Poland 05 - The Poles of Poland

Polish people are called Poles. They call themselves Poles when speaking about themselves in English. Ok, I've poorly set the stage for a bad joke I made on the third day of our trip. I saw a cat in the backyard and told my traveling companions, "Look! It's an authentic Pole cat!"

Ok, once you stop doubling over in pain from all the laughter, resume reading.  I'll wait.

An amazing truth that I learned from the trip to Poland is that while it is wonderful to see lands different than my own, and it is surreal to visit distant places you've only heard about, to find and make new friends is one of most satisfying and memorable experiences you can have.

I had been told that the best traveling occurs when you aren't purely a tourist and are connected to local people. I don't know how that occurs if you don't know anyone in a country you want to visit, but I can attest to the fact that spending your time with people who are simply ordinary natives of the land is the best way to truly experience a nation.

Our contact in Poland was Przemek Bartczak, the pastor of the church in Ciechanow. He is also the associate director of the food bank in their area of Poland. Przemek was our host and really the one who took responsibility for our well-being. And we certainly needed someone to do that. It's easy to lose your bearings in a land where you don't understand the language, culture, and social norms. Paul Simon lyrics often drifted through my head during those first few days.


A man walks down the street
It's a street in a strange world
Maybe it's the Third World
Maybe it's his first time around
He doesn't speak the language
He holds no currency
He is a foreign man


You can call me Al. Or Albercie, if you prefer to use Polish.

While Przemek did share with us some touristy things, and I'm glad he did, it was really spending time with him, his family, and the people that told us what Poland was all about.

Przemek & his friend Tomek

Many people in Poland grew up under a communist regime, which lasted from 1945 to 1989. That experience seems to have really shaped the personality of the generations who grew up during those years. The government, a product of Russian supported liberation after World War II, was oppressive and left the people of the post-war nation with little of their own. The communists provided minimum infrastructure, but money to buy sufficient food and provide one's family with the necessities of life was  a scratch-and-claw kind of existence.

And to oppose the government in any shape or form, including to speak against it, was often met with consequences that no one wanted. We heard from several people that in the quiet seclusion of their own homes, Polish people often taught their children that the way they were treated was not right. This was a risk for the parents for if any of the children mentioned their conversations in school, for example, there could be retribution. Yet most parents wanted their children who did not know true freedom to know the longing for it that resided in their hearts.

The result of that environment is a people who are often unexpressive and stoic. That is how they were accustomed to being around others, and it has become a part of their national identity. Michael, who spent the two weeks speaking to groups of people, was often confused at the lack of responsiveness from those whom he addressed. There were no signs of agreement or disagreement. He eventually said that the Polish people would make the best poker players.

Michael asked Przemek how you can tell whether or not the crowd agrees with and likes what you are saying. Przemek responded, "If they don't rebuke you afterward, they liked it." Someone else told us, "If they don't say anything or give any indication of liking you or what you said, that is a compliment."

Our host, Przemek fit the Polish mold well. We had a hard time reading Przemek at first. He was friendly enough, but it was difficult getting to know him. I like to joke a lot, but I hope I know or am at least learning to know when it's appropriate and when it is not. So around people I do not know, I am often more reserved until I have a better feel of the situation. I guess we are all that way. But if you want to play social chicken with a Pole you'll lose every time.

So for a while, it was a game of observation, analyzation, and drawing conclusions. It's just that in Poland, the game is a little more difficult. Fortunately, I can tell you my eventual conclusions were good ones. I will blog next about some of the specific people we got to know. And I'll share soon what kind of person our friend Przemek turned out to be.

One story about communist leftovers before I go. Przemek often shared with us that as he grew up his parents taught him to never waste food. To get enough to eat every day in communist Poland was not easy. We stopped at Kentucky Fried Chicken for lunch one day. Yeah, KFC. We informed Przemek that we'd be able to tell him if it was authentic or not. We ordered a bucket of hot wings to share among the four of us. We went around eating the wings until we were pretty stuffed, and yet four wings remained. We decided that each of us should eat one and finish it off. Unfortunately, Michael didn't want to eat his wing. Now here's a guy who doesn't know how to finish a job! Michael walked away to call his wife, and Joseph, Przemek, and I each ate a wing, leaving just one. Przemek said, "Well someone has to eat it!" I laughed, thinking it was a joke. But the longer I looked at his face, I became unsure if it was a joke or not. I looked at Przemek. I looked at the wing. I looked at Przemek. I picked up the wing and ate it. Wow. He wasn't joking.