact that I missed over half of one summer from being in Argentina and part of this summer from being in Poland, I don't feel like a full-fledged veteran. Don't get me wrong - I love being here, and I especially love seeing all of the people who make it worth coming back for, but there is the definite disadvantage of not feeling as close with the staff as I could be. And as much as I always forward to coming back to St. Peter, I feel different this time around. I am a different person, I can tell, even if I can't concretely put my finger on it.

There is the most comfort in the familiar faces of my friends and colleagues, but one thing that surprised me was how comforted I feel when I recognize a camper from previous years. I have also felt surprised at both how natural and how spotty at the same time my teaching is. Of course that comes from not going through the beginning-of-the-summer training camp here or from not playing much tennis in Kraków. One of my friends here put it, "Don't worry - it's just like falling off a bike." Hmmm... Thanks, I think, for the encouragement.

Why do I like to come back, even if it's not the most comfortable of options for my current interests or schedule? This is an emotional place. This is a highly social and energetic place. Yes, those reasons are both true. But something that seals the deal is how beautiful the sky can be at sunset and twilight. The plains of Western Minnesota give way to an expansive sunset with its wide display of colors and light. The air smells good and clean. I think this is a healthy place in terms of my physicality and for my spirit. Except now I've got to get back outside to teach and catch up on my fabulous tennis tan...

Well...

2008-06-27T22:37:00.002-05:00

The following was written 25 June 2008, en route to Chicago:

New York disappointed me. First of all, not only had Kelly already moved to San Francisco after I had agreed to stop in NYC specifically to see her and Meg, but the city also turned out to be too much for me, too many people, too noisy, too much space. It was of course all familiar, but being there felt in no way like the homecoming I was expecting.

New York still holds it's special beauty for me: the view of the evening sky from the fire escape on Meg's top-floor apartment, Central Park and the smell of the flowers, the jagged and characteristically crowded skyline. But, however, most strongly I met with the city's difficult aspects, which were accentuated by my year's absence - the noisy ans smelly subways, the way things are sooooo far apart from each other, and how people have to try so darn hard just to make it. Most people work like dogs, and the fashion there, if not downright cutthroat with specific uniforms of cool, is still an extremely competitive sport.

I always thought that Kraków was too small and time capsule-y for me. but I already miss it for its familiarity and charms. When I had the day to myself yesterday, the first place I headed was Greenpoint, Brooklyn so that I might be surrounded by New York's Polish immigrant community. I followed the streets where some of the shops signs were written in Polish --Gabinet Kosmetyczny, Adwokat, Solarium, and the St. Stanislaus Kostka church-- and I strained to listen in on people's conversation to try and catch some sounds I might recognize. Sure, there were Polish placards on every corner deli, but (and maybe because I was out in the middle of a workday Tuesday) the result of my excursion was not what I was looking for. When my brother, Peter, and I went for lunch at a Polish restaurant in the neighborhood a few years ago, I seem to remember a more visible and vibrant presence of the culture. Yesterday, the most permeating signs of the people I was seeking were the empty Żywiec and Tyskie bottles filling the bins on the sidewalks set out for recycling day. (Even so, I could walk out of the Beford Ave station and barely walk across one street to buy a bottle of żubrówka from the proprietor of a liquor store in Polish... That was fun.)

...........

I don't know where I feel at home anymore. I feel like at any moment I might break into tears (ok, maybe only because I am physically and emotionally exhausted) because I miss what I don't have. One of those things is a desire to return to Minnesota. I don't know what the next step will be, and even worse is that I don't know what I want it to be. I know New York, and I blend in there. A tourist couple stopped me at the foot of the Brooklyn Bridge to ask me directions to the nearest A train despite the fact that I actually had no idea and was looking myself! But then I remember how on my first solo orientating walk of Kraków I was stopped by a girl for directions or something of which I am not even sure because I could only speak 5 words of Polish at the time. So, I'm not sure where I feel the most comfortable and the most myself. I think I need more time...

At Meg's place, because Meagan is working at a Starbucks and can bring home tons of free food, my diet has consisted of Starbucks for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, with a pizza last night thrown in just for variety. Then we'd all sit, play on our computers and watch TV. Welcome back to the United States.

Dzięki Bogu, że jest piątek

2008-06-13T11:07:00.003-05:00

6 hours of exams on Thursday + 5 hours on Friday = 1 tired Sarah

Of course, with each day that passes I am getting closer to the day on which I have to leave Poland, and that is sad. (We're down to 10 days...) I don't like the end of things. But no matter how much I wish that time would cease to rush on, I find this graphic HILARIOUS and EXACTLY what I am feeling post-soul-draining Polish exams.

Cheers.

The List

2008-06-01T08:20:00.007-05:00

Happy June 1st (Dzień Dziecka w Polsce, by the way)! That means that I have less than one month left here in Kraków. There have been plenty of goods and plenty of bads, so here is a running list –which I am sure will be updated as I keep thinking about things– of what I WILL and WILL NOT miss about life in Kraków/Poland/Europe/Abroad. And since I am generally an optimistic person (meaning not yet 100% Polonised) this list seems to favor the positive recollections... for now.

+ THE POSITIVES

being able to hop on a train and cheaply travel to any part of the continent when you've got some time on your hands
not having to be at the train station more than 15 minutes before departure
morning walks to school along the Wisła and Wawel Castle
hearing the hejnał at the top of every hour, especially late at night
discovering new running paths up to and around the Kopiec
the Planty
Park Jordana and the Błonia
the smell and color of rapeseed fields in the countryside
my international friends (especially the Hungarians and their cooking)
getting some free money at the beginning of each month from the Polish Bureau of Education
Polish piwo and wódka
dare I even say that I might miss surówka and kapusta?
for sure all of the beets and barszcz
how even though the dollar has taken a nose dive, things still cost half-price
how no matter how bad my last self-administered haircut turned out, there will always be some Polish girl with a worse euro-style something on her head
making up for lost time in the sense that I am living the life that most people already went through in college
the way foreigners pronounce my name - long "a"s just sound better
Chór Uniwersytet Rolniczego
Vladimír

- THE NEGATIVES

the so-called "napkins"
all the hand-washed laundry
laundry in Piast
pigeons in Piast
cranky receptionist dude in Piast
ok, just Piast in general
and all those stupid pigeons in general
not being able to express what I'm thinking among Polish speakers and consequently feeling shy, submissive, and not intelligent
not being able to master the difference between pronouncing "ś" and "sz," "ć" and "cz," as well as "ź" or "ż"
trying to ride a tram down Karmelicka during afternoon rush hour
the smell of the horse carriages on the Rynek (ewww)
the time gap between the end of the day bus schedule and the beginning of the night buses

What it was all leading to

2008-05-29T03:16:00.007-05:00

It all happened too fast and was all too brief.

I know this year abroad has changed my life, even though I am not sure in what concrete way(s) yet. A big part of why I was looking forward to Poland was to try and reconnect in some small way with the Polish ancestors. I purposely waited until the end of the year to take my trip to Kaszuby (northwestern Poland, all along the Baltic coast) because 1. the weather would be better and 2. my Polish would be better. Good decisions x2.

It still hasn't fully sunk in that I was walking on the ground where they lived and looking at the records where they were hand-documented in nineteenth-century script. There are around 2,000 in still living Poland to whom I might be related. If the circumstances in the chain of history were different, I myself might still be living in that beautiful country.

I laid out an ambition plan: Kraków to Toruń, Toruń to the villages and pure Kashubian countryside, on to nearby Bytów (Winona's "Sister City"), Bytów to Gdańsk, Gdańsk to Malbork, and home again home again jiggety jig. Of course I was slightly nervous about all the aspects of traveling alone - would I be lonely, would I be safe? But I didn't have time for such thoughts! Aside from the hours of travel, which I am used to by now, I kept finding myself in excellent company: Gabriella in Toruń, Stanley -my Kashubian guide- the town authorities of Bytów, who treated me like a celebrity, and Paweł and Madga, a fantastic couple in Gdańsk. (Aside from searching family history, this trip could be a ringing endorsement for Hospitality Club - haha.)

The weight of what I had been doing and where I was finally clicked for me while I was walking along the seashore between Gdańsk and Sopot. My thoughts were accompanied by the sound of the waves and the sight of a few souls braving a venture into the Baltic. I realized I do like to travel alone for the sake of taking my own pace. However, recounting all I did and saw to family and friends after the fact further solidified this week's significance.

The sightseeing in the cities was unparalleled. Of course I marveled at the architecture and ate my fill of piernik in Toruń, was even more astounded by the beauty of Gdańsk and feeling the presence of revolution at the shipyard. But I am unsatisfied with how I left the place of my roots. Maybe I feel like I didn't give it the proper reverence it deserved. Obviously the pace of the villages is much more relaxed than the constant motion of a city or of the whirlwind tour I made of the countryside. I know I need to go back, but I don't know exactly for what. My name has been changed around, and there are no existing tombstones bearing my family's name, so there is no immediate connection to that land. Maybe that is specifically what I feel: no direct connection to the land. I know I am not inventing my affection for the land; it did have a profound impact on me, but it's like an exquisitely carved box to which I have opened the lock but have yet to open it and look at the secrets that lay inside.

I know more now than I did before I went. I know more about my family, and I'd like to think I know more about myself and my inner life, about all the parts that make me.

To think that I could also have such experiences in Switzerland and Germany...

Along with sending down the Holy Spirit, God decreed that all Polish grocery stores should be closed as part of the Pentacost experience

2008-05-17T05:46:00.004-05:00

Wydarzenia (Events)

So very much has been going on in recent weeks, beginning even before the epic Lwów adventure.

First: Kraków had a gay rights march. That's pretty impressive for a city that is a hot-seat for Catholicism (i.e. conservatism). I mean, it was officially called a "Tolerance March," I guess so as not to push the envelope too far. [I heard that the march was even canceled in Warsaw in years past, to give you an illustration of the opposing side's influence.] But I was really surprised with how many people turned out for this march and equally surprised with the festive atmosphere surrounding it. The organizers passed out balloons, stickers, and whistles. Of course there were scary police guys with scary guns and in full riot gear, who escorted us all along the Planty and into the Rynek. And of course there were scary neo-Nazi-types waiting for us and shouting things at us once in the Rynek. Yeah, they were pretty lame, but like I said, there was no large-scale violence or out-of-control protests from either side. I'd call it a success, but I'm sure that no equal rights legislation or anything will come out of it. It was still a nice, socially-aware way to spend a Saturday morning.

Second: I'm gettin' around. The day after the tolerance march, I went to visit a friend in Tarnów - a British guy who used to study with me in Kraków before he decided that the 1.5 hour one-way commute wasn't really worth it. Tarnów is a nice little city, charming even, worth a walk around if you get bit by the travel bug and just need to get out of town for an afternoon. One of Tarnów's biggest attractions is that it is the final resting place of Hungarian and Polish freedom fighter, Józef Bem. It always comes back to those Hungarians...

Third: Ukraine. Enough said.

Fourth: I have a new roommate. Timea is an ethnic Hungarian (again - see!) who lives in Romania. This is an interesting situation specific to Eastern Europe. Hungary used to be a HUGE empire, and their people lived all over. Now that the country is slightly larger than the state of Maine, it's legacy is bigger than it's area. Anyway, enough Hungarian history; I can certainly tell you more when I see you. It's enough to say that Timea is a complete 180º turn from Isabelle.

