Gdansk or Bust!

Ever since discovering this country’s train ticket buying website, I’ve longed to hear that ‘All Aboaaaard!’, scuttle onto a rail car and discover more of Poland.

You might remember that I had set my sights on Gdansk a couple of weeks back for the simple reason that it is closer than Krakow, Warsaw, Lublin or Poznan and does not require a train change.

Why specifically Krakow, Warsaw, Lublin and Poznan?

As a history buff and avid reader, I wanted to see for myself all of the places described in the novels written by Issac Bashevis Singer, a Nobel prize and National Book Award winner. The towns he describes so vividly all have long histories and a strong, multicultural heritage.

Yep, those sound like my kind of places!

But, for my initial trip, perhaps just a short hop to relatively nearby Gdansk.

Besides, Gdansk herself has plenty of history. For instance, in the early 1980s, it was the birthplace of the Solidarity Movement led by Lech Wałesa which was instrumental in ending communist rule in Poland.

The founder of the first non-government trade union, Mr Wałesa led his thousands of followers through non-violent resistance to promote workers’ rights and accelerate social change. 

The movement echoed throughout the then-called east-bloc countries, culminating in the fall of the Berlin Wall and the dissolution of Soviet Russia.  

OK, there’s enough history in Gdansk for me to sink my teeth into!

Incidentally, I later discovered that one block from the hotel I stayed at when I first arrived in Szczecin was where the dockworker uprising in this city happened. The workers encountered police and military who were armed to the teeth and decked out in riot gear.

While no dock worker raised a hand, plenty suffered blows and more than a few were incarcerated. Nevertheless, the resistance marched on... 

Szczecin today: as I wander around this fair city, I keep finding discreet plaques denoting historical events, yet should you wish to investigate those in more depth using online resources, there is precious little information to be had – let alone a map indicating where all of those events took place.

I guess that might validate my wanderings... no?

In any case; Gdansk.

When the idea first germinated, it was quelled by an invitation from my lovely friends Luisa and Ewelina... and by the thought that travelling with a painful, minimally functioning arm would be not much fun at all.

“Next week!” I vowed.

Next week saw the assassination of that city’s much-loved mayor, Paweł Adamowicz.

He was also an organizer of the 1988 strikes before actually heading up the Solidarity committee. He then went on to chair the Gdansk city council, slipping into the role of mayor a mere 10 years after the uprising, having taken 72% of the votes.

All while sending my condolences into the ether – who could I send them to, not knowing anyone in or related to Gdansk or him?, pragmatically, I thought that that might not be a good time to visit that city.

The week after, a massive funeral was held for him; millions arrived from all over Poland to attend.

He was indeed much loved and had a great turnout; I’m very happy about that.

What I’m not happy about is potentially not being able to get a hotel room; clearly, they would be all booked up!

We are now on week #3 of desiring to travel to Gdansk and the fortunes are shining on me!

No political assassinations rattling the city. I had wrapped up my lastest Superprof assignment over the weekend; no plans with friends and the only thing on my calendar are my language classes on Tuesday night.

Gdansk is a GO!!!

Nope, Gdansk is a bust.

A little after 10pm on Monday, there came a knock on my door. Odd! My downstairs neighbor, a tiny woman of burgundy-colored hair commenced to rapidly fire Polish at me.

Fortunately, I had learned to say ‘I’m sorry, I don’t understand’... Equally fortunately, she spoke a bit of German; she explained that I must have water running over because she is getting water marks on her ceiling.

She then proceeded into the bathroom to inspect and, finding no standing or running water, repaired to the kitchen, casting a critical eye all about.

Thank all the gods for the snap decision to wash dishes!

I do not do my dishes every day. To me, it seems wasteful to run a sinkful of water to wash one plate, one fork, and perhaps a couple of cooking utensils. Even worse: leave the water running while sponging them off with a bit of soap! Much better to accumulate a bit of washing and then proceed.

