and my last hejnał

For a little while anyways...

Saying goodbye

To the stylish babcias in hats, the crazy eagles, Wawel, the chess tables, and the swans, the park and Kopernik, the Wisla and Podgorze, the Blon and the Kosciuszko Mound, and dearest, adorable Moniczka.

Wigilia with CES

Our department (undergrad and grad students and faculty) had a Christmas party complete with gift exchange, dinner, carols, hot wine, and 40 people with sparklers in the one room library. I love Poland.

The Christmas market is here

Happy Thanksgiving

Assorted rambling.

It's paper procrastination season, so I stumbled across an article by Ezra Pound the other day, reviewing a volume of translated poetry from Bohemia, which conveniently enough is now available in its entirety online. It was rather serendipitous, I'd been meaning to delve into some more regional poetry, but hadn't really gotten around to it.

The book contains some pretty painful translations, but also some amazing work. Pound writes of Bezruc and his Songs of Silesia, "[Bezruc] is the truth where our "red-bloods" and magazine socialists are usually a rather boresome pose."

Here's the translation, available in the original Czech at http://www.archive.org/stream/modernczechpoetr00selviala/modernczechpoetr00selviala_djvu.txt as well,

THE PITMAN.

I dig, under the earth I dig;

Boulders glittering like the scales of a serpent I dig:

Beneath Polska Ostrava I dig.

My lamp is quenched, upon my brow has fallen

My hair, matted and clammy with sweat;

My eyes are shot with bitterness and gall;

My veins and my skull are clouded with vapour;

From beneath my nails gushes forth crimson blood;

Beneath Polska Ostrava I dig.

The broad hammer I smite upon the pit;

At Salmovec I dig,

At Rychvald I dig, and at Petrvald I dig.

Hard by Godula my wife freezes and whimpers,
Famishing children weep at her bosom;
I dig, under the earth I dig.

Sparks flash from the pit, sparks flash from my eyes;

At Dombrova I dig, at Orlova I dig,

At Poremba I dig, and beneath Lazy I dig.

Above me overhead rings the clatter of hoofs,

The count is riding trough the hamlet, the countess with dainty hand

Urges on the horses and her rosebud face is smiling,

I dig, the mattock I upraise;

My wife, livid-faced, trudges to the castle,

Craving for bread, when the milk has dried up in her breasts.

Good-hearted is my lord,

Of yellow masonry is his castle,

Beneath the castle is dinning and bursting the Ostravice.

By the gates two black bitches are scowling.

Wherefore she went to the castle to pester and beg?

Grows rye on my lord's field for the drab of a pitman?

At Hrusov I dig and at Michalkovice.

What will betide my sons, what will betide my daughters,

On the day when they drag out my corpse from the pit?

My sons shall go on digging and digging,

At Karvinna digging;

And my daughters, how fares it with daughters of pitmen?

How if one day I should fling my accursed lamp into the pit,

And stiffen my bended neck,

Clench my left hand and stride forth and onward,

And in a sweeping curve from the earth to the skyline upwards

Should upraise my hammer and my flashing eyes,

Yonder beneath God's sunshine!

"Silesian Songs" (1909)

The area that is now the Czech Republic moved the smoothest and most willingly of any nation into communism due to it's pre-existing level of industry and secularity, and with poetry like this, it's even more understandable. It's not subtle, but it has a rhythm for marching.

The painting is by Konrad Magi, an amazing Estonian artist I encountered for the first time at the KuMu in Tallinn. Their expressionist collection is breath-taking in person, and made the trip to Estonia worth it on its own, changed my understanding of art. This one seemed to fit the poem.

On a side note, Ukraine's one to watch tomorrow. The hryvnia has been plummeting against the dollar and my Ukrainian roommate's family called and told her that tomorrow Ukraine will likely default on it's loans from Russia. Ukraine has been in negotiations with Moscow this week over supposed debts to Gazprom and the new price of oil. For the past three years Ukraine has been plagued by these disputes with Russia, resulting in massive gas shortages as Russia turns off the pipelines. Ukraine was also one of the nations hit hardest by the US financial crisis, to the point that Ukrainians are only allowed to withdraw small amounts from the bank every day now to prevent total collapse. Defense Minister Yekhanurov also announced today that Ukraine would be building up troops along the Russian border in light of the Georgian conflict, though his timing is certainly also indicative of what's running through the mind of Ukrainian politicians right now. Politically Ukraine is paralyzed since the collapse of the coalition in Parliament. The World Bank is prepared to give Ukraine a $500 million loan, but it remains to be seen if that will be anywhere near enough. Meanwhile, Ukraine observes the 75th anniversary of the Stalinist-orchestrated great famine which killed between 4-6 million Ukrainians, a third of the nation. Unfortunately, with it's disputed borders, internal corruption problems, lack of infrastructure, political and economic instability, and reliance on Russia, Ukraine isn't moving any closer to the membership in the EU that would hopefully assure its peaceful and democratic future, and how it's economy fares in the following months may seal that fate.

