Coming full circle.

For my last night in Kikol, Tomek arranged for a party just for me at Kayman's pub.

"Who is coming to your party?" my mom asked, when we phoned her. I had no idea.

My party ended up having five guests: Tomek, Ala, Kayman, his girlfriend and me. I barely said a word throughout the evening, and with Tomek chugging down beers and snorting some of Kayman's tobacco he got from Amsterdam (I never knew you could do such a thing, but it's true. Makes your eyes water apparently), I think it was more a party for him. But it was still nice anyway.

When we walked home from the pub, Tomek pointed out the stars which shone almost as bright and brilliant as they did that evening in Lake Tahoe where I had my moment of What am I doing with my life? I looked up and tried to be introspective, considering how much my life has changed since that moment, but then Tomek interrupted me by pointing out the North Star and babbling about other constellations that I could not understand.

This morning when Tomek and Ala dropped me off at the station, I thought Ala would burst into tears. I, too, have grown quite accustomed to them this past week, with their twice-daily ham enriched meals, watching "Jaka to melodia?" (Name that song) and Ala's "serial" (soap opera) on television, speaking to all of their family members on Skype on a daily basis and playing Suduku with Ala on the computer.


One of the Polish serials I watched this week.


"Are you sure one sandwich is enough for you?" Ala asked, as I made myself a ham sandwich for the road. It was a three-hour journey after a big breakfast. I was sure.

I was sad to go but I did breath a sigh of relief when I boarded the train. It was the first time I have been alone in a week.

I met Jurek at the bus station, and from there, we went to his home, the place I started this trip. When I arrived, it was a disaster area. Construction workers were installing cabinets and there was non-stop hammering, the smell of paint, men yelling, Jurek and Basia running around, acting stressed. I felt completely in the way. Of course they fed me, and we spoke a little about my trip, but for most of the day, I was off on my own. I took a long nap, read my book, watched Polish tv, frantically looking for Jaka to melodia? with no luck. Home-sickness washed over me, which was slightly relieved by the visit of Jurek's brother, wife and two sons. Tomek, the youngest son, kept looking at me with interest (Who is this strange American person?) while the eldest son was baffled that I put milk in my tea.

"I never knew you could do that!" he said, stunned.

I wanted to buy a cd of Polish Christmas music and Jurek's brother picked two up for me, and when we played it, I nearly started crying listening the familiar music, almost hearing my grandmother singing along in the background like she used to.

Can you tell I am ready to go home?



Slowek, Roman, Tomek and Ola.



Jurek, me, Tomek, Slawek, Roman and Basia. The leaf in front of Jurek's face was intentional.



New cabinets.

Blast from the past.

Tomek and Ala took me to Sierpc, an outdoor museum of an old Polish villiage. Think of it as Colonial Polandburg. Tomek suggested that I show these pictures to Dan and tell him that this is how modern-day Poland looks like.

For the first time in what feels like weeks, the sky was blue, the sun was shining. It was a lovely day to spend outside. Afterwards, we went to the house where my grandfather was born. Here are some pictures of the day:



One of the old homes. "Tell Dan this is our house," Tomek said.


Where ever we go, Tomek always walks ahead.


My favorite shot of the day: The wind mill.



What pretty teeth you have!



Grandfather's old house.


In addition to a big shopping bag filled with presents, I am also bringing home some family treasure. Wojtek has found some old family documents in the attic of Tomek and Hania's father's home. They are in enclosed in a box of chocolates, which in itself is interesting because it looks like something you would buy in an antique store, and inside are some documents and photographs of my grandfather and grandmother. I cannot really tell what all of them are, but there is one of my grandmother's identification cards from the 1930's that shows her looking younger than I have ever seen her, and another picture of my grandfather where he looks just like my Uncle Kaz. There is some document about my grandfather being a prisoner of war and some other things. It should be fun exploring it with my mom and my family when I come back home to the States.



Treasure chest of old stuff.

Lastly, given that this is the last week of my trip, it has been a marathon session of Polish Ham. I am talking the real thing, not the blog. I have eaten ham every day in the last week, usually twice a day, for breakfast and for dinner. Any notion that I might have lost weight on this trip have been lost. My pants actually felt snug today. It's good food, but I cannot wait to go home to cereal and fruits and the gym.

The land of constant eating.

With the whole Ala situation, I was cool as a cucumber yesterday. But as soon as the lights went out and I was alone in my bed, I found myself confronted with anxiety. This happens to me sometimes, especially if something especially stressful happens to me. I feel very nervous as if I am about to give a presentation or something and I am hyper aware of the rhythm of my heartbeat. Irrational thoughts flood my brain. I know that it is just nervous energy manifesting in my body, and I calmed myself down with deep breaths until I fell asleep.

I woke up this morning to find that I was not the only one who was nervous. Tomek did not sleep all night. Even though I did not feel scared at the moment, the anxiety made me realize how the whole incident shook me up.

