I’ve learned a little more about the village of Lipnica. Most of the people who live here work abroad (mainly Germany) and very few have remained who simply farm. “It’s the only way they can pay for these big houses,” laughed Danuta the other day. (And there are some huge homes here.) Still, as I walked home I saw few people farming. Near Danuta’s place I saw what appeared to be an entire family making hay. They stacked the hay into cone-like bundles that were capped with straw cones that looked roughly like thatched versions of the hats Vietnamese folks wear (as portrayed by Hollywood, at any rate). Another woman rolled by on a wobbly bike to a garden in the lush area beside the creek that provides the road with its course. (After all, bridges are expensive). I glanced inside the small temples (chapels, Danuta calls them) that are by the road: a few icons, lots of flowers – very plain. It was a much longer walk than I expected. I need a bike.
poland xii
Realities
We had a staff meeting today. Of course, I understood next to nothing that was said, but Danuta gave me the scoop after it was all said and done. Basically, nothing has changed. We might have a schedule by Thursday. This is all truly amazing. We still don’t know if the Ministry of Education will let the school add German to the curriculum! We have less than a week before school starts: Where are we going to get a German teacher on short notice? In addition, we still don’t know exactly how many English teachers we will have. I cannot believe how unorganized (rather, how unfinalized) everything is at this, the last moment! One of the classes hasn’t even been divided into language classes yet. Does anyone know what’s going on? It certainly doesn’t seem that way.
Now, on to the adventures in Polish banking. Danuta and I went to Jabłonka this afternoon after the conference only to learn that I don’t have the proper kind of documentation to get a savings account. When can I get that documentation? As soon as the Ministry of Education (and/or Labor) provides us with the proper work permit. And only they know (and I doubt they do) when that stuff will be ready.
I am beginning to become frustrated with the ways of this country. The bank problems, the scheduling problems, and the fact that several stores close at three in the afternoon combine to make me just a little annoyed. I am at my site and still, I know nothing! How is this possible?
Additionally, I am scheming about how I can get a bike, for this place is too long to walk it and the buses are much too infrequent. I’ve two methods in mind but I don’t know which would be best. Also, I don’t know what (if any) PC channels I would have to go through. Whom would I have to inform, if anyone? “Local solutions to local problems,” said E. Timothy Carroll – I shall take that to heart. Of course, one small problem at this point is how to get the money I will need for this small “project.”
One last thing: I accidentally bought an enormous block of cheese today. I could only imagine what the poor clerk thought. And then there’s the whole old/new złoty issue . . .
First View of Lipnica
My first full day in Lipnica. It was a great way to begin my PC experience. Danuta and I spent the whole day together, talking and obviously becoming more comfortable with each other. We shall have a very good professional and personal relationship, I believe. I am fortunate that I have a counterpart who isn’t married (and therefore isn’t splitting time) and is the same age (roughly) as I am.
Danuta got here around 9:30 this morning and we spent a little time exploring my end of town and doing a little shopping. Afterwards we went to her place for lunch. We walked up a small hill and sat in the shade talking about so many things, but mainly teaching and language. After that we returned to my place for dinner and a bit of conversation.
Lipnica is so much smaller than I was expecting. There are three shops up the street from me, a bar, and a church. Other than that, there was little of any interest. It (the town) consists primarily of houses, which deserve some words: They are usually two or three stories with very steep roofs. They are often little more than large boxes made of blocks, but through some mysterious Polish magic they end up looking quite nice, in fact.
My apartment is beginning to feel just a little lived in. I would like to get some plants but I am afraid I would forget about them and let them die. Posters and pictures might help, too. In my bedroom there is a terrible echo; it’s almost empty. Time will bring with it “stuff” which will make this place seem more like a home.
This area is so much like home. In the distance there are mountains and the terrain itself is slightly hilly. It is so very lovely. It’s a great place to call home. There is clean air here, beautiful scenery, and total darkness at night. I have never been in an place that didn’t have any street lights.
Lipnica Arrival
It has taken so much time to reach this point. I am a Peace Corps Volunteer, sitting in my apartment at my site, Lipnica Wielka. In a way I want to cry – not from happiness or sadness. It’s just from relief. I finally made it.
So now I must write about the past two days: Yesterday had an interesting start. Nick, Ingrid, and I were taking [bus] 15 to the school and they told me that if we took it to the end of the line that we would be right behind the school – no need to transfer to seven. So we got off at the end of the line and began the hunt. I knew we were in trouble when Nick, who was our bold leader, cried out from the front, “Hey, there’s a stream here!” An old man working in his garden gave us directions as we stood pondering our situation. He didn’t know where we were going; we did not tell him [anything] – he gave us directions . . . and we followed them. It all worked out somehow, for we were only lost for another forty-five minutes! We all thought it was somewhat amusing.
