After a brief flurry of activity, things are dead at MTS because real life is too lively.
Summary:
- Looking for jobs.
- Looking for employment.
- Looking for gainful employment.
- Looking for jobs.
That's that.
Limited Posting Again
Month: June 2005
A Trip to Asheville
In the Mirror: Church and Culture
Even if you never looked at any other cultural aspect, you could learn a lot about the differences between America and Poland simply by attending one Mass in each country.
American society is more egalitarian and open, and the Mass in an American Catholic church reflects this. Boys and girls both serve as altar — what? Children? The division between priest and layperson dissolves as laypeople–including women–hand out the host for communion.
Polish society is much more patriarchal and hierarchical. Girls serving as altar helpers would be scandalous, and the priest really is seen as, spiritually speaking if not otherwise, a notch above the average layperson. He, and only he, can hand out the host.
Other striking differences:
- In giving the sign of peace, husbands and wives gave each other a friendly kiss. In Poland, you just don’t kiss in the church. It’s not the place for affection.
- Immediately after services, congregants began mingling and chatting. You don’t chat in church in Poland. Kinga once gave me a poke in the ribs for trying out to some small talk with an ex-student sitting beside me in Mass.
- In Poland, the formality of the occasion is reflected in the priest’s chanting voice. Here, the priest simply spoke the liturgy.
- In Poland, you might get to partake of the communion wine twice in your life. Here, one could conceivably have a sip every day.
What was most striking for me occurred early on in the sermon. The first reading of the Mass dealt with Elijah being given a place to stay and promising his hostess that in a year, she would be pregnant. The priest summarized this as “hospitality.” He talked about different forms of hospitality, then mentioned “passive” hospitality. It included, and this is no exaggeration, not complaining about higher taxes used to support a war which gives Iraqi people their first chance at freedom. In one, short sentence, the priest showed
- He’s a Republican.
- American priests have no problem mixing politics and religion.
- He so desperately wanted to mention and support the war that he mentioned it in a most inappropriate way, basically calling it an act of hospitality.
Kinga was a bit disappointed by it. It was not much of a surprise for me, though.
Bristol
Bristol — miasto w ktorym wychowal sie Gary. Mniej wiecej tak duze jak Kingsport ale o nieco innym charakterze. Spedzilismy tam pol dnia w piatek. Gary pokazywal mi dom w ktorym sie wychowal, szkoly do ktorych chodzil, miejsca ktore odwiedzal. W piatek odbylismy podroz do przeszlosci. Domek, niestety nie zrobilam zdjecia, bardzo ladny, w bardzo spokojnej okolicy. Osiedle domkow zupelnie odciete od glownych drog--bardzo bezpiecznie, zeby tam wychowywac dzieci. Okolica na prawde ladna. Teren pagorkowaty, dookola ladne domy, duzo zieleni, sporadycznie ogrodki z kwiatami--idelalne osiedle dla rodziny. Jedna rzecz jednak mnie zasmucila aczkolwiek nie zaskoczyla. Osiedle sprawia wrazenie opuszczonego — po prostu zywej duszy nie widac. Jedynie fakt, ze wszystko jest tak zadbane uswiadamia, ze jednak ktos tam mieszka. Dziwni sa ci Amerykanie, wszedzie widzi sie piekne domy, wszedzie mnustwo samochodow, smilam sie wczoraj, ze Ameryka to jeden wielki parking ale ludzi nigdzie nie widac...
Bylismy w starej podstawowce Garego, w szkole sredniej i na uniwersytecie. Oczywiscie ogrom, przestrzen, funkconalnosc, wyposazenie robia wrazenie jak wszystko tutaj. Przechadzalismy sie po placu zabaw szkoly podstawowej, Gary przypominal sobie wszystkie sztuczki jakie robili z kolegami w malpim gaju.
I was surprised by the playground on the school grounds. This is supposedly for high school students' children. It's not that I was thinking that the morality in American schools is lower than that in Polish schools because they're certainly comparable. I was thinking, though, of Mrs. Stopkowa, the director of our high school. Even thinking about such a thing would, for her, be "demoralization of children." I remember that she once didn't allow a student to take the matura [high school exit exam] because she was pregnant.
Liceum--no coz, my nie mielismy hali sportowej, ani auli o basenie nawet nie bylo co marzyc. Ale to sa standardy do ktorych mozna przywyknac ogladajac amerykanskie filmy. Zaskoczyl mnie plac zabaw na terenie szkoly. Podobno to przedszkole dla dzieci uczniow szkoly sredniej. Nie chodzi o to ze pomyslalam sobie, ze morale w szkole amerykanskiej jest mniejsze niz w polskiej, pewnie to sie wyrownuje. Pomyslalam sobie o pani Stopkowej, dyrektorce naszego liceum. Ona, sama mysl uznalaby za demoralizujaca mlodziez. Pamietam przeciez przypadki, ze dziewczyna nie zostala dopuszczona do matury tylko dlatego, ze byla w ciazy...
