Too much is too much - take two

I have been writing mostly book reviews in the recent months. This is perhaps because my life has been rather sedentary lately. First, I had to recover from a heart procedure and then I was nursing a cold that continued longer than I would have thought average. This imposed some restriction and reading was the best thing I could do. The thing is that I also liked it. When I was a child I liked to have a cold, to be excused from school, get my mother attention the way I was not getting it when healthy and I could read without feeling guilty. I still remember the pleasure of resting in a freshly made bed. In Poland, at the time of my youth, it meant starched and beautifully ironed sheets and the big fluffy pillows of the triple size to the Australian size of pillows. It was so comfortable, and my mother leaning over me touching my feverish cheeks with her cool and soft hand. She smelled so good…

Now, that I have to take care of myself in the situations when I am not well it is not that good and I do not have any incentive to prolong my illnesses. There is still this feeling of freedom of reading without any need to tidy up or do my taxes. The duties have to wait.

So, I have been reading more than I usually do and I have been listening to Polish news extensively. The later is rather self-destructive in the current political situation. I have not been writing about it as I wanted to suppress the feeling of sadness and desperation. This was a regular self-denial maybe connected with auto-censorship.

My previous post was titled “Too much is too much”. Different subject but the same sentiments. I woke up today with the profound feeling of sadness and realization that Poland I carry in my heart is about to perish. Just to be really pathetic, there is the link to what I have just written to the first words of the Polish anthem:

Poland has not yet perished,

So long as we still live

Well, so maybe not all is lost yet, but I am in a need to suppress the knowledge of recent Polish antics. How I will do it? I do not know yet. One thing is to stop listening to the Polish radio.

Now, that I have offloaded a little bit my depressing emotions, I will try to systemise my thoughts.

The current ruling party is not a party I would support. The leadership of the party is clever though. The cleverness, combined with ruthlessness, lack of respect for law and truth, nationalism, raging Catholicism, bigotry and much more I consider negative, lead to the party unprecedented supremacy in the Polish political world. The situation, that there has been in Poland for the past two years, put questions in front of many Poles that required taking the blinkers off. I am among those people. It has become obvious that the party, I had supported in the past, created the situation in which a take over of power was possible and actually necessary.  It was unavoidable and the politicians wrapped up in their own interest and egos were slowly cooked up like the proverbial frog that was cooked to death without realising the slow increase of the water temperature. So, the opposition has been cooked for a while and did not show any positive initiatives for quite some time.

And yesterday, was the day in the parliament when all hopes for a potential change of power were removed and removed by the opposition itself. The issue concerns women and their rights to termination of unwanted pregnancy. The Polish abortion law is restrictive in this respect.

Abortion in Poland is illegal except in cases of rape, when the woman's life is in jeopardy, or if the fetus is irreparably damaged.

In Europe, only Malta and Ireland have their abortion laws more restrictive than Poland. In addition to the restrictive law, many doctors have discovered their own CONSCIOUS. And this does not allow them to carry on any terminations or even to help their patients to find an alternative doctor whose conscience would allow to carry on the procedure. I am talking here about women who could lose their own life and leave a little child orphaned by design of the conscientious doctor.  Or a child who would not be able to live outside of the mother’s womb and she will still have to carry the child for all the months knowing the tragic outcome. I am not dramatizing here, there was such a case some months ago in Poland and the child was dying in pain for some days before its unavoidable early death. I better stop giving example as my stomach turns and the blood boils.

I am very upset with doctors who have “their conscience”. They say, they cannot intervene with God’s design. I am wondering what medicine actually is if not intervening in God’s design. And why women are taken away the ability to have their own conscience? Instead, the politicians decide what is good for them.

Obviously, I am very emotional about the whole issue, this may even mean that I have some blind spots. Possibly, but does not seem likely…

So, why I decided to vent my views on the subject today? Yesterday, during the parliament session a new proposal to relax the abortion law was presented and voted against with a great involvement of the opposition. A number of opposition politicians voted against the new project, some did not vote even if present, some did not show up at all. And the project was voted out.

For a change, another project to make the law even more restrictive (forbid the abortion regardless circumstances???) was voted to proceed.