And on that gloomy note, have a good thanksgiving! Eat lots of the infamous cranberry sauce for me in SC! I'll call and you can tell me how many tries it took this year :)

Braving the snow with Moni

'




Also, about an hour ago a report was made that the Polish and Georgian presidents' motorcades were turned away from the South Ossetian border by warning gunshots from Russian forces stationed at a checkpoint. We'll see what that means soon, aside from, you know, Russians are crazy.

The first snow

We saw our first flakes last night and my Ukrainian roomie, Liza, just shook her head as I ran outside to stand in them. This morning we woke to a few scattered patches of white in the park across the street, but by the time I walked home from Alchemia this evening the sidewalks and cars were covered. The snow was three inches thick and utterly silent. I realized the city had been waiting for snow. The buildings could sleep now. They’d dreamed of this wearily all summer, crumbling bricks exposed to the sun. Now they could dwell in silence again, sleepy in their white hats. And we’ll watch as they doze and not slam doors, we'll speak a little more quietly huddled around the radiators.
The snow first started falling hard when Monika and I were at Massolit, the English bookstore, working in the cafe. I had resolved not to go home until I'd produced a rough draft of my paper on the comparative roles of women in the theology and shaping of Jewish and Christian medieval mysticism (a mouthful, right? I can never resist the chance to write about Hildegard of Bingen, she's my girl). There was a girl from Texas studying in the corner. It was good to be with other Americans when the snow began, because no one here quite gets American snow-joy. Poor Moni got caught in the worst of the snow walking home and I stole some of her pictures here, she always has her camera out in Massolit too. This is the main square, in the background you can see the giant creche being built. The Christmas market opens in the main square next week and I smile every time I see the stalls. Almost time to buy presents!
By the time I came home, the tree was up in the main square and already weighed down with snow. Krakow's architecture makes even more sense now, this is a city meant for snow. Wawel Castle was the most beautiful I'd ever seen it as I walked past in the dark on my way home from Kazimierz and it loomed down from Wawel Hill. I spent the afternoon in Alchemia, the best jazz bar in Krakow by night, and the darkest and smokiest cafe by day. Being in the Jewish quarter and writing by proper candlelight helped me get eight pages out before I gave in and just watched people and lingered over my pot of tea for another hour.
Time for kolacje, supper, or really, more like obiad, because I still haven't gotten the hang of eating the biggest meal midday like a proper Pole. Pasta with tomatoes and eggplant and the lovely kielbasa (named Herman) I picked up at the butcher. And a little wine of course - have to embrace that while I still can!

Completely on topic.

Have you read Kahlil Gibran's The Prophet? You should. It's even online. http://leb.net/~mira/works/prophet/prophet.html

Here, the chapter "Joy and Sorrow" and the chapter "Love."

Joy and Sorrow

Then a woman said, "Speak to us of Joy and Sorrow."

And he answered:

Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.

And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears.

And how else can it be?

The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.

Is not the cup that hold your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter's oven?

And is not the lute that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with knives?

When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.

When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.

Some of you say, "Joy is greater than sorrow," and others say, "Nay, sorrow is the greater."

But I say unto you, they are inseparable.

Together they come, and when one sits alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.

Verily you are suspended like scales between your sorrow and your joy.

Only when you are empty are you at standstill and balanced.

When the treasure-keeper lifts you to weigh his gold and his silver, needs must your joy or your sorrow rise or fall.

Love

Then said Almitra, "Speak to us of Love."

And he raised his head and looked upon the people, and there fell a stillness upon them.

And with a great voice he said:

When love beckons to you follow him,

Though his ways are hard and steep.

And when his wings enfold you yield to him,

Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you.

And when he speaks to you believe in him,

Though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind lays waste the garden.

For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning.

Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun,

So shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth.

Like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto himself.

He threshes you to make you naked.

He sifts you to free you from your husks.

He grinds you to whiteness.

He kneads you until you are pliant;

And then he assigns you to his sacred fire, that you may become sacred bread for God's sacred feast.