But as we were dealing with the aftershock, Ala said she felt like nothing happened and she said she was feeling just fine. Her daughter Luzia and her son Marciek came to visit. Six-year-old Marciek just wanted to watch cartoons, but he took a liking to me, and I enjoyed when he tried speaking to me and called me ciocia in such a serious voice.


Luzia, Marciek and me.

To give you an idea of how small a town Kikol is, where Tomek and Ala live, when Tomek, Luzia and I walked to the bus station (that is right, walked), they said hello to everyone who passed us by not because they were being nice, but because they knew everyone. I thought that was neat.

From there, I took the two hour trip to Bydgoszcz to visit Tomek's sister, Hania, her husband Wojtek and son Michal. Hania and Wojtek are the nicest people, and they are obsessed with their dog. This dog is king of the apartment and he knows it. He will not stop barking at me, but his owners ohh and ahh over every movement he makes.

I was not the least bit hungry when I arrived (Ala had packed me lunch for the bus), but I sat down for the obligatory big Polish lunch. There were only three people there, but there was enough food for ten, including chicken, pork, a multitude of salads and cake. I was requested to try everything at the table, sometimes twice. By the end of the meal, I had in front of me a water, a glass of wine, and a beer.

Every time Wojtek or Hania would address me, they would say my name. Wojtek, especially, started every sentence with, "Ivona, please tell me this one thing..." and he would ask a question like, "In New York City, what is the difference between uptown and downtown?" I would do my best to answer the questions in Polish. While most people praised my Polish, and these two did as well, sometimes Wojtek could not help but burst into laughter by my response. He spoke a little English himself and I told him that I would start laughing at him when he made a mistake. I didn't.

We looked through piles and piles of old family photographs, most of them Hania would flick aside and say, "I don't know who these people are..." I did collect a nice one of me, my grandma, my brother, my Uncle Kaz and Aunt Yvonne in front of my house in New Jersey. Then they gave me a book of Polish scenic pictures (these relatives keep giving me presents and I have no idea how I will carry them all home!)

Wojtek then took me on a tour of Bydgoszcz. There was not much to see, but it was okay. He lamented, as everyone else I have met has lamented in the last two months, "Why did you come now? Come in the summer! There is more to see." But with my nervous energy, the walk in the evening felt very nice, and then we stopped for drinks where he invited me to eat some more, but I just had a drink. I knew his wife was at home cooking up something and I was completely full already.

I asked him to explain Polish hospitality and why there is so much food.

"In Poland," he said, "the guest is everything. It's tradition. And I really like it." And when we went home to have supper, he purposely made me try every single thing at the table once again. Everything is special, he explained, from the special ham to the special egg salad to the special pickles. I think he was being funny. He has a good sense of humor.

They asked me how often I see my mom, and I said I visited her a lot, like once a month. They were shocked. Something I noticed about this family is that they talk to each other constantly. Hania and Tomek are on the phone every minute, and if they are not talking to each other, they are on Skype, speaking with Tomek's daughter in Canada or someone else. We even had our own little Skype session with Uncle Kaz and Chris in California. It made me wonder if I should be in better touch with my family.

With that thought, I go to sleep now, content but a little nervous still, and with a belly full of Polish food--and I am sure, more where that came from tomorrow.


Hania with her true love.


Wojtek and his son Michal.


Me with a statue in a Santa Hat, in Bydgoszcz.

The Big Scare.

The hospital waiting room.

Sitting cozy in the train station in Berlin at noon, I never would expect that 24 hours later, I would be sitting in a plastic chair in a hospital waiting room in Torun, Poland.

It all happened so quickly. I was walking with my cousin Tomek and his wife Ala, up a flight of steps outside in the city. When Ala reached the top, I saw her heels buckle a little. I thought that something got stuck on her heel. It was raining and she had worn high heels by accident. She called for her husband, then walked down some steps where I saw her stumble and then crumble to the floor. When I ran over, she was lying on the ground, blood and foam coming from her mouth, eyes blankly looking ahead. She was making weird gurgling noises. It looked like she was having a heart attack. Someone on the street called the ambulance from their cell phone, while Tomek tried to help her and I held the umbrella over them. He lifted her head, and blood rolled down her face from her forehead, where she must have hit herself when she fell. It was completely surreal--was she going to make it?--and yet I felt calm and Tomek was acting calm. The girl who called the ambulance was a mess. Finally, Ala seemed to come to, she was able to sit up, even stand, but she could not remember her name or who we were or where we were. Fifteen minutes later, the ambulance came and whisked her away. Tomek and I, in silence, went in the car and followed her there. And that is how I ended up in the hospital waiting room thinking, "How did everything change so fast?"

It was all non-eventful at first. Boarding the train at Berlin on the Warsaw Express, I noticed immediately that the attractiveness level of the passengers downgraded, the language turned shrill, the bags and luggage were enormous. Oh yes, I was back with my people. I was going back to Poland.