And, normally, I do my dishes after breakfast...

So it was quite fortunate that, this time, I did the dishes after my evening meal; just a couple of hours before she stormed up!   

Back in the bathroom we removed the bit of tile that concealed the water inlets and meters to find the cold water line spewing everywhere!

Note: hot and cold water is piped in separately by the city and each line is metered; consumers are charged for both the hot and cold water they use.

Contrast that endless supply of hot water with the mere 12 gallons (54 liters) of hot water I had at my disposal at any one time in China! 

Not quite patting ourselves on the back for our cleverness in figuring out where the water was leaking from but only just!, she then took the matter in hand.

That was a good thing, too, because my recourse would have been to call my landlady, who would have had to manage the affair remotely.

In short order, plumbers materialized – yes, that late at night! The next morning, so did a representative of the water management company. Lots of phone calls to the landlady, who approved all of the doings.

I wondered about payment: should I offer to lay out the cash and subtract it from next month’s rent? She beat me to the punch, asking that very thing. Naturally, I agreed.

The leak was detected on Monday; Tuesday is when the circus came to town.

Tuesday is also the day I have Polish language class and I had to emphasize that I needed to leave by 5:30.

The poor plumber, older and appearing to not especially fit was no doubt wearied by climbing all of those stairs. He puffed and panted his way through the job, occasionally having to go back down and up for a tool or part he needed.

He called it quits at 3PM with the repairs incomplete, stating he would be back the next day at 10.

Mind you, it wasn’t as bad as it could have been; I still had hot water. I could flush the toilet by using the overly long shower hose...

The trouble is that the water piped in by the city is so hot one risks scalding – clearly, a shower was out of the question. Even so much as a hair wash in the kitchen sink was inadvisable.

We are now into Wednesday. The plumber returned after 10 asking for money. I asked for a receipt and he said he didn’t have one.

Like you surely are, I’m a bit leery of handing over 500 in any currency without any proof that I’ve paid it and with work as yet incomplete. Another call to my dear landlady affirmed that that arrangement was acceptable.

I forked over the money and he disappeared, returning two hours later. 

As I write this it is nearly 1PM on Wednesday; the day I had intended on traveling.

Whether he will be done today or not is debatable but any plans I may have had for even going out – let alone traveling are quashed.

I’m not going anywhere with this greasy head! 

Update: shortly after typing all of this up, the handyman declared he was finished and invited me to inspect the bathroom.

Not only had he completely restored and retiled the wall but he cleaned up after himself, going so far as to appropriate my dustpan (without asking but who’s complaining?) and sweeping up the debris!

Another happy event: I met another of my neighbors who could speak fairly good German.

He advised me to come to him with any future problems regarding the apartment and then told me to get in the shower (after they left, naturally!)

So maybe I won’t go to Gdansk this week, either. But I did get to interact with some of my neighbors and that makes me feel far less isolated.

Maybe I should be thankful that pipe burst?

A Fun Day Out?

Yesterday, I was a lazy pig.

I wrote till I was no longer feeling it, then had a nice chat with my dear friends stateside – nothing to report here because nothing is really going on, but I enjoy visiting with them and hearing of their doings.

And then spent the rest of the evening watching videos.

What a life!

I gotta admit: being a freelance writer has its perks; probably the main was is working in my jammies, safe and warm at home. Not having to brave the elements is particularly great seeing as the elements here can be brutal and turn on a dime.

Mildly ashamed of yesterday’s sluggishness, I resolved this morning to finish my Superprof article, and then shower out and go for a long walk before starting my next assignment.

The day was sunny and the sky was blue; the wind was blustery and cold... all features I could enjoy while strolling along all snugged up in my parka. 

Quick dash into the shower... and the sun is still shining when I came out!

You might be surprised that I would marvel about that. It’s not that I take extended showers, it’s just that the weather here is so unpredictable...