Fifth: Juwenalia. Ojej. All across Poland in the spring there is a festival for students. In Kraków, there are concerts, parties, and revelry of all kinds during an entire week. But the major event was the parade on Friday morning from the student village (near where I live) to the main square, where then the keys of the city are symbolically handed over to a student government for the day. Sounds like a nice tradition, right? Costumes, nice spring weather, everyone good spirits, etc... But really, like any real student celebration, it's about the booze. Combine any American college homecoming with Mardis Gras and have it sponsored by one of Poland's largest breweries, and there you have Juwenalia.

Large, drunken crowds of twentysomethings generally don't interest me, so I stayed clear of much of it. The overall festive mood was nice, and my friends and I celebrated in our own small ways (booze was inevitably included). My only real regret though is that I missed witnessing the parade first-hand. I went out on Thursday night, staggered home at 3, woke up late and had to rush to a choir performance at 10:00, and then went back to bed to keep sleeping off the night. Therefore, I was out of commission for most of Friday. Good one, Sarah.

Sixth: As this post's title mentions, Pentecost is a big deal in Poland. At first I had only heard the name of this holy day in Polish, "Ziolone Świąt", and it didn't ring any bells. (Even when I called my mother and asked what feast day it was, she didn't know. We're good Catholics...) Anyway, there's always a big procession, where all the nuns and monks come out to play in their different team colors: The Paulinites in white, the Benedictines in black, the Franciscans in brown, some sisters in blue, etc.

I later learned that the reason for extending the hullabaloo into the economic sector (meaning store closings) was that France gave its shop assistants the day off, and if such a secular country like France recognizes Pentacost Sunday, then Poland should get on that boat as well. The American restaurant inside the Galeria Kazimierz (big shopping mall) was still open, though. God Bless America.

Seventh: I am already checked out of school. It always seems to happen at this time of year no matter where you are. It probably doesn't help any feelings of studiousness when your class keeps going on field trips away from Kraków. That you can't get everywhere. ;)

Lastly: My ancestry search will happen next week, thanks to Corpus Christi, which gives us yet another long weekend. Kashubia here I come!

Over and out for now.

Local Pride

2008-05-17T02:31:00.002-05:00

Here is a news story from Minnesota in which Winona, my hometown, is featured as "Capitol for a Day" as part of Minnesota's 150-ennial celebrations. All well and good, but my favorite part is where the newscaster becomes obsessed with the Model Legislatures donuts. (They even get official commentary from Representative Pelo.) Some traditions really are sacred and now famous.

shameless self-promotion

2008-05-10T04:51:00.002-05:00

I just remembered that an article I was interviewed for is up on the Sarah Lawrence alumnae/i website. The article is about microfinance and a microloan I made on the internet last summer. You can read the text here.

It's nice to be recognized.

L'viv Lwów Львів

2008-05-10T04:25:00.005-05:00

After a brief hiatus and a few more trips here and there, I should really be making pages of updates, but I this adventure stands alone as probably the single most crazy undertakings of my life.

From the beginning: May 1 is quite the holiday across Eastern Europe (the original proletariat-inspired Labor Day). May 3 is also a holiday in Poland, so we had a long weekend during which we planned our trip. I had consulted numerous friends who have been there before during the year or in previous years, and they said that there wouldn't be a problem with finding hotels or anything. That was our first mistake - not reserving a hotel. Remember how I said it was a big holiday weekend? Yes, and in that time, many other people from all countries bordering Ukraine came to the beautiful city of L'viv and reserved ALL of the hotel/hostel spaces! Great. So the three of us (me, my Polish friend, Adam, and another American girl, Lydia) wasted our first day zig-zagging clear across the city numerous times trying to find a roof to put over our heads to avoid spending the night in the rain that was beginning, and increasing in panic with each passing moment.

BUT we found a Ukrainian angel. During the course of the circus of a border crossing between Poland and Ukraine, a blonde, cherubic-faced girl named Ania sat on the bus from the Ukrainian side of the border next to Adam. They talked the whole way into L'viv. Turns out she studies at my university in Kraków but was coming home to L'viv for the weekend. She gets off at a stop closer to her her flat and leaves Adam with a list of Ukrainian beers to try and her phone number with the condition, "give me a call if you run into any problems." 6 hours later, we had a problem.

Ania graciously welcomed us into her flat where she lives with her mother about 20 minutes outside the city center. It was around 11 pm when we arrived, but she flitted around the apartment making us tea and sandwiches, preparing the beds in the spare rooms and rattling off billions of suggestions (orders, rather) of things we should see and do in her beloved city. It was a sheer miracle. The next morning, she called around and found us ONE open hotel room for the night, prepared us a lovely traditional breakfast and even hunted down a Lvovian violin maker's phone number that my friend was looking for. With the utmost feeling of gratitude we left Ania and her Polish-speaking mother with plans to meet again in Krakow.

Then, we finally began our sightseeing. We went first to the Lychakiv Cemetery and reveled in the Polishness of olden day L'viv. Then the Rynok, the Prospekt and many, many churches. L'viv is the farthest east I have ever been in my life, and while it is a mere 6 hours away from Krakow, I really felt the difference thanks to the Greek and Russian Orthodox Catholic influences. Oh yeah, there's the whole Cyrillic writing things too that reminds you that you are not really in Poland anymore, but I digress... So as we were visiting one of the beautiful Orthodox churches near the Rathus, a service appeared to be going on, so we were hesitant to enter. And should we decide to go in, were we cover out heads? A girl by the door noticed us and, laughing a bit, said something to us in Ukrainian. I mumbled something in Polish, and then this girl with her sweet face started a conversation with us in earnest trying to remember the Polish she once learned. We told her were were from Krakow and were just sightseeing. At one point, Lydia did her characteristic, "Jestem Lydia," sticking out her hand for a good ol' American handshake. That sealed the deal; we were going to be friends.

Natalya, our new coincidental acquaintance, it turns out, was showing around a friend from Eastern Ukraine for the weekend, so if we would like we could go with them up to the Vysoki Zamek and around. It was amazing. Our little group kept growing with friends of Natalya who kept meeting us along the way and trying, in Polish, Ukrainian and English, to be our personal and enthusiastic tour guides. They took us to fun cafes, through Shevchenkivskyi Hai, where they had packed a huge picnic lunch for us, to Puszata Chata for artery-saturating Ukrainian food, and did I mention that Natalya said we could spend our last night in her flat? Miracle of miracles!

The whole trip was like that - a parabolic wave of extreme stress to being rendered speechless by hospitality. Take, as another illustration, our attempt to go the opera. We wanted to see La Traviatta on Saturday night. We walked up to the ticket counter and (un)fortunately all the tickets were sold out. But wait! A older lady who seemed to be a tour guide offered to take us inside to check out the theater and the interior for a mere 20 hryvni (a quarter of the price of a normal opera ticket). We accepted; what else were we going to do with our afternoon? The woman only spoke Ukrainian, and while Adam and I could speak Polish with her, it didn't always work out for our understanding the situation. The woman led us around and left us in the theater with about 20 minutes before the curtain goes up for the opera. We keep looking around, snapping pictures, trying out the plush chairs, and the woman comes back with chairs that she sets up in the aisles. So we go from ticketless schmuck tourists to sitting in the front row at the L'viv opera! So many other of our experiences followed that same pattern. I would explain how we got back home to Poland, but that would take another epic post, and I fear I have gone on far too long already. Let's just say it was the same ride of emotions and same experience of being rejected point blank or not given any helpful information. (As another side note, how can someone sitting at the window marked "Information" at the freakin' train station tell you she doesn't know about any trains to Krakow??!!)

So in a nutshell, that was my trip to L'viv. With a little more distance and time between me and that trip-of-a-lifetime, I can really begin to appreciate what a spectacular time it was. I would LOVE a chance to go back! Who wants to come with me? ;)

Nazywam się...

2008-04-22T04:43:00.003-05:00

Quickly:
One of my goals in coming to Poland this year was to climb a little bit through my family tree. I'm not really sure what exactly I want to accomplish, but I at the very least want to see Kashubia and breathe the Northern Polish air.

I have been trying to get all my ducks in a row to try and prepare for a trip in late May. One of my contacts is a Kashubian guy who has been to Winona a number of times. He helps people like me reconnect with their Kashubian roots. Through his records, he has confirmed what I already knew from the Winona Polish Historical Society regarding some of my ancestors birthdates and birth places. But one thing he found out was that, in fact, my last name is spelled differently that I've been spelling it! Merchlewitcz, not Merchlewitz! (It sounds like "ch" at the end rather than "ts".) At long last, all the suspicions of skeptical Poles here and at home have been realized. :)

Viva Intellectualism!

2008-04-22T02:10:00.005-05:00

I woke up with the intention to sit and read the paper all morning long with some tea or coffee. I turned on my computer and headed to the New York Times webpage. The first article I opened was from an ongoing discussion on French literary theory in America. (The hundreds of comments are funny too, expecially when I think about them in comparison to the comments usually posted on the Winona Daily News...) The original article was to review and support a new book with pretty much the same title as the NYT article. However, when I clicked in the link for the actual book, the first line in the description is:

"The must-read exposé of America’s love/hate affair with French theory."

Why do I find that so hilarious? "Exposé!" A "love/hate affair"! I know Bella would agree that lit theory is full of drama and excitement, but come on... Either way, I can't believe that deconstructionism interested me more and quarter past eight in the morning more than the Pennsylvania primary or the instability of the global food market.

But I like this stuff. I think I am ready to back to real school...

For the Ruds

2008-04-19T04:56:00.004-05:00

Take that, Hotel Chopin!

When the Rudniks were here a few weeks, I joined them one morning for breakfast at their hotel, Hotel Chopin. Breakfast is included with each room and is served in the little restaurant right off the lobby. I came in that morning from Piast, walked right into the restaurant without having to talk to a host(ess) or anyone.

Breakfast was decent: a wide enough selection of average quality. Pastries, juice, coffee, yogurt, all the imaginables, AND kielbasa.

Given the ease at which a foreigner could simply walk in and eat their fill, the Rudniks and I decided that I should give it a try on another occasion. Today was that fateful day! Really, the Hotel Chopin is rather out-of-the-way, and why on earth would someone come all that way if they weren't staying in the hotel and therefore entitled to free breakfast. Well, me, for example.

Again, I just walked right in, sat down, and proceeded to have a lovely breakfast. Just to be on the safe side, I laid down the big, fat Lonely Planet guide to Eastern Europe at my seat to give me the appearance of a traveler. ;)

Of course I absconded with my backpack full of a couple treats for later, some local guide pamphlets, and a weekend edition of Rzeczpospolita newspaper. On top of all this, I realized that I didn't have my tram card with me, so I was praying that I wouldn't run into a controller along the way. How many ways did you break rules of accepted behavior before noon today?

A pair of concerts

2008-04-17T10:39:00.006-05:00

I feel like I have been running non-stop for the last month. Budapest, Easter with the Ruds, the Half-Marathon, Paris, and then...

this past weekend, a concert with the Akademia Rolniczej choir. It was my first concert with the group (I already missed one while I was off gallivanting in France...), and what a debut. We sang for the X Małopolska Konkurs Chórów (10th Małopolska Regional Choir Competition). It took place in a castle complex just outside of Kraków. First of all, it was neat to perform with the group and secondly, to sing in a castle! I thought we sounded good, and I'm pretty sure we looked good too. Our concert dress is a satiny green wrap top and a black skirts. I, the domistically adept person that I am, forgot to iron my outfit, and so there I stood in the front row with a crease where the skirt had been folded on the hanger. I hope we didn't get docked points because of me...

