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Lipnica Sunset

Wednesday 28 November 2018

I look at some of the images from my time in Lipnica Wielka, a little village on the southern border of Poland (who would think to move there?!), and I find it difficult to believe I actually did live there. It is so far removed from my present reality, so very distant and foreign, that I find it difficult to comprehend how I came to live there and how, after two years in Boston, I came to return there.

I lived there seven years — seven — and loved almost each and every day of those approximately 2,100 days.

Heading Home

Sunday 24 June 2018

After two consecutive losses that left them at the bottom of their four-team World Cup group, the Polish team is heading home after their third and final game later this week. Even if they win against Japan, they won’t have enough points to move on to the next round of sixteen teams.

But we didn’t know that when a group of Poles and sympathizers gathered to watch Poland play Columbia this afternoon.

There was optimism from the beginning, but I told K on the way there, “You know Columbia is going to win, right?”

Why? Poland had played so pathetically against Senegal that I felt they were broken psychologically. Senegal was supposed to be the push-over team in their group. They were supposed to be the ones everyone trampled on like they’re a bunch of amateurs. And then on Tuesday, the Poles scored an own-goal and let the Senegalese take an embarrassingly easy second goal due entirely to a ridiculous error from the Polish goalie to end 2-1.

I had that feeling, and truth be told, K did too. Everyone in the room except for the three Columbians in the room probably had that feeling as well. Of course, they might well have felt that way, too.

All the Poles sang “Mazurek Dąbrowskiego,” the Polish national anthem.

Poland has not yet perished,
So long as we still live.
What the foreign force has taken from us,
We shall with sabre retrieve.
March, march, Dąbrowski,
From the Italian land to Poland.
Under your command
We shall rejoin the nation.
We’ll cross the Vistula, we’ll cross the Warta,
We shall be Polish.
Bonaparte has given us the example
Of how we should prevail.

The Columbians sang their national anthem:

Oh, unwithering glory!
Oh, immortal jubilance!
In furrows of pain,
goodness now germinates.

The dreadful night has ceased.
Sublime Liberty
beams forth the dawn
of her invincible light.
All of humanity
that groans within its chains,
understands the words
of He who died on the cross.

In both cases, I think they only got through about two verses: the anthem at the stadium was instrumental and short.

The good mood among the Poles didn’t last long. Just before the end of the first half, Yerry Mina scored for Columbia. Of course, there was still hope. Among Poles, there’s always hope. But it was waning: a tie would not do. Only a victory could save the Polish national team. Yet halfway through the second half, at the 70-minute mark, Radamel Falcao scored a second goal for Columba. And as if to rub a little dirt in the Poles’ faces, Juan Cuadrado scored again five minutes later.

And it was all over.

“I don’t see what the big deal is,” a friend said. “They’ll be another World Cup, another chance.” True enough.

Chess in Spytkowice

Friday 18 May 2018

M is K’s sister’s-in-law father, and he’s a keen chess player. I first played in him Krakow, at their apartment, in 2003 or so. We played one game, which lasted probably an hour and a half and went to roughly 40 moves, I’d guess. I knew I’d won with about 15 moves to go: he’d underestimated the queen-side attack I’d slowly been building.

Years later, when we went to Syptkowice to visit with them at their summer house, we’d always play. Since I’d won that first game, my ego was soothed, and I took more chances. In this particular game, those chances didn’t work out for me.

Wieliczka Revisited

Wednesday 16 May 2018

Reworked in Lightroom some shots from a few years ago.

Spent

Wednesday 9 May 2018

Monday

Monday 7 May 2018

A few Two random thoughts from the day:

The Girl is trying out for volleyball. She started working on her skills Saturday after having bought a ball that morning.

“How did it go?” I asked when I got home.

“I was the worst one there,” came the simple reply.

It turned out that it was a two-day tryout session, and so I immediately wondered if she’d be discouraged from her first experience and say, “I don’t have a chance of making the team. I don’t want to go to the second day.” And I was wondering how I might handle that. Is it something I should make her do in the interest of building character — following through on what you set out to do and all that? Or should we just let it go?

Turns out, the dilemma never presented itself: after gymnastics, she asked if we could go practice volleyball for a few minutes.

Second thought: While the Girl was in volleyball, I did some shopping, and I went through the self-checkout lane when I was done. If they’d had these things in Poland twenty years ago, I might not have stayed. It was tough, those first weeks; it was especially tough making friends when I didn’t speak the language. The store saved me. No self-service there: no, just a counter and a packed shelf behind it, with a sales clerk between you and your merchandise. So I had to ask for every single item. Which led to funny mistakes and misunderstandings. Which led to laughter. Which led to friendships.