I am reading once again The Brothers Karamozov (rather, beginning it again) and I am intrigued by Fyodor Karamazov. He is supposed to be “one of the most loathsome characters in all literature,” and I am finding I pity him more than loath him. Granted he was utterly wretched to his children (and that might indeed be cause enough to call him loathsome), but he is not so evil as one might expect. Perhaps it’s not that he is evil as much as he is utterly apathetic about everything and everyone except himself and his concerns. He is childish, and I guess I pity him more than loath him for that. I am longing to talk to someone about this book . . .
Month: June 1996
General Notes
Every day there is a woman who balances on the edge of the first seat of the bus, getting off around two or three stops after I get on. She has short hair which is frayed and silvery. Her body is more round than the average Pole, and she always wears a skirt with a gray sweater, and her veins stand out clearly on her pale legs. A couple of days ago the bus driver applied a bit too much force [on the brake pedal] a bit too quickly. She tumbled out of her seat with a thud and cracked her head against the door of the glass enclosure around the driver. No one offered to help; no one asked her if she was okay. We PCVs stood watching, remembering that Chrissy told us that it is often better not to get involved. A bit ironic, for it is too late for us not to get involved . . .
Immersion
I survived another day of immersion with only one day left. That is actually thrilling. Those final sessions are hell, truly. By that time my mind has completely shut down, no questions asked. To try to jump-start it would be a great waste of time. Fortunately, the teachers realize how tired we are (and they are certainly more exhausted) and the final lesson is some sort of game. Of course we don’t have the luxury of completely shutting our minds off. They’re “educational” games.
Back to Radom
I made it back to the modest but nice place I now call home. We had a nice day. We went back to the Rynek for a while, then headed to the Jewish district. We toured a synagogue that had been turned into a museum, including a portion on nearby concentration camps (Auschwitz).
Kraków was more than I was really ready for. There was just too much: The children’s parade Saturday; all the architecture; the cafes and restaurants we went to; the dancing in the square this afternoon (and the accompanying drunk). It was all too much. I kept making mental notes – feeding the pigeons, walking in the rain, the age of everything surrounding me – but I don’t think I’ll ever remember it all. All I can say is that it was a truly magnificent experience.
What surprised me was the number of Americans we met. It seemed that we were everywhere. I guess Kraków is the city most visited by tourists. It stands to reason that we would meet many Americans.
There are so many churches in the old city. I couldn’t help but be awed by their beauty and simultaneously repulsed by the relative waste of money. How many people could have been helped by all the resources poured into those silly buildings?
First Trip to Krakow
I never really thought I would be in this city. To be honest, I never thought about this city. But nevertheless, here I am.
There’s so much to write about – I’ll just mention a few things: The expansive city center was amazing: a church at one corner, the huge center building, the city tower. It was all so overwhelming. The castle (Wawel) was a prime example of mixed architecture. The cathedral was Gothic; the palace was Romanesque; there was probably a bit of every other style thrown in for good measure. There are more pubs and cafes than could be imagined and many of them are in the basements (many of which date to the fourteenth century). We ate an Italian place and had green, salty pasta. Too much to write about – I need my computer.
At Training Facility
Settling In
We’ve done two school visits this week and it has me really wanting to teach. It’s in my blood – a sort of addiction, I guess. I’m eager to get to my site. However, I don’t feel comfortable enough with Polish yet to be cast into Polish society without American contacts. Of course, we’ll have tutors which will help a great deal. (I heard today than in the near future we’ll be getting Polish grammar books – are they teasing us? I hope not.)
It’s amazing how one day can be so awful – like yesterday – then all of a sudden, out of the blue, one has the best day in recent memory. This evening has been just amazing . . .
First of all, dinner was incredible. We had a completely ryby based meal. The main course was a rice-fish-pickle dish that was outstanding. Also we had fish patee and a bit of fried fish. It was incredibly good! Not only that, but I had a limited conversation with Teresa in Polish. It was so exciting to hear the dish described in Polish and understand what was in it.,
After dinner Piotr and I cleaned up and had a grand time. We carried on wonderfully. Afterwards we went into the living room and talk turned to the motivations of US foreign policy. It was an intriguing conversation . . .
It’s so interesting to hear a central-European on US policy. Piotr is of the opinion that everything the US government does is motivated by political and (more often) fiscal interests. Even the Peace Corps is a political move. Of course he is right – the US government does nothing for philanthropic (sp?) reasons. Still, it’s almost difficult to hear from a non-American. I wanted to agree with him and yet I also tried to defend the US (if that is possible). Still, how does one explain why his government pays farmers not to produce a certain amount of wheat (so that the international price will remain high) when there are billions of children around the world who are starving to death? It’s impossible – one merely has to admit that his government is wrong . . . in a major way.
