Spring Travels Part One: Poland

Between April 10 and May 2, I made it to four countries in Europe: Poland, Italy, Austria, and Spain. I haven’t written about these experiences yet, unsure of how I might best describe their magic. Still unsure, without any revelations on how best to translate and transmit my experience into the open air, I’m going to give it a shot...

Poland. Poland welcomed me by my American friend James Cabot, at the Warsaw airport on a fine Thursday evening. Having made friends with a Polish student, I was able to forewarn James of our late arrival, and surprise him by my savvy travel connections, aka calling from a polish number... We took the bus back to James’s apartment, which passed through the countryside outside Warsaw, the suburbs, and then through the city itself. Hopping off a block from his house, we seemed to be on a bustling street, although it felt tame in comparison to the heavy Paris bustle to which I was accustomed at the time.

His building was yellow, modern and well-kept looking. To the right, were a few shops and what looked like a kebob stop for late night wanderers. He had been telling me bits and pieces of Poland’s, and in particular Warsaw’s histories, and took the opportunity to explain the lock system and the real estate dilemmas in Warsaw since WWII. While his building remained extremely well kept and attractive looking, buildings across the street were in no way in similar condition. Run-down, and abandoned, he explained that these buildings suffered from land ownership disputes dating back to WWII.

I suppose I could easily walk through my entire weekend in Poland, describing every moment that brought me pleasure, fascination and a desire to learn more about the culture, language, and city, but that may be boring for any person who actually decides to read this blog. So I will recount in an (unedited) free style writing some of my favorites:

James’s apartment breathes space for so many and with such a view it makes you feel at ease. His rooms – clean, spacious, and warm, full of experience and comfort. The view out the window – you see construction right ahead, but behind is a city with history dating below the roots of the deepest foundation in front of you you see empty space where conflict was, and has not yet been resolved but some day coming perhaps they’ll find a way to answer themselves, bring peace.
The Uprising museum – dark history through dark walls in a prison-like state the visitors wander and gag at the images of our past. I wandered too, hours and hours, until light came once again and the city rumbled by my feet as I made my way home, to a place warm and clean.
Take me out dancing we said one night with wine and champagne that made our heads spin until it couldn’t last any more. I left, went outside only to find that my coat was left behind, friends, language, everything else too, but the jerk outside wouldn’t let my pretty ass in, looks like Poland’s trying something new for the dancers at the discotheque don’t see business when they want a sale.
Poland was Chopin’s homeland, so I saw a few times over the places where people venerate that man that musician who makes hearts weep over simple melody that no one but he could summon up from below or above wherever he found the skill the talent the dream to make something a piano an instrument a soul move.