Anyway, we sang a trio of contrasting pieces: "Hucełko Kseniu' (or something sounding like that in Ukrainian), "Totus Tuus" (a piece written for JPII's first papal pilgrimage to Poland), and "Sometimes I Feel Like a Motherless Child." The last piece was both a source of fun and embarrassment - fun because it was a groovy, old-school spiritual with a great solo line but embarrassing because guess who often had to sing in front of the whole choir by herself so everyone could hear how the pronunciation should be. I am not cut out to be a soloist...

After we sang, we got the chance to listen to some of the other choirs. I felt a slight pang of guilt when a Jagiellonian University group took the stage at my not being with them and instead being with the landscape and forestry students. But I got over it real fast.

Sometime soon we are going to sing in the Maryacki Basilika. Wow.

................

Last night, a friend from my choir invited me to a concert of Jewish music in Kazimerz that her friend was performing in. I'm not exactly sure on the name of place where we were, but it clearly was (or maybe still is) a synagogue. The music was GREAT. All the guys were fabulous musicians, especially Dominika's friend, the accordionist, but I don't know if they quite gelled as an ensemble. Regardless it was moving and beautiful in the haunting way that Jewish and Balkan music is.

................

Spring is here, and I feel like I have a reason to live again! Warm breezes, honest-to-goodness sunshine and the damp smell of flowers in the air. I think it's time to read Anna Karenina again. :)

So this time I was in Paris...

2008-04-08T10:13:00.001-05:00

Before I write about my weekend in Paris, every one of you that reads this must PROMISE to watch the movie "Before Sunset." That's all I am going to say for now.

2 hours 5 minutes

2008-04-04T03:56:00.004-05:00

I did it! I finished the Warsaw Halfmarathon! And when I crossed the finish line, I thought, "Is that it?" After a few months of training and running around Krakow in some of the most ridiculous weather conditions, it turns out I really was prepared enough to go 13 miles on a beautiful, sunny day. The two main goals I set for myself (to run -not walk- the entire race, and to come in under 2:30:00) were both met. I feel pretty good about it, and my legs didn't hurt as bad as I thought they would. I think the massage at the end of the race really helped on that account.

Like I mentioned, the weather was unbelievably nice. I may have even gotten a tad sunburned as I was running. But on Saturday, when I arrived, it was rainy and downright depressing. There I was, all prepared to take in the sights of Warsaw on foot, without an umbrella and three large bags (my backpack, a sleeping bag, and my race kit). I spent most of the day indoors having lunch and coffee. The famous mermaid statue in the Old Town square wasn't even up - it was gone for repairs... Thankfully I had brought along a good book passed on to me by Annie. By the time Saturday night rolled around, I was beginning to regret that I had come by myself. However, I spent some time in the Warsaw University library reading (which is a neat building), had my favorite tea from a Polish cafe chain, and got a surprise phone call from a friend, things were looking up.

Later, I made it to the sports hall where I was to sleep, and when I walked into the room with about 50 fellow athletes, no joke, I was the only girl! How could I have just assumed that there would be plenty of female runners at this place?? No matter, I rolled out my sleeping bag in a free spot against the wall and began chatting with the guy next to me. It was his first half marathon as well. I would keep running into him all throughout the next day, so it kind of felt like i had made a friend there. That was nice.

When Zbyszek (I think that was his name) went out to check the temperature in the morning, he said, in Polish of course, "Can I ask you a question? Why do you run?" I hadn't really thought much about this question in English let alone had an answer prepared in Polish. What I could say was that I like to run because it is something I can do by myself and I have total freedom. Freedom. Wolność. I think that is true.

I would do it again. Now I feel like there is a whole new world of competitive running open to me. At this race there were certainly a lot of people who did it like me, just to do it, but there were also some people, and some "big-name runners", who were really serious about it. I think I could become serious about distance running knowing that my mind and my body can take it. Now I have the goal of running a half marathon in under 2 hours. I think before too long I'll be doing a full marathon. ;)

Here are a couple of pictures that a hired photo agency took along the course: http://www.fotomaraton.pl/event.php?Lang=PL&Event=PWA08&ToFind=419. The building, one of the most famous in Warsaw and in all of Poland, affectionately known as "Stalin's penis" is in the background.

Yesterday

2008-03-25T03:34:00.008-05:00

Three things of note occurred on my Easter Monday:

1. The Rudniks left Poland for the Czech Republic. It was so, so, so nice to have them here, especially over the Easter holiday. Originally, they were to come to Europe on an "Annie's Greatest Hits"-type tour and have her as their guide. Even though it didn't quite work out that way, I give them major props for making the trip anyway.

They arrived on the Saturday I got back from Budapest, and we miraculously met up outside the station. I think it was a good omen indicating an auspicious trip. I've got my fingers crossed that they actually made it to Valašské Klobouky by now...

I hope they had a good time and felt like they saw enough of the city. What was nice is that I haven't been inside all of the Wawel Castle or explored the Kazimierz neighborhood, but being with them it was a great opportunity to get around town. And, of course, we explored the Easter market on the Rynek, meandered around Old Town, heard the trumpeter about two dozen times, went to Easter Sunday mass at the Kościół Mariacki, and ate some great meals. (I was especially grateful for their invitations because even the grocery stores were closed for Easter and the days before and after.) I also did my best to introduce them to the more outstanding drinks this region has to offer. Within 12 hours of their arrival, they got a taste of Żywiec beer, krupnik (honey vodka), Żubrówka (bison grass vodka), and even some Hungarian peach pálinka (kind of like vodka). The quote of the weekend belongs to Mrs. R upon her first taste of Żubrówka and apple juice: "This is delicious! This is like breakfast juice... only better!" Thatta girl, Mrs. R!

2. Easter Monday a.k.a. Lany Poniedzałek a.k.a. Śmygus-Dingus
I'm not sure what kind of ancient tradition this day is related to, but throughout Eastern Europe it is an Easter Monday tradition for boys to throw water on girls. I've heard it is supposed to represent a cleaning, purification ritual, but if you ask me, it's sounds like its origins aren't altogether Catholic. No matter, besides from the snowy/rainy precipitation, my Lany Poniedzałek was a dry one.

3. Less than one week to my half-marathon. Yesterday I went to the gym to run so I could keep track of my time and distance on the treadmill. 10k is no sweat, so running one half and run-walking the second half, I can finish in less than 2:30. I think I am ready. (I better be ready because I bought my train ticket to Warsaw yesterday as well.)

Budapeshhhhht: Many large men in many tiny swimsuits

2008-03-24T13:40:00.009-05:00

Budapest is magic. Imagine soaking in outdoor thermal baths under a nearly full moon. Imagine a place that goes from 50 degrees and sunny to blowing snow from one side of a castle to the other. Imagine a golden sunset view of a city sprawling across the rolling hills of the Carpathian basin cut in half by the Danube. Imagining won't get you close to the deliriously delicious chocolate and ice cream. And last but not least, imagine a place where Támas is actually on time to meet you. ;) Such is my impression of Hungary. And until next time, only an impression it must remain. 72 hours is not nearly enough time to sink your teeth into this mysterious, romantic, and deeply historical place.

Never before in my life had I ever considered traveling to Budapest, so here is how the scenario came to be: with the dozens of Hungarians that go to my school here in Kraków, I have made friends with some of them. Of course you from know from previous posts that Tomi and I pretty close, and if anyone could be a walking tourism bureau, it would be him. This guy, the son of a travel agent, is a certified tour guide in Hungary, and he'll never miss an opportunity to invite you to his favorite city. Back in November for my birthday, I was presented with a certificate for a "Free Walking Tour of Budapest, (valid only in March 2008)". So with a few days of Easter vacation (plus one because I am a bad student who never goes to class anymore), and a $20 bus ticket, I headed south.

There was, of course, the pressure to squeeze in such a trip before Tom left for Germany, but there was also another reason that made all the train and bus travel worth it -- ice cream. OK, I am not so shallow as to only be motivated by sweets. Another friend of mine, Péter, was going to be home. The Hungarian countryside was a nice contrast to the hustle and bustle of the city, and time spent with Péter is always time well spent. Getting to him involved me buying my first -and most likely only- ticket in Hungarian. (I may have accidentally bought two, but I can't tell...) I spent the morning in the picturesque town of Kecskemét and, despite the language barrier, a most enjoyable afternoon in Péter's home with his generous and good-natured parents. Now you may be asking, where are the sweets? Péter's family owns an ice cream parlor in a small resort town maybe 100 km from the capitol, hence ice cream. And did I also mention chocolate? ;)

Back to Budapest. The architecture and city planning are at times astounding. It might be the place with the most statues and monuments per capita that I have ever visited. But what really struck me was the contradictions I felt in having to remind myself that I was in still in Europe while surrounded by decidedly non-European language. The city has the look of another Vienna, but it's soul is decidedly its own.

And I suppose I can't finish this post without explaining the allusions to Europeans in Speedos in the title. With the concurrence of Tom's mother, I left their house in the morning with the intention of finishing the day relaxing at the famous Széchenyi Baths. First I needed a suit. Sure you could rent one there, but Tom's mother insisted I check out a cheap clothing store just down the street from their house. There, her and I mixed and matched suits and underwear, bottoms and tops until I found an acceptable combination. She even walked in on me in the dressing room to offer her observations like a true mother. With a bra and little boy's red speedo-like bottom in my bag, I was ready to hit the town.

I am so glad I allowed myself to be convinced to go to the baths. I arrived to observe my favorite time of day, where the sun's waining light cast golden hues on the clouds and on the already yellow building. The warm water outdoors evaporated into visible wisps of steam in the chilly spring air. Jumping from sweltering sauna to a 10º C pool (5oº F) was invigorating. And I felt no trace of self-consciousness with my makeshift bathing suit because, like I said, based on some other choices of swimwear among locals and tourists alike, let's just say that no one was lacking a healthy body image.

Relaxed, well-fed, and blessed via a Good Friday service (my first, and most likely only in Hungarian), I reluctantly headed back to Poland. The Rudniks would be waiting for me! But first I had to pass through the mountainous Slovakian landscape. Contemplating the snowy peaks and the villages below (between catnaps because I was up at 4:45 that morning!) I couldn't help but think again that this trip was pure magic.

Catholisicm and the Middle Age Imagination

2008-03-16T16:06:00.006-05:00

Someone way back when, in Poland's olden days, thought they knew what palms were. They read in the Bible about Jesus' arrival into Jerusalem and figured that palms must have been really special and beautiful things to have been brought to welcome him. As if anyone at that time in Poland knew what palm trees really looked like... So they came up with these:

Explanation: Today my school went on a field trip to Lipnica Murowane, a town near Kraków where every year there is a famous contest for the best palma wielkanocna, or Easter palm. Most people there were walking around with palms maybe a foot or two long, but as you can see, the biggest of them reached past the treetops. Multi-colored dried leaves, crepe paper flowers, ribbons, pussywillows, other feathery plants. They are quite a sight to behold. Not to mention quite baffling as to how exactly the are supposed to resemble palms. I see elaborate brooms...

