Saudi King Abdullah visited Buckingham Palace, and he received a villainous welcome.
Once again, we found ourselves at Graveyard Fields this weekend.
Last time we were there, L was much smaller:
I’ve a feeling that, as long as Dziadek is here, we’ll be doing a lot of repeat trips.
More at Flickr
What else were we going to do on a Sunday afternoon?
Kinuk is out of Polska during this time of elections but plans on voting in the UK — like many other Poles.
I’ve been in the process of uploading old pictures to Flickr in an effort to make our collection there more indicative of our travels in Poland.
Ojcow lies just outside of Krakow. It’s a national park filled with rock formations and ancient castle ruins.
K and I visited Ojcow in late November 2002, for “Andrzejki” — the last night of partying before Advent sets in.
The first thing that strikes you about Ojcow when you arrive the bus station. There’s a tree growing through it.
We never learned why they built it around that tree. Maybe a rare tree? Maybe an ecological conscience? Maybe an architectural novelty?
Ojcow is in an area formerly ruled by the Austro-Hungarian empire during the partition of Poland. The Austrians declared that the Poles shall not build a single church on this ground. Occupied Catholic Poles being what they are (like most occupied people, very stubborn), they figured out a way to get around that. Such rule bending drives me absolutely nuts when my students do it.
The other day, right as we were in the middle of our starter, the principal walked into the room, strode purposefully to the back of the room, and sat down. A bit of a hush fell over the class at a time when I do not require complete silence—they’re doing pair work, after all. Still, everyone was especially quiet.
A principal observing a classroom is the perfect illustration of the bane of modern science: the inability to observe something without changing it in the process of observation.
Last Sunday we went to Chimney Rock.
When Dziadek was planning his trip, he’d looked through all the pictures of where we’d been with J (and where she’d bought spoons…) and decided that, having saved up some money, informed us that he wanted to go on one “real” outing, and the rest could be “little spoons.” (It sounds better in Polish.) So he came with plans to go on one big trip and instructions to bring home spoons from everywhere he’d been.
Chimney Rock was our first “little spoon.”
“Mamus juz tu byla?” he asked.
“Yes, she’s been here,” we responded.
“Nie musimy kupic lyzeczka, co?”
“No, we don’t have to buy her a spoon.”
Bumps, scrapes, and scratches — part of growing up. We tell ourselves, “It’s going to happen. She’s going to hit her head hard and a knot will rise on the spot, or she’ll slip and skin her knee,” and we think we’re prepared.
Yet when it actually happens, it’s something entirely different. For the first second.
In the grass field where everyone parks before catching the bus up to the chimney part of Chimney Rock Park, L was walking, then running, then falling and — it all flashed before everyone’s eyes — stumbling, falling, and planting her face squarely on a patch of dusty ground.
The results were predictable: instant hysterics, jerky motions, and panic — and that was mom. L was in a state of screaming that we’ve never heard.
“Water! Water! Put some water on that rag and give it to me! Quickly!” In Polish, from a panicked mother.
The tears passed quickly enough, but the consequences will hang around for a few days:
Once the girl stopped crying and everyone calmed down, K said, “Don’t worry, L. It’s just your first scraped nose.” Dziadek and I added, almost simultaneously, “And it won’t be your last.”
“For the first time in history we are preparing our students for a future we can not describe.” (always learning)
Dziadek had never eaten shrimp in his life, and so K and I had to correct that situation.
Ribeye steak, marinated chicken, grilled shrimp with garlic, baked potato, and corn with lemon and cayenne pepper (learned from Chhavi).