Poland 09 - I am a Lingual Loser

Naivety. I’m not sure it can be helped when one travels abroad, especially on the first international trip.

Upon learning that I would be going to Poland, I did what I am sure many people do. I researched the food, photos of the cities I’d be visiting, and the language.

“I’ve got plenty of time,” I thought. “I can learn some of the language. Yeah, if I really work at, I can be at least fairly functional by the time I go.” Oh you stupid, stupid boy.

Yes, like many a noble yet unlearned ideas I’ve had, I really didn’t have any intentions of giving this my full effort. It wasn’t even going to be a good college try. Half-baked is probably too good a term for my effort. But in my defense, I did look it up on the internet. Isn’t that close enough?

Plus, Polish is one of the most difficult languages in existence. It usually ends up in the top ten of difficult languages to learn on many experts’ lists. The main hope for English speaking people is that most of the letters in the Polish alphabet are the same as ours. It isn’t a completely foreign looking language like Arabic or something Asian.

There are more than 26 letters in their arsenal, however. The extra letters are diacritics. These are existing letters with marks above, below, or through them. One example is the Polish letter Ą. Now you may think that is a variant, or at worse a deviant A. Nope. It is a completely different letter.  They have an A already. This is distinctly a Ą. Why? I don’t know! They also have letters in their alphabet that are not used in native Polish words. They are only in their alphabet for the sake of words that are imported/adapted from other languages and only make appearances when those foreign words become a part of the Polish language.

Polish is also one of those Slavic languages where you’ll find a string of consonants without vowels to break them up. So if you think you are going to pronounce things phonetically, you’ve got another thing coming. To an English speaking person, that many consonants without a vowel break is a code that that can’t be cracked. It’s like driving a car that can go 300 miles on a tank of gas, and the gap between gas stations is 400 miles. The tongue just needs the vowel break. I think the most consonants I saw in a row was four. Wow.

There are also multiple genders in the Polish language. In many languages, every noun and/or pronoun is assigned a gender such as male or female. To me it seems arbitrary, but it does affect how you refer to the noun and/or pronoun with other words. That is why in French you have la and le in front of nouns, for example. Polish has three genders (or more, depending on who you ask).

Here is what Wikipedia has to say about it: A distinction is also made between animate and inanimate masculine nouns in the singular, and between masculine personal and non-personal nouns in the plural. There are seven cases: nominative, genitive, dative, accusative, instrumental, locative and vocative. Yeah, I don’t even want to think about it anymore.

Then there are rules that aren’t really rules yet they are rules. They aren’t just suggestions but they bend and flex in so many different directions based on the situation. Situational grammar. How fluid. Even Przemek had a book that he had to refer to from time to time to make sure he was getting his own language right. And he wasn’t writing a thesis!

So I didn’t learn much of the language before I went. I did try, however, to learn some while I was there.  I managed to master a couple of words, but that’s about it. I was often met with the same reaction when I asked a Polish person to teach me to say a word or phrase. It was a shaking of the head, a sympathetic expression, and a hand on the shoulder. They all came together to say “Don’t even try, you stupid American boy.”

It all ended in disaster. They will often give you a word to repeat, and I would repeat it just the way I thought it was said. They would say no then repeat it again. All I could think was, “Wasn’t that what I just said? It sounded the same to me!” Yet they heard a big enough difference to say that I didn’t even get close. What a lingual loser.

Przemek’s wife Gosia did try to teach me some words. One came across to me to sound like MEOWCHOW. I repeated it a few times, and Gosia just stared at me. She then said, “You speak better cat than Polish!”

Poland 08 - Killing Me Softly With Their Food

Restaurant in Ciechanow, Poland

One of Przemek's favorite treats was sweet, however. He seemed to have a craving... no, craving isn't the right word... maybe an insatiable, unrivaled longing... yeah, that's it... for the uniquely Polish candy bar Prince Polo. You won't find as many varieties of candy bars in Poland as you do in the U.S. Most of the ones you find are chocolate coated wafers, something akin to Kit-Kats. There are many different companies that make them, but Przemek swears that Prince Polo is the absolute best. "I ate these as a child," he'd say.

The first time we got one was right after we'd eaten at a pizza place together. Przemek wanted one, and he treated all of us to a taste of this Polish tradition. And, it was good! The chocolate coating is more on the dark side of the chocolate spectrum. If you've ever had the chocolate coated gem donuts, then you're pretty close to knowing the exterior of a Prince Polo. He was right. They are very good!