And I was gnawing the insides of my cheeks over the predicted five centimeters of snow we are to get tonight. How will I get to my language class tomorrow evening?

But that’s tomorrow! Today, there are blue skies...

Dressed, and the sky is still blue. Quick! Blow dry the hair and put on the face; lace up the boots and get out before...

No! First, let’s clean up this kitchen! Having done nothing yesterday, I had a bit of catching up to do.

And, as I was scrubbing my frying pan, I heard an insistent, frenetic tapping on the window behind me. Without so much as dimming the day’s light, the sky had become overcast and was furiously pelting little sleet balls!

So furiously were they being pelted that I could hardly see the building across the courtyard.

And then, the wind, not to be outdone was blowing the snow and sleet sideways! In a matter of minutes, everything was dusted in white.

I was astounded. I have witnessed all manner of severe weather, including three straight weeks of rain that put the city of Wuhan underwater. I’ve endured earthquakes, fires and winter storms, too, but usually those last longer than 20 minutes.

That is about how long this one lasted. A few menacing gusts of wind, a flock of flakes turning the world white...

And then the sun came out and the sky turned blue again!

The snow didn’t melt, though.

I felt my desire for a long walk evaporate. Actually, that’s not true: I still have a desire to walk but absolutely no desire to slip and fall on any ice.

Considering I had fallen and broken my arm in optimal weather conditions, I figured it would be just my luck to wipe out and incapacitate myself more than I already am in icy conditions.

My arm is doing much better even though I did not have the recommended surgery. Sometimes it still hurts and I cannot rotate my palm 180 degrees like an arm normally moves, but I have the use of it, if only in a limited capacity.

Besides, I had surgery on my leg when it broke nearly five years ago and still have pain and discomfort from it...

That leg and my sedentary job is why I make it a point to go walking. If I were to give up on that most basic of physical activities... I dread to think of a future as a complete invalid, which is how things would turn out.

Should I let a little bit of snow and sleet deter me from getting any exercise?

Yes! Yes you must, lest you fall again!

“Shut up, Coward!” I said to the inner me, donning my parka and gloves.

However, I did temporize: instead of walking to the mall, I would walk only to the corner grocery store. I had no dire grocery emergency but I did need a destination to walk to that would quell my inner coward’s fears.

Down the stairs; a snap – I’ve long gotten used to clomping up and down those five flights.

Onto the sidewalk and, lo and behold: it was as though no precipitation had crashed down at all!

Oh, wait... no, here’s a bit of ice and here, in this crevice...

It wasn’t until I had to cross the street that things started going badly. The asphalt was covered in glare ice, making my feet slip ever so slightly with each step but it wasn’t until I had crossed the road that I felt I would be unable to move any further. A panic attack was imminent.

Surely, there is no need for a play by play here or, should we say a step by step?

Suffice to say that it was a long argument with my inner coward; it lasted all the way to the store, in fact. Once there, I couldn’t find anything I needed or even wanted to buy but, by all the gods, I had gotten out of the house and braved the icy conditions!

Walking home... I should say stilting home because my legs were as stiff as stilts, I felt no sense of accomplishment or savage glee at having done something so innocuous as walking to the store without falling down and breaking another bone.

Rather, I spent my first few minutes back home wondering how in the world I would cope with greater, more persistent snowfalls, starting with the one predicted for later tonight.

Unbidden, the thought came that maybe Szczecin is not the place for me... 

I remember having  similar doubts in China at about the same time. Around three months in, I simply didn’t think I could hack living there and look what happened: an adventure that lasted seven years!

Now I have a whole new set of circumstances to deal with; am I going to let a bit of snow deter me?  

 

  

Continuing Observations...

Having recently discovered the website to buy train tickets in Poland, this week should have seen us exploring Gdansk. However, a spur of the moment invite from Dear Luisa put that plan on hold...

so I continue to report observations. They are not necessarily earthshattering but I find them amusing. Hopefully you will, too.

