Month: June 2017
K’s stay is coming to an end. On Monday, she flies back to the States with U, her best friend’s daughter, and we stick around for another three weeks. Today, though, was her last full day here in Jablonka, and as usual, she tried to accomplish a million and one things.
Lunch was easy — a trip to what was fifteen years ago the only real restaurant in Jablonka. Then a short visit to the appliance shop down the street.
It must be a late-June/early-July weather acclimation thing. Or maybe it's halny. Or maybe -- likely -- it's just coincidence. At any rate, it's late June, and we're in Poland, so that means we head to Babcia's ancestral village, Zab.
In 2008, it was July 9.
Tooth
In 2010, it was June 28.
Ząb
In 2013, it was July 1.
Visiting Ząb
In 2015, it was June 28.
Ząb 2015
And in 2017, it was June 29.
Out of our five visits, then, there's one outlier, and only by a week. Whatever the coincidence, it's always an enjoyable highlight of the visit to Poland. But the day didn't quite start out as auspiciously as it ended. It began like you might expect a day in the village to begin: with a lot of work.
When we arrived last night, we discovered that Babcia had taken delivery of enough kindling for, as she explained, three or four years. And at least a quarter of it was lying in the road because the tractor that delivered it couldn't maneuver any closer. So we got to work segregating and hauling various pieces of wood from a woodworking shop, wood of so many sizes and shapes that it was almost overwhelming. This morning, we got to work cleaning up the final bits.
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We all pitched in. E was in heaven, for he loves doing anything work related. L has always been less excited about work, but she helped like the rest of us with no fussing, no concerns but one: "What will Babcia the next time she gets wood and we're not here?" Growing up in more ways than one, that girl.
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The trip to Zab itself was as it always is. We stop by the most beautiful cemetery in the world to clean up Babcia's mother's and father's grave and pay our respect, head to her sister's house for incredible cooking and even more amazing conversation, walk across the street to her brother's house for a second helping of everything, and end at Furmanowa, where one can undoubtedly find the best views in Poland.
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There's nothing more to say because I've already said it several times over, and therein lies the perfection.
Changes are everywhere in Poland. It's like not seeing your friend's child for two years and then being surprised at how much bigger she is (which is a common occurence during each visit here, for both us and our local friends).
Nowy Targ, for example, was not a city that would immediately come to mind as an answer to the question, "Where is the nearest nice park?" I went there a lot while I lived here, as it was the nearest city and another American lived there with whom I became good friends. If I wanted to get contact solution, I had to go to Nowy Targ. If I wanted to speak English without worrying about what vocabulary I was using, I had to go to Nowy Targ. If I wanted to watch a movie or eat in a restaurant, I had to go to Nowy Targ. If I wanted to commiserate with someone about this or that apparent Polish absurdity (I complained a lot in my twenties. I still do, but not nearly as much...), I had to go to Nowy Targ. But it was not a place that would make sense to say, "Hey, let's take the kids to that great park in Nowy Targ." And now it is.
A lovely park with pedal-cart rentals for the kids, nice benches for tired adults, workout-stations for more energetic adults, giant chess boards for chess lovers, shade, sunshine, flowers, trees -- just about everything a little park in a little city might need.
Later, talking to a friend, I mentioned that I don't remember it being there at all.
"That's because it wasn't, at least nothing worth mentioning." But thanks to some European Union funding (I'm guessing here, but it's a likely source), there's a nice park by the river just beside the ice rink in Nowy Targ. Who would have thought?
But even twenty years ago, Nowy Targ had the best ice cream on the planet. And they had a market square, but without the fountains for kids to play with and all the open spaces. Just a big parking lot, more or less. EU funding again? Most likely.
The main purpose of the NT trip was to see C, with whom I played more pool and watched more movies and chatted more hours than just about anyone in Poland -- certainly during the 1996-1999 stint.
But more on that later...
"I did give up."
The Girl was upset with ourself for not having completed the line course she had begged -- absolutely begged -- to complete. The longest. The most challenging.
K tried to talk her out of it, and the whole time the Girl was on the course, she was like this:
Of course there was no real risk: tourists are secured at all times on a security line with not one but two safety ropes. Still, both the Girl and her mother were somewhat frightened by the whole thing. And then there was the exhaustion: K tried this course some years ago and was unable to complete it. Her arms and hands gave out. She was hesitant to continue after the first obstacle, but went on anyway. L had exactly the same experience. Then came an especially challenging rope section, and K's arms just gave out. But L kept on going, with much encouragement.
The last two obstacles seemed hardly to be obstacles to me: two long zip lines. And it was there that the Girl just gave out.
Afterward, the conversation: I tried to express how proud I was of her, how proud she should be of herself, that she completed so much of the course.
"You wanted to stop, but you didn't. You kept going, when you were tired, when you were scared. You didn't give up."
"I did give up."
Can you give up and not give up at the same time? I think so.
Somehow the Girl exposed a truth about giving up and going on. It's a step-by-step basis. It's a step-by-step battle. And every step that overcomes fear or exhaustion is itself a victory.
The Boy had his own adventures.
Calls wishing all the best and visitors throughout the day.
A typical day in the country can be positively relaxing after such a fast-paced trip. The morning might include a store or two, and everything always seems to orbit the kitchen.
There's a lot of snacking, of course, because there's always something to eat, something tempting like fresh cherries and strawberries or miodownik.
By lunchtime, I'd only made it to 1,300 steps, which was about the same number I took every morning to walk to our beloved bakery in Warsaw for breakfast pastries.
After lunch, the Boy went out to help Babcia around the yard with a bit of digging, a bit of sawing. He dug a big hole at the end of Babcia's flower bed and explained, "When it rains, all the water will go there, and that will help the flowers. I don't know how, but it will."
Babcia got to chopping wood to start the evening's fire for hot water, I lugged about 150 kg of coal toward the same goal (though my coal was for several days or even weeks of water), and the Boy continued digging.
And where was the Girl? She'd gone to reunite with a friend from two years ago. This upset the Boy, but he refused to go when Babcia had taken L for the the visit despite the fact that there would be a boy his age there. He's always been a little shy at first, and we might have to wait a week or two before he's willing to go play with strangers. Or maybe not: he's always doing something unexpected, socially speaking.
When it was time to retrieve the Girl, we all headed out for a walk. The Girl, it turned out, wasn't there. "They've gone out for a bike ride," the big sister told us.
We headed out without her, only to meet her returning.
"Where are you girls going?"
"To Babcia's, to make slime." We brought Elmer's glue just for that aim. Like fidget spinners, it's the rage among L's friends. "Here too," A told us when she visited us our first night in Warsaw. And there's a small change: things happen here and there at the same time. It used to be that it took some time for a fad to cross the ocean, but the internet has shrunk the world.
The Girls headed off to make slime; we continued to the river.
It didn't take much of a commitment to make today a rest day, by and large.
On the way to and from shopping, two babcias stopped for a short, transient chat.