Anyway, a few other sights of note were in this little town. First we saw a 12th-century church that has been named a UNESCO World Heritage Sight. It still appears to be in great condition, but gosh does it smell old. Then we went to another church named for St. Sebastian of Lipnica, where they have a some sort of bone relic of his AND a water pump that supposedly has curing waters. I am not totally convinced of the latter because after drinking, I still have a terrible stomach ache... Next, we were waiting for the contest to begin, but of course their was first a blessing of the palms. What Palm Sunday would be complete without a some holy water being launched over a crowd.

Then, what was to be a culminating moment, the raising of an enormous palm into the air, came to a tragic end. A group of us had been watching nearly all morning as men in the trees and on the rooftops lashed ropes to the trunk of the palm and fastened them to the nearest telephone pole and houses. This palm had to be at least 20 meters tall or more. The lashing done, the men began to hoist, and just as the palm was at about 45 degrees, the top half snapped off. The whole thing had to be lowered back to the ground like a soldier laid to rest. It was so dramatic.

And that was what I woke up at 7 am on a Sunday morning for. It was nice though. Good weather, good company, a bit of sightseeing, some local food and a blessed beverage. Why not?

In case you'd like to see some more "palms," you can take a look here.

See you in a week, Rudniks!

Things as they are

2008-03-11T06:28:00.003-05:00

Two observations:

Until Sunday, I had avoided going to any of the "Mexican" restaurants that are in the central, Old Town part of Kraków, but when a friend proposed dinner after a nice walk to the kopiec, the prospect of a margarita sounded like the perfect cap to the afternoon. The margarita, in fact, was good. The vegetable enchilada was also pretty good (could have been spicier, but hey). The most attention-calling moment of the dinner was that instead of rice and beans, my enchilada was served with two sides of cabbage. Two! Sides of cabbage! Just in case I needed any reminder as to which country I'm in...

And today I gave in. I finally bought one of those stove-top espresso makers. No more inch-think layers of grounds in the bottom of the cup for this girl! 31 złotych (about 13 dollars) isn't bad for a 3-cup machine. (And of course, as a coffee-guzzling American, I intend to use all three cups for myself.) Again, there is an upcoming surprise here. When I took the machine out of the box, I noticed a strange separate item wrapped in paper. As I began to unravel the layers of paper, the bundle began to take the shape of a little spoon. And, lo!, the bundle became three mini spoons! That is exciting ...for me! And it suggests the sophistication of the European coffee tradition. There wasn't any indication on the box's outside illustrations that the spoons would be inside waiting for me. Thanks European coffee! And now I get to go to class all jacked up on three cups of "espresso." Should be fun.

Two Lovely Weekends

2008-03-09T17:28:00.014-05:00

#1:

My dad came to visit! I will add more about this later, once he sends me pictures that we took. But for now I'll just say that I am really happy that for the first time in 27 years my dad set foot outside the North American continent. He was really open to Poland, and I think a visit this short allowed him to see everything in a positive light and not be bothered by the occasional difficulties of trying to live here.

Of course I was also happy for him to come for the reason that we would get to do some cool stuff in cool places, the first of which was a brewery tour right outside of Wrocław. A few years ago father-son team from Winona, MN bought a 600-year-old brewery in a town called Namysłów. From the looks of it nowadays, it seems to be doing good business. It was great to make a hometown connection halfway across the world like this. Ryan, the son, was incredibly nice and hospitable and generous and all kinds of superlatives that describe a good person.

Wrocław itself was nice too. It is a town I think I could get used to. It has a more cosmopolitan feel than Kraków, but I'm not sure why I felt that. Maybe it was because we stayed in the Radisson...

My dad and I also made a stop in Częstochowa, he made the trip to Auschwitz while I had class, and then we popped over to London for two days so he could spokojnie catch his plane back to the States. Oh, the jet-setting lifestyle I lead. Right.

In London, to contrast my ever-cloudy Poland, the weather was fantastic. And I was glad I elected to skip even more class to join him there (believe me, I really was conflicted). I got to do some things that I didn't get have time for in November. Dad loved London as well. He is pretty brave, I'd say, for such a homebody.

Good times. I already said a lot, didn't I?

..................

#2

When I came back from London I had a play at the Teatr Słowackiego to look forward to. Adam had invited me a while ago to go with a group of his friends to a performance there, and why would I say no? The building is reminiscent of some grand French opera house, and I have always wondered what it would be like inside.

My first Krakow theater experience was, well, an experience. As you may have guessed, the theater itself was in fact gorgeous. The inside is so ornate and perfectly preserved. The main sala wasn't so huge, which was good for viewing. And all 14 of us sat in boxes on one side of the room. I don't think I have ever been in theater boxes before. It was just like you'd see in old movies or in books: only four seats to a box, a door that opens directly to the corridor, and red velvet everywhere. I would even go so far as to say it was downright luxurious. In the midst of all that 19th century Eastern European splendor I felt like I was in that scene from War & Peace where Pierre first sees Natasha.

The play itself was... interesting. "Kordian" by Juliusz Słowacki himself. I could appreciate that the actors were outstanding and that the staging was superb, but that was about it. Which is to say that I could understand a darn thing. Ask me what the play was about and I'll just shrug. And try finding anything about online in English! Basically, it is a 19th-century work about Poland under Russian occupation, and there was a young Romantic hero, who dies in the end... I think... But I shouldn't feel bad because Adam and all of his friends couldn't understand it either. One of them even used the intermission to look up some kind of Polish cliff notes on his phone. Then again, they are all chemical engineers and not lit majors. ;)

I mentioned that there were 14 of us. 7 guys and 7 girls. Everyone was in a legitimate boyfriend/girlfriend pair. Except for Adam and I. Yet again I got to assume the role of the girl who isn't my escort's girlfriend but who puzzles the others present as to what my relationship to said escort really is. At least here in Europe, I pretend that I am one of those Daisy Miller-esque American girls, and that is all the explanation I need to provide. I was the only one dressed in a color on the warm side of the color wheel, after all.

Utter incomprehension and initial social awkwardness aside, I had a great time. And, it turned out that March 8th is "Dzien Kobiet" in Poland, or "Women's Day." Adam explained to me that it began as a Soviet holiday where the authorities would go into the factories and present all of the ladies with flowers. However, I remember that about this time of year there was a "Día de la Mujer" in Argentine. Ah well. Nonetheless, yesterday nearly every girl you saw on the street was carrying a stem of some kind of flower. I wasn't left out. Adam met me at Piast with some pink carnations, goździki, which is the traditional Dzien Kobiet flower, I guess. For me, I'd say it's a nice tradition.

[Side Note: There are still some very strong traces of gallantry such the flowers on Dzien Kobiet among the young gents of this country. At first when we all took our seats, I wondered why Adam chose to sit behind me rather than next to me (where it would be easier for me to whisper my questions about the play to him), but then I noticed that all the guys sat behind the girls so we could have the better view. It was just the assumed practice. Hmmm.]

Red dress, red shoes. That's me. ;)

And that was just my day yesterday. Today, the sunny London weather made it over to Poland, and it would have been utterly unacceptable to stay indoors. Therefore, I went with a few of my friends to the Krak Mound in the Podgórze district. You, reader, must learn more about these strange, strange monuments, and you can read about them here. I think I should make it a goal to visit all of the Cracovian mounds before I leave. Today's visit makes three. I think Annie would approve.

Now I am finally ready to attend my first full week of second semester classes.

way to end on an upbeat

2008-03-09T17:20:00.003-05:00

THE NETHERLANDS

It was cold. I was tired. I was also cranky from being cold and tired. All in all, my 6-hour introduction to Holland via Eindhoven was not as interesting as it could have been. I think Tom summarized it best when he said that the city is like one big duty-free shop for the Eindhoven airport. Lots and lots of bicycles though.

There were some other upsides as well, like going into my first Bjorn Borg store and then meeting our friend Fanney, who came from Amsterdam to catch our flight to Katowice. She was smarter though to take the shuttle back to Krakow and not have to so a repeat performance of the bus-train combo. Oh well, I just ate my chorizo and manchego with some Dutch bread and was happy.

No pics this time. You should instead look for some tourist bureau material; those photos actually make the place look nice...

and I came home with chorizo and manchego :)

2008-03-08T08:06:00.010-06:00

ESPAÑA (con ANNA!)

This was what I had been looking forward to for about four months: Spain. The country that I'd dreamed of visiting for so long but which has always eluded me. I mean, I was finally going to see the places I had first set eyes upon in my 7th grade Spanish textbook. I was going to see a much-needed familiar face, a Sarah Lawrence friend. I was going to speak Spanish again, a language I actually know! I was going to have a good cup of coffee again, not to mention tons of other delicious goodies. Oh, to be in a Mediterranean country!

Of course, it couldn't all go smoothly, could it? Thanks to a thick batch of fog in the characteristically overcast Belgian sky, our plane from Charleroi to Madrid was horribly delayed. So we sat, and we sat, and we sat around for hours. Apparently, conditions were different at another airport in this vast country that we could be allowed to leave from a different airport. That meant we all got on a bus destined for an airport one hour away, checked in AGAIN, went through security AGAIN, got our boarding passes ripped in half AGAIN. By this time it was about 10.00 pm, and there was no one in this dinky Liege airport, which sees about 4 planes a week go in and out. The worst of it was Tom and I had been planning to meet my Bostonian-turned Madrileña friend, Anna, at her apartment that evening. Since we arrived in Madrid about 2.00 am, when the metro had conveniently stopped running for the night, we decided that rather than pay through the nose for a taxi and disturb Anna's entire apartment, we would catch some Z's right there in the terminal until daybreak.

[Some of you readers may be aware of Tomi's and my bad luck with at least one connection every single time we travel together - London planes, Czech trains, and now. He blames it on me, but now what can he do. Three times now makes it a tradition.]

After an uncomfortable night in front of Turkish Air, we then hopped on the Metro and without further complications found Anna's apartment, in it's amazing location, complete with a dazzling view of the Almudena Madrid Cathedral. After a big terry cloth hug from Anna, who greeted us at the door in her bathrobe, our Madrid adventures began.

To tell the truth, it was surreal, and surreal in an unsettling way. I think it was because, in contrast to Belgium, I had so many expectations of Madrid which ended up preventing me from enjoying the city for what it is. Don't get me wrong, I loved it all! It is an amazingly beautiful place replete with gorgeous architecture, parks and people :). I think I was just impatient to feel the city, to let it completely absorb me and to belong to it that I didn't slow down. (Then again, traveling with Tom you can never slow down...) More often than not I felt like I was back in Buenos Aires, a feeling which also added to my disorientation. On the other hand, the sheer Western cosmopolitan atmosphere wasn't without similarities to New York. Neither could I believe that I was could be at the Plaza Mayor and El Corte Inglés, places that I first read about in the dog-eared pages of my textbooks of 10 years ago. Surreal. And in many ways magical. The transcendental moment for me was when I went for a walk by myself one afternoon and found myself at the top of the Casa de Campo with a view of the sprawling city below and the rugged landscape beyond. With the city of Madrid at my feet, I finally understood that I was smack in the middle of the Iberian peninsula at 23 years with possibilities on all sides.

There is so much there to go back for! I had an amazing time seeing the sight, and like I mentioned, it was some good therapy to see Anna. (And I know the experience was reciprocal.) Many of the things I had hoped Spain to be and that I had hoped to do I got to check off my list, such as eat tapas and tortilla, drink delicious wines, go out on the town, see the Prado, pay homage to Cervantes, lounge in cafes, wander about parks, and hablar some español.

