Matching Tracksuits

I woke up to a text from K that they’d made it through security without any issues.

I checked the flight tracking app I’d installed a month ago just for this trip.

They were well on their way.

And then, a rush to get them…

On the way, a wreck — forty minutes of sitting, crawling forward, sitting. Will I make it? Just how long will I be sitting here? What if I’m here an hour? Two?

Then the airport — lines for everything. The line for the taxis must have been 50 meters long — no exaggeration. It stretched half of the airport at least. And the line for luggage issues — at least half as long as the taxi line. People upon people everywhere. (Much to my relief, almost everyone in masks. I don’t know if it was required. I saw about 5% without.) Finally, I found them, we got the luggage, we made it home.

Four in the house again. Seven with the pets (dog, cat, frog). All is back to normal. More or less.

K went to her aunt’s and uncle’s house to pick up something E had left there when they visited last week.

It turned out that all the cousins were there for a visit along with their kids.

Everyone together for the first time since our wedding, K and I figured.

A few pictures from K’s day trip to Wraclaw. Why would she take a train there in the morning and a return train in the afternoon?

It’s a “remember where you are” moment. When my American friend and I encountered inexplicable bureaucracy while living in Poland, we always said to ourselves, “Remember where you are.” When things were unnecessarily complicated, we always said to ourselves, “Remember where you are.” When you had to get a stamp on this piece of paper to get a stamp on that piece of paper to get a signature and stamp on that application to get a piece of paper glued into your passport saying you could stay in Poland, we always said to ourselves, “Remember where you are.”

In short, there’s nothing like inexplicable Polish bureaucracy.