I lost the remnants of my respect and trust for the opposition and I do not see in Poland a party I could vote for and I can not see how the current party could possibly lose the next election or two. There is no a leader to rescue the situation in site. To me, there is no hope, no opposition to the current ruling - only chaos. I am hoping that the country reached the rock bottom and now the only way is up. 

I am back at home

So, I am back in Sydney! I must say that I was not much looking forward to my Sydney day to day life. I was enchanted by European type of attractions and the time spend with my friends and family. I must say that my place in Poland is more attractive and comfortable than my Sydney equivalent. It is also much cheaper to live there and the shopping is really good. Not to mention the time spent with my dear friends playing canasta and chatting about nothing and everything. Going out was also a strong point of the holiday. It is good in a way that I am not tempted by Aussie cakes. I do not feel that I want to go for coffee at all. And this is one of the positive things I find about my life here. Poland is a carbohydrate country and this needs to be controlled by a strong will. Unfortunately, I did not do too well in this department and now there will be a bit of work to get back to healthier look and diet.

                                        

After one week, I am happy to realise that my feelings towards Australia returned to normal and that I still call Australia home. It feels nice, safe and comfortable. Like an old slipper as per Polish saying. I am not sure if it is used in English as well. Maybe there are no great cathedrals, maybe there are not that many parks and greenery around, maybe there are no rolling hills, birches, lilacs, chestnuts, maybe women are more casually dressed but there is something in the air that makes me feel like breathing lighter and the sky above has been so blue as I had not seen for four months.

                                 

I am happy to be in my home number ONE and plan my next trip in few months’ time to my second more complex, charming home.   Looks like I am a lucky girl.

What Poles Drink Today

Poles always had reputation of being excessive drinkers. I agree that there was a lot of over drinking especially among people with insufficient financial means and education. One could often see in the morning “yesterday’s men” struggling from one lamp post to the next. Perhaps the last night they were drowning their sorrows or celebrating some occasion. I sometimes think that they drunk that much to forget the reality too difficult to cope with when sober? Difficult to say. Maybe the climate? Maybe the Slavic soul?

I just finished the fifth part of Knausgard’s My Struggle. This is a material for another post perhaps, but for now I just wanted to write about Scandinavian drinking or rather over drinking. Young Karl Ove, the author, in his twenties, is almost permanently drunk and so are his friends and colleagues. In drunken fits, they behave in a way that so called civilised society would definitely disapprove of. They are all educated and sensitive people without any real financial problems. Their protective government takes care of that. And they drink, it seems, more than proverbial Pole. Existential angst? Climate? Youth? I am defending the reputation of Poles a bit and perhaps quite unnecessarily, especially that this is not what I want to write about this time.  Anyhow, for the last few years I have not seen in Poland a man with a visible hangover. Maybe the drinking problem is solved or maybe drinking moved into homes and now in invisible.

Being curious (maybe not exactly insatiably, but curious nevertheless) I started to wonder what Poles drink those days.

I observed that they drink more wine and with a better understanding of the pleasure wine may bring. I still have some problems with being served white wine that is too warm for me or any wine that is not really dry. I may be served semi-dry wine because I am a woman and “ladies prefer more delicate taste”?  Still, the wine culture is already here and there are many real wine connoisseurs around.

There are specialised shops selling alcohol, but any small supermarket or even a little corner shop typically is licenced and has a comprehensive selection of wine, bear, vodka, whisky etc.

Loyalty cards are quite popular here so I have my Polish selection of such cards. There is a wine shop card among them. I noticed that sales people in Poland are typically more knowledgeable in relation to what they sell than their Aussie counterparts, so I started to ask for advice and opinion quite often. Doing some alcohol shopping in my friendly wine shop, I engaged into a little discussion with the salesman. He told me some interesting stories about wine making in certain regions and at some stage I have asked him the question “what people drink in Poland those days and what is really in fashion”. The answer came immediately and without hesitation: PROSECCO and PRIMITIVO. Both Italian wines, hmm… This is in Poland loving France and French since forever… 

                                