There were even some unexpected moments that made me so happy to be there: the utterly incredible Picasso exhibit at the Reina Sofia, walking around sin chaqueta in the springlike sunshine, cooking Hungarian lesco in Anna's apartment, the drama that was Anna's apartment in the light of the search for a new roommate, meeting up with a Minnesota friend, watching "Friends" in Spanish, chocolate con churros (!), finding that I retained much of my Spanish (complete with my Argentine accent), realizing that it is diffucult for me to get drunk after after having become accustomed to Polish vodkas, laying eyes upon the original Real Academia Español and Instituto Cervantes, going through the Palacio Real three times (folks, it can be done in just over 9 minutes if you keep a brisk pace)... if I keep thinking I can certainly add more to this list.

And just to make it an even number of nights we would spend at the airport (read with sarcasm), Tom and I ended our Madrid stay back at Barajas at midnight to wait for our 6 am flight. This one, however, we had planned on, and this time we found a much quieter and a minimally more comfortable nook.

En serio, Spain, I will definitely be back. After all, one thing that Tom said to me merely as a passing comment I really took to heart: he said that he has never seen me so happy as when I was speaking Spanish.

Fries and Chocolate

2008-03-08T04:18:00.010-06:00

It's almost been a month since Tamas and I went on our little westward excursion. Even so, I'd still like to note some of the highlights, if even just for myself.

BELGIUM

After a night of no sleep thanks to a midnight train to Katowice and the subsequent bus/plane connections, we arrived in Brussels on a sunny Tuesday morning. That was worth it for me right there - sunshine. Add to that the fact that the among the breathtaking architecture, the city center constantly smells like waffle cones. There you have Sarah's dream city. Isn't that how it goes, though? When you have no expectations of a place (or no idea what to expect) it comes to pleasantly surprise you in everything.

Anyway, two days in Brussels was overall fantastic. The Atomium, the parks, dog walking, the city, the peeing boy fountain, the food, the beer, the family and friends, lunch at the European Commission (in the heart of the heart of Europe - haha), good coffee, being surrounded by French without all the pretension that I imagine is in France, being surrounded and confounded by Flemish, bilingualism in general, funny mannequins of the Royal Family in the subway (what's up with Belgium's government anyway?).

These were all the wonders shown to us in the seat of the European Union thanks to our friend and tour guide extraordinnaire, Nelly, who just finished a semester at the Polish institute with Tomi and I. What was really interesting staying with her family is how their conversations fluidly changes from English to Polish to French and back again. They are fabulous people which makes you realize how much good there still is in the world.

I know I've said it before, and I'll say it again, it's nice to have friends in fun places who you can go and visit...

NOTE: The Delirium Bar and a mitraillette sandwich are must-try's. Delish.

To repeat what someone once told me, "I like this life", Part I

2008-02-22T03:44:00.011-06:00

Poland --> Belgium --> Spain --> The Netherlands --> Polish B 1.1

Thus is the flowchart illustrating my past few weeks. When I step back for a minute and really look at what I have been doing and all of the opportunities I have had while living here, I can finally appreciate the decision I have made.

First things first, KIELCE. Here is the e-mail I sent my parents the day I got back from the Świętokrzyż region:

So my little day trip to Kielce turned into an entire weekend where I saw a 1000 year-old monastery, a 600 year-old castle, a 400 year-old preserved Polish war hero, a 19th-century village museum, impressive WWII monuments, and the best of Communist-era architecture. I rode by bus, by train, logged about 250 kilometers in my friend's car and walked almost as much through some forest trails. I also ate some great food with two different Babcias. It was pretty great, and now I am preparing for tomorrow's trip to Brussels and then Madrid. (Meaning I am doing laundry because I have been wearing the same clothes for 3 days...)

That's just a quick summary. Before I left, a Polish girl in Piast old me that there really isn't a whole lot to do in Kielce, which might be true if you aren't shown around by people who are really proud of where they live. Piotr works in the head office of the Świętokrzyskie Mountains National Park, so he was really excited to the area off to me. He thinks this is one of Poland's overlooked regions since most tourists flock to the Tatra Mountains or to Mazurian lakes instead. It was with Piotr that I understood what the true Polish hospitality is - gościnność. At his house, his mother prepared the most wonderful meals that almost brought me to tears. His family was so nice and patient with my broken Polish. (I realized that I can really only carry a conversation for about a half an hour before I exhaust all of my vocabulary...) But his grandmother reassured me, "Well, after only four months you are doing marvelous, kochanna."

While Piotr showed me the surrounding areas, Adam took me around the city itself. It is much bigger than I thought, and, yes, it is interesting. It is just more interesting, however, when you have someone to tell you anecdotes about all the sites - such as the tradition of high schoolers skinny-dipping in the fountain in front of City Hall on the eve of their graduation. We went to Adam's house for lunch, where his grandmother, a former cook, had prepared a delicious meal of homemade pierogi and mushroom soup. As we were eating, Adam made the comment, "This tastes like Christmas," which made me realize how lucky I was and how special this day was. Adam's grandmother seemed really nice but kind of shy, most likely because she doesn't speak English, and she thought that her house was "too modest" for an American. However, when I introduced myself –all I said was "Jestem Sarah"– she pulled me in for a big grandma hug and a kiss. She was so soft that I felt like I was melting into her embrace. And she kept offering us food, coffee, tea, sweets... in other words, she is exactly how you imagine the perfect babcia to be.

.........

I think I'll have to save my Western (Europe) adventures for another post, since I've got to get going before class. I'm not on vacation anymore, you know. In the meantime, here are some photos:

A walk in the woods

Piotrek, my grown-up Boy Scout

Adam in front of the historic, Zakopane-style church

The best of American culture

Last night I got a little pile of ashes sprinkled over my head.

2008-02-07T08:58:00.000-06:00

It is a good thing that I am staying for two semesters because właśnie NOW I finally like Poland. I mean, I really enjoy being here. The reasons are multiple: First, I kicked dupa on my exams. (Scores of 5 out of 5 on everything except writing, which was 4.5) Meaning I actually understand this manic language. Aside from a soaring level of confidence, the practical implications of these results leads me to...

Reason Number Two: I joined a choir. That's right, I am now a Soprano II in the Chór Akademii Rolniczej w Krakowie. At least at the beginning, when you still go through the smalltalk, which by now I have thoroughly rehearsed, I found it was not so difficult to have conversations with people. On top of that, the people in this choir probably make it the nicest choir in Europe. The director is a doll, the students are so welcoming, the atmosphere is relaxed and not intimidating at all. Right off the bat, when rehearsal was over on Monday, the other foreign girl and I were invited to a piwo with everyone, the director included. It was just one of those things where I immediately felt really and inexplicably good in that place. I like it when that happens. Even though I am not playing my violin for anything here, it also felt good to b doing something musical. Rehearsal again tonight. I'm pretty sure it will go well again.

Reason Number Three: I know people who aren't in any way connected with my school program. I am becoming (I think) pretty good friends with a couple of Polish guys, Piotr and Adam. Adam is my Tandem partner, which means that he is supposed to help me with my Polish and I help him with English and the Spanish he's learning. Now what it REALLY means is that yeah, we'll do some concrete Polish studying, but I like best the part where we watch Polish movies and sitcoms and he'll translate for me. :) Piotrek, on the other hand, is the guy whom I had the fortune of meeting on my kurwa bus ride to Vienna. He doesn't live in Kraków, but he comes in every weekend for university classes, and we've been hanging out. Piotr is crazy but in a completely harmless way, so I enjoy his company. Plus, he keeps trying to stump me on long, tongue twister-like phrases. I've been able to hold my own on everything except "the table with the broken leg": stół z powylamywanymi nogami. Yeah, let's see you try that one. Coincidentally, both of these guys live in Kielce, which is about halfway between Kraków and Warsaw, and tomorrow I will be taking an early bus to go up there for the weekend and see each of them. Friends are good.

.......

I may have to abandon my travel plans to Lviv, Ukraine because the time is fast approaching for Tamas and I to go to Madrid. Hopefully I will be able to update from there. "Who is oh-so-excited to Spain?" "Ooh! Me, me! Pick me!"

.......

For anyone who's keeping score at home, the Warsaw Halfmarathon is in 53 days. On Tuesday I ran an easy 10k. Took about an hour. That was three laps around the big field, the Błonia, near to Piast. Now if I can keep adding a lap per week, I should be in darn good shape for 21 kilometers. However, even today, I am dead tired.

.......

Finally, this post's titles refers to Ash Wednesday, or środa Popielcowa, which was yesterday. I went to a service where at one point a Polish priest mumbled something while sprinkling a pinch of fine gray ash over my head. I wonder why we have the tradition of drawing a cross on our foreheads.

One thing I like about going to Mass here is that, while I certainly don't understand everything, it serves as a weekly yardstick of how my Polish is progressing. Now, when Grandpa Merc sits down at the table and asks, "Did we pray yet?" for the third or fourth time, I can say "Na imię ojca, syna, i ducha świętego" right along with him.

Why I <3 Czech, Yet Another Reason

2008-02-04T15:14:00.000-06:00

In an earlier post, I mentioned how when I think of the Czech language, I will always remember it in song. Well... here is another piece of ammunition in my personal Czech vs. Polish battle. Why do I love everything that country does? Just watch the video for the guy with the pane of glass and the dancer on the right, who could be Fuzzy from Chic-A-Go-Go. You'll see what I mean.

To get the English translation (albeit a rather rough one), you'll have to go to the actual YouTube site here.

NOTE: About a month ago, this video took Poland by storm. It's popularity made it on to the national news, so now, friends, I must ask you to share this treasure with the rest of America. ;)

At the Cinema...

2008-01-29T14:26:00.000-06:00

I don't know whether nor not this film has been widely released in the U.S., but I just found out that the film "Katyń" by Polish director Andrzej Wajda has been nominated for an Oscar for Best Foreign Film.

Even though I saw this movie within the first two months of my coming to Poland (and there were no English subtitles like there is in this trailer) I was really moved by it. It is an incredibly powerful story that is so important in this county's history. I also remember it being very beautiful despite the tragedy. Some emotions can certainly that transcend language.

Żałoba narodowa (National Mourning)

2008-01-26T09:51:00.000-06:00

I don't ever say this, but recently I have felt a lack of media in my life. Well, maybe more accurately I feel a lack of media in my own language to explain to me in English the important things that are happening in Poland. An example: a military plane crashed down Wednesday in the northwest of Poland, killing all 20 officers on board. I didn't hear about the incident until Thursday evening from a Polish friend.

The online Polish media has a wealth of information and special reports surrounding the tragedy, but I came upon a stunning lack of material when I searched various English-language outlets. The International Herald Tribune had the most comprehensive explanation, but I had to do some scouring of their website. CNN's mention is pitifully small and remains un-updated. The crash didn't make my top BBC headlines. Get over Davos, people.

So right now, Poland is finishing a two-day period of national mourning. It is just kind of scary to think that something as big as this can go almost unmentioned in the media abroad.

W katastrofie zginęło dwudziestu żołnierzy. Przyczyny tragedii nie są znane. Prezydent poinformował, że formalnie decyzja o żałobie narodowej zostanie podpisana po jego dzisiejszym powrocie z Chorwacji do Warszawy, ponieważ do tej decyzji musi być kontrasygnata premiera. Wiadomo już jednak, że żałoba będzie obowiązywała albo od godz. 20 w czwartek, albo od piątku przez trzy dni.

