A New Friend
Krakow to Radom
I made it home again. I went back to bed after writing the last entry and stayed for two hours. It was wonderful.
On the train coming home I sat with two Polish women who kept trying to talk to me. It was actually amazing how much information we exchanged. Then at the bust stop I had quite a long talk with [another] woman. She asked me how much my backpack cost. From there we progressed to where I came from, if my parents were with me, if I had any siblings, [etc.]. When I told her I was an only child, she shook her head, as if to say that she feels for my parents. It was rewarding – she told me my Polish is beautiful (“ladna”).
While I was heading back to the Rynek this afternoon a man approached me, asking “Do you speak English?” I must have been extraordinarily, obviously American. At the Greek restaurant I believe the guys had a bet on whether I was American. I guess my cap and North Face stuff made it a bit more than obvious.
Krakow, Redux
Once again I am here in Kraków; this time I am alone. Except for isolated exchanges with shopkeepers, I've kept to myself without speaking to anyone. This city is cozier this time. I suppose that's due in part to the fact that I haven't been bustling about (as I was last time). I've been taking my time, looking at what's around me with no particular destination in mind. Not only hast it been relaxing but it has also given me an opportunity to explore the city consciously, getting to know it much better.
I just relocated myself. A staggering drunk intruded on my quiet spot in the park. He fell and passed out, and I doubt he will be in the best of moods when he wakes up. No I am sitting on the poet's monument in the Rynek with Saint Mary's right in front of me.
My day has been most relaxing, as I was saying. Perhaps I've accomplished little (or maybe even nothing), but I am so very relaxed – quite a therapeutic day.
I've spent much of the day watching the people. I've heard several languages and seen a few races other whites. I've heard snatches of English conversations all of the city. I've no idea how many Americans are here. I sat next to two in the cafe, but I didn't speak to them. (I feared a repeat of the asshole I talked to last time. "What are you doing here?" "Playing the guitar." No joke!)
It's now seven – the top of the hour and the trumpeter plays the truncated music from Saint Mary's tower. Legend has it that this piece was what was played to warn of the coming Turks. It stops unexpectedly in the middle of a bar because the watchman was struck in the throat with an arrow. Since then the piece has remained hauntingly unfinished.
More Bus Accidents
This morning on the bus I had quite a stressful experience. At one of the downtown stops an older gentleman tried to get on the bus and fell. He was holding on to one of the handles on the door when he suddenly lost his balance and started to fall, still holding onto the handle with his left hand. He twisted around as he fell, his gripping hand serving as the pivot point. He lost his grip and fell completely onto the ground. From that point, things seemed to go in slow motion. I glanced around the bus, seeing if anyone was going to help. Then I saw a girl from the stop approaching the man, offering her hand. His left hand reached for something to grip. It was then that the reality of the situation struck me. I jumped up and assisted the man as he struggled to his feet. I was going to help him actually onto the bus, but he gently pushed away my hand.
Once we were back on the bus he thanked me profusely, then said (or rather mumbled) something to me and I could neither hear the man nor understand what he said. He got off, saying anything, obviously expecting some response. I simply said “Tak,” and smiled, hiding behind my sunglasses and hat.
Perfectly Imperfect
Just when I thought I was getting the hang of this Polish thing, BOOM!! We begin perfective/imperfective [verb forms]. So that means in many cases we have to learn a second verb for the same damn thing. Not only that, but the conjugation patter of many of the past tense perfective verbs are incredibly irregular. Not only is there an ending change from masculine to feminine – the stem sometimes changes! Oh joy.
Sitting in class I experienced total overload. Everything the poor woman was saying simply bounced off of me. I might as well have walked out of the room.
For the first four weeks I’ve been asking for verb conjugation information. “No, not now,” everyone told me, “It’s not time.” So now, in three days, (a week, rather) we’re getting everything. I kept telling people “This is not the first time I’ve tried to learn a foreign language. I know how things work, at least a little.”
One more thing about perfective: Most perfective verbs are simply the imperfective verb with a syllable added. The problem is that because of the next-to-last syllable stressing, adding the extra syllable makes an entirely new pronunciation.
Strange One
There is a PCT that I must write about, for he almost worries me. His name his C and he is quite possibly one of the strangest people I've ever met. Today in X-cult we had a session on twentieth century Polish history. Of course one of the concerns is whether the Poles can be considered holocaust collaborators. After all, most of the death camps were in Poland. Chad at lunch told me that the Poles were glad to help the Nazis exterminate the Jews. Of course it's obvious that the Poles had no say in where the camps were built. They couldn't say, "We don't want them here," and I don't [think] there was competitive bidding to determine who would be so very privileged as to have a death camp. The fact (as I understand it) is that Poland has been historically open to Jewish immigration.
