We got a new camera recently. It has a bulb exposure setting. This means that as long as you press the shutter release button, the shutter remains open. With a remote, it’s a little different: press the shutter release button once and the shutter opens; press it again, and it closes.
And with an off-camera flash, you can do really silly things…
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We tried again this morning.
The light was not as great as it certainly will be tomorrow morning, driving to work. But still, better than yesterday.
Every cloudless morning as I drive to work, I’m treated to a most spectacular view of the early morning sun. Just as I turn a bend, it always hits me square in the eyes, making me hope there’s not a car coming the other direction.
More than once, I wished I had a camera with me.
Last autumn, K and I drove out to the Blue Ridge Parkway to watch the sun rise one Sunday morning.
Last night I hit on the brilliant and more convenient idea of K and I going on an early-morning walk here.
The sun, however, did not exactly cooperate. Nice colors, but nothing truly brilliant.
Kinga and I finally bought a Flickr account — I’ve been uploading like mad, mostly from our time in Poland. Friends from Poland, take a look.
Recently, I went through old things my parents had been storing for ages, and threw out most of what I found. Last night, it was time to tackle the big sorting/trashing issue: pictures.
Nine and a half years ago (almost) when I heading off to Poland for the very first time, I knew I’d be seeing things so novel that a strange urge to photograph said things would arise in my otherwise photographically indifferent soul. “I’ll buy a decent camera before I go,” I reasoned, plunking down probably about $200 for a point and shoot. I’ve since lost that camera, but my interest in photography has only grown.
As has my collection of pictures. Until last night, it took up a significant portion 15x21x15 tub. Stack upon stack of pictures: Lipnica, Gdansk, Prague, Vienna, Strasbourg, Boston, and points in between.
I went through them with a merciless eye, and ended up throwing out at least half of them — probably more. A twelve-inch stack of pictures, all told.
It wasn’t gut-wrenchingly hard, but there was a moment, just before tossing it all in the trash, than I thought, “Maybe I should go through these one more time.” After all, what if I’d thrown away the only pictures I’d had of some part of my life?
Some insignificant part of my life, for I realized that in ten short years I’d gone from photographic indifference to photographic hoarding.
Why would throwing away. Several times I thought I had at least two dozen of the same picture, taken at different times during my initial three years in Poland. I took pictures of everything and then did it again. In the tub I found pictures so almost-ineffably useless (badly conceptualized, badly printed) that it was depressing.
On the other hand, I found it reassuring. At least now these images are clearly bad. There’s no debating it. Which means, in theory, my eye has sharpened and perhaps I’ve become a better photographer.
I woke up the other morning and saw the most amazing sunrise.
Such beautiful beginnings here are often omens for a horrid afternoon: it starts out lovely, then clouds over completely. On the other hand, waking up to a foggy morning means a cloudless afternoon.
“Don’t like the weather? Wait five minutes.” So goes the saying.
In preparation for All Saints’ Day, Poles clean graves.
It’s almost a crime, happening in front of everyone: a home over a century old, torn down for firewood.
Kinga drove Mamo and me to Jabłonka early Saturday morning to catch the bus as it came form Chyżne. We went straight from there to Nowy Targ where we picked up most of the rest of the group — probably 40 in all. From Nowy Targ we went to Nidzica (the little town that has the castle Chhavi, Charles, and I visited that afternoon) and crossed the boarder into Slovakia there, though we didn’t actually stop at the castle. (I didn’t realize how close it was from the castle — looking out across the dam, we were literally looking into Slovakia.) Once in Slovakia we stopped at the Mountain of Three Crowns, below which is a rather large abbey. We took a tour of it before heading to a castle that in some ways dwarfed the one in Nidzica, spending about two hours there. Finally we headed to a small town in Slovakia (the name of which escapes me — I’ll have to talk to Mamo and fill in the details later). We went to a museum of Easter Orthodox icons (doesn’t that sound fun), then took a lunch break, walking around the town for a bit afterward before we left.
We stayed the night in Krynica, home of Kryniczanka Mineral Water, which I’ve bought several times. The whole town seems to be built around the mineral water there and it’s “curative powers.” You can go to a huge, 70’s-communist-design building and buy various varieties of mineral water, each with its own chemical composition (i.e., cations and anions) and each with its own special curative power.
The building itself — the “water bar” as it’s essentially called — was a wonder, though. Sunday morning, when we took a walking tour of the city, I didn’t take any pictures of it (I consciously and purposefully left my cameras in the hotel room — I’m not sure why, but I think it was simply that I was tired of taking pictures), and words fail me in trying to explain how utterly cheesy the architecture of the place was. It was basically a long building with an entirely glass front and glass back, with a small garden inside. What made it so awful, though, was the “trim” so to speak. I’m not going to try to explain it all, but take something from the Brady Bunch and mix it with any of the Stalinist architecture of Warszawa and you’ve got the “water bar,” as it’s called.
Once we finally left Krynica, we drove to an old wooden church outside the town. Mass was finishing up and so we all waited outside for everyone to leave. I walked around taking pictures, including a few of the parishioners as they came out of the church.
When we finally entered the gated area and made our way to the door, the leader of the group told me not to “do pictures” inside.