The secret is the biały ser

2008-01-21T11:54:00.000-06:00

Last night I was fortunate enough to be invited to a pierogi-making party at a friend's house in Kraków. And while Lydia, my friend, is not Polish, nor were any of us guests, she had an honest-to-goodness Polish recipe. However, the Poles that she lives with kept walking in and out of the kitchen to laugh at us. And one of Poland's most famous kings even came by to have a little czekolada gorąco.

Here is some of the documentation. Smacznego!

Ambition

2008-01-21T07:21:00.000-06:00

Here is my new project: to run in the Półmaraton Warszawski (Warsaw Halfmarathon) on March 30. I've always wanted to do something like this, but I know that part of the reason I am so looking forward to going to Warsaw is that, if I finish, it will mean to me that I have in effect, "conquered" Poland. Not in political terms or anything, but rather this race is representative of all of the frustration I have felt while being in Poland, and by doing this I feel like I can overcome all those barriers. Anyway... that might be a little too philosophical for a 13-mile run. And if nothing else happens, at least I'll have my free t-shirt.

Check me out here. As of three days ago, I was one of only 3 registered Americans.

Coś jeszcze...?

2008-01-21T06:51:00.000-06:00

NOTE: It proves I am learning something when I start to title my posts in Polish - haha.

I don't want to try to explain all that has happened since the last time I made a comprehensive post, so here is just a "highlights" reel, a veritable, visual "Best of."

PRAHA

KRAKÓW

WIEN

"Wilst du mit mir tanzen?"

Vienna probably deserves it's own entry because there is where I began my new year; it would just seems fitting. The truth is I am too lazy and I am rushing off to a Polish history exam in a few minutes, but that is beside the point. What I want to emphasize is this last picture. I took it at a milonga in Vienna after I had taken a brief lesson. (Just as a piece of advice, I don't recommend trying to get instruction in something you are already not so good at in a language you don't speak at all, like, for example, taking a tango lesson in German...) What I realized by the end of the night, that after numerous attempts at small talk with various partners, my life is too complicated to explain in the space of a pause between songs - who I am, where I'm from, why I'm in Poland, etc. While it might be difficult to understand sometimes, even for myself, I kind of like that I am almost excessively complex.

an insufficient update

2008-01-03T15:25:00.000-06:00

I have made four (soon to be six) border crossings and have celebrated multiple holidays since the last time I posted. There needs to be an über-comprehensive post to bring y'all and myself up to speed with recent events STAT! (Notice the suggestion of German creeping into my vocabulary. That was my subtle way of reveal that I am taking in Vienna at the moment.)

In the meantime, here is the link to my most recent WDN article, published on December 25th. That makes me feel a little honored, quite frankly.

And while you're at it, you might as well check out the online magazine Apuntes, which published a piece I wrote on Spanish-English literary translation in their "Otoño-Invierno 2007" issue. Let's hear it for the functionality of a Sarah Lawrence theoretical essay.

e-card

2007-12-17T04:18:00.000-06:00

Z okazji Bożego Narodzenia życzę Wam wszystkiego dobrego, dużo radości, miłości, spokoju i szczęścia,

WESOŁYCH SWIĄT!!

News + Opinion

2007-12-12T03:12:00.000-06:00

First, something for Erin. Here is a Polish view about Donald Tusk's decision not to sign the EU Human Rights Treaty. It appeared as the cover story for the latest issue of a English-language newspaper in Krakow. To summarize:

Tusk is afraid that if Poland signs the rights charter, which Kaczynski opposes, the president will use his influence to prevent the reform treaty from becoming law. Ratification of treaties requires a two-thirds vote of Poland's lower house. Tusk's ruling coalition, consisting of his Civic Platform party and the Polish Peoples' Party, has only a 10-seat majority in the 460-seat lower house. Kaczynski's Law and Justice party, the lower house's second-largest, has 166 seats. Many members of the conservative Law and Justice party oppose provisions in the rights treaty dealing with families, including language that gives tacit approval to homosexual marriages.

Tusk decided to capitulate on that issue so he could obtain ratification of the Reform Treaty - the first political defeat of his young prime ministership, observers say. TTusk said discussions with Lech Kaczynski indicated that if the government pressed for charter ratification, Reform Treaty ratification will be in danger. He said he needed Law and Justice's support to obtain the two-thirds majority required to ratify the Reform Treaty. Poland cannot become president of the EU in 2011, as scheduled, unless it ratifies the treaty.

[Tusk's] capitulation on the charter suggests that, once more, Poland is isolating itself from the rest of Europe - an allegation often level against the more conservative Law and Justice government.

You can read the full text of the article here.

On a different note (but one that might be tangentially related), here is the latest article that I have submitted to the Winona Daily News:

'Tis the Season

This year is the first time I will be spending Christmas away from my family, and to miss out on a celebration that is typically centered on family has given me some mixed emotions. Given that the holidays involve various time-honored traditions, I have been doing a lot of thinking about what those traditions mean to me. On Christmas Eve, I will to go to a church service and sing carols like I always have, but it will feel drastically different.

Some traditions are ancient, passed along from one generation to the next and difficult to pinpoint where they began. Others can be formed merely by saying so. Some traditions can be restricting and oppressive, depending on which side you are. Some traditions are so important that people are willing to lay down their lives to defend them.

Contemplating the significance of traditions brings to mind Tevye’s lines from “Fiddler on the Roof,” “And because of our traditions, every one of us knows who he is.” Separated now from the culture and the traditions that have formed me, I have time to think about how I fit into all of the cultural puzzles to which I belong.

It is inevitable that when I sit down for coffee with a table of my friends here in Poland our conversations always include a discourse on certain customs that exist in our respective countries. We, who come from so many different places and backgrounds, are endlessly fascinated by these differences among us. Of course it is a cliché to say that our differences are what bind us together, but I have to admit that to a certain extent it is true. Besides, I bet you didn’t know that in Iceland they have 13 different Santa Clauses.

Differences in traditions can have repercussions in the political arena and affect more than just those in our immediate circles. Traditions confront politics especially when it comes to religion. Remember that our country was created for the right to practice a religious tradition without fear of persecution. Trying to protect that tradition in our contemporary world can be problematic. Take, for example, the polemic over the phrase “One Nation under God” in our Pledge of Allegiance.

The clash between Eastern and Western religious traditions is the basis for many a conflict, although it is not the only thing. The news we hear from the Middle East every single day is a result from our intention to promote the American tradition of democracy in Iraq. However, we can also look at France who is also riddled with social unrest even through it tries to smooth over the wrinkles of the religion question with a national policy of secularism.

During the 123 years when Poland was partitioned and didn’t exist as a sovereign nation, the spirit of the people and the staunch preservation of their culture was what enabled the country to come back once it regained its statehood. They kept their songs, their literature, and their traditions all in tact. I’ve heard it said that “Culture WAS Poland,” meaning that borders are arbitrary when it comes to defining a people.

That issue brings me back to the question of how I am living my life outside of my country. In this foreign place, all of the small traditions and cultural practices really stand out to me. I cannot rightfully call this culture “mine.” Yet, Poland is the land of my ancestors. So when I celebrate Christmas here, will I be breaking new ground by spending the day in a way I never have before, or am I picking up on the trail that was left behind when the Merchlewitzs and the Kukowskis crossed the ocean?

One thing I know for sure: when it comes to major holidays, it is not that the date is marked in red ink on the calendar which makes a day special. It is how and with whom we celebrate. Traditions –like eating my grandma’s kolaczkis or ringing a Swiss cowbell at midnight– are what make the season special.

However you enjoy your holidays this season, whether with menorah, eggnog, or not at all, there is a larger scheme, a pattern of concentric and intersecting circles, that you are a part of. Just like Tevye also sings, tradition is what helps us keep our balance in a world increasingly full of changes and insecurities. It helps remind us who we are, wherever we might be.

The Great Czech Republic Adventure

2007-12-05T14:25:00.000-06:00

[Note] Blogger would not let me fill in as much as I wanted to in the title space (not enough room), so here is what the official title of this post should be: "The Great Czech Republic Adventure; OR Thank Goodness for Long Underwear; OR I've Never (fill-in-the-blank) in the Czech Republic Before; OR It Is Established Once Again that Annie and Sarah Make A Powerful Team, So Maybe ONE More Person Should Ask If We Are Sisters" There.

The only word that can accurately describe the weekend I spent in Valašské Klobouky –a small town in the foothills of the Carpathian Mountains– is "magical". (I don't think it is a coincidence that the the sun came out to shine over the freshly fallen snow once Tomi and I crossed the Czech-Polish border on our way there.) It was truly a change of scenery and a breath of fresh air. The most important thing to me was that I saw Annie in a place where she felt really at home. The entire weekend she had stars in her eyes and love shown out of her heart for everything and everyone. And it was easy to see why. Words are utterly inadequate to convey my feelings towards the hospitality of the kind, worldly souls of Kosenka, Valašské's environmental NGO and organizers of the St. Nicholas jarmek (market). I had to make an effort to hold back my tears as we were saying our goodbyes at their building on Sunday afternoon. And I had known these people for only about 36 hours! I'll do my best to recount the highlights here for better or worse and in more or less in chronological order:

- Tomi and I had to negotiate in Russian for our train ticket to Klobouky and then paid the 22 crown fare with a king size Kit-Kat bar. A good start.
- ANNIE!
- Czech beer
- Bowling at the "Amerikan" bar. Just wait - Cosmic Bowling will take take the country by storm. It's only a matter of time.
- Kosenka
- Attending an art opening with local artists, food, and live folk music at Klobouky's high school. It was the beginning of a lot of hammer dulcimer music.
- A youth choir concert in the town church that included various popular religious songs translated into Czech AND a stirring rendition of "Oh, Happy Day!" in English
- Baking periniki (gingerbread) at Mirek's home with a recipe that has been passed down for at least 4 generations. I use the term "baking" very loosely here since basically my role consisted of sitting at the dining room table to drink and eat while all the women of the house laughed and fell in love with Tomi. (Pretzliki are my new favorite snack.) However, I did give the mortar and pestle a few turns to grind the spices.
- As we were about to leave Mirek's house, we were surprised with the return of Martin, Mirek's son, from Norway and who has another soul full of light and love. I am honored to say that I met the entire family.
- Sleeping on a gym floor. Here are where my long underwear came in handy - it was cold!!
- The next morning, Annie woke Tomi and I, acting like a Dad on vacation at Disney World who wants to see absolutely everything. My breakfast was a glass of hot honey wine. I think I made it until about 2 o'clock before I had something non-alcoholic to drink.
- I spent the rest of Saturday without hardly ever being without food or drink in my hand: kolaczki, frgali, kyselica (oh, spelling...), kielbasa, potato pancakes weighing about 1 kilo each, boiled potatoes and cream from the old people's house, chicken, breads, apple cider, apple and beet juice, kofola cola, and of course, slivovice!!!!