Now I don't know if Przemek is this way all the time or if he used our visit as an excuse to indulge in Prince Polos, but after that first encounter with the royal candy, he always seemed to be on the hunt for another. Like a junkie after the next fix, Prince Polo was on his mind. On one of our travel days, we stopped a shop to get our mid-afternoon Prince Polos. Much to his chagrin, they didn't have any. We then went on a search that got more and more desperate as we visited shop after shop that didn't have them. Finally, sweet relief! A shop had them!

In his defense, they are very good. We brought a box home to give to people we know. Everyone who sampled a Prince Polo quickly understood how it could become addictive.

In our research before we went to Poland, we read over and over that pierogies were a major part of Polish cuisine. Pierogies are not uncommon in the U.S. In fact, frozen pieroigies are available at most grocery stores and in big bags at Sam's.

Pierogies are like stuffed dumplings. Perhaps wontons are a decent comparison, although pierogies are not fried. Ravioli is close as well. They are stuffed with a variety of things. We encountered mostly meat and/or cheese stuffings. They are closed on the side and generally take on a semi-circular shape. Most often they are boiled then baked. The ones we had were usually oniony as well.

They cropped up at more than one meal, and we noticed many restaurants that touted their pierogi prowess. We also saw food trucks with pierogi advertising on the sides. It's serious business in Poland, and it should be. I found out later that the pierogi originated there, and to be Polish is to love pierogies. In fact, there is an annual pierogi festival each year in Krakow. So when you go to Poland, prepare to get your pierogi on!

And as with all the rest of mankind, food is the international symbol for hospitality for the Poles. They may not be outgoing, overtly friendly, or extremely cordial, but you can be assured when you are a welcomed guest in a home, you will be fed and fed well. There were some days we'd visit several different families. Food was always a cornerstone of each visit. It isn't that I didn't appreciate their hospitality, but I don't think each of our culinary benefactors realized how many others were feeding us as well. Eating, at times, seemed to be a job. I think you could kill someone with food. I am quite assured of it.

Poultry liver & onions. Yum!

One culinary highlight for me occurred at a restaurant in Ciechanow. I could not read the menu, so Przemek translated for me. When he got to the poultry liver and onions, I knew he need go no further. Yes, I admit it, I love liver. I like chicken liver, I like beef liver; I just like liver. Big whoop. I was brought a plate of cooked liver and onions and fries, and boy, were they good! I don't think they were chicken livers because of their size. Przemek guessed they were goose or turkey. The dish is probably not uniquely Polish or a national favorite, I suppose. When Przemek ordered for me, the waitress made a slight face of disgust and asked him a question that I only presume was, "Is he sure? Does he know what that is?"

Finally, I want to conclude with a comment not on the food but on how the Polish people eat. EVERYONE I had the opportunity to eat a meal with held a fork in the left hand and a knife in the right (unless they were eating soup, of course). These utensils stayed in place at almost all times, and they used them like their bodies were machines and the knife and fork were the business end of said machines. The only way I can describe how they eat is efficient. Nearly every Pole would finish a meal before any of us Americans. Each movement was precise, unwasted, and with purpose. It was something to watch. And because they all eat the same way, they must be formally taught as children. I know no other explanation. I tried to learn the skill but failed. It is probably something best learned in private.

Oh, one more thing. The Poles love their pizza places. In Ciechanow, there were not a great number of restaurants. There were certainly no American chain joints. But there were pizza places everywhere. I was jokingly told that Poland had more pizza places than Italy. They like 'em large too. Take a look at the pics. One restaurant boasted a 57cm pizza. The American equivalent is ginormous. Wow.

Poland 07 - Eat, Drink, and be Merry, for Tomorrow We May Diet

Food. It is truly phenomenal. It serves so many functions in the human realm. First and foremost, it is fuel to keep the body going. Many who are fortunate enough to have more than we need rarely see it in that light. We utilize its other functions: celebratory device, source of pleasure and comfort, and a communication tool to express love, courtesy, and even sympathy.

So it's no surprise that when I found out I was going to Poland, one of the first things I researched was Polish food. So did my friends and family. And they all reported to me their findings. Food is not only essential to human life, it is so near the center of all we do.

So here's the skinny on Polish food: it's really not that different than some traditional southern U.S. food traditions.

SOUP!

We were told off the bat that dinner (lunch) and supper (dinner) are both, at a minimum, two course meals in Poland. It is especially true for older generations. And the first course is always soup. It would be common to hear a Polish mother or grandmother asking a houseguest, "Are you eating enough soup?"

I was told over a good bowl of soup that soup is the national dish of Poland. For most, it is a necessary component of a good meal, and many are loath to think about how the young folks are forsaking the soup slurping ways of their ancestors. Many encourage the kids to eat plenty of soup and keep the tradition alive.

The soups are usually very brothy and not very heavy or chunky, so it doesn't get in the way of the main course. We experienced many chicken broth based soups, a few with beef origins, and one nice cucumber soup.

One of the other things we noticed is that they eat salad as a side with most of their meals. Now when I say salad, I know what comes up in your mind. You envision a bowl of leafy lettuce, maybe with some cheese, tomatoes, croutons, and blobs of dressing. Salad in Poland is different but not foreign to the American palate. Salad is normally shredded carrots made into a carrot salad type dish, or it is a shredded cabbage dish that gets very close to coleslaw.

Schnitzel, potatoes, & salad (slaw) made by two different
people who didn't know one another. Almost identical!

We had several main courses that were nearly identical to foods I've had many times at home. At a conference, we ate a lunch comprised of a lightly breaded and fried pounded chicken breast, mashed potatoes, salad (slaw), and, you guessed it, soup. It was chicken noodle. I was asked if I liked such Polish food. I replied that it was very good and really not much different than a traditional southern U.S. meal, especially those of the Sunday afternoon variety. In fact, I've had such meals many times at my wife's grandmother's house in rural Arkansas. In her home, the meat is usually deer, and in Poland, various meats are used. The pounded and fried meat is called schnitzel, by the way.

Dried sausages

Another natural question is: What about Polish sausage? The Poles are fond of their cylindrical meat, and it often shows up at breakfast. Polish sausage takes on a variety of forms and flavors, so don't pigeonhole it to be the stuff you find at fairs and carnivals. Some is of the refrigerated variety, others are air dried and eaten at room temperature. There was an interesting meat market in Ciechanow that is typical of others found across the country. Behind the counter was a rack of drying sausages. Przemek swore that the best ones were those that had been hanging there the longest. They were a little tougher but more flavorful. He bought us a variety bag, and all the meats were different and good. Some did indeed taste aged and smoky.

Speaking of meats at breakfast, the Poles don't think of eggs, bacon, sausage, and toast when it comes to breakfast. They think sandwiches. Everywhere we went we encountered almost identical breakfasts. Usually it is a plate of cold cuts along with some Polish sausages, a couple of varieties of bread, maybe some cheese, and a plate of sliced tomatoes and cucumbers. It's a make your own sandwich bar every morning! Amazingly enough, each host even laid the meats, breads, and tomato slices out in identical fashion.

We did have one strange dish. Sylvia had breakfast out for us nearly every morning by the time we got ready. We went to the kitchen, and one of the dishes appeared to be chicken noodle soup. Michael began eating and liked it. I wasn't convinced the noodles were noodles. It seemed like a masquerade. I studied the "noodles" carefully. One side of them did appear noodle like. But on the other side, I saw little fringy, finger-like things. I wasn't sold. We asked Przemek, and he asked Silvia. He looked at us, laughed a little, and said, "haggis." While it wasn't the traditional haggis dish, he was trying to communicate to us that what Michael ate was tripe. Yup, cow stomach.

Speaking of Silvia, I had a bad cold early on in the trip, and toward the end was coughing quite a bit, even though I felt ok. She heard this, and brought a bottle up to the kitchen and proceeded to pour me a shot of a slightly yellow, milky concoction. I took a whiff. Wow. She did not speak english, so I couldn't find out what was in it. I drank it down. KA-POW! Talk about a shot! It immediately cleared up the congestion in my chest. I found out later it was "spirits" (I think vodka), with garlic and onion juices. Ahhhhemmmm. Try ordering onion-garlic shots at your local bar.

Click on any photos in my blog to view them larger

(Notice the Polish Grandmother)

Poland 06 - Przemek- A Rose by Any Other Name...

Przemek is not an uncommon Polish name, but it is certainly far from being the most common. You meet many with names like Jan (John), Pawel (Paul), Michal (Michael), Jakub (Jacob/James), etc. due to the heavy Catholic influence. So Biblical names abound.

Przemek is derived from an old slavic name that means clever or ingenious. I'm not sure if I'd classify Przemek as ingenious (sorry buddy), but clever, yes. He is fluent in English, although he'd have some problems from time to time. Idioms across languages are about the toughest.

Since we spent most of our time with Przemek, he was Poland's representative to us. He's all we had to go by. So for the first few days, we could only assume that all Poles were like him. True to form, he was like others who grew up under communism. He was nice, but conversations were sometimes stilted. I think it was partly because he was guarded, at first, while he tried to figure us out. By the third day, however, I started to pick up on a sense of humor.

We had dinner one night with Przemek and his family at their home, and, toward the end of the evening, Michael went to another part of the room in order to Skype with his wife. Joseph and I visited with the family, and 45 minutes later, Michael rejoined us. Przemek quickly remarked, "I notice a difference between you Americans and us Eastern Europeans. Here, we can't think of anything that would take 45 minutes to talk to our wives about!"  A ha! A joke! Now we're getting somewhere.

Of course Michael knew he was joking, but seeing that he is Mr. Romance, he took the comment as a challenge to get Przemek to be romantic toward his wife. This became a theme that surfaced off and on throughout the rest of our trip. We traveled the second week, and when we'd stop anywhere that had free Wi-Fi, Michael was instantly in touch with his wife. Przemek would often look at me and Joseph and make kissy faces. One constant for Michael was blowing a kiss to his wife every time they ended a Skype conversation. Oddly enough, he'd never do it with his whole hand. Przemek noticed that he'd done it with just two fingers. One day, he did it with three. This amazed Przemek. He looked at me and Joseph and said, "Oh! The romance is growing! Now we're up to three finger kisses. Tomorrow, it will be four!"

Gosia & Przemek (Note his body language. Isn't this how
you imagine all Eastern European men talk?)

While the topic of romance was joked about, it was clear that Przemek and his wife Gosia (a variation of Malgorzata, which is Polish for Margaret), shared a great amount of love for one another. They married after only their third meeting. They knew from the get-go that they were meant to be together. I am not sure how long they've been married, but it's been long enough that their oldest daughter is 19.

Gosia is a very sweet lady. She was more open than Przemek and liked sharing about Polish life and culture and answered many questions I had. She also had many for us. We spent some time telling her about where we are from and showed her photos on the internet.

Joseph, Ela, & Ola having fun
with a statue

Przemek has two daughters, Ela and Ola. Ela's name is simply Ela. Could that really be Polish if it's that easy? Ola is actually short for Aleksandra (Alexandra, the same as my middle daughter). Here, in Przemek's two daughters, we saw a major difference in Polish people across generations. They were much more talkative, much more open, and more free to be themselves right off the bat. We found this to be true with most anyone under the age of 25 or so. Just being young may have something to do with  it, but those we asked said there is a big difference socially between those who were under communism and those who were not. The young people seemed to have a greater sense of curiosity about us and were more willing to ask questions. They were also more excited to share with us about themselves, their families, and Poland. It's not that those inclinations did not exist in the older generations, but they didn't act on them. We did discover that being a teen is universal.

Because all of us Americans do tend to be more open than the average Pole, the younger generation read that as a sign of self-confidence and tended to think of us as very confident people. To borrow and modify a joke from Garrison Keillor, do you know the difference between a normal Pole and one who is outgoing? An outgoing Pole will look at your shoes instead of his own during a conversation.

Emilia & Sylvia

By the time we left, we'd discovered that Przemek was a real cut up. I think you can probably see that from some of the photos I've included with this blog. We'd become so close over the course of the trip that it was definitely hard to say good bye when he took us to the airport to leave. It was hard to say goodbye to everyone. We'd grown so close to many people, especially in Ciechanow. It had become home. When we traveled around Poland and came back to Ciechanow, it felt like we were coming back home. From Przemek and Gosia, to Emilia and Sylvia who took great care of us in their home, to new friends like Jacek (Jack) and the two Pawels, we had a hard time leaving our new friends.

I can't say I know what it is like to visit a foreign nation as a tourist. I'm sure it is fun. But we visited Poland as new friends of an amazing group of people. And we're really more than new friends now. I feel like we are family.

Nations are more than places to see and cities and terrains. Nations are people, and they are what made this trip to Poland most memorable. I can say we truly love our new, extended family, and we were certainly blessed to be able to experience Poland in such a way. Here is the heart of a country, for the culture, the architecture, all the amazing things to experience, and the very life of a nation start in the hearts of the people of the land.

(Click on any of the photos to see it larger)

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.

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!

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.

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.