All these things shall love do unto you that you may know the secrets of your heart, and in that knowledge become a fragment of Life's heart.

But if in your fear you would seek only love's peace and love's pleasure,

Then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love's threshing-floor,

Into the seasonless world where you shall laugh, but not all of your laughter, and weep, but not all of your tears.

Love gives naught but itself and takes naught but from itself.

Love possesses not nor would it be possessed;

For love is sufficient unto love.

When you love you should not say, "God is in my heart," but rather, I am in the heart of God."

And think not you can direct the course of love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course.

Love has no other desire but to fulfil itself.

But if you love and must needs have desires, let these be your desires:

To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night.

To know the pain of too much tenderness.

To be wounded by your own understanding of love;

And to bleed willingly and joyfully.

To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving;

To rest at the noon hour and meditate love's ecstasy;

To return home at eventide with gratitude;

And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and a song of praise upon your lips.

Back from the Baltics

Pictures!

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2294671&l=59e8f&id=2735473

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2294681&l=c62ff&id=2735473

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2294677&l=7da1d&id=2735473

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2294673&l=331dc&id=2735473

hey from Estonia

Well I cant access my webmail due to the Estonian keyboard, but if anyone sees this, send mum a message and tell her Im doing great! Lots of love....

Milano!

This last weekend I went to Milan to visit a friend and former teacher of mine from New York, Rebecca. The city was beautiful beyond words and I had a fabulous time catching up, but I'm still running on about two hours of sleep, so forgive my relative brevity!

I arrived Wednesday night around midnight and spent Thursday and Friday exploring the city. I'm prone to just wander the streets of a city watching people and trying to get a sense of its character if left to my natural inclination, but I couldn't pass up the opportunity to see the museums. It's not everyday one gets to admire Roman artifacts and DaVinci's work! Mind you, I often fail to see the attraction in big name artwork, like my earlier encounter with Lady with an Ermine, but its worth it to make the trip to find the little treasures in the galleries and also to peoplewatch as tourists stand perplexed in something they know they're supposed to be awed by.

Of course, I didn't visit just any gallery...the museum was in the Sforza Castle! Like any good American I have an ongoing love affair with castles, the more Harry Potter-ish the better. Classy - no, but it makes me happy! The castle museum features a ceiling designed and perhaps partially painted by DaVinci and it definitely beats the Last Supper in my book. On the walls great mulberry trees break through jagged boulders to entwine in intricate latticework overhead. It was like standing in a stream and seeing the trees curve in like a cathedral - always one of my favorite things.

Admittedly though (and I bet Heather will be proud of this) one of my first stops was the high fashion district. Within a few blocks all the major Italian designers have their stores, and it's fabulous just to wonder by because Italian women have no shame in window shopping. While the first site in the city to take away my breath was the Duomo and Galleria...the second was definitely the window of Cartier's - and I'm not even a jewelry girl! And just out of love of Audrey Hepburn, I ate a little brunch in front of Tiffany's. I had to clean up a little drool on the window of Valentino and Prada too, and it was very hard to contain myself from getting out my camera and taking notes on the couture hats at Alan Journo. Later on I ended up visiting the Rinascente, Milan's designer department store as well. Probably the first and last time I'll touch an alligator purse!

The highlight of the weekend, aside from getting to catch up with Rebecca of course, was the Duomo. An unearthly gorgeous confection of white and pink marble. The third largest Christian church in the world. Looking back over my photos, at least half are from the Duomo and I don't regret it a bit.

We wrapped up the weekend at the monumental cemetery, a jaw-droppingly beautiful necropolis of family tombs and heart wrenching statuary still covered in flowers from All Saint's. I'm bad about taking pictures in churches and cemeteries because I'm so hesitant to do anything that might be construed as disrespectful, but no photo could really capture anywhere near how beautiful it was anyway.

Well, since my boy doesn't read my blog I can admit it, I'm starting to dread leaving Europe from time to time! Much of today Krakow was shrouded in fog and as I walked to Massolit, the English bookstore, the hejnal and the dozens of sets of church bells rang through the mist and the city felt so still. The chimes ended and I could only hear the rustle of the dead leaves on the trees against the stone wall of the monastery and I felt terribly at home. Life is beautiful and I've fallen so in love with the old world. I know I'll be back eventually, I'll have no choice, I know a part of myself will stay here.

Adventures in Queueing

7:00 Monika and I arise. Birds are singing. The sun is shining. A pigeon is mauling the boys’ butter on the porch. It is going to be a good day.

