Poland 04 - It's Pronounced Chi-hon-off

Ciechanow, Polska

I wondered what it would feel like to be in another country. Oddly enough, I didn't feel any different. Sure, the scenery was not the same, but I was the same person there as I am at home. I don't know what I expected, but nothing really happened. It was kind of like you've seen in the movies. The character goes through a time warp for the first time, and, when they get through to the other side, they give themselves a pat down in order to make sure all the bits came through. I woke up in Ciechanów all present and accounted for.

Ciechanów is s city of about 46,000 people. While that is a good number of people, the city is not that large. Amazingly, it is a little over half the land size of Paducah, and yet has almost twice as many people in the city limits. The difference is in how people live. Most Polish people live in large apartment or condo complexes in what they call flats. Very European, ain’t it? So the population is much more concentrated. Ciechanów is no exception. There are plenty of houses, however, but most are not large, they are built close to one another, and there is little to speak of in regards to having a yard. Many of the houses are duplexes.

Home

I was blessed to stay in a house. The first and second floors were divided into two seperate living areas. As you entered the house through the side door (the only door I knew of), you either went right into the downstairs living area or upstairs. A simple curtain was the only barrier between the bottom of the stairs and the home of Sylwia (Sylvia) and Emilia Przybylska, a mother and daughter who rented the downstairs. We stayed upstairs, which was vacant at the time. The length of the home had a wide hallway, three bedrooms, a bathroom, a small kitchen, and a little living room area just off one of the bedrooms. This was a simple, yet roomy Polish home.

And simple is the key word here. Americans in general are more affluent that Poles. Yet Poland is financially better off than most European nations. The average Pole is not destitute, yet their lives are not full of many of the frills we enjoy. The home we stayed in reflected that. The stove and refrigerator in the kitchen were small and the dishwasher is you and a rag. There was a tiny front load washing machine in the bathroom and no dryer. I did not see a clothes dryer the whole time I was in Poland. Space is a luxury, and therefore a dryer is too. Laundry is dried on outdoor lines, rigs mounted above bathtubs, or anywhere clothes can hang or lay. Most of the larger flat buildings have small outdoor patios with a short railing. I saw everything from clothes to comforters hanging from the rails. 

Air-conditioning is also absent from homes, but Poland does sit at a higher latitude than the U.S., so summers are not as oppressive as those in the American South. Heating a home is of much more importance. Many of the standalone and duplex houses are heated with coal. The home we stayed in used a radiator system that was kept warm by a coal burning furnace in the lowest part of the house. Only the rooms are heated, thus doors to all rooms are normally kept closed, and the hallways remain fairly cool. Hot water was also provided through coal heat. 

In general, there are three main times during the day that the coal furnaces are fired: first thing in the morning, when returning home in the evening, and before going to bed. The first round in the morning is of importance if you want to take a warm bath. The afternoon/evening time provides a warm-up after the cooling during the day, and the bedtime stoking gets you through the night. I often went to bed rather warm and woke up a little cool. The main problem with burning coal is the city air quality. I would suppose what I experienced was smog. The air gets very thick, especially in the early evening. Some homes have black smoke pouring out, and in places, it is difficult to breathe outdoors. At first, I thought people were burning trash. Turns out it was mostly coal burning. Amazingly, some homes seemed to burn it more efficiently than others. I never noticed black smoke at our home. But we did have warm baths.

Speaking of warm baths, I will close with the bathing situation in Poland. Most homes have a bathtub with a length of hose and a shower head, but the head is not mounted to be used as a shower. It simply rests above the hot and cold faucets. There are also no shower curtains. I guess most people take baths, or as I grew accustomed to, sit down showers. It took some getting used to at first, but after a while, it was no big deal. I did miss regular showers, however. It really wouldn’t take much to have a regular shower in most homes. A simple install of a shower curtain and a clip to hold the head would suffice. But this is not what the Polish are accustomed to, so the bathing situation will likely remain the same. After all, if you stood up to bathe, you’d lose valuable real estate. In some of the homes I visited, families used that area to dry laundry.

Stay tuned for posts about food, language, and more!

Ode to a Jilted Lover

I've been listening to a lot of the Fruit Bats lately, and one of their songs that I have just adored from day one is Singing Joy to the World. The title is pretty intriguing, but even more interesting is the story the song tells.

Now I am a sucker for a good story song, but lately I have come to appreciate the stories of jilted lovers. I do choose my words carefully in saying jilted lovers. There are plenty of done-somebody-wrong songs (thanks B.J. Thomas) as well as Alanis Morissette/Carly Simon you-ticked-me-off cause-You're-So-Vain type songs.

The jilted lover song is one that tells the story of a rejected, good-hearted person who, for whatever reason (usually no fault of their own) is cast off. There is often a bittersweet quality to these songs whereas other love-gone-wrong songs are just bitter. The main character is often a sympathetic figure with an exposed humanity that we feel too.

