Skull Chapel

Heading out tomorrow to check this out and the surrounding environs:

http://en.poland.gov.pl/Skull,Chapel,8372.html

So Behind!

Ack! We’re so behind!

First things first: my Polish is much improved. I can now even write diacriticals on my computer. Such as: pączki! Yay!

Meghann’s birthday was a month ago, and we celebrated with our friendly Poles at a fancy restaurant on the rynek. (Kitten aside: As improved as his Polish is, his memory is not. The restaurant was Ratuszova.) I even made a reservation on the phone! (In English, but I did ask in Polish if the host spoke English). (Kitten aside: Hey. It’s better than most Americans who can only order a duże piwo.) We had a lovely table near the front window, fancy cloth napkins, tablecloth, the whole nine yards. Rounds of vodka loosened the conversation, Meghann had pierogi with wild boar, I had pork wrapped in pork (kitten aside: naturally), and our desert we had at home thanks to my babcia’s recommendation! Grandma Juntunen in a letter suggested we try a lemon babka, as her mother used to make. We were able to procure a lovely babka cytrynowa, to which I am now addicted. (kitten aside: I find the closeness of the words “bacia” and “babka” deeply ironic. Clearly grandmothers are for cake). Our friendly Poles got Meghann a lovely book of poetry, I got her nothing.

Also on her birthday, Meghann got to go meet one of our friendly Pole’s high school students! They gave her flowers and candy. She told them of life in America. It was not a pretty picture. But nor was it too dire. She didn’t want to frighten them. (Kitten aside: I tried to focus on the chocolate.) What a happy time for Birthday Kittens!

Easter was soon after Meghann’s birthday, and of course I wanted to spend it hunting Nazi ghosts. (Kitten aside: I shake my head.)

Now kotlet tv is teaching Meghann how to make a babka. Her dedication to this blog is wavering. I’m quoting her now: “Oh. That’s a lot of butter. And she just put in more. Melt that butter down.” She stopped it now. We’re back.

Easter. We left a few days before Easter and headed South (very South) to Żywiec, a town with a lake and a beer. (Kitten aside: Żywiec also provides bottled water.) There we found an out of the way hostel in which we were the only guests, and a faux rustic restaurant in the center of town that had the most amazing cream and mushroom filled pastry creation known to man or beast. Oh my God. We both still actively think about it. And the rest of the food there was good, too. So. From Żywiec Meghann bravely and acutely and miserably managed to figure out the labyrinthine bus schedule and we went to the town of… never mind. We shouldn’t tell people where this thing is anyway. State secret. Point is, we got there. A lakeside resort town with no one there yet, least of all Nazi ghosts. We found the place were Nazi SS officers used to vacation from active duty at Auschwitz which remains a resort with no markings of its past. Which is fine by me. I wanted to see it because my next play takes place there. I was hoping to have a beer at the restaurant and perhaps even stay the night, but the place was closed for renovations. (Kitten aside: remont, story of my life in this country.) When we tried to get close to take pictures, Worker Pole 1 and Worker Pole 2 were polite but firm that we were on private property. They clearly knew why were there. We knew they knew. And we all pretended we didn’t. Meghann and I rested and had some water by the side of the road which was a very steep hill, and we descended to find another path up to the resort. (Kitten aside: I particularly enjoyed the well-appointed communist-era camp site adjacent.) (Lamb aside: I particularly enjoyed all the nice, new houses being built on the hill with its amazing view.) We found clear markings of a German-era road, walked up it, and found ourselves at the base of the hill that led to the resort. A wooden gate had been foolishly left open, I walked up with Kitten grumbling and trying to dissuade from behind, and took some more pictures before Worker Poles 1 and 2 saw me again, and I left politely but quickly. No ghosts. Nothing but nice Nowa Polska, really, which I think is good. Maybe not necessary for my play’s research, but now I know. And at least I have a good picture of the view.