8:00 We’re ready to go packed and ready to go. This can’t take more than four hours, I’m not worried about making it to Jewish Studies on time. I’ll walk from the new, closer dorm!

8:15 We have to take down the curtains and turn them in? Okay, Poles are weird. We’re next in line to be inspected.

9:00 The strange long haired Polish guy who inspected our room made us sweep it on our hands and knees while he watched. For fifteen minutes. And we’d already swept it twice. But whatever, now we’re waiting in line to get our deposits back, there’s only 10 people this shouldn’t take too long.

10:00 I want a beer. Russians appear to be taking over the line. There is an Asian boy speaking Russian. Genghis better not even think about cutting.

11:00 I resist the urge to whip out my kitchen knife when a Polish boy cuts in front of us. And almost vomit when I realize I’m not 100% positive I removed my passport from its secret place in my bed. Thank god I found it. We’re next to get our deposits back and check-in shouldn’t be that bad. I’ll just drop off my bags and go. Monika and I contemplate alcohol prior to class.

11:15 The cabbie was very nice, didn’t rip us off, and the weather is lovely. I’m thrilled to be walking into a new dorm!

11:30 I stand with the luggage while Monika attempts to get a key. The receptionist glares and will not tell us how to check-in. I now understand why Poles drink so much. Communist bureaucracy.

12:00 The luggage and I commune. The coffee vending machine taunts me. I am late for Jewish Studies.

12:30 I meet a nice giant, red-headed Hungarian boy who doesn’t speak Polish either, but is fluent in English. New Yorker English. His enthusiastic profanity amuses me. People try not to step on me as I take up residence in the lobby.

1:00 Hungarian Giant and I chill on the stairs. No Jewish Studies. The coffee machine’s pull can no longer be resisted. Hungarian Boy jokes that maybe we’ll be spending the night in the lobby. It is dangerous to taunt the only partially caffeinated Liz.

1:30 Hungarian Boy is gone. I stare out the window. I believe I am entering a meditative state.

1:45 Monika and I discover the secret to check-in. One must first enter the bar on the ground floor, approach the couple sitting at the table with beers, tell them your name, have them write it on a sticky note, stamp the sticky note, and take this sticky note with you when you want to pay. Of course, why didn’t we think of this, it’s obvious, it’s such a clear procedure that it makes absolute sense why are no signs indicating it or administration willing to mention it.

Commies.

2:00 I grow less optimistic that we will make our 4:00 pm class. I grow less optimistic that I will not soon start tripping the people stepping over me.

2:45 Monika has her key! She tells me that the administration said that today is the special inter-dorm moving day. We were supposed to cut to the front of the line. Damn them all and their lack of signage. Should we bring a psychic next time?

3:00 Our room is lovely, I have my key, our room mate is adorable, and I have killed no one. Tonight I am eating so many pierogies.

Out in Warsaw

Well, here are the censored photos. I just find the second photo amusing because if you look closely you notice we all have the same Polish nose...yeah, that's what it means to be in an ethnically homogeneous country. Those are the MA girls, one from the UK, two from Ireland, a couple from the US with dual citizenship and fluency, Agnieszka, and one of her friends.

On a bridge in Warszawa

Warszawa

We were off in Warsaw for the weekend and it was incredible.

Whereas Krakow, largely untouched by war, is beautiful in a fairytale way, Warsaw was almost completely leveled and has grown up into a gritty, lovely, metropolitan city with a spirit to match its history.

I'm not much of one for describing bars and clubs well because I've little experience in them, but this NYT article actually mentions a couple of the places we went to (that club and bookstore) and gives a great rundown of the Praga district where Agnieszka's friends took us out.
http://travel2.nytimes.com/2006/10/22/travel/22next.html

The study trip portion itinerary went:

Gazeta Wyborcza Meeting with journalists from the foreign affairs, national and economic section.

http://wyborcza.pl

Meeting with Ms. Róża Thun, Head of the European Commission Representation in Poland

Tour Wilanów Palace: http://www.wilanow-palac.art.pl
Tour Warsaw Uprising Museum

The two meetings were interesting, definitely fun to pick the brains of the Polish foreign affairs journalists. Gazeta in general has a fascinating history, they were the first independent newspaper in Poland and worked underground for many years. The teenagers and twenty-somethings that began the newspaper working without pay to distribute tens of thousands of copies of the real uncensored news everyday are now the editors.
The European Commission meeting was worthwhile because for the first while we were with the commission's public affairs guy who went over how they try to drum up support for the EU in Poland. After my job this summer it was interesting to compare. They're surprisingly low tech and unfortunately a lot of the PR events they do are kid-oriented and gimmicky. I know it gets the parents there as well, and they may hand out brochures, but somehow I doubt it gets the brochures read.
Wilanow Palace was a palace. Eh, palaces are nice, and I enjoyed the royal portraits which featured figures in traditional Polish noble dress which is always interesting to me from a fashion history standpoint, but eventually I stop caring about seeing one more old shiny building stuffed with school children and grouchy blue-haired curators.