- Dancing devils (that resemble yetis than they red devils we know) with bells on their backs and swatting passers-by with pine branches
- I bought some new red shoes! Actually, they are Vallachian slippers of the same kind that Annie wore all throughout the Powerhouse. My attempts at speaking Polish the Czech actually didn't work to my dismay, so I communicated my size with the shoe vendor in rudimentary German. It turns out that this was the same guy that Annie had bought her slippers from two years ago! And hey, at the end of it all, all three of had a round of slivovice from the shoe vendor.
- Annie's eyes when she met someone from the town whom she knew
- Taking a hike in the White Carpathians and seeing the sky's colors at sunset
- Tons of traditional dancing and people in beautiful traditional outfits
- Getting to try my hand at traditional dancing. ("Take that, Slowianki!")
- Watching Annie tap dance on the table :)
- The late-night jam session of Czech folk songs in Kosenka's horse stable. From this point on, whenever I will want to think about how the Czech language sounds, I will have to think of it in song because that is how I heard it the most.
- Getting too many kisses from old Czech men who thought I could understand them
- Vallachian yogurt
- Conversing with Mirek and feeling his kindness, intelligence, and wisdom
- Attending evening mass for the First Sunday of Advent in Czech, walking by Fredric Smetana's house, and meeting a helpful local who was almost too good to be true in Hranice na Moravia. See? Even good things can happen when you have seven-hour layover at the border because you missed your train...
- Coming back to Krakow at sunrise

I know what I wrote is a lot to take in, but in my own mind I am still trying to put this experience into perspective. Everything was in complete contrast from the style of life that I am living now, and I wish I could incorporate more of that peace here. Even though it was a whirlwind of a trip, (in Annie's words "an act of love"), a revelation came to me: when you live a small life, every single thing you have or experience takes on a grand importance. It wasn't as if when we were grinding the spices for baking, for example, that someone made an announcement that quieted the room and gathered everyone's attention to the ritual that was about to happen. No, it was just life. No ceremony to force the weight of the moment upon us. The festival was about celebrating culture, celebrating who these people are and all of their uncomplicated traditions. Each and every act there was an act of love. The cleanliness and simplicity of the traditions only serve to concentrate their potency. I think each person involved needed this weekend for a different reason. Now the time is ripe for me to think about what is important in my life. Before I leave off, I invite any questions about this post's title that remain unanswered. Finally, I have to include a photo of my new red shoes. :) Ahoj!

SMACZNEGO

2007-11-28T03:04:00.000-06:00

This is a post I have been intending to write for the longest time, so this is going to be a lengthy one. Prepare yourself. One of the distinctive experiences of world travel is getting to try all kinds of foods that are new to you but traditional in the way that they represent a place. Yes, I've had pierogis, bigos, obwarszanki, pickled herring in cream and a LOT of kielbasa, but some of my most memorable food moments are not always Polish in origin. Here are some highlights:

"Not What the Pilgrims Had In Mind"

I'll start with Thanksgiving since that was a big event, and in fact it was the first major American holiday that I have spent outside my country. Some of my American friends and I talked about trying to recreate a traditional Thanksgiving meal here at Piast, but that never came to fruition with our midterm exams taking up most of our free time and brain cells. Besides, I haven't really noticed that Poles eat turkey at all. Besides, what kind of student-made feast could top 2006's Powerhouse Turkey Day? I did my own part of celebrating by listening to Sarah Vowell read a story on a "This American Life" episode about Thanksgiving with her family, and thanks to the wonders of the internet I was able to talk with my own family, Peter finally included.

Coincidentally, with our exams finished as of last Thursday (Thanksgiving Day), Isabelle had planned on making a giant pot of miso soup with our Japanese classmates. It was meant to be a celebratory dinner, and it was marvelous. Miso, tofu, shiitake mushrooms, potatoes, onions, some kind of Japanese boullion, and seaweed. Not only did we have miso soup carefully supervised by four Japanese students, Isa also created a rice and tomato dish with all of her Italian-French culinary experience. Wait - there's more! For desert, we had waffles topped with jam. Those were a little more off-the-cuff since none of us had ever made the batter from scratch before, and we had to keep approximating the conversion from the American recipe I got from the internet into the metric equivalent. Nonetheless, I think I will always remember how at one point all of us were standing in a circle in the 6th floor kitchen, passing a bowl every minute or so from one person to the next to beat the egg whites for the waffle batter.

The evening's experience made me consider what this holiday is supposed to represent. Yes, there were all of those messy consequences to deal with once the white men had landed in America, such as, ahem, smallpox, but Thanksgiving was centered around togetherness and food. TO get to Poland, I had to travel across the ocean and disembark in a country where I knew neither the land or the people. Looking around the bed that served as our dinner table at all the people who helped prepare our meal, I took a moment to give silent thanks for the opportunity to be here and to spend that American "święta" (holiday) with some of the people closest to me.

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"Thank you Bloedow's"

It was a foggy, rainy, and chilly day in Krakow. It wasn't at all the beautiful weather that I had gotten used when I first arrived in the city. I had also been put in a bad mood after a full day of classes, and then instead of going home where I really wanted to be, I offered to accompany Isabelle on one of her crazy runs to Carrefour. It was still going to be a long afternoon...

To get from one end of the Stare Miasto to the other, Isa and I walked through the Planty (parks) that ring the old town. But then to get to the shopping center and Carrefour, you have to go through a small underpass beneath a bust street. The shopping center is right next to Krakow's train station, so this underpass sees a lot of pedestrian traffic in a day. Of course, there are small shops and stall that line each side to take advantage of all this high visibility.

It was in this underpass, in the right side, just before the exit into the shopping center plaza, that I had my first and my best pączek. I had been dying to try a pączek since it was one of the few Polish things and words (only known to me by its plural "pączki") that I knew before coming. It is a fried round of dough, filled with a special rosehip jam, and covered in a delicate glaze. Basically it's a doughnut. I bought one of these little balls of fried goodness for 1.10 zloty, and from the first bite it was as if I had only a mouth full of sunshine. The glaze was a perfect layer of sweet and just a tad crispy, the interior was fluffy and golden, and that rosehip jam is still a foreign delicacy to me. What struck me the most about this doughnut was that the taste took me back to a place thousands of miles away. It took me to a place where I knew the rest of the day was going to be okay. The taste and the texture and the feeling all took me back to my favorite corner bakery in Winona, MN, a staple of my childhood, Bloedow's.

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"Lecsó"

Tamás Fözö, my Hungarian, is a cook. Literally. His name, "Fözö" means "cook" in Hungarian. However, irony of ironies, he does anything but. I mean, he basically eats for survival and goes through pounds of instant cappuccino mix. That's my Tomi. But one day, as a super special treat (and in honor of Annie's visit) Tom Cook made the traditional Hungarian dish "lecsó". It was a circus in the kitchen for a while, but the finished product was great. Here is the recipe in Tom's own words as I made him write them down:

Lescó for 4 Persons

1. onion cut, 1-2

2. 1 kg paprika (peppers, in English)

3. 1 kg pomidory (tomatoes)

4. 2-5 eggs

5. 1 very small spoon of salt & sugar

6. some meat, maybe kielbasa

Everything has to be sliced!

Paprika has to collapse! WAIT!

We don't need water because the paprika has her own.

--------------------------

Finally, I include this bit just be cause it's a little fun. Cookies. I have made three different cookie recipes since I have been here: Peanut Butter Cookies with Annie and Tomi, Thumbprint Cookies with Sabine and Amelie, and last night's Banana Bread-esque Vegan Cookies. I was just in one of those moods to bake. However, I had to get a little creative with my ingredients since I had no eggs and just a little butter. Not to mention that we don't have any measuring cups or spoons. But come on, I am probably one of the few students in this whole dorm that has both baking soda AND baking powder. Here are are the final results. Flour on the bottom, sugar on the top, and egg-less banana goodness in between. I am quite proud of myself.

Quick Links

2007-11-23T11:56:00.000-06:00

My latest Daily News column was published in yesterday's paper. If you're interested, you can check it out here. This is the one that includes my thoughts on the recent Polish elections and Eastern/Central Europe's transition to democracy. Kind of neat that I got holiday billing in the WDN.

Also, my very first article from Poland –which includes the refrigerator anecdote– can also be found here. (And for those of you who have been following this story with keen interest will be happy to learn that today Isa and I became the proud owners of a very large, very old, and super inconvenient lodówka. It is sitting on our balcony, and now all we have to do is rig up a system where we can pass the power cord through the door or window back into our room. At least our food will be protected from projectile pigeon poop - hurrah!)

Dreaming of a White November

2007-11-16T03:29:00.000-06:00

Krakow is one giant snowball. I know it is all fun and beauty now, but check back in a month or so and I'll let you know if I am still in love with this city. (Although, I think all signs look favorable...) Here are some more thoughts on how I am adjusting to the skies being either white with snow and clouds during the day or pitch black thanks to the 3 pm sunset.

It has been lightly snowing everyday for about the last week or more, but near to a foot of snow fell in about 12 hours yesterday. It was the light, fluffy stuff good for making snow angels, but that didn't stop a band of boys from the rival dorm across the street to come over and pelt Piast with a barrage of fluffy snowballs. Retaliation is in the planning stages, but those are the intimidatingly well-built students from the environmental engineering university. I don't think that a bunch of foreigners interested in poli sci and philology have much of a chance. "Hey guys, wait! - that is my good pocket protector! I'm staying out of this. Have I mentioned that I am part Swiss?"

For Luke:
Tom was out with his father, who was visiting Poland, but called me and told me to meet him in the Rynek so we could appreciate the Market Square dressed in its new winter glory. I had a peaceful walk to the tram stop. It was about 10 pm, so there weren't too many people at the stop. The air was all peaceful. However the entire time I had to keep brushing off the snow that stuck to my wool coat and stomping the snow off my boots. Eventually, with the impending arrival of the number 4, the stop attracted a few more people. The tram pulled up, everyone brushed themselves off one more time, and just before stepping into the train the group of guys in front of me took a moment to hit their shoes against the edge of the vehicle to break loose some stubborn snow. I smiled to myself at this because it reminded me of every winter day of my childhood when my father would say to Peter and I, "Click off your shoes to get into the car." I always treated that request as one of my dad's cleanliness-obsessed idiosyncrasies, and I would just roll my eyes when I heard it for the 1000th time. Those Polish guys last night and their snow-removing practicality was a reassuring sight. I felt at home.

For anyone else who is interested:
I can never stop from laughing at the people who use umbrellas for the snow. It's like, "Nice try, people, but snow has a tendency to swirl around and avoid that feeble nylon coverage. And you actually look kind of ridiculous."

I think this will be the fifth year in a row where I am living though in fierce winter weather without having to responsible for shoveling - yesssss. One point for me!

What's one stereotype about how the Slavs get through these subzero months? Of course with a little drink. I guess we officially welcomed in the start of the Polish winter when, while at a friend's dorm in Zaczek, her Russian neighbors came by and hospitably offered us some of their homemade honey lemon vodka. (I didn't think it was so bad, but one of my friends failed to show up at class the following morning as a result.) Having a glass of Russian/Polish moonshine in Krakow? Check. List of lifelong goals now only half as long.

Save the Red Shoes!

2007-11-10T13:17:00.000-06:00

I've got a small bit of bad news. I don't think my red Danskos are going to make it through the winter. Over the last few days, with this crappy fall rain, I have been finding myself consistently unable to walk from the tram stop to my school without ending up with two puddles of water instead of feet. I thought Danskos were supposed to be indestructible!

Please feel free to offer any suggestions (aside from the obvious "Duh, buy some new shoes") here.

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Snow. Snow is better than rain for the simple fact that is is less wet. (Maybe I can live with my imperfect red shoes a little bit longer.)