I skipped most of the sessions that morning because my counterpart wasn’t there. I wasn’t keen on being bored silly. After lunch Kristine and I went downtown for a little bit, and then I headed home to pack, eat a little bigos, and get ready for the swearing in ceremony.
The event itself was honestly just a bit boring. Still, we sat through it and did the oath thing – it was full of pomp and a bit of hot hair. Afterward there was a huge buffet – everyone stuffed themselves.
Swearing-In Party
Lipnica Wielka
Lipnica Wielka. It is a small town on the Slovakian border, in the mountains of Poland. It has a population of approximately 3,000 spread along a single road (some 18 km long, I hear). On the map it shows (bad construction) only one road into the whole village. What do they do there? I can only imagine. I will soon know.
So I will soon be in my home. There is already an environmental volunteer there – he will be done in March. It will be nice to have someone to show me around.
When I think of Lipnica Wielka, it feels just like all the times I tried to imagine what Poland itself would be like. This time I have something to base it on, but it is still a big mystery. I’ve been told my apartment is really nice – a good thing. Still I’ve no idea what is in store for me. It sounds just great. A small, remote town – isolation. It will be a great opportunity to get to know myself more.
So now the mystery is over – Lipnica Wielka. I know where I am going. My new address is simply: Liceum Techniczne, 34-483 Lipnica Wielka. One street in the whole town! I can remember thinking about what PC would be like in Africa – isolation and such. It seems that I will be getting more of that than I initially thought when I arrived in Poland. One winter evening I might actually be writing by candlelight. A dark evening with a pipeful could be nice . . .
This is soon to become a very intense experience. I am going to be a full-fledged PCV. Bizarre. It has taken a long time. It will feel like it took me longer to get into PC than to complete my service. It is difficult to believe I have been in Poland already for eleven weeks.
I am fairly close to some other PCV XII’s. Kevin and Niki are in Kraków; Melissa and Chad seem very close; a couple of others are nearby, I think. I’m glad I’ll be near people I like. The worst news is that Kerry is as far north as I am south. That’s not good. We’ve become fairly close friends. Poland suddenly seems so much bigger.
It is so very difficult to describe how I feel now. I am so excited, so frightened, so . . . well, so everything. I cannot believe what I’m about to do. It’s the only thing I can imagine doing now. The future is in another haze; I am once again imagining the letters I will write; I am imagining people visiting. Another new start.
My host mother told me that small-town kids are more eager to learn. I do hope that is true. Still, even if the kids are stubborn and belligerent about learning it will not phase. I hope. Yet it would be great to teach a group of kids who really want to learn.
Swearing In Party
Polish Pride
Today is a huge holiday in Poland. In 1920 Polish forces turned back a larger Russian army, thus saving Europe from the Bolshiviks. Obviously this is a matter of great national pride. In addition to the national secular importance of the day it’s also the day of assumption.
In Warszawa at the arched memorial with the eternal flame in front of the fountain (Kristine and I visited this place. In front of it is a great square.), there is a great military ceremony. Representatives of all armed forces are there as well as high ranking statesmen including President KwaÅ›nieski. It is a moving sight – much national pride. I hope I can be in Warszawa this time next year so I can see it for myself.
Wraclaw
This morning I went for a quick walk before we left and I went into a couple of churches. One was an enormously tall and thin building that was blackened with age on the outside and completely white on the inside. As I entered I noticed a small elderly woman muttering a prayer, rosary in hand, back hunched over as she knelt. She looked at me and yet continued to mumble her prayer. As I left a few minutes later she was still there. She took a moment to look at her watch but never stopped praying. I wonder how much of her motivation came simply from a sense of duty, how much of it came from sheer habit.
At another church a woman sat in rags with a small child in her arms and another in ragged, filthy clothes nearby. I gave her a zloty and some change. I really didn’t care whether it was a scam (as so many people think of such situations) – I doubt it. And it made me wonder what forces led her to that destitution. Where is she now? Where will she stay tonight? I wanted to take her picture, but I felt it would be inappropriate. She wasn’t a tourist attraction. Yet I wanted to remember her face.