But Easter wasn’t all about Nazis (Kitten aside: it rarely is). Kitten, despairing of Żywiec, decided that it was no Zakopane, and that we needed to quit the town. (Kitten aside: though the area lamb cakes were breath-taking) (Lamb aside: As was our lovely breakfasts at a local bakery that was one the few things open.) So once again, Meghann decoded the to me completely incomprehensible bus schedules, and we wound our way through the worst imaginable traffic to Kraków. (Kitten aside: There’s no hope of driving a bus through Calvaria Zebrzydowska on Good Friday. Pilgrims had decended.) That’s right, my friendly readers, pilgrims. Everywhere. Like locusts. And these, I presume, devout people were behaving in a most un-Christianlike manner. Selfishly taking to the roads on foot to block traffic; not giving way in cars, and, indeed, risking others’ life and limb; and, finally, getting in yelling matches with local police. (Kitten aside: It’s heartening to know that Christians are the same everywhere.) But with the bus only several hours behind due to traffic, we arrived in Kraków ready to find a room. (Kitten aside: A room? A bathroom. Hierarchy of needs.) (Lamb aside: yes, yes, don’t picture a bus with a bathroom. Don’t picture a nice bus. Well, actually, it was a pretty nice bus. Much nicer than normal. But, yes, no bathroom.) After utilizing the mall, we looked a room to lay our heads. My old hostel near the Cricoteka is now a 3-star hotel. Horrid. Or maybe not. Progress? Something. Also next to the Cricoteka is a Michelin-rated Italian restaurant. I have similar feelings. At least my milk bar survives. Anyway. Meghann remembered a truly lovely B&B called Unikat very near the rynek, and we checked in. They seemed very happy to have us. We at first only reserved one night, thinking we might return to Poznań on Saturday, but transportation seemed too difficult. However, the B&B would be closed Sunday, so we stayed until Monday. They were very kind, and loaded our room with provisions and Easter goodies. The bunny truly came in our absence, which was an extremely pleasant surprise. We also got some bunny chocolate of our own. We were well-provided for.

On Good Friday we went to ten churches, per the New Orleans tradition, and saw lovely rituals of Easter Vigil, varying from very somber to sepulchral. It’s nice to spend my favorite holiday in a country that takes it seriously. Very seriously. We were worried no restaurants, etc., would be open on Easter, but that wasn’t the case, lucky for us, and another sign of Nowa Polska. (Kitten aside: I need to lobby my discomfort with the term Nowa Polska. I fear we might be exoticizing, though I’m as guilty as the next.) (Lamb aside: No, no, no. It’s simply that the Poland we’re visiting now is different than the Poland I first came to 10 years ago and you came to 8 years ago. We could talk about the New Edgewater in Chicago as easily since it too has changed dramatically since I moved there 10 years ago. If there is exoticizing, it is accidental.)

The next day, Holy Saturday, we began our day at the Metropolitan Hotel for breakfast where Meghann found me American bacon years ago now, back when it was a scarcity. It was extremely nice to be back.

Oh! And the day before we went back to Massolit, our favorite Polish bookstore. It’s coffee shop had expanded, and its shelves were strangely spare, but talking to the clerk they’d just received a large shipment that hadn’t been put out yet. (Kitten aside: I blame it on the divorce and perhaps Amazon.) (Lamb aside: The divorce is too complicated for the blog.) (Kitten aside: You say complicated, I say personal.) But don’t worry: I found books to buy and to try to somehow get home. (Kitten aside: They breed like rabbits.) (Lamb aside: When we arrived in our Poznań apartment we had ½ shelf of books; now we have close to 1 and ½ shelves of books. How did this happen? Though I think some are library books. (Kitten aside: See note above: breeding.)

