A return to Lipnica today to wander about, photograph this and that, chat with the mayor, perhaps meet some old friends, coworkers, and/or students. In the end, I accomplished all four. The common theme was the same as always: change. It’s everywhere and nowhere.
The view from the school in which I top shows how much Lipnica has changed, and how little, too. The soccer field and tennis court on the right are now; the apartment building on the left, dom nauczyciela (teacher’s housing), has been there decades, and has looked the same since at least 1996 when I first moved into the apartment in the lower right corner. Within the school itself, it’s much the same: former students are now teachers, and teachers who were there before I began teaching there still work there.
Some of the changes are typical of a country that’s moving into the full reality of capitalism, perhaps we could say the uglier side of competition. The little shop where I did most of my shopping for years, now shuttered. In an unexpected twist, I met the former owner as I was standing there.
“What happened?”
“We went bankrupt thanks to the Biedronka in Jablonka.” The supermarket chain “Ladybug” has been putting local businesses out of business for years now, and I suppose it was only a question of time before affected local businesses I know.
Further down the road, still more changes: the locale I frequented that closed shortly before K and I left has now reopened as a pizza place and “wedding house.”
“They don’t have much room there,” the mayor, a former teacher and colleague, explained, “so it’s really only for small weddings. They mainly handle baptism parties and the like.”
And the old wedding house, the one above “Trade Pavilion”? It too looks just like it did when I moved there in 1996.
The same concrete planters decorate the front, probably in the exact same places. The metal roof is still as stained and rusted. But the store is still open, if not swarmed with customers.
One other store that seems to have made it is the small shop across from the church, within sight of the “Trade Pavilion.” It was always one of the best places to find fresh produce, and it’s probably one of the few old-style, non-self-service shops in Lipinca, if not the only one.
The idea is simple: the customer stands on one side of the counter; the sales assistant/shop owner stands on the other, with all the merchandise behind her. In other words, an old-fashioned general store. It was in such a store — in fact, the store up the street now out of business — that I began really having my first significant exchanges with strangers. Small talk really, but it was encouraging when I discovered I could engage in small talk. Microscopic talk, to be sure, but still, it’s the mindless chatter like that that makes one feel part of the culture.