Uniwersytet — wydal mi sie bardziej angielski, w bardzo pozytywnym tego slowa znaczeniu. To niesamowite jak wszystko co wydaje sie bardziej europejskie niz amerykanskie przykuwa moja uwage. To zabawne ale ogladam sie w sklepie za kobietami w sukienkach — zaloze sie ze plynie w nich europejska krew.
Bylismy w pieknym parku. Wlasciwie w centrum miasta ogromne hektary ziemi to park, tylko amerykanie moga sobie na to pozwolic. Park podzielony na rozne sekcje, czy czesci. W jednej czescie roznego rodzaju boiska sportowe, w nastepnej miejsca na piknik, dalej place zabaw dla dzieci, dalej sciezki spacerowe a wreszcie bardzo ladny rezerwat przyrody. Tam tez pojechalismy. Zaparkowalismy nasza toyote zaraz przed wejsciem i poszlismy na spacer. To byl rezerwat na terenie mokradel. Szlismy lasem pomiedzy bagiennymi plytkimi stawami. Sciezki spacerowe to swietnie przygotowane drewniane pomosty (nasz stopa nie postala na lesniej sciezce) spotkalismy toche dzikich kaczek i gesi. Miejsce na prawde bardzo ladne--i co ?--oczywiscie nie spotkalismy zadnych innych spacerujacych... -- czy to jest taki stary europejski, wymierajacy zwyczaj.
Flags but No Bikes
There are simply flags everywhere around my parents’ neighborhood. Kinga and I went for a walk yesterday and found a house that had seven flags hanging–and that’s not counting the Americana ribbons decorating the split-rail fence in the front yard, or the Americana pinwheels in flower pots.
And then there’s the “We support our troops” real-estate-style signs in the front yards. Unlike during Gulf War I, there are no “We support our troops —- bring them home” signs. Somewhat depressing.
What is it about patriotism that makes me so nervous? Why have I never considered myself a patriotic individual? “And I’m proud to be an American,” we hear from huge speakers during Independence Day fireworks shows around here, but I just can’t identify with that. How can I be proud of something I had no part in? How can I be proud of an accident of fate? Am I fortunate to be an American? Certainly. Am I glad I’m an
American? Yes.
But proud?
I’m not ashamed of it in that sense. Well, not usually. Kinga tells me that I am much more European than American now, though when pressed for an explanation, she couldn’t explain it more than to say, “Well, you don’t sit around on the couch all the time.”
Is that the view she has of Americans? If so, then I’m a little embarrassed to be an American. We need to clean up our image if that’s how the world views us.
Trouble is, Americans haven’t ever really worried about how the world views us. In fact, I don’t think the average American knows how the world views us. Perhaps we see all the Mexicans trying to cross the border and think of Ellis Island immigration and assume that all these people are struggling to get into the country to be with us in our great American adventure and eventually take part in that cliché.
That’s why criticism of American policy is often met in middle-America with the simplistic explanation, “Well, they’re just jealous, that’s all.”
“America is just one big parking lot,” Kinga said the other day.
There’s a lot in that simple sentence: the consumer mentality, the urge for independence even in transportation, the wide-openness of America, and often the emptiness of America. Taking a walk yesterday evening, Kinga and I were shocked at how the whole neighborhood is deserted. “Not a single kid out playing,” she said. As we were driving around Bristol Friday, the same thing. “If it weren’t for the fact that everything is perfect down to the last detail,” Kinga said, “I’d think the whole place was deserted.”
It didn’t use to be that way. When I was growing up, our neighborhood was filled with kids riding bikes, playing baseball.
Well, from my perspective anyway.
America has changed a lot in the last three years.
A Day in Bristol
Pierwsze wrazenia
Przepraszam za brak polskich liter ale na razie nie udalo nam sie zainstalowac polskiej klawiatury na komputerze rodzicow.
Dotarlismy. Nasza podroz trwala 25 godzin. Dlugo, bardzo dlugo, to mi uswiadomilo jak jestesmy daleko od domu. Pozegnanie z rodzina — mame caly czas widze zaplakana a tate widze na tarasie widokowym lotniska w Balicach jak trzyma w gorze zacisnieta piesc jakby chcial powiedziec “trzymajcie sie”. Bedziemy sie trzymac, chociaz wiem ze bedzie to trudne, bo ja juz okrutnie tesknie, ciazy mi strasznie ta mysl, ze bedziemy tu najprawdopodobniej tak dlugo I ze jestesmy tak daleko od rodziny I przyjaciol.
Rodzice Garego mieszkaja w bardzo ladnej okolicy. Wszystko bardzo przestronnie urzadzone, duze dzialki, ladne domy, wszedzie bardzo czysciutko I duzo, duzo zieleni — przeyjemnie. Mieszkanko bardzo przytulnie urzadzone, wszystko bardzo funkconalne I wygodne, maksimum udogodnien na kazdym kroku, szczegolnie w kuchni. Rozsmieszyly mnie amerykanskie lozka, ktore przez dwa lata z rzedu scielilysmy z Ewa w Wisconsin Dells. No I prosze, znowu spie w amerykanskiej poscieli.