The Warsaw Uprising Museum was definitely one of the best museums I've ever been to. The walking tour of reconstructed old Warsaw though, well NYT comes it to an epcot version of Warsaw and I agree.
The Praga district was cool. We poked our heads into the club featured in the picture in the article, but it was too full and we went across the street. Later on we went to some tiny two room club on the forth floor of what looked like an abandoned building before further examination. Our guides to social Warsaw were Agnieszka's (a PhD student on the staff) native friends, really fun. Finding clubs and bars would have been difficult without them.

All over Warsaw are little concrete buildings (shaped like pods used at school)covered in graffiti, bars on the window, and windows papered over in old posters and newspaper. They're the remnants of the old communist shops, about 10 of them in each block, about 10 ft by 10 ft each. They look deserted, but the doors creak open to reveal tiny bars, smoke visible in the red light, stuffed with low couches, tiny tables, wall to wall people, and tiny crooked wooden steps leading down into bomb-shelter basements, walls covered in art, posters, or maybe just more peeling wall paper. Fabulous, unpretentious, and good Polish beer and vodka.

Hmm, I should work on some homework.

Unfortunately my batteries died as soon as we arrived, but hopefully by the end of the week I'll be able to steal some good photos from friends.

Polish stereotypes?

Okay, seeing how they measure up so far:

1. Polish people eat a lot of pierogies and kielbasa.
Absolutely true. Not that other traditional food isn't amazing, the soups in particular are incredible here, but pierogies ( containing everything from strawberries to meat) and kielbasa (which refers to sausage of all shapes and sizes) are very important food groups here. I suspect this has something to do with their cheapness, Polish wages are still very low compared to the US. It's not uncommon to see very well dressed business men alongside the homeless people and students in the milk bar eating 2.85 PLN (about $1.25) pierogies.

2. Everyone is Catholic.
In Krakow, yes. There are Protestant enclaves in various regions, but the population is generally considered 93 -98% Catholic. Krakow has one very tiny Protestant church.

3. The country is extremely conservative.
I don't know about the countryside, but Krakow has made a strong effort to become modern in all aspects, including those that defy the church. While divorce was unheard of a generation ago, its common now. Abortion is still illegal, but prostitution is surprisingly not.

4. Everyone drinks a lot.
Well, people drink differently. Admittedly, the Polish students put most American students to shame tolerance-wise, but most adults aren't that enthusiastic in their alcoholic beverage consumption. In general, alcohol just enjoys less cultural stigma here. It's completely normal to see two respectable men sitting at a sidewalk cafe drinking beer before noon. Spiked coffee can be found in breakfast establishments in winter. Poland is also a hard liquor country, supposedly the originator of vodka, so very cheap liquor abounds. Amusingly enough, one of the most strongly enforced laws here is no drinking in public. God help the poor tourists that open a beer on the street. The police always catch them. I'm convinced the police live of the fines from that law alone.

5. Polish jokes.
Eh, the only two things that live up to the Polish jokes so far are people's driving, which even the Poles recognize is a bit hazardous, and the government bureaucracy, also the frequent butt of jokes here.

6. Poland is part of Eastern Europe.
Poles would disagree with you, citing everything from cultural heritage, to the EU, to economic standing. It's debatable. Poland is less modern than say Germany or the UK, still "second world" in outdated terms, but a far cry from much of what's considered the rest of Eastern Europe.

7. Polish style
Most people under the age of sixty look very European, very elegant and coordinated always. Over sixty though and the little babcias emerge in their headscarves and colorful skirts. It's adorable.

8. Poles like polka.
Perhaps secretly, but I've yet to hear any and I keep going to musical festivals downtown. Poland is really proud of Chopin, the greatest classical composer it can claim as its own. Bars and clubs play almost all American music, unfortunately usually from the 80's.

Walking home

Here's more of real Krakow, outside the tourist district. At the beginning here is the monastery on the corner of the street where I have class. The final photo is Piast, my lovely abode, home to not only the dorm but a hostel, a laundrymat, a Polish restaurant, a Chinese restaurant, a gift shop, a hair salon, and a daycare as well.