I was sitting in a train car filled with Poles who smirked when the German conductor tried to speak Polish over the loudspeaker (even to me her accent sounded funny). Moments later, I get a phone call from Ania, my mother's childhood friend, from Lipno, Poland. "Welcome to Poland!" she screeched on the phone. I had to leave the train car to speak with her. No way was I going to speak broken Polish in front of this crowd. I could not hear her at all and yelled Polish nonsense into the phone but by the time I arrived to my destination, everyone in Poland (and my mother in America) knew that I had spoken to her and all about my great Polish speaking skills.

I met Tomek and Ala at the train station. I have only met Tomek once, seven years ago, when I came to Poland for the first time. This was my first time meeting his wife. Neither of them speak any English and so I dove in and tried to speak, only to find it incredibly hard and frustrating. I couldn't communicate anything. That is what two months of not speaking Polish does to you.

"You speak so well!" they said, but it was very hard for me to really say what I meant and tiring to follow their words, especially when they said "Do you know what we are saying?" and I never knew. With such limited speaking skills, I had to size them up in a different way. Tomek seems a friendly, joking sort. While Ala is very attractive and went out of her way to make me feel comfortable. She made us a delicious Polish supper, including the requisite plate of Polish ham, cooked ham wrapped in bacon, and potatoes in a yummy cheese. They made me eat and eat. No wasn't ever the right answer to "do you want more?" She also made a terrific cheesecake.

"Does your mom make cheesecake?" she said me. My mom is actually known for her cheesecake and I wanted to say that yes, she does, but it is different because the cheese in her cake is very heavy and yours is very light. I did not know how to say that, so I just told Ala that hers was better. It is not the total truth, but she seemed really happy about that answer. Sorry mom! It was good cheesecake though.

I had also mentioned to my mom a few days ago that I had a harmless cough, and so they handed me an entire bag filled with five different kinds of medicine.

"I'm not sick!" I said. They are not sure whether to believe me or not.

The two of them took me to a bar down the street, where we met a man and owner of the bar named Kayman who was built like a football player and had a foot-long beard that he tied in two braids. He sat and had a beer with us, sitting backwards in a chair, and he would pull his braids, his chin coming along with it, to have them hang over the chair back. He spoke so fast that I did not understand him otherwise, so watching this maneover was fascinating. I couldn't figure out if this person was related to us or not. I left thinking no. His bar was very cold, only a stove heater to warm the place, and it was decorated in a sixties theme, but there was also a very cool road sign that said "ul. Metallica." (ul., short for ulica, means road in Polish).

"My brother would love that!" I told him, Metallica being Pete's favorite band. I was going to take a picture, but then he went over to it, took it down and gave it to me, and I was completely surprised.


Happy Birthday, Pete!

I came home exhausted, but Tomek and Ala fought over my attention, showing me pictures and things that they thought would interest me. They had come up with their own "program" for me for the next week, and we planned to spend all day Friday in the city of Torun. This morning, everything seemed to be going to plan, but then ten minutes into my tour, everything changed.

The Polish hospital was like every other hospital that I have ever been in. Sterile looking and depressing as anything. Sitting near the emergency room door, I watched people coming. There was the guy who hurt his back, the old man with hands like limp roses against his chest, sad grandmas and grandpas looking minutes away from their deathbed.

Tomek was nervous and kept pacing and around and calling people on the phone. Then we found out that Ala was fully conscious and fine and we had to wait for the results of her tests. She came out to the waiting room.

"Why don't you take Yvonne to Torun as I wait for the results?" I couldn't believe that she suggested that. And that Tomek seemed to be considering. He said no because his jacket was completely bloody and he did not want to walk around like that. I breathed a sigh of relief. But then he insisted on taking me out to eat. And so we went to a mall, where they played Christmas music that seemed horribly cheerful considering the mood, and he bought me a pizza. He did not eat any, which only made me feel worse. We sat in silence, the only thing he said to me was "I don't know what is going to happen with the program now." They were worried about me, when they had bigger issues at hand. I tried to communicate that I did not care about the program but my words were not articulate.

We went back and found Ala in the waiting room, still waiting.

"I am upset you did not get to see Torun," Ala said.

"Don't worry about it," I said, "I just want you to be healthy." Finally the right words came out. She started to cry. I hugged her. We had to wait a few more hours, but the tests came out okay and the doctors let her leave. This might be wrong in translation, however, from what I understand, she has some heart problems and has a device in her heart and it did not work for a few seconds because of the weather or something and the blood did not get to her brain which is why that all happened. They advised her to see her regular doctor but said it probably would not happen again.

We drove back home and had a small dinner and watched tv. Ala seemed completely fine that made the whole thing feel even more surreal. She has no memory of what happened and so we repeated the story to her over and over, and Tomek finally revealed how scared he really was.

They still want to go on with my travel program. I am only concerned with Ala's health and am content to forget it or go off on my own. I even had my mom over the phone try to talk some sense into them, but they did not listen. We will see what happens.

When it comes to Polish hospitality, the guest is never the boss.


Ala, at the bar.


Kayman and Tomek.


What I saw of Torun.