Dogs. Lots of Dogs

This city seems to be a dog loving place!

One can hardly walk anywhere without encountering members of the dog-loving population parading their pets.

Much to their credit, the animals all seem well cared for and very well behaved, trotting sedately alongside their masters: big dogs, small dogs; fluffy dogs and frisky dogs.

Some wear sweaters and some don’t; most seem well fed – a tad on the plump side, even. Once, I witnessed a woman breaking off chunks of carrot that her (pudgy) black lab was eagerly snapping up.

I wonder if those carrot treats (as opposed to biscuits) were given on the advice of a vet...

Curiously enough, I’ve found more vetrinarian offices here than human doctors.

Maybe because it is hard to mistake the word ‘vet’, combined with the fact that I wouldn’t yet know the Polish names of medical specialties well enough to recognise a human doctor’s office. Still, I can aver that pet doctors abound in this city!

Someone in our building has a dog who cries all day.

Typically, a dog will whimper and maybe howl for a few minutes after its owners’ departure and then settle in for a long nap.

This poor pooch wails... for hours!

I had occasion to meet this dog and his owner recently.

As I came down the last few stairs to the building’s foyer, a man squatted down in front of his dog, his back turned to me, stroking the animal and talking to it in gentle tones.

‘How nice!’ I thought; ‘man loves dog and dog loves man’. My thoughts about the poor pup crying all day turned a little more charitable... 

Man had misjudged how fast I might clear the stairs and make my way out. Thinking I was well on my way, he stood up... and the dog dashed around him, all bared teeth and ferocious growl.

Luckily, he was muzzled and still leashed! 

Still, it is evidently a much loved dog, as they all seem to be, here.

The Smoking Population

You would think that, after seven years in China, where people smoked everwhere, even in the hospitals!, I would hardly bat an eye at smokers.

Perhaps that would be true were it not for the fact that smoking is so very prevalent here. I find female smokers are especially remarkable, perhaps because so few females (openly) smoke in China.

There are even ultra skinny cigarettes meant for elegant women to smoke!

A telltale sign that smoking is ingrained into this culture is the public ashtrays. Remember those trash cans I reported were every 50 meters? Each one has a built-in cigarette end repository.

I’ve seldom seen one empty.

It’s an odd contrast: in the States, outside of larger cities (and even in larger cities), one can hardly spot pedestrians and woe to the one who dares light up outside of a designated smoking area!

Here, people (including me) go out walking for the fun of it – Szczecin is a very walkable city! They puff along as they stroll, carefully extinguishing their cigarettes in the provided ashtrays.

I’ve seen hardly any discarded cigarette ends on the ground. Is that because of the diligent street sweepers or conscientious smokers who only chuck their butts into the provided ashtrays?

Feeding the Pigeons

It is a rather iconic view in New York City: an old woman on a bench in Central Park, tossing birdseed for the pigeons flocking around her.

Admit it! You’ve seen that scene in more than one movie, right?

I’ve seen it too, in real-time, right here in Szczecin. What’s so odd about it is that 1. there are so many pigeons and 2. the number of people fighting to feed them.

On Bench 1: elderly lady with bag full of bird seed! Bench 2: beret-wearing gentleman smoking a cigarette, reaching into the shopping bag at his feet!

It is downright comical to see the pigeons flock from one part of the park to the other and back again as the competing feeders sprinkle ever more food.  

Perhaps it is the pigeons’ contribution to the war effort that compels elderly gents and ladies to feed these feral birds. Or maybe those people are just far more humane than my uncharitable mindset.

Because I live on the top floor of the building, pigeons like to try their luck roosting on my window sills. During the cold snap I was rather more kindly disposed toward them; why not let them absorb the heat my windows lose?

But then, they started squabbling on my window sill and streaks of droppings appeared on the windows themselves: an untenable situation!