This explained why Aperol Spritz is on the menu of two little restaurants around the corner. I must say that I live in a quiet neighbourhood not known for restaurants. The first day in Gdansk going to the local restaurant of a suggestive and worrying name Italian Job I noticed to my surprise Aperol Spritz on the menu. Since one of my Sydney friends, Karon, tells me and all her Facebook friends, that the day when she has an Aperol Spritz is a good day, I thought that it would be proper to make this day good one for me as well. I ordered the drink. After some minutes, distressed waitress comes to our table saying that they ran out of Aperol, but tomorrow they will definitely have it. I have not tested it yet, but I might, even if I doubt  the preparation of the drink will meet my standards. Or rather Karon’s standards that I share.

                                                   

I also found out from my young Polish friends that whisky should not be any Johnny Walker or even Jack Daniels thing. It should be a single malt whisky with some serious years of maturing!  Obviously, this is not a drink to get drunk on as a Pole, unless money is not an object. But even than one perhaps is not anybody who’s anybody. Times have changed…

                                                    

So Prosecco, Primitivo and single malt whisky! This is what Poles drink today.

Nostalgia and confusion

I love my two countries, Poland and Australia and I travel from one to another partly because I have to but really because I want to spend time in each of them. It really is my choice. My ultimate country is Australia. I have lived here longer than I had lived in Poland. At yet, because I was born and brought up in Poland my cultural and emotional links with the country have become very strong lately. Maybe it is a function of age? I am getting on? It is also due to that Poland developed in the last few years and has reached European standards in many areas. The shops are well stocked, selection of goods is often better than in Australia. Theatres, opera and concerts offer is fantastic and inexpensive. Books stores great! So many temptations that I always come back to Sydney with new, nicely published, interesting books that are now waiting in the queue till I find time to read them all.

Focus on culture was always very strong in Poland. During communistic times arts and culture were available to all who were interested. Keeping up with the Joneses was present but it looked different than in Western countries. One looked up to and tried to keep up with people who read good books, saw ambitious films and plays, used sophisticated vocabulary, saw art exhibitions etc. It was a type of snobbery, but from a distance of time, I rather appreciate it. It is quite easy to understand the reason for such a cultural focus.  Luxuries goods and political freedom were not available and people needed panem et circenses – bread and games. Polish bread has always been fantastic, no need for improvement. Culture was means of appeasement, games and circuses for a poor, suppressed nation.

Not intending, I went on my memories trip. It was, really, going to be about nostalgia. So, ad rem. Recently I got a couple of photos from my Polish friends. One of them shows autumn version of my favourite chestnuts alley in Gdansk. Typically I get mushy when I see a spring edition of these majestic trees. This time even autumn colours triggered off nostalgia. Australians always liked that but me? not so much. In the past, I considered such views to be forerunners to bleak weather; rain and cold. Now, I do not spend winters in Poland so the golden leaves on the ground seem very attractive. Some years ago, when I spent more time in Poland than in Australia I was missing jacarandas. Nostalgia, a sentimental longing, seems to be present in my life more often than it would be logical. Seems that I want things that are not in my current life more than things I have and experience right now. Since this insight came to my attention and after all I am a coach, time to focus on the current moment and live now with joy the best I can. But nostalgia, like parting, is such a sweet sorrow…

P.S. I am not sure why I used two Latin expressions today. I even do not know the language. Is it a remnant of this old Polish cultural snobbery?

Time with my young cousin

I want to write a post, I promised myself to do it today and I can not find a subject that would interest me and consequently my potential readers. If I do not find a subject that I am interested in, I will write about whatever it may be in a wooden type of a manner. This would not be good at all. At the same time my self-respect and self-esteem rest on six pillars according to Nathaniel Branden. One of the pillars is the practice of living purposefully. In my case it is to be aligned with my goal of passing knowledge and experience through writing and coaching. Writing systematically in this blog is a part of it. It is my exercises in writing. Since today is Monday and this is a small New Beginning, I want to keep promises I gave to myself this morning.  So, here it goes…

The last few days were very interesting and full of new thoughts and experiences. I had a young visitor, my nephew, who stayed with me few days. It is interesting and stimulating to observe and talk to someone who is at such a different stage of life. He has great plans for life and is passionate about chemistry. His studies revolve around developing a substance that may be helpful for people suffering from Alzheimer’s. It seems that chemistry may be fascinating. It was not a subject that made me excited when I was at school or at uni. I now realized that the science of chemistry can have many interesting applications if put in service of humanity. I also have realized that good young chemists may use the science in not too much scientific ways and have a lot of  fun with it.