I mention this because today was the first day where we had snow in Kraków that actually stuck to the ground. However, the morning broke with a lot of sunshine. I stepped out into our refrigerator –in reality, a corner of our balcony– for some orange juice for my breakfast, and it was a gorgeous day! I decided in that moment that I would go down for a jog in a nearby park.

Every experience I have had jogging in this part of town has been wonderful. It's like a sight-seeing tour on warp speed. I have stumbled upon a beautiful garden within a park or just spun around the same path a few time to soak in the intense yellow of the trees in their fall brilliance. I can orientate myself a bit better AND I have to do something to counteract all the spoonfuls of Nutella that I eat directly out of the jar...

So this morning, I put on my sweatpants and my super space-age fabric hoodie with thumbholes cut out of the sleeves, and I was ready to go. I got outside and thought, "this isn't so bad." I got as far as the stoplight on my corner when it started to flurry. Still, I thought, "this isn't so bad." The weather still felt warm-ish, and the sun was still shining. There was a little competition for little kids and their toy airplanes on the big green. I made it down the first straightaway of the 3 or 4 K ring around the park, with the Kopiec Kosciuszko at my back, and I no sooner turned the corner than the wind decided to blow completely parallel to the ground and into my face. The snow flurries were now small collections of ice balls. I finally thought, "this is pretty bad. I must be crazy." Still, there was something thrilling about facing those elements and having giant snowflakes land on my tongue as if I were a child trying to excitedly catch them there.

But when all was said and done, I made it back home almost completely dry. I showered, fixed myself a big bowl of tomato soup, and of course now I'm back to eating more Nutella straight out of the jar.

Pics and such

2007-11-09T04:02:00.001-06:00

Some scenes from the b-day holiday to London:

Some are self-explanatory.

The Rosetta Stone in the British Museum: thousands of years of orthographic history at my fingertips!

To prove that Charles Dickens was human, after all.

Tom's sister, Audrey. Thanks for all the food!

After a staying up all night to catch an early bird flight back to Krakow. Somehow, physical exhaustion makes it easier to deal with the announcement of the pilot when he comes on to say that the plane is having engine trouble...

Happy 23 to Me!

2007-11-04T07:11:00.000-06:00

Who knew that when I began this blog as a way to record the things I experience in Poland that I would be entering a post about spending my birthday in London? (You don't have to answer; that was a rhetorical question.)

To begin at the beginning, I have a crazy Hungarian friend. The word "crazy" needs to be enphasized many times, but Tamas -as is his name- is turning into one of my dearest friends in Poland. One thing I can always count on Tomi for is for giving into the impulses of Ryan Air. It was maybe three weeks ago that Tomi had the idea to go to London this weekend. Of course I said I would go with him. (Some of you reading this might be able to understand my real motivation.) The day before our departure, the two of us booked another flight to Madrid in February... The point is, I am here in England with him, meeting his sister and staying with his friends.

On the one hand, our weekend has been filled with the traditional "must-sees" of London's top sights. On the other hand, In conversations with all of Tomi's friends, it has been a really interesting look at contemporary immigrant life. I am learning a little bit of Hungarian as an added bonus. :)

As soon as I get back to Krakow I will upload some pictures of the highlights of this mini vacation. The list to include: a nighttime view from the London Eye, uncharacteristically gorgeous November weather, Tom being crazy, AND (my all-time favorite) Charles Dickens' commode.

Wybory 2007! Making our mark on the Polish democratic republic

2007-10-25T15:51:00.000-05:00

My French roommate, Isabelle, recently acquired her Polish citizenship. So here we are right before she went in to vote on Sunday, October 21.

I plan to write my next Winona Daily News article about Polish democracy, so stay tuned. In the meantime, check out one my sources, (this BBC article) which I think made a pretty audacious statement on the eve of the election. Would the New York Times ever do something like this? I don't think so.

Polish Healthcare, shaken not stirred

2007-10-24T11:55:00.000-05:00

One of the many beautifully frustrating thing about living in Poland is the governmental bureaucracy. Any official state business –such as registering myself as a temporary resident of Kraków– takes almost an entire day. Let's not even bring up the hope that I can get decent local health care coverage; as a foreigner, and as a foreigner who doesn't belong to the European Union, it's as if I don't even exist to the government.

BUT...

I recently found this article by the BBC. It turns out that even sans documentation, I should be alright after all. This country will take care of me.

"Na zdrowie!" --> a Polish toast literally meaning "To Health"

Alma Mater Polonia

2007-10-05T13:58:00.001-05:00

Jagiellonian University is the most prestigious higher education in Poland. (It is among oldest in Europe, founded in the fourteenth century, second only to the university in Prague.) I should come home at the end of the year with a diploma that certifies my work in Polish as a foreign language. I mean, I am kind of cheating when I say I go to Jagiellio´nski because I am only taking language classes at the Center for Polish Language & Culture, but hey, it technically counts. And I won't complain; the Polish government is paying me to be here all the same...

If you are interested in what my program of studies looks like, you can click here. I am definitely doing the A1 "Breakthrough" program. :)

l'Auberge Polonnaise

2007-10-04T15:24:00.000-05:00

So I've been here for a week, and these are just some of the first impressions that I have collected in that time. I will make a more comprehensive post very soon (now that I have internet in my room). First of all, Krakow is absolutely stunning in the fall. The parks and avenues are gorgeous with the warm October sun and all of the yellow leaves falling around you and the sculptures.

The curious thing about living in Poland, the one thing that has been my saving grace, is how much I use me Spanish. Seriously. For example, my roommate, Isabel, is from France, and she only speaks English at a very basic level. However, she did an Erasmus program in Spain, and now she is at a near fluent level of Spanish. This is how an American girl can speak with her French roommate in Krakow... Who would have guessed? If you've seen the movie "l'Auberge espagnole" it resembles that storyline quite a bit.

There is no one here who is mono-lingual. Neither is English anywhere near being a "universal language." Explain it however you want –the proximity of European countries, inter-European study, immigration– but the fact remains that the majority of Americans are at such a disadvantage. The other foreign kids I am meeting, if we talk in English, it is certainly not their first language, and now they are learning Polish with me. What's up with our being able to graduate students and call them "educated" with maybe two years of half-hearted Spanish or German classes in high school?

Even so, the world is not perfect. Isabel and I are in need of a fridge for our dorm room, and as kids were moving into the dorms, there were a few fridges lying about the hallways. Isabel stopped a Polish student on the stairs to ask whether or not the unit in front of us was taken. The conversation went something like this:
(enter Isabel, Sarah and Dude)
Isabel: (in English) Excuse me, do you speak English?
Dude: No, very little.
Isabel: Ok, ummm... español? Italiano? Francais? Deutsch?
Dude: Ah, deutsch.
Isabel and Dude: (a conversation in broken German involving a lot of pointing, gestures, and "um" with Dude offering the correct word for "fridge" in Polish, which I promptly forgot.)
Dude: (Fed up) Okay, no, no, no. (Counts on fingers) Polski, Ukranski, Slovaki, Ruski, Ceska?...
Isabel and Sarah: Dziekuje (and exit)

Even with ten –count 'em, ten– languages available between us, we couldn't hold a simple conversation about a refrigerator! That little encounter made me wonder just what the hell am I getting myself in to.

Luckily I found a named Loretta, a British girl with a Polish mother, who grew up speaking Polish. What would I be doing without her help?? I really don't like NOT being able to understand what is going on around me or not being understood myself. I mean, come on - I was more or less a communications major. I live for being able to get my ideas across, and I always prided myself on how well I could get around Argentina with my Spanish. I honestly feel like a little child. I can really only look and observe. Pronunciation and reading is very difficult right now. The few words I do know are not enough to string into conversations, and when I do recognize things on billboards or that I overhear when other people speak, I get really excited.

I know I probably have enough literary references for this early in my blog, but here is one passage that struck me from the book that I was reading on my transatlantic flight. It's from Paulo Coelho's The Pilgrimage:
When you travel, you experience, in a very practical way, the act of rebirth. You confront completely new situations, the day passes more slowly, and on most journeys you don't even understand the language the people speak. So you are just like a child in the womb. You begin to attach more importance to the things around you because your survival depends on them. You begin to be more accessible to others because they may be able to help you in difficult situations. And you accept any small favor from the gods with great delight, as if it were an episode that you would remember for the rest of your life.
At the same time, since all things are new, you see only the beauty in them, and you feel happy to be alive... The word pecadillo, which means a "small sin," comes from pecus, which means "defective foot," a foot that is incapable of walking a road. The way to correct the pecadillo is always to walk forward, adapting oneself to new situations and receiving in return all of the thousands of blessings that life generously offers to those who seek them.

True words when they refer to the simple state of a traveler and of how important it is just to keep walking, to keep persevering...

The Historic First Post

2007-09-25T23:01:00.001-05:00

Hello Friends!

I began this blog with the thought that this would be the most efficient way to keep anyone who may be remotely interested in what I'm doing informed about where exactly I am doing that something. So thanks for reading!

Tomorrow at 9:30 am I leave good ol' Minneapolis to undertake a Polish adventure. I will be spending the next year at a university in Krakow basically getting paid to soak up Polish culture. Hopefully I will have many stories and photos to share here, so keep checking back.

I know that this post is falling prey to the over-exuberance and long-windedness that I am sure many first-time bloggers go through, but I just have a few thoughts that I feel reflect where I am in my opinions on travel. And of course, like the good lit student that I am, I refer now to some inspiring reading.

First is a passage from Italo Calvino's Invisible Cities:
Marco Polo imagined answering (or Kublai Khan imagined his answer) that the more one was lost in unfamiliar quarters of distant cities, the more one understood the other cities he had crossed to arrive there; and he retraced the stages of his journeys, and he came to know the port from which he had set sail, and the familiar places of his youth, and the surroundings of home, and a little square in Venice where he gamboled as a child.
At this point Kublai Khan interrupted him or imagined interrupting him, or Marco Polo imagined himself interrupted, with a question such as: "You advance always with your head turned back?" or "Is what you see always behind you?" or rather, "Does your journey take place only in the past?"
All this so that Marco Polo could explain or imagine explaining or succeed finally in explaining to himself that what he sought was always something lying ahead, and even if it was a matter of the past that changed gradually as he advanced on his journey, because the traveler's past changes according to the route he has followed: not the immediate past, that is, to which each day that goes by adds a day, but the more remote past. Arriving at each new city, the traveler finds again a past of his that he did not know he had: the foreignness of what you no longer are or no longer possess lies in wait for you in foreign, unpossessed places.

Yes, this selection is also listed on my Facebook page, but I can't help repeating to as many people as will read it. I think that this eloquently captures what the travel experience means. Calvino is a genius! Read him! A lot!

The other reading that made me reflect on what it means to travel comes from the venerable Don Quixote. (Speaking of geniuses, the newest translation by Edith Grossman so wonderfully renders the glory that is Cervantes' prose.) This book is the pure essence of finding one's purpose in life and following it until the very end. Yeah yeah, so Don Quixote dies in the end freed from his delusions, but for the remaining 935 pages, Don Quixote and Sancho Panza believe so confidently in their dreams –no matter how crazy or unreachable– that I think they can teach us many valuable lessons about courage, friendship, and adventure.

I am I...
My destiny calls and I go,
And the wild winds of fortune
Will carry me onward,
Oh whithersoever they blow.
Whithersoever they blow,
Onward to glory I go!

Onward to Krakow!