fun in threes, sometimes fours
general
Today was a day of castles: Niedzica and Czorsztyn. The former was once guarding the Hungarian border; the latter was protecting the Polish side of the border. In the middle ran a river. A dam completed in 1997 turned that river into a Czorsztynskie Lake.
In the afternoon, we headed to Nowy Targ, just for a bit of ice cream at the best ice cream place on the planet and some baked goods before heading to the highlight of the day.
A visit with my oldest friend here.
For six days of the week, the stalls stand empty, a sort of minimalistic ghost town of spare wood framing and corrugated metal roofing. The corner of Market and Forest Streets normally looks like this.
But on Wednesdays, when the jarmark comes to town, everything looks different. The stalls fill with vendors and goods, and the streets are essentially closed to traffic as potential customers weave in and out, walking between the various vendors' invitations to inspect their wares.
"Can we go see the chickens?" the Boy asks as we enter the market. It's always been a favorite spot for him.
Of course, chickens aren't the only attraction. Tables covered with knives, hoodies with the most incredible images.
And then there's all the food.
A trip to Poland isn't complete without a short trip across the border into Slovakia. Babcia always likes to do a little shopping there, and it's always pleasant to see a slightly different view of central Europe. Things haven't changed here as much as they have in Poland. The supermarket on the small rynek looks like it must have 30 or even 40 years ago.
My Polish home for seven years, Lipnica holds a place in my heart like no other.
It's always a highlight of a trip to Poland, especially when you find out some parts of it are disappearing for good.
The first apartment I had Lipnica was the lower-left apartment of the six-apartment dom nauczyciel. I found out during today's visit that the entire building is to be demolished in the near future. It suddenly occurred to me that trying to get into the apartment one last time, now that I know that it's empty, is a bit of a priority for the rest of the time I have here.
But the real surprise of the visit, though, had to do with people.
Two old friends of K and mine whom we haven't seen over twenty years were there. One is not surprising: she still lives in Lipnica; the other, also named K, lives in New York, home visiting her parents. It was these three women, then girls, who approached me during one of my first visits to a disco in Lipnica and said, "You're the new English teacher. We want to practice our English."
Traveling always risks bad weather; coming to Poland, for us it seems, just about guarantees it. After several lovely days (how many? four? five?), it's supposed to rain. Every day. For the rest of K's and L's stay in Poland.
Still, we make the most of what we've got, like using leftover meat from rosol to make pierogi for lunch, or using the rainy weather to chop a little wood for Babcia.
After lunch we met with K's brother's family for some more bowling. This time, we took two lanes, and the adults played as well. That was a mistake: my long-injured finger began aching again, and I made it through two frames before I decided that it might be less painful to have my finger in a vice than roll even the lightest bowling ball available.
Afterward, we all headed back to Babcia's for games and conversation. Hearing the cousins laugh and argue and joke together is a lovely bit of chaos.
And finally, I talked the girls into the first of several photo recreations. The original image is from 2008, when L was a year and a half old and S was a year older. They barely fit into the tub together now.
You can tell a lot about a country from its stores. American stores, by and large, are enormous. The Big Box stores rule, in short. The aisles are wide. The shelves have some space at the top -- things are not packed into every possible corner.
Stores here are small. Every inch of space is put to use. The aisles are narrow. But that's only the surface differences.
Look closer and you'll learn a lot about the culture itself. What does an almost-entire row of various kinds of preserved, canned fish tell you about a culture?
When a village of only about five thousand stretched along three roads has multiple bakeries, and some shops sell almost 20 types of bread, you get the feeling that bread is of utmost importance.
When an entire corner of a store is dedicated to different types of juice, one realizes that everyone, young and old, must drink juice in that country.
But the biggest change since I first arrived in 1996 is the style of the stores: virtually none of the stores were self-service. The salesperson stood behind a counter and all the products were on shelves behind her. It was like the old fashioned general stores of the American past.
Initially that was frustrating; eventually, I learned that it was one of the best things that could happen to my budding Polish language skills.
The only thing that's really changed since we left Poland in 2004 is the variety.
This evening, we got together with Dziadek's side of the family: two aunts, a handful of cousins, a lot of food, and a wonderful evening.
This is the primary reason for coming back at all. All the rest is wonderful, but none of it feeds the soul like evenings such as this.
There was so much more -- so much more -- today that, at 11:59, I don't care to cover. But this was the most insignificant event of the day.
Climbing mountains is something my mind loves but my body questions. Ever since I seriously injured my knee about 25 years ago hiking in the Tatra Mountains, I’ve been wary of mountains. The way up is not the issue. In fact, it’s a great relief sometimes to be heading up. No, it’s the way down – that crash! crash! crash! against the knees. Almost 190 pounds dropping on knees time and time again.
So when we started our trek up to Trzy Korony today, I was a little concerned about the effect it might have on my knee. I was more concerned when I saw just how steep it was. Fortunately, we all made it fine.
And I'm so exhausted that I can't say much more than that about the whole day.
Originally, the plan was to meet with K's brother's family and head out for an adventure on the Dunajec River this afternoon after a morning hike around the Three Crowns Mountains. But in fairly typical Podhale fashion, the weather turned suddenly overcast, threatening rain. We decided it wasn't worth it: what's the point of hiking up a mountain if you can't see any views? And we always have tomorrow.
So since we were all up (meaning, the adults and the Boy) early, we went ahead and had an early breakfast. And as we had nothing else to do in the morning, I went out for a walk in the hilly fields just west of the village.
I saw a gentleman sweeping hay from the floor of his barn with an old-fashioned twig broom. I thought to ask him if he would mind me taking a picture of him, but I didn't. Why? I really don't know. What's the worst that could have happened? He would have laughed, said "No," and I would have gone on about my walk. Instead, I am writing about it hours later with just a little regret. Next time.
After lunch, the plan was to head to Wypasiona Dolina for a little line-park action, but just as the weather put a quick end to our river plans, the rain put an unforeseen end to our afternoon adventures: though the park is only a few kilometers from Jablonka, and though it didn't rain all day today, it poured there apparently, and the owner, seeing that all the wood was wet and thus slippery, sent all the workers home.
Instead, we went to the outdoor museum that we almost always seem to visit while here. It seems to grow each time we go.
On the way back to Babcia's to pick her up for church, we stopped at a new place that had -- strangely enough for a small village -- a small bowling alley. It was not quite a normal bowling alley: the pins were suspended by strings and seemed to be lighter plastic. The Boy managed to win the first game but didn't do so well with the second game.
After bowling, we rushed to pick up Babcia to head to church so that we can have tomorrow completely free. Afterward, we dropped by the cemetery to tidy up around Dziadek's grave and pay our respects. As always happens at the cemetery, we met an old friend of Babcia's, a former teacher of K's.
And finally, back home, Babcia began teaching the Boy how to make a fire for hot water -- a basic skill in old-school rural Poland