At that point I had my huge Canon out, so I put it away and said, “Okay.” But I thought, “This is too good to pass up — forbidden pictures?!” so I took out my digital and took a few pictures of the place before heading into the church, holding it roughly it waste level, taking pictures all the time of course. Once inside, one of the altar boys saw me, and being the bright chap that he was, came over to me and said, in Polish of course, “Put the camera away or leave.” Looking at him, I turned it off as he spoke, then showed him that it wasn’t even on. He insisted once again, and I complied, thinking the whole thing was a little amusing. Finally I left the church, and as I stood outside he came out and told me to open the camera and give him the film. I showed him the camera and said if he could find the film he could have it.
Anyway, he realized there was no film and simply said, “You were asked not to take any pictures, but you did anyway. Please leave,” pointing to the gate. In other words, don’t just exit the church, but leave the premises entirely. I smiled and said, “Fine.” Once I got on the bus I was sure that the leader of the tour was going to say something to me, but nothing happened.
What an asshole I was, I admit, but I was feeling a little frisky and rebellious. The whole idea of being forbidden to take pictures was just too much for me to resist, though. I can understand someone not wanting flash pictures to be taken, but pictures in general? It was an effort, I suppose, to uphold the sanctity of the place, and I just couldn’t let something like that stand unchallenged. The immature atheist in me said, “Let’s take a chance and tweak these people’s delusions of holiness and sacredness.” It would have been really fun if I could have said something like, “Oh, I talked to God and he said he didn’t mind.” And of course really juvenile.
I’m not quite sure why I felt like trampling on these people’s beliefs. Part of me says, “No harm done,” but it’s that kind of attitude that can lead to the anger that eventually consumes someone, as evidenced last month. Sacredness is really not something to be treated lightly, I suppose.
After that we went to an outdoor museum in Nowy Sącz and spent over two hours there. It was certainly interesting, but not worth two hours. Still, I got a couple of really good pictures of an old bucket, as well as some nice shots of an old journal with spectacles on it.
When we finished there, we went to Stare Sącz. Mamo and I visited her sister there while the rest of the group went to get lunch. We were supposed to meet at four and head to yet another abbey, but when Mamo and I made it back to the bus no one was there, and after a few moments we saw everyone returning. I guess the abbey wasn’t open — mercifully.
We finally made it back to Jabłonka where we were going to try to catch a lift back to Lipnica, but fortunately there was a bus at 7:20 so that wasn’t necessary.
I was going to write these simple questions in the journal that Marlon and Leesha gave me, but my pen is not working. So I’ll write it in here, and perhaps later ink it in that journal. So here’s my lesson for today:
Will I ever learn to be happy with my life as it is at that very moment? Will I ever stop grasping desperately for the past? Will I ever learn that what’s done is done, what’s gone is gone, and happiness can only be achieved if you take what you have right now and make the absolute most of it?
Coming here, I think, was undoubtedly a mistake. I’m grasping for something that is long gone. Last night, in Quattro, I felt like a ghost. I felt like a spirit come back to his old house, only he’s forgotten that no one who was there when he was there will be there. He’s forgotten that life has moved on in this place and he’s looking for something that ceased to exist years ago.
And so it is with me. I was in Quattro last night and I recognized almost no one. I had such high expectations of last night. When Janusz told me that Benia was so happy to hear I was coming back, I was sure she would be there, along with Mary and even Żaneta. I thought — stupid naïve me — that everyone who saw me who knew me would be surprised and happy, and might even want to talk to me. The reality of last night, though, was much different. I talked to a few people (Marcin J., Anita T., and Monika K.) for quite a while. In fact, I sat with Monika and Anita for probably half an hour or more. But others, whom I thought might be more interested in me (Yes, yes — I’m taking this personally. I’m taking it as if I’m being rejected, when of course that’s not the case.) were rather blasé about it.
Krystyna J. (whom I guess will be in class IVa) talked to me about twenty seconds. She asked me if I was going to be their teacher again; I reluctantly admitted it; she said, “To dobrze,” and that was that.
Kasia K. (from IVb) was there, but she only said, “Hi.” I remember last time I was here, we sat and talked (po polsku) for about half an hour. It was really quite a pleasant chat. I don’t suppose I was expecting the same thing this time, but I was hoping for a little more than a casual “Hello.”
This morning/afternoon thus far has been rough. I’m alone. Mamo is not here; Karol drove off somewhere around noon; Robert, Kamil & co.’s cousin, is somewhere, but I’m not quite sure where. I’ve basically been left to fend for myself and that wouldn’t be a problem except for the fact that I don’t feel entirely comfortable snooping around here.
The biggest problem is food. My lunch and breakfast seems to be a bit of chocolate from the Zürich-Warszawa flight and a cup of coffee (black, with the sludge of grounds in the bottom — welcome back to Poland). Nourishing. If there were a shop open, and I felt I could bring myself to go outside (and of course, if it weren’t raining), I might go get something for myself. As it stands now, I sit here, feeling sorry for myself and quite hungry. Yesterday I had a bowl of cabbage soup and some bread at Janusz’s house, and then a couple of butter-slathered, open-faced ham sandwiches just before we left to catch the bus, followed by a crappy hot-dog around two in the morning, just before I left. It looks like yesterday was a feast in comparison.