So we talked a lot, walked, watched movies, cooked, tried new beer and wine, exchanged experiences regarding heart palpitations… It was quite a bag of different subjects and activities and it was fun.

Times and ways of young people obviously changed since I was 22, the age my nephew is now. I like the young people of today a lot. Their way of thinking is so different to that I can recall from the past. They live in a different world, of course. The internet and other technologies shrank the distances, things are instantaneous, one can organize the whole summer holiday sitting in the kitchen and drinking tea with an aunt. And the aunt may even not be aware of what is happening in the background during a seemingly uninterrupted conversation.

Interest in cooking spread across the world. Australia has its My Kitchen Rules and Master Chef cooking competition programs, I promise myself not too watch them any more but so far unsuccessfully. The competitors are mainly young people and they have very good cooking knowledge.  Their techniques improve with the program duration and are quite sophisticated. My young nephew and his even younger brother are very interested in cooking and quite often cook family meals. The roles have reversed. I love it! I had an opportunity to savor a great salmon cooked by Piotr. It was marinated and then cooked in a pesto made of basil, mint, limes, pine nuts, peanuts and honey. Fantastic!

That is what this perfect dish looked like. It was accompanied by Hasselback potatoes a Swedish way of preparing spads.

During my sojourn in Poland, I will have some more opportunities to meet young people. I am looking forward to it. 

Childhood revisited

The most happy memories of my childhood come from the times I spent with my grandparents in a Polish village in the eastern part of Poland. This part of the country is now called Poland B and that means representing lower standards than the prosperous districts. Place a bit behind the times.  My memories go to the times that are really far behind today. Sometimes I think that I have been living in three centuries. When I first visited my grandparents it was like going back in time to the XIXth century. There was no electricity there, water was drawn in buckets from a concrete well and I was taken from the station home to my grandparents by a horse and a buggy. No rubber wheels, just metal bands around the wooden wheels! It was a bumpy ride.

But the air was not polluted then. There were many pluses in those days at least in the eyes of the four-five years old girl. I was sent to my grandparents for many reasons, I presume. My mother was a really young woman, nineteen years older than myself. The grandmother performed the role of my carer perhaps better than my mother, she had more common sense and experience. My Beautiful Mother was also a working woman and she was away from home for most of the day. My parents were building a small business in the communistic Poland. They were considered to be enemies of the system and, at times, I felt guilty seeing that we were better off than most of the people around. I felt like I did not quite belong in the communistic world.

The official reason to send me away was – fresh air in Sadowne. Sadowne is the name of the village which has a big church and a big school. Much too big for the locals only. It also had its “upper class”. My grandmother was a kindergarten/school teacher in her unmarried times and my grandfather was a Polish-Soviet war hero and a tailor.  They were respectable people. I say it with tongue in cheek. Of course they were respectable but so were the others as well. Anyhow I was not supposed to be familiar with some of the neighbours. Some  were even considered to be a bad influence.

The neighbours on the right side did not meet with approval of my grandmother. There were many children there who were not clean and ran around bare foot. Not proper people according to my grandma. The father of the family used to drink too much and when under influence loudly disciplined his wife and children. One could hear shouts and screams coming from their house.  With time the boys of the family became strong enough to stop excesses of their father. The dramas became less frequent.

People who lived in the main street were not farmers, they were teachers, shop keepers, tailors. The right side neighbours were farmers. During harvest I could observe strange and fascinating activities like threshing wheat and haymaking. I was transfixed to the fence dividing the two houses looking at the magic of what was happening on the other side. It was all new to me. This was the only time I saw harvest work except for later on in movies about life in the nineteenth century.
   
                                   

One day I sneaked in to the neighbours through the gