Ode to a Jilted Lover 05 - My First Attempt

I am not a song writer. I don't compose melodies, which seems to be a major component of songs. But I  do have some ideas for song lyrics. Here's my first attempt at a jilted lover song. It is inspired by the annual Superman festival in nearby Metropolis, IL. I wondered what kind of love could originate from a chance meeting on a hot June day.  I don't have a definitive title, so the working name is The Lonely Life of a Superhero's Gal. Please, review and critique!

-------

He burst on her scene from the deep of the blue sky,

they found one another on that day, hot as all July.

Some would say destiny, others say fate,

she just hoped that it wasn’t at all too late.

He was her Clark Kent, she was his Lois Lane.

They spoke of various pasts and heroes fast as trains.

Their ice cream melted as they walked the Metropolis square.

The two were the perfect festival pair.

The lenses of his costume glasses

were as hollow as his heart,

but she was sure the S on his chest was real.

Oh how lonely a super hero's gal must feel.

The days flew by, and the comic book ink rubbed away.

Like a flash he was gone, never to stay.

The rescue was good, and superman’s not a bad guy,

but once the work is done he’s gone. It’s the blink of an eye.

She’s a lonely fan in a perilous world,

just another awestruck fandom girl.

The gal of a superhero feels the sting of the one who strayed

long after the dye in the costume starts to fade.

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)

The Finer Diner - Episode One

Here is a new venture. Watch to see how you can win an IHOP gift card!

Ode to a Jilted Lover 04 - Two Out of Three Ain't Bad

As I flipped through the radio stations the other day, I ran across my favorite Meat Loaf song. Yes, I have a favorite Meat Loaf song. Actually, I listened to Bat Out of Hell quite a bit during high school and was a fan of Bat Out of Hell II when it came out in '93. I don't own those albums anymore and will probably never actually pay for any more of his music. I would do anything for love, but I won't do that. Glad I got that out.

While I don't seek out Meat Loaf music and usually ignore it when I pass it on the radio, when I hear Two Out of Three Ain't Bad, I turn it up and sing along. The chorus is a bit corny while, at the same time, is a little clever. 

When I heard it the other day, however, I realized that it is a jilted lover song with a twist. First off, the song is written from the point of view of the jilter, or, in in other words, le jerk. He, le jerk, is singing to the jilted lover. She loves him and asks for a confirmation of his love. He replies with, well, no love. He wants her, he needs her, but there ain't no way he's ever going to love her. Hence the name, Two Out of Three Ain't Bad. 

But before you write him off as a total dodo, he reveals that he simply cannot love her. There is only one girl he loves, but he too was jilted. Can you say twist? I guess that doesn't give him the right to pass it along, but it is a unique jilted lover song in that the jilted becomes a jilter. It's a vicious cycle.

Baby we can talk all night 
But that ain't gettin us nowhere 
I told you everything I possibly can 
There's nothing left inside of me 

And baby you can cry all night 
But that'll never change the way that I feel 
The snow is really piling up outside 
I wish you wouldn't make me leave here 

I poured it on and I poured it out 
I tried to show you just how much I care 
I'm tired of words and I'm too hoarse to shout 
But you've been cold to me so long 
I'm crying icicles instead of tears 
And all I can do is keep on telling you 

I want you, I need you 
But there ain't no way I'm ever gonna love you 
Now don't be sad 
'Cause two out of three ain't bad 
Now don't be sad 
'Cause two out of three ain't bad 

You'll never find your gold on a sandy beach 
You'll never drill for oil on a city street 
I know you're looking for a ruby in a mountain of rocks 
But there ain't no Coup de Ville hiding at the bottom 
of a Cracker Jack box 

I can't lie, I can't tell you that I'm something I'm not 
No matter how I try 
I'll never be able to give you something 
Something that I just haven't got 

well there is only one girl that I will ever love 
And that was so many years ago 
And though I know I'll never get her out of my heart 
She never loved me back,ooh I know 

I remember how she left me on a stormy night 
How she kissed me and got out of our bed 
And though I pleaded and I begged her not to walk out that door 
She packed her bags and turned right away 

And she kept on telling me 
She kept on telling me 
She kept on telling me 

I want you, I need you 
But there ain't no way I'm ever gonna love you 
Now don't be sad 
'Cause two out of three ain't bad 

I want you, I need you 
But there ain't no way I'm ever gonna love you 
Now don't be sad 
'Cause two out of three ain't bad 

Baby we can talk all night 
But that ain't getting us nowhere

Ode to a Jilted Lover 03 - From Sad to Downright Tragic

Many jilted lover songs are about two people (as would be fitting for such tales): one is usually a sensitive, loving person with whom we empathize. The is other is usually, well, a jerk. They seem to be unfeeling, uncaring, and aloof. But some cross over into super-jerkdom as does today's example.

The song is Levi Stubbs' Tears by Billy Bragg. Now let me be upfront, I am actually not a huge fan of how this song sounds in its final form. The most I know of Billy Bragg is a three album project he did with Wilco where they created songs from lyrics penned by Woody Guthrie. The songs had never been set to music, and I think the albums are absolutely wonderful. But outside of that, I am not familiar with Billy Bragg's work. But I think this song has merit lyrically, and musically, it isn't just a train wreck or anything.

The song is about a woman who seems to be perpetually alone. She makes the best of her life and finds solace in music, which seems to be the only constant, bright spot she can find. Levi Stubbs was the lead vocalist of the Four Tops. The song mentions others involved in Motown's heyday, and apparently this is the type of music she finds comfort in.

She runs away from home at a very early age and marries almost right away. The guy she marries is terrible. He leaves her then resurfaces in her life later on only to do her physical harm. I tend to think that the actual story starts in verse two, and its conclusion is actually verse one. I tie the "accident" to whatever happens in verse four. She just called it an accident because she didn't want to turn him in for what he had done.

Here are the lyrics and the song, so you decide what the story is. A key line is And her husband was one of those blokes, the sort that only laughs at his own jokes; the sort a war takes away, and when there wasn't a war, he left anyway.


With the money from her accident
she bought herself a mobile home
so at least she could get some enjoyment
out of being alone
No one could say that she was left up on the shelf
It's you and me against the world kid she mumbled to herself

Chorus:
When the world falls apart some things stay in place
Levi Stubbs' tears run down his face

She ran away from home in her mother's best coat
She was married before she was even entitled to vote
And her husband was one of those blokes
The sort that only laughs at his own jokes
The sort that war takes away
and when there wasn't a war he left her anyway

Norman Whitfield and Barrett Strong
are here to make everything right that's wrong
Holland and Holland and Lamont Dozier too
are here to make it all okay with you

One dark night he came home from the sea
and put a hole in her body where no hole should be
It hurt her more to see him walking out the door
and though they stitched her back together they left her heart in pieces on the floor

When the world falls apart some things stay in place
she takes out the Four Tops tape and puts it back in its case
When the world falls apart some things stay in place
Levi Stubbs' tears...

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)