Kingsport — maja tutaj ogromna fabryke chemikalow, dluga na 2 mile (3,2 km), nie pytalam jak szeroka. Jak na fabryke nadzwyczaj czysto tam wszedzie. Przejechalismy wczoraj przez miasto, oczywiscie szerokie przestronne amerykanskie ulice, w centrum troche murowanych, prostokatnych budynkow — mam wrazenie ze wszyskie te miasteczka wygladaja tutaj tak samo. Centrum miasta jest zupelnie plaskie a wokol wyrasaja takie smieszne pojedyncze stozkowate gorki. Wyrastaja ponad
miasto ok 200 m, nie sa zamieszkane ani w zaden sposob zagospodarowane cale porosniete lasem lisciastym.
Zabawnie wygladaja, takie zielone kopki.
Bylismy wczoraj w parku wypoczynku i rekreacji. Usytulowany w lesie pomiedzy tymi stozkowatymi gorkami, wokol sztucznego jeziorka. Maja tam takie male zoo w tym lesie. Wybieg dla wilkow, saren, basen dla wydr itd. Ladnie tam ale wszystko tak zaplanowane i obwarowane zakazami i nakazami jak mowil Stachu o Holandii. Wszedzie sciezki asfaltowe, tu wolno, tam juz nie wolno, nie pozostwiaja wiele swobody. Mozna tam pojezdzic na rowerach ale oczywiscie tylko scisle oznaczonymi sciezkami, no i nie mozna przyjechac do parku na rowerze, trzeba go sobie tam przywiezc. Oj czuje, ze nasza turystyka rowerowa bedzie tutaj troche inaczej wygladala. Coz to za przyjemnosc wywiezc gdzies rower zeby przejechac sie kawalek po parku.
Pocieszyla mnie jednak rozmowa ze spotkanym rowerzysta. Opowiadal nam o klubie rowerowym jaki maja w Kingsport i o trasach rowerych w okolicznych lasach. Pomyslalam sobie ze moze jednak nie wszysko stracone i moze jednak mozna tutaj powaznie pojezdzic na rowerze.
First Impressions
English, English, English -- English everywhere. That’s the most shocking thing for me of late. I can eavesdrop without effort. In fact, I found myself eavesdropping in the airports even when I didn’t want to. I ducked into a newsagents at Newark airport and almost lost control of my bladder, so many English books I saw. Flipping through stations on the TV (strange enough to have a television), I didn’t have to decide, “Okay, is the English underneath the monotone dubbing loud and clear enough that I can understand it, or should I not even try.” (An old habit I never quite lost. In Poland, there’s one man reading the translated text with the original language in the background. When I first arrived, I tried desperately to hear the English underneath, and I never lost the habit once I could understand the Polish monotone.) English, English, everywhere. Except when I hear Spanish.
I’m in food heaven too. So much food I haven’t eaten in so long, and so much food that Kinga has never eaten.
- Humus -- Ripped the tub open in the parking lot and took two fingers-full there.
- Shrimp -- I cooked shrimp with garlic and cilantro our first evening here. When we bought the cilantro, I just buried my face in its greeny goodness and inhaled deeply, walking around supermarket afterwards with a chlorophyll buzz and a grin.
- Ben and Jerry’s Cherry Garcia — Unable to eat the whole tub, but we made a dent.
- French roast coffee from freshly ground beans, with the leftovers chilled in the afternoon for iced coffee
- Select, highly processed junk food, which I rarely eat, but from time to time is amazing (read: Pringles).
And there’s so much waiting…we’re going to be positively zepplinish if we’re not careful.
The trip back was relatively painless, though long. We left Krakow somewhat late because of the chaotic situation in the immigration area. Three officers checking passports for two international flights. Really smart.
Our connecting flight out of Newark got canceled, so our mad dash from one end of the airport to the other (slight exaggeration, but…) was for naught. But in the process, we encountered a very nice immigration officer who, hearing that we were trying to make a connecting flight that was due to leave within the hour, made sure Kinga was the first of many to hand in her visa papers and getting fingerprinted (thank you Patriot Act). As I waited outside, he came back several times to tell me how things were progressing, for at the beginning, no one was processing them — they were all sitting in a room, staring at each other. “I’m going to try to see if I can’t get her first in line,” he explained, “Though I can’t promise anything.” I can’t imagine, honestly, a Polish immigration officer doing that.
Bay’s Mountain
Back in the States
Kinga and I arrived safely at Newark at 4:45 Monday afternoon — ten minutes early, much to our shock. Our first flight to Charlotte was cancelled, so we we didn’t arrive home until after two in the morning, with the trip from Charlotte and everything.
Yesterday was spent unpacking. Today, the first installment of the family arrives.
No rest for the weary…