That's not the only weird thing about the guy. He is ridiculously stubborn. Returning to the Jewish discussion he refused to admit that the Polish Jews who came from Russia were originally from Israel. I pointed out that the Jews are more of an ethnic group than a people tied together by a religion. "You don't see people converting to Judism then referring to themselves as Jews like you see in Christianity or Islam." But he refused to see my point. Later in the day I mentioned to Vince the Newsweek article about the thousand-year bug and Chad was there. "They'll just fix it," he replied with a shrug. "That's the point," I replied, "They've not yet found a way to fix it." With only the slightest pause, he said "I don't believe it." I said nothing to him directly.
One last thing (though it's hearsay): He has apparently called Peace Corps Poland "the gravy train." "We don't do anything for the things we get." "We teach," [Bill] replied. "That's not work," Chad said. He obviously has never taught. If he says that still in a year, I’ll seriously question his commitment to teaching.
I guess I shouldn't be hard on him. I don't know anything about him really, or his background. One thing he said today makes me think he's not had the greatest home life. About his relationship with his parents he said, "I can't imagine not fighting with my parents," laughing. After a thoughtful moment, he asked "What do you do with them, then?" Talk to them?
I really wonder about him. It would not surprise me if he was asked to go home after training.
Brothers Karamozov
I am reading once again The Brothers Karamozov (rather, beginning it again) and I am intrigued by Fyodor Karamazov. He is supposed to be “one of the most loathsome characters in all literature,” and I am finding I pity him more than loath him. Granted he was utterly wretched to his children (and that might indeed be cause enough to call him loathsome), but he is not so evil as one might expect. Perhaps it’s not that he is evil as much as he is utterly apathetic about everything and everyone except himself and his concerns. He is childish, and I guess I pity him more than loath him for that. I am longing to talk to someone about this book . . .
General Notes
Every day there is a woman who balances on the edge of the first seat of the bus, getting off around two or three stops after I get on. She has short hair which is frayed and silvery. Her body is more round than the average Pole, and she always wears a skirt with a gray sweater, and her veins stand out clearly on her pale legs. A couple of days ago the bus driver applied a bit too much force [on the brake pedal] a bit too quickly. She tumbled out of her seat with a thud and cracked her head against the door of the glass enclosure around the driver. No one offered to help; no one asked her if she was okay. We PCVs stood watching, remembering that Chrissy told us that it is often better not to get involved. A bit ironic, for it is too late for us not to get involved . . .
Immersion
I survived another day of immersion with only one day left. That is actually thrilling. Those final sessions are hell, truly. By that time my mind has completely shut down, no questions asked. To try to jump-start it would be a great waste of time. Fortunately, the teachers realize how tired we are (and they are certainly more exhausted) and the final lesson is some sort of game. Of course we don't have the luxury of completely shutting our minds off. They're "educational" games.
Back to Radom
I made it back to the modest but nice place I now call home. We had a nice day. We went back to the Rynek for a while, then headed to the Jewish district. We toured a synagogue that had been turned into a museum, including a portion on nearby concentration camps (Auschwitz).
Kraków was more than I was really ready for. There was just too much: The children’s parade Saturday; all the architecture; the cafes and restaurants we went to; the dancing in the square this afternoon (and the accompanying drunk). It was all too much. I kept making mental notes – feeding the pigeons, walking in the rain, the age of everything surrounding me – but I don’t think I’ll ever remember it all. All I can say is that it was a truly magnificent experience.
What surprised me was the number of Americans we met. It seemed that we were everywhere. I guess Kraków is the city most visited by tourists. It stands to reason that we would meet many Americans.
There are so many churches in the old city. I couldn’t help but be awed by their beauty and simultaneously repulsed by the relative waste of money. How many people could have been helped by all the resources poured into those silly buildings?
First Trip to Krakow
I never really thought I would be in this city. To be honest, I never thought about this city. But nevertheless, here I am.
There’s so much to write about – I’ll just mention a few things: The expansive city center was amazing: a church at one corner, the huge center building, the city tower. It was all so overwhelming. The castle (Wawel) was a prime example of mixed architecture. The cathedral was Gothic; the palace was Romanesque; there was probably a bit of every other style thrown in for good measure. There are more pubs and cafes than could be imagined and many of them are in the basements (many of which date to the fourteenth century). We ate an Italian place and had green, salty pasta. Too much to write about – I need my computer.