Okay, Holy Saturday. After breakfast, we did stuff. But what’s interesting is later in the day. Meghann doesn’t think we did stuff. She thinks we sat around. Whichever, later in the day is interesting. First, we went to Wawel Castle, felt the shakra, and I finally saw the statue of Smok breathe fire! (Kitten aside: That’s what happens when you’re not a virgin.) (Lamb aside: What?) (Kitten aside: It only breathes fire at virgins.) (Lamb aside: What?) (Kitten aside: That’s the legend.) I also got to see the statue of my patron saint, Dżok, the dog who waited faithfully for his dead master for years in the park. He even had a votive candle lit on his base. I kissed his snout.

We wandered, looking for that Kraków magic (okay that might be exoticizing, but there really is Kraków magic, isn’t there?). First we ended up at the church where, among others, Miłosz is buried. We went into the courtyard and were struck by a sculpture of Tolkien-like figures, rising from the ground at least twenty feet in a semi-circle, as if a conference of great lords. Continuing to explore the courtyard, I found a square pool, and, much like something from Narnia, steps leading down to the pool’s water in which there was a statue of a dude. The dude’s plaque said to drink and be fulfilled (kitten aside: I don’t know about the fulfillment) (Lamb aside: What did it say? It said something.) (Kitten aside: We were encouraged to drink). In any case, there was running water from a faucet and several signs, both religious and scientific, suggesting it was okay to drink this holy water. We both did. It was electric. It tasted of sulfur and fire, (Kitten aside: And I continue to crave it), and truly gave your body a jolt. Surprised, we walked back out of the pool, and the heavens opened with a cool and refreshing rain that lasted no more than ten minutes. Just enough to sprinkle us with more holy water.

We then headed towards the river, and we saw a procession come out of a Church, head round the block, and sing with a full brass marching band. The police had stopped traffic, even the trams. It was something. When it was past, we began to cross the river on a bridge, and the procession came back around the block to walk along the river. We looked over the railing of the bridge, and could hear the band’s brass instruments and drums, and could see the procession’s candles flickering in the distance and reflecting in the river. After watching the procession return towards their church, we crossed the bridge to Kantor’s old neighbhorhood. He wasn’t there, or at least I didn’t see him.

We went to a large Church in the midst of a square, and coming from it was booming Easter Vigil. We entered only the very back of the church so as not to disturb the Mass, but the music and the Bible reading was beautiful. The voices doing the reading were deep and lush. The singers, a mix of male and female voices, struck a chord in my heart or gut and transfixed me with tones and harmonies that sounded quite ancient, I would even say Middle Eastern or Judaic, and I hope no one takes that amiss. We stood there a while before leaving.

We walked parallel to the river a bit, and crossed at the bridge of empty chairs, a monument to the Jews deported from the spot. I’d seen it before, though never at night, and clearly should have recognized and understood it, but didn’t. Such is the amazing power of my bad memory and ignorance. The upshot is I can be equally moved again and again by the same monument in my goldfish bowl. And I was moved. And so was Meghann despite the fact she did remember it. We crossed the bridge back towards our hotel, but first had dinner in Kazimierz where, sitting outside a restaurant with us, two stocky older Polish gentlemen, perhaps academics, drank beers and laughed and were clearly dear friends.

We returned to our B&B, and Meghann pointed out places in the past she’d wanted to live. Now they seemed more built up, but still like they might fit us fine. Though we suspected us poor artsy intellectual types probably have to live further out.

Arriving home to our Easter bounty, we decided our Easter Saturday was a grand success. Sunday it rained a great deal, so Easter itself was relatively subdued. The bunny came overnight with more candy; we had breakfast at the Metropolitan again; and then we took a walk which was often in the rain. We ate a couple more times, and went back to the hotel. The next day, Monday, is still a holiday in Poland, so the train schedules remained limited. We splurged a bit and took a relatively fancy train back to Poznań.

All in all, a great trip. So there’s Meghann’s birthday and our Easter. Haven’t mentioned the conference I gave a paper at, Meghann’s great work, or all the restaurants we’ve been exploring. So much more to write!