Now, when a pigeon lands on my window sill, I throw a small bean bag at the window to startle it. Let them go roost in the park, where they get fed and cooed at daily. 

It’s YOUR Day!

Have I wished you happy New Year? If not, I apologize for the oversight. Please accept my belated greeting and best wishes!

New Year went off without a hitch but with plenty of fireworks. So many that it was hard to tell whether the haze hanging over the city was due to the explosives or the typical winter fog.

I marked the new year by buying a new wall calendar. Not exactly an earth shattering event but what I discovered was remarkable!

It seems that, in Poland, every day is dedicated to somebody. Alongside the date, my calendar features two or three given names: Alexandra, Piotr, Agnieska...

At first, I thought it was a fluke; something featured only on this expanded, elaborate calendar but, come to find out, it is actually endemic to the culture here to for each day to be dedicated to a handful of individual names.

It makes sense, when you think about it...

The Catholic religion dedicates each day to one or more saints: St. Catherine, St. Bartholomew... 

The Polish tradition originated from Catholic one – Poland is a deeply religious country, after all.

What’s curious about it is that, traditionally, Name Day is more celebrated than one’s own birthday! The phenomenon even has a name: imieniny. (pronounced ee-mee-eh-nee-neu).

I will celebrate my Name Day on February 13^th. Would you like to know when your Name Day is?

You should beware, though: some popular names have more than one day. Krystyna is celebrated no fewer than five times; poor Kasper only gets revered for one day.

Piotr takes the record: 36 times that name is celebrated! Woe to those who name their child Piotr; they would have to buy a lot of presents and cake!

I grant you, Poland in general and Szczecin in particular are not a crazy as China was but, by this accounting, there are still things to marvel over!   

Idiosyncracies of Polish People

Even though my social contact here is fairly limited – store transactions, language school and the odd evening out with friends, I feel relatively confident to report of some of the more idiosyncratic behavior demonstrated by the people here.

Now that I think about it, I had much more limited social contact during my first few months in China than I do here, and I was isolated on our school campus to boot.

In either case one can still exercise their powers of observation, whether there is any interaction or not. 

So, as I did in China, here, I observe behavior... some of which is quite remarkable.

Now, unremarkably, I report my findings so far.

A Pathological Fear of the Cold

Two months ago, while I was still running around in short sleeves and leggings, the locals were literally bundled to their eyelids: hats, scarves, thick jackets and gloves.

We’re not just talking about the children,  either. It was the adults, from the warmth of their packaging, eyeballing my strange attire that included none of those cold weather accoutrements.

Much like that kid on A Christmas Story who was so bundled up he couldn’t get up when he fell down, most people here wear so many layers I have to wonder how long it takes for them to get ready to go out of doors.

And, while we’ve had some cold, damp days, so far the temperature has stayed above freezing, at least during the day.

How are they going to manage when it really gets cold?  

I remain quite amused to see adorable bundles of Poles bobbing down the street.

A Pathological fear of Committing Misdeeds

The travel websites warn you and, should you have the great fortune of having a sponsor or a Luisa to caution you, you will know that jaywalking is a decided no-no that you should never engage in, even if there are no moving cars headed your way.

Littering is also frowned upon and I can certainly understand why: there are trash cans every 50 meters and on public conveyances; why would anyone throw trash anywhere but there?

It’s not like this is a police state; in fact, as opposed to China, I’ve hardly seen any CCTV cameras on the street or anywhere else.

Doesn’t mean they’re not there; just that I’ve hardly seen many.

Also unlike in China, there are plenty of emergency vehicle sirens here, but that’s a different story...

In fact, so liberal seems the climate here that one can board public transportation and theoretically get away with not paying for one’s ride – on all the trams and buses I’ve ridden, I’ve yet to be asked to show proof of fare.

Luisa could not use the ticket machine on board the tram we were riding because it was out of service.

As the train was trundling along, she could hardly exit the vehicle to find a ticket vendor, so the whole way to the next stop, she fretted and, when it stopped, she dashed off only to leap into another car, to try that machine.