At Training Facility
Settling In
We’ve done two school visits this week and it has me really wanting to teach. It’s in my blood – a sort of addiction, I guess. I’m eager to get to my site. However, I don’t feel comfortable enough with Polish yet to be cast into Polish society without American contacts. Of course, we’ll have tutors which will help a great deal. (I heard today than in the near future we’ll be getting Polish grammar books – are they teasing us? I hope not.)
It’s amazing how one day can be so awful – like yesterday – then all of a sudden, out of the blue, one has the best day in recent memory. This evening has been just amazing . . .
First of all, dinner was incredible. We had a completely ryby based meal. The main course was a rice-fish-pickle dish that was outstanding. Also we had fish patee and a bit of fried fish. It was incredibly good! Not only that, but I had a limited conversation with Teresa in Polish. It was so exciting to hear the dish described in Polish and understand what was in it.,
After dinner Piotr and I cleaned up and had a grand time. We carried on wonderfully. Afterwards we went into the living room and talk turned to the motivations of US foreign policy. It was an intriguing conversation . . .
It’s so interesting to hear a central-European on US policy. Piotr is of the opinion that everything the US government does is motivated by political and (more often) fiscal interests. Even the Peace Corps is a political move. Of course he is right – the US government does nothing for philanthropic (sp?) reasons. Still, it’s almost difficult to hear from a non-American. I wanted to agree with him and yet I also tried to defend the US (if that is possible). Still, how does one explain why his government pays farmers not to produce a certain amount of wheat (so that the international price will remain high) when there are billions of children around the world who are starving to death? It’s impossible – one merely has to admit that his government is wrong . . . in a major way.
One last comment: learning Polish is becoming vastly more rewarding. It is incredible to realize that I am using a language more and more that only a matter of weeks ago I knew next to nothing about. It is so vastly (and wonderfully) different from learning a language in a classroom in the States. Here I don’t pretend to buy a beer for practice; I do it in reality. I don’t practice buying a bus ticket; I actually do it. I’m not just learning to speak Polish; I’m learning to live it. And it’s vastly different.
Another storm is rolling in – the third in as many weeks. The weather here is so very strange.
Today we got our medical kits, including X condoms. It’s amazing how it has been assumed from day one that we will be having sex while in the Peace Corps. Americans (people in general?) seem now to view sex as a right.
Church and State
Yesterday they had the presidential elections in Russia. In Poland that is easily and obviously an issue of great concern. Many Poles feel that the only reason Russia doesn’t control Poland now is a matter of strength. This uneasy fear is echoed in my host brother’s casual comments about Russia when he refers to it as “Big Brother.” Many feel that a win by Zyuganov will mean an inevitable contention with Russia. The international edition [of Newsweek] expressed it most succinctly: “Red Alert” the cover reads, and many (if not all, even the youngest) Poles are turning their attention once again eastward with anxious eyes.
One interesting thing about Poland ten years ago was the role of the church. It played a part much like the church in Latin America. I’m not sure I would say that there was (or is) a sort of liberation theology – I don’t know the nature of the sermons at that point (or this point). Yet, without regarding the message in the church, the connection is obvious when one considers the political nature of the social forum provided by the Polish church of the 80’s. People talked at church about social ills and how they might be corrected. They discussed various methods of dealing with a corrupt and oppressive government. They did not go there to socialize or to see and be seen – they went there to plan action, and to monitor previous courses of action. I would like to find out what kind of sermons were being preached; what role did the church officially take?
It seems that in America only the church has taken on such a passive role. Yet with all the pro-life demonstrations and [the] various religious political action committees, that trend is in the process of changing. All the same Americans have generally not had any oppression to react against. The obvious exception is where the church in America has been most active: MLK was after all a preacher first and a political activist second – at least initially.
Today we observed an English [class] in a Polish liceum; tomorrow or Wednesday we might have to teach. This is particularly difficult to prepare for. We know nothing about the [students] we are suppose to teach (including [their] level). It is next to impossible to prepare for this lesson, if not completely impossible.
Culture Shock?
I woke up this morning with thoughts of home haunting my first conscious moments. Just as happened last Saturday, I thought of what I would be doing if I was back at home. It was nothing too overwhelming; it was just a little pang that deepened somewhat when I realized it would be two years before I could do that again. All of a sudden two years seemed like a desperately long time. I look forward to these years (I think – I hope), but in some ways I'm already longing to return. It's that same comfortable ease that I miss. I have to work at almost everything here. I decided not to do much of anything this weekend just because of the difficulty involved. Once again it's simply a question of language.
It already feels like I've been here for months and it has only been two weeks since I left. When the culture shock hits full-force in three or four months it will feel like it's been years since I was in the States. It will be years until I return and it's such a frightening prospect. I dread the long, dark winter and the total isolation from all that I know. Talk about culture shock.