Paul Simon is good at writing these types of songs, and when I heard the Fruit Bats sing Singing Joy to the World, I sensed the songwriting aura of Paul. Perhaps I will start a short series on songs dedicated to the jilted lover. You'll find the lyrics to Singing Joy to the World below along with the song on Youtube. The key line in the song for me is she never loved him back; it wasn't even close.

He got lonely every time the cantina lights came up on the Indian Casino Queen

Cause he'd loved her from the time she'd been the waitress at the Mexican place where he'd left his keys

She'd been there smiling at the lost and found

Then he took her to see Three Dog Night

They were playing at the fair grounds

Holding hands singing "Joy to the World"

She was way too young but he did not care

He was all right with cashing in

a few fine moments before his broken heart kicked in

He died a little bit each time the night came in

And the stars fell over Michigan

'Cause he'd loved her at the bar when he saw her dancing to

"I Could Never Take the Place of Your Man"

Then he'd come over to his usual spot

Soon they were making out at 3AM in the empty parking lot

They lay together under the burnt out stars

She never loved him back

It wasn't even close

But he was fine to just pretend

That it was never gonna end

And it was worth it just to know

A little warmth before the snow

Anti-Bullying Promos

I had the honor of producing two anti-bully PSAs for local use. Bullying is an age-old problem, but it seems that it has gotten more serious and deadly in recent years. It is a subject that has been largely ignored in our cultural conversation, and we can no longer ignore it. We cannot find any answers if we cannot first talk about it. I am grateful to have a part in these two spots:

Poland 03 - Jet Lag is Sleep Deprevation

I pulled into Nazareth, was feeling 'bout half past dead.

I just need some place where I can lay my head.

"Hey, Mister, can you tell me, where a man might find a bed?"

He just grinned and shook my hand, "No" was all he said.

Those lines from the song The Weight by The Band kept running through my mind as we came into Warsaw, Poland. They are 7 hours ahead of the Central time zone. At the time of my trip, they were only 6 hours ahead because they had not gone to daylight savings time. We swapped over the day before we left Paducah. Oddly enough, we sprung forward again two weeks later, the day before we left Poland. I've never done that twice in the same year.

The longest flight was from Chicago to London, and if I slept during the almost 9 hour flight, then I would have had a normal, Polish night's rest. Idyllic, eh? Yeah, that didn't happen. I had planned on it, but sleeping outside of the confines of my bed at home seems to be almost impossible. One of my biggest concerns about the trip was my inability to sleep.

I saw plenty of happy people on the plane, delightfully unconscious in sleep-induced comas as the plane roared through the night. How could they do it? How could they sleep sitting up in that roaring plane, with a tiny United Airlines pillow that probably wouldn't even pass for an airbag in Barbie's dream car?

Amazingly enough, when we arrived in Warsaw, I wasn't that tired. Przemek, the pastor of the church that contacted us and arranged our meetings picked us up at the airport. We drove an hour and a half to Ciechanów (pronounced Chi-hon-off) where we would be for the first week. We then attended a prayer meeting that evening. By the time I got to bed, I had been up for 31 hours. Oddly enough, it took a couple more hours to go to sleep, and I only slept about 4 hours last night. I told you I can't sleep away from home.

At any rate, I felt fine the next day as we started to explore Ciechanów. As the saying goes, sleep is overrated. In the next blog entry, we will explore the city of Ciechanow.

By the way, do you see the bald guy with the headphones in the image above? That dude rocked out during the entire flight from Chicago to London. Yeah, glad I wasn't sitting by him as he head-banged for almost nine hours.

Of Advertising, Politics, & Paducah

It has been a long time since I created a thirty-second television commercial. I used to crank them out like a one-man assembly line at our local cable company. Now that I said that, I realize it doesn't make sense. How can you have a one-man line? A line would need to have at least two points to connect, right?  Oh well. This spot is for a local political candidate, and we think it turned out well. As with everything, I wish there was more time to really make it cool. Maybe after the primary, we'll have time to do something amazing for November.

But all of this did remind me that I worked on several politcal ads in the late 90s. I could only find one of them. This one wasn't my idea. I just showed up, recorded what he wanted, and slapped it together. At any rate, here's something from Paducah's political advertising's past.

Poland 02 - Transatlantic Mania

I lingered by the bathroom window this morning at my rural, West Kentucky home. I listened to the birds. I saw our humble little goat family atop a tiny hill in the field. The skies were blue, the air outside warm, and the aura peaceful. It seemed surreal that in hours I would be on my way to Poland.

I vowed I would not fly again. I don't like it. I've been very sick on planes before. I don't want to miss the blue skies of home, the West Kentucky birds, and my little goat family (we're expecting, by the way). Even more dear is my precious wife and daughter. I do cherish our times together, and I know this trip will be a long time apart. I am going to miss my Chihuahua, even though she only loves when it's convenient. Oh well. I love her anyway.

I am now on a flight from Chicago to London. It is amazing that we are flying through the night. We aren't just flying during the night, but through it... through time and space. It will be a shortened night as we are speeding across time zones and racing to meet the sunrise in the east.