 Fortunately, it was working. She paid her fare and rested easy until our stop.

You might think that Luisa is an isolated case of virtuous citizenry. Let me add that every single passenger I’ve seen either buys or validates their fare. I’ve yet to see anyone sneak a ride.

Maybe that is why I’ve not seen any ticket checkers...

Don’t get me wrong; there is debauchery here. Even during the day, there are drunks staggering around and, quite often one might see a shattered beer bottle (never wantonly discarded, always shattered; as though the owner were angry at its lack of contents).

There is also quite a bit of graffiti. We’re not talking Banksy-caliber here; this is just random vandalism with few stunning works mixed in.

Obviously, there is lawlessness here but it is far less obvious than it was in China.    

Especially with regard to traffic: here, everyone stops if you give just the appearance of wanting to cross the street – in the marked pedestrian stripes, that is.  Don’t you dare jaywalk! 

Fanatical Cleaners

I am pleased to live in a building that is well-maintained: cleaned at least every other day. Also, our courtyard is kept free of leaves by at least two people who raked them daily when leaves were falling.

Of course, there was that spell when we had high winds and the leaves kept falling as in a rain; still the leaf rakers were outside... until they gave up the task for the hopeless endeavor it was.

Everywhere I have gone, the cleanliness has been remarkable: street sweepers, custodians eternally ambulating around the mall, picking up any little smudge...

It’s not that the street sweepers in China weren’t trying but, like the leaf rakers here, it was a hopeless task!

Let me relate a conversation with the director of my language school:

“Yes, but on my day off, I have to clean my windows!”

Me: “But it gets dark outside at 3:30 in the afternoon; just close the drapes and no one will know the windows are dirty!”

Her: GASP! NO!!!

Here, things must be clean.

However, in contrast to the Chinese who would fairly levitate to avoid walking in a puddle, here, people seem to delight in splashing through them!

Which, I suppose, makes me an oddity here because I err on the side of the Chinese on this one. 

Rabid for Chocolate and Sweets

Aware of my privilege for the ability to buy any food I wish in any amount I desire – to say nothing of the fact that there is food to buy in the first place, I enjoy walking through grocery stores, just to see what is there.

Sharp images of impoverished stores in the Chinese countryside fresh in my mind, I often wonder what someone from such a desolate region would think if they saw the array and variety of foods in our city supermarkets...

I guess you could call it marking my territory; I spent the first few months here scoping out grocery stores, figuring out what stuff was and where I could buy the foods I might crave.

In every single grocery store I’ve browsed, there is at least one aisle dedicated entirely to chocolate bars, another to sweet snacks and candy and a third to baked goods: cookies and the like.

Usually, somewhere close, there are bins for bulk candy that you buy by the kilo.

China also had bulk bins but, alongside the candy, they also had seaweed and dehydrated veg; and let’s not forget the vacuum-packed chicken feet and tofu!

America has a fairly substantial selection of sweets too, and of the same variety: candy, chocolate and cookies but that country’s selection pales in comparison to the veritable wealth of sweets one is treated to here.

One more curious observation about grocery stores here: shortages – but not the kind others around the world must endure.

Shopping here is sometimes a ‘now you see it, now you don’t’ proposition.

Those delectable bacon chicken wraps I previously wrote about... now cannot be found. Ditto with stew beef, some brands of toilet paper and ***GASP!*** one of my favorite desserts. In fact, it seems the later in the day one shops, the barer the shelves.

I’ve even found gaping holes in the chocolate bar supply!

Such shortages are likely more a case of stock replenishment guidelines to prevent food waste rather than an actual food deficiency; but I don’t know enough about how such policies are formulated and implemented here to make any comment about it. 

I do know that shopping early is a good idea though... so is ending this article.

There is plenty more to comment on, that gives you another observational essay to look forward to!