Month: July 2013
The last time we were here, it was the Russian serial Ну, погоди!
In Poland, the Czech serial A je to! and later as Pat a Mat goes by the title Sąsiedzi (Neighbors), and it is an absolute delight to watch: stop-motion animation perfected. I find it amusing; L finds it hilarious. Here’s our favorite episode so far:
The mine's statistics are impressive: dating to the 13th century, the salt mine at Wielkiczka is 327 metres (1,073 ft) deep and over 287 kilometres (178 mi) long. The tour itself covers probably one or two percent of that distance, though, and it only goes down to the first thre levels. That doesn't really lessen the impression it makes: tunnel after tunnel leading to spaces carved from salt that seem impossibly tall or wide or both.
And on a rainy day -- once it starts raining in Poland, it seems there's a 100% chance of days of rain -- there's probably nothing better to do.
If, the day after your birthday, you visit friends in Poland, you shouldn’t be surprised to get a spontaneous rendition of “Sto Lat”
Sto lat, sto lat,
Niech żyje, żyje nam.
Sto lat, sto lat,
Niech żyje, żyje nam,
Jeszcze raz, jeszcze raz, niech żyje, żyje nam,
Niech żyje nam!
If the friends are deeply rooted in the Polish Highlander tradition, you shouldn’t be surprised when Pan Gospodarz dashes off beforehand and returns with his altówka (viola) to accompany the marry well-wishers.
And with that many instruments, it could hardly come as a surprise that all the kids decide to form a band.
On the way back from Pyzówka where we visited friends (L's godmother and one of K's best friends since preschool -- my friends too, but that was the initial connection), there's a small hill that provides the most spectacular views of the Podhale region. Granted, this is not the standard way to get there, which would be Jablonka → Czarny Dunajec → Ludźmierz → Pyzówka. I go via Pieniążkowice because that was one of my favorite bike rides, and I love to revel in the past.
And with views like this -- the Tatra Mountains tucked in between heavy, gray clouds and dark green fields -- who could blame me for taking longer, more time-consuming route?
“Don’t folks in America have summer homes?” The word Babcia used was the Polish version of да́ча (“dacha”), a Russian term for a seasonal home, often in the forest or at the lake.
Family homes often serve that role here in Poland.
Someone stays behind; everyone else marries and moves away. The result: a summer home.
Then everyone — aunts, uncles, children, grandchildren — can spend the summer there. And if there’s enough room, one can even set up a soccer field.
A few apple trees and you have the perfect place for a swing.
And of course, there’s the obligatory fire pit.
Walking down the street, I pass a group of children playing. "Dzień dobry" they call to me, a complete stranger. I've always liked that about Polish children.
Anyone who has lived in Central Europe probably recognizes this theme song from a Czechoslovakian cartoon called Pohádky z Kechu a Kapradí and known in Poland as Żwirek i Muchomorek.