I bought an antique postcard from 1911. There is a note on the back in meticulous Polish handwriting – something about a sick grandmother, Magda told me. It is so strange to hold something so personal. That person obviously never intended someone to be reading it eighty-five years later. Part of me wants to track the person down, find out all I can about this individual. it’s virtually impossible – and only a mild passing fancy. It’s a bizarre link to the past which is at best minimal. I don’t even know the individual’s name . . .
In two weeks I will be at my site. As I looked out the windows of the bus I found myself imagining that each small town was my site. It’s as unreal to me now as Poland was to me twelve weeks ago . . .
Practicum
This is the last week of practicum – I am in a way glad. It’s so difficult, especially with all this class splitting and teaching of other classes. Just when we got used to our own classes we were teaching them half as often. It worries me though: I’ll be teaching more each week (eighteen hours versus six). Yet I will not have tech and language sessions every day. I’ll have more domestic work to do, as well. I know I’ll survive – somehow. I’m just a little worried about coming up with lessons every day. I have such a hard time with that for some reason.
Training Day
Language
There is something about the process of becoming bilingual that has made me examine language all the more. More than ever before I realized the truth of “The word is not the thing.” Dom and home are two words that mean the same thing, but they are not the same things. They simply prompt in speakers of other languages the same images. Of course the associations will be totally different – for some it means comfort while for others it’s nothing short of pain. It’s just a beautiful thing, language.
My inability to communicate is so very frustrating. I wonder (wander) what gets lost in the translation. I’ve often thought that so much gets lost simply by trying to communicate. Words are so very limiting even when all the words are comprehensible. It’s a wonder that we are able to communicate with anyone – linguistic problems make it a small miracle.
What I Am in Polish
Yet another day in Poland – I’ve been here almost two full months. How quickly it has gone, too. Will two years go so quickly?
The weather was [filled with] its usual strangeness. This morning it was beautiful with rich blue skies and warm sun. The clouds overtook everything and the dull grey to which we all have grown accustomed returned only to be shattered by a fierce wind storm with a bit of rain. So now it’s cold yet again, as one might expect.
(I love the way wet ink glistens in the light. It lends a feeling of authenticity that is lacking on the computer screen.)
I learned today that my name means in every-day Polish “dishes.” So (co?) I will bring to everyone’s minds thoughts of place settings and flatware.
Television and Such
This morning we watched a replay of the opening [ceremony] of the Olympics. It’s so strange that they are happening six hours from where I live and here I am in Poland. The ceremony was good but there was one bit which was spectacular. They put up a circular screen that enclosed dancers and an enormous light. The result was a shadow dance which was at least fifty feet high.
On a sad note, the flag bearer for Poland died during the opening ceremony. Piotr seems somewhat amused by the whole thing but it seems rather terrible to me.
There is some good news coming from Bosnia. Radovan Karadžić retired as leader of his political party and promised not to run for any political office. Of course I don’t think is word is worth all that much. He has proven before that he has no qualms against lying – after all, he has done much worse.
We were supposed to go to the country but the weather was/is so wretched that the whole thing got called off. This whole week the weather has been incredibly [awful]. It’s been cold and windy with lots of rain. I guess I’d rather be cold that sweating. In the land of no air conditioning, this really is a blessing. Besides, complaining about this weather will do nothing. It is a waste of time.
Training Woes
Another tech session, another endurance test. I cannot understand why we do such things. It is such an incredible waste of time – it could be used in so much more effective ways. But of course I really shouldn’t complain. Still, time spent working on lesson plans and/or our syllabi would be much better. This is especially true now that we’re both teacher and learner – we have so much stuff to do that ends up being done at home. So we end up being at school nine hours a day and then we go home and do homework and lesson planning.
One interesting thing about Polish students of English and the future tense: One way to form the future tense is “will” (future tense of by ) plus past tense. So a literal translation will produce “I will went.” They are simply applying a Polish grammatical structure on English, just as we must often do the same in reverse.
An obvious observation: There is not an action which cannot be described in words. The writer’s job is to find those elusive words.
I must teach two lessons tomorrow and though I am hesitant to do it, I am doing a final lesson on past progressive and simple past. I will be using a modified textbook activity which I think will really help to clear up any lingering misunderstandings. I’ll also be doing a lesson on modals.
We had TEFL session today on teaching with music and the final two pieces were Carmina Burana and the second movement to Górecki’s Symphony No. 3. The presenter seemed somewhat impressed that I recognized the pieces and floored when I mentioned that I have four Górecki CDs (I have five but I forgot about one). It was a triumphal moment to name those tunes in class . . .
Concert
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.