One last comment: learning Polish is becoming vastly more rewarding. It is incredible to realize that I am using a language more and more that only a matter of weeks ago I knew next to nothing about. It is so vastly (and wonderfully) different from learning a language in a classroom in the States. Here I don’t pretend to buy a beer for practice; I do it in reality. I don’t practice buying a bus ticket; I actually do it. I’m not just learning to speak Polish; I’m learning to live it. And it’s vastly different.
Another storm is rolling in – the third in as many weeks. The weather here is so very strange.
Today we got our medical kits, including X condoms. It’s amazing how it has been assumed from day one that we will be having sex while in the Peace Corps. Americans (people in general?) seem now to view sex as a right.
Church and State
Yesterday they had the presidential elections in Russia. In Poland that is easily and obviously an issue of great concern. Many Poles feel that the only reason Russia doesn’t control Poland now is a matter of strength. This uneasy fear is echoed in my host brother’s casual comments about Russia when he refers to it as “Big Brother.” Many feel that a win by Zyuganov will mean an inevitable contention with Russia. The international edition [of Newsweek] expressed it most succinctly: “Red Alert” the cover reads, and many (if not all, even the youngest) Poles are turning their attention once again eastward with anxious eyes.
One interesting thing about Poland ten years ago was the role of the church. It played a part much like the church in Latin America. I’m not sure I would say that there was (or is) a sort of liberation theology – I don’t know the nature of the sermons at that point (or this point). Yet, without regarding the message in the church, the connection is obvious when one considers the political nature of the social forum provided by the Polish church of the 80’s. People talked at church about social ills and how they might be corrected. They discussed various methods of dealing with a corrupt and oppressive government. They did not go there to socialize or to see and be seen – they went there to plan action, and to monitor previous courses of action. I would like to find out what kind of sermons were being preached; what role did the church officially take?
It seems that in America only the church has taken on such a passive role. Yet with all the pro-life demonstrations and [the] various religious political action committees, that trend is in the process of changing. All the same Americans have generally not had any oppression to react against. The obvious exception is where the church in America has been most active: MLK was after all a preacher first and a political activist second – at least initially.
Today we observed an English [class] in a Polish liceum; tomorrow or Wednesday we might have to teach. This is particularly difficult to prepare for. We know nothing about the [students] we are suppose to teach (including [their] level). It is next to impossible to prepare for this lesson, if not completely impossible.
Culture Shock?
I woke up this morning with thoughts of home haunting my first conscious moments. Just as happened last Saturday, I thought of what I would be doing if I was back at home. It was nothing too overwhelming; it was just a little pang that deepened somewhat when I realized it would be two years before I could do that again. All of a sudden two years seemed like a desperately long time. I look forward to these years (I think – I hope), but in some ways I’m already longing to return. It’s that same comfortable ease that I miss. I have to work at almost everything here. I decided not to do much of anything this weekend just because of the difficulty involved. Once again it’s simply a question of language.
It already feels like I’ve been here for months and it has only been two weeks since I left. When the culture shock hits full-force in three or four months it will feel like it’s been years since I was in the States. It will be years until I return and it’s such a frightening prospect. I dread the long, dark winter and the total isolation from all that I know. Talk about culture shock.
Host Family
I haven’t written about my host family very much, but I am eager to do so. In short, they are wonderful and we get along incredibly [well]. I finally learned my host mother’s name (Teresa) the other day and I think we get along better and better every day. We communicate a bit in Polish, a bit in English, and [with] a lot of signs and patience. She has begun helping me every evening with my Polish homework – she does it very eagerly!
Piotr and I get along better and better too. We have a lot of laughs together and our communication is improving.
One amusing thing that is becoming a regular occurrence in the house is that Piotr talks to his mother in English, saying things that are playfully and lovingly insulting (seems an impossible combination of words). Tonight, for instance, he was carrying on with her about tea. “Can’t you understand that when I create something, when I make something which is entirely new, I want to enjoy it!?” It’s much like I carry on with my own mother, except I do it in her mother tongue.
Getting along so well with my host family really helps to make this a more livable (even enjoyable) experience. Their generosity and flexibility has made my transition into Polish culture much more relaxing. Tonight I thought to myself, “I am living in Poland – and having the time of my life.” (I write that because I’ve ceased thinking “I’m in Poland” and begun realizing “I’m living in Poland.” It caused me a bit of stress initially, but for now I like the thought of it.)
Spit
I’ve been working with my host mother on the basic Polish sounds and I have hit a real break through in [the] pronunciation of sz and rz. It’s great! Earlier in the evening I was trying to pronounce one of the many “sh” sounds and after several failures I finally threw out a last attempt accompanied by a significant amount of spittle, and she cried “Tak!” with great delight.
I am really finding my place in my host family and I feel quite comfortable here. We joke with one another and seem to enjoy each other’s company.
Parties and Neighbors
I’ve spent a good bit of the day watching Polish television – it’s interesting, to say the least. They have a version of Jeopardy called VaBanque or something like that. I watched “Beverly Hills 90120” with Polish dubbing. But the most entertaining was the Polish Donald Duck and Chip and Dale. It was interesting, to say the least – again. (Why the repetition?)
Yesterday several of us went to a chamber concert (string quartet) which was wonderful, though the building was a little too warm. They warmth mixed most effectively with the relaxing quality of the music and that made it very difficult to stay awake.
I’m not sure what it is, but lately it has been difficult to stay awake. No matter how much sleep I get, I am still always right at the point of falling asleep. I thought it was the decongestant, but it must be something more because I’m tired even when I haven’t taken any medicine.
A few words about Poles and their relationships with neighbors: They seem extraordinarily tolerant of each other. Last night there was an extremely loud party in the neighborhood. Music blared until seven this morning. When Piotr mentioned it this morning, he just laughed it off. “It was a wedding party,” he explained. On Friday night Justina said that the neighbors would not complain about the volume of the music because they would not want a feud.
Polish Reality
There’s something interesting about many of the English-speaking nationals (HCNs!) – quite a few of them were taught English by British native speakers. The resulting accent is very charming and has a pleasant bounce to it.
I finally tried my power converters with my CD player – it’s a good thing I bought my own because the one Mark gave me doesn’t cut the voltage down enough. I’ll be able to use it with my computer, though – at least in theory. For a while, it didn’t look as if either of them was going to work and it left me with quite a helpless feeling. I guess I might be able to get one in Warsaw, maybe. At any rate, the problem is solved for the moment.
I guess I need to do some studying now. I might get Piotr and/or his mother to help me out. I think soon, as I learn more Polish I will get Piotr to stop talking to me in English primarily. Otherwise, I’ll never learn Polish.
Unknown Corpus Christi
I am waiting for the bus, sitting in front of a church. I went in for a moment, but decided I should probably leave — I didn’t cross myself with holy water (It appears to be stagnant water with a greasy film.) and I was getting a few looks (though there were several others who did not cross themselves either). Suddenly the bells began ringing and eventually I caught sight of a procession coming around from behind the church. Choir boys were dinging small bells and behind them was a procession of relics. A little behind that was the priest, walking under a canopy supported by six men, preceded by a young priest waving an incense burner. The head priest was holding a staff with a gold sun in front of his face — he was led by the arms, for he certainly couldn’t see where he was going. Behind the priest was a group of loosely organized lay-persons, singing a capella. The woman beside me knelt as the group went by. A strange thing, this Christianity.
Lost in Radom
I got lost today for the first time! It took me two hours to get from downtown Radom to the house. I kept wandering around, looking for a 24 stop, but none was to be found. It was frustrating, to say the least. I finally asked two police officers – they were little or no help. I finally determined that the #15 could, in theory, take me back. The driver was a great help when I asked him for help.
When I finally got home I was very relieved but really wanted to talk to someone close to me. Then I was talking to Piotr about tomorrow and he told me that bus 24 will not be running (It’s Corpus Christi) and I thought, “Great – more adventures on the bus!”
Other than getting lost I had a great time this afternoon. Five of us spent the day exploring Radom. It was great fun, and I feel I am making great friends.
I’m feeling better and better about my Polish everyday as I learn a couple of things here and there (tu and tam).
We’ve only been here two whole days now and already it feels like a week. I guess it’s because we’re so busy and there’s so much to take in.
Today was a beautifully bright and sunny day – such a contrast with yesterday when it was cold and windy. I took my North Face shell just in case but didn’t need it at all, so I just lugged it all over the place. Of course it is so very heavy . . .
I stay so very tired – of course walking all over Radom today did wonders for my alertness. Still, without all that walking I am sure I would still be so very tired. I am wondering if it’s still just jet-lag. I should be sued to the time by now, but perhaps I’m not.
I am going to sleep now . . .
First Day
Today we had our first day of training – it was interesting: very little instruction until the end. Tomorrow I’ll have an extra hour or so – I’ll probably write more then.
Writing by hand takes so very long. I long for my computer, at least for my journal. I know I’d write so much more.
I am surprised that I’m not at all homesick. I would imagine that I”ll get that way in the future – once the newness wears off. Yet with the linguistic challenge always grudgingly offering its rewards, I don’t know that the newness will dissipate. I am very comfortable here. I know few phrases; I would become easily lost; I understand little of the culture – yet I’m comfortable. I even call this house “home.”
I am in Poland – occasionally it really hits me and I am shocked. I stand with other PCVs at the post office and I realize as I speak that I am the exotic one for a change. A little boy stood staring at us as we spoke – it felt good in a strange way.
I’m going to bed now. I am still so tired from the flight and I’m sure the stress, though not obvious, is taking its toll.
Radom
The sun comes up here amazingly early. I [have] been up for almost an hour now – I decided to put down some thoughts rather than lie in bed.
My host family is polite and friendly, though I haven’t seen my host father since he dropped me off yesterday. [Piotr], my host brother, speaks English quite well, and for that I am thankful. Despite their incredible kindness, I feel a little out of place. It’s only natural – I still am a bit surprised when I remind myself that I am in Poland.
There is so much to write about – I long to have my computer. Soon enough, I suppose.
Though the sun is up, it’s not very bright at all. I am wondering whether it is the pollution I’ve heard so much about, or merely a cloudy day. I’ve so many questions like that. I will find answers to many of them, I suppose.
I spent a bit of time last evening talking to Peter and his mother. I showed them pictures of Bristol and my family. For some reason, I was hesitant to show them all, and I held back a few of Puck and Lily. It was strange because the ones I gave them were simply whisked through while pictures of the house and my family were studied.
Peter was enthralled with the idea of State Street when I explained it to him. He asked what happened if a Tennessee officer saw someone across the street stealing something. I didn’t know quite how to answer that one.
There are many dogs barking outside. Most seem off in the distance yet last night it was as if the house was completely surrounded.
Speaking of the house, I suppose I should try to describe it. On the outside it looks very much like one of the townhouses of D.C., though only in groups of two or three, not whole rows. We entered through what I thought was the back door, but had the feeling of a front door: entry [area] with a place for coats and such. The floors are all hardwood and much of the wall space is covered with wood. I feel at times as if I’m in a spa!
My room is spacious with a large wardrobe from my clothes and a large (but low – about one and a half feet off the ground) bed. The bedroom suit is new – makes me wonder if my arrival had anything to do with it. Perhaps they were considering new furniture and this served as an excuse or prod of sorts. It’s almost something I can imagine my Dad doing. Of course, this is just speculation.
One thing which surprised me was the number of children on rollerblades. They were everywhere at the training center and on our street there were quite a few as well. It’s so strange to hear children laughing and playing, then scream and yell in another language.
I cannot believe how flat everything is around here. I’ve yet to see a single hill, or even the slightest rise in elevation. While I might not be “in Kansas anymore,” it’s certainly flat enough to be Kansas.
Over the Atlantic
The adventure continues – some hydraulic part broke and we waited around four hours for it to be fixed. It brought to mind the trip to the UK but then we were at least in the terminal, not on the plane. When it’s all said and done we’ll end up on this plane (plain?) around twelve hours
6:15 a.m. EDT
After a little breakfast I feel much better. I know I’m still exhausted but for now it’s retreated a bit and I’m able finally to write a little.
I’m meeting great people and things are finally settling down. I know I’m going to look back at this time as the greatest of my life. I finally have once again a tremendously positive feeling about all of this. I don’t know how the homesickness will go, but things in general are steadily improving.
Within a few hours I’ll be meeting my host family for the first time, about which I am very excited. I shall be with them for three months – very significant folks at this point (and throughout this experience, I’m sure).
10:52 p.m.
Radom, Poland
Everything is different. I suppose this is culture shock, on a small scale at least.
From the air the first thing I noticed was the fields: long and narrow. From that point everything just became more and more different. (Horrible [construction]). The roads are terrible, the people are friendly, and nothing feels the same. Even the toilets and bed sheets are different.
I would love to write more, but I am simply too exhausted.
Arrival in D.C.
From Washington National to this chair in the hotel room has been quite a trip. My bag (suitcase) was ripped on the flight over and the replacement is large enough to accommodate a small townhouse. Everything shifted immediately to the bottom and its bulkiness makes it difficult to carry. The Metro trip to the hotel was truly a nightmare. The whole experience was horrific.
I find that I’m doing better with each passing moment. I am still spending a lot of time alone, but it’s not necessarily a bad thing – I am finally getting to write in here. When I first got into the hotel room I felt like crap. I called my folks in tears simply because I was so overwhelmed. A hug would have been nice.
Departure
I don’t know what to write – I don’t know what to feel. I’ve been shoved to this moment by a force more powerful than anything I’ve ever encountered. It seems time was jerked from me like a tablecloth yanked from a table. It’s been so sudden that I don’t believe I’ve even begun to deal with the emotions. What I’m about to do still feels as unreal to me as the landscape far beneath me.
Yet as I leave, as I finally get under way, a calm has settled in. The most difficult part is over. I cannot turn back now even if I wanted to. With that finality is an almost perverse security. Now that I can no longer cling, I no longer reach. Of course this is just the eye in the first of many emotional storms I’ll face. I suppose part of it is simply the beauty of flying – it’s difficult to be upset up here.