For those of you who are seasoned travelers, these sort of things may be humdrum and not blog worthy. But you must remember that first transatlantic flight. I hope it contained some of the same magic that I am experiencing.

Here are some natural questions that are coming to mind as we traverse the ocean expanse:

1. What's that burning smell?

A: According to the pilot, it's a brand new engine burning off fumes

2. When I flush this, where does it go?

A: Unknown

3. Why didn't I get salad dressing with my meal like everyone else did?

A: Unknown

4. Why do British accents sound so cool?

A: We are only exposed to the cool and/or smart British people. Culturally, they put their best foot forward. Ignorance has to be universal.

5. Is it cool to hear Otis Redding sing "Hard to Handle" on the inflight radio?

A: Yes

6. Where did the Titanic go down?

A: Unknown to me. Bad question

7. How much gas is in this thing?

A. Unknown. Enough, I hope

8. Have they ever shown Castaway on the inflight entertainment system?

A. I hope not

Poland 01 - Surreal'ja Vu

I never thought I’d find myself eating lunch at a Polish McDonalds. This was the point at which the trip felt surreal. There was also a tinge of deja vu. It must have been the McDonalds. I dubbed it surreal’ja vu. There were really two reasons for the feeling.

First, I nearly acted out a scene from Pulp Fiction with a person who had no idea that dialogue even exists. He’s never seen Pulp Fiction. Do you remember the scene in the beginning of the movie where Vincent (John Travolta) explains to Jules (Samuel L. Jackson) about his visit to a Paris McDonalds? It goes something like this:

Vincent: And you know what they call a Quarter Pounder with Cheese in Paris?
Jules: They don’t call it a Quarter Pounder with cheese?
Vincent: No man, they got the metric system. They wouldn’t know what a Quarter Pounder is.
Jules: Then what do they call it?
Vincent: They call it a Royale with cheese.

Here I am, at a McDonalds in the middle of nowhere in Poland, standing next to another American. We looked over the menu to see the differences and similarities, and, before thinking, he said, “It doesn’t look like they have Quarter Pounders.”

Me: They do and they don’t. They don’t call it a Quarter Pounder with Cheese in Poland
Him: They don’t call it a Quarter Pounder with Cheese?
Me: No. They got the metric system. They wouldn’t know what a Quarter Pounder is.
Him: Then what do they call it?
Me: They call it a Royale with cheese

Wow. Surrealville. I never thought I’d be in Poland. And I certainly wouldn’t have imagined quoting Pulp Fiction in a perfectly organic, natural conversation. Weird.

I was invited to go to Poland with the pastor of my church. He was invited by a pastor there to speak at several locations and conferences around the country. My job was to videotape the sessions for them to keep as future resources.

Now I am in McDonalds, amazed that I am even in Poland. We will start from square one in future blogs.

It's Okay, Everybody Does It

Blogs are like opinions, which I hear are a lot like buttholes. Everyone has at least one. There were an estimated 2,459,646,518 internet users worldwide in February 2012. Who knows how many blogs there are. There are 71.2 million on WordPress alone. So why in the world would anyone want to read this one? Why in the world should I start one?

First, I was asked to do this in order to share my experiences on my recent trip to Poland. It sure was interesting, at least for someone from Western Kentucky who’d never been out of the country. So yes, a blog will be a good forum for sharing stories and images that are, in the end, at least marginally interesting.

With full intentions of sharing my travel info, I am now blogging. Yet I don’t want the Poland excursion to be the end all of my blogging experiences. There are so many things to share. Yes, visiting a foreign nation for the first time was great, but how many wonderful, fun things need to be shared as life goes by in the normal day-to-day?

Perhaps this will be nothing more than an electronic journal that no one will read until I am dead and gone. It was once somewhat common to keep pen and ink journals. Some live in infamy, like that of Andy Warhol, giving us a personal look at one of the world’s most interesting people. Others, such as Anne Frank, give us a glimpse of raw humanity caught up in extraordinary circumstances. But, like blogs, who knows how many countless volumes of human experience are shelved for no one to see outside the author who penned the words.

Maybe my children will be going through my things when I am gone (in this case looking at the favorites on my browser), and they will say, “Hey look, it’s dad’s blog!” Maybe they will read with a romanticized view of ol’ pops and soak in life from the unique viewpoint of at least one human out of billions who decided to write down his thoughts.

About me:

I do like to write. I fancied it when a freshman English teacher challenged me in creative writing. My mom, sensing my proclivity to write, encouraged me from then on. I do write for Paducah Life Magazine and anyone else who is willing to read it.

I guess I lean more toward being right-brained. I have an artistic bent and am somewhat of a free-spirit. In my early twenties, I was fully convinced that I wanted to be a hippie for the rest of my life. While that didn’t exactly work out due to mounting responsibilities and bills that needed paid, I do retain some of the same ideals. I love art, music, humor, and creativity. Life ain’t easy, and it is finding the fun in day to day life that makes it worthwhile. That’s what I want to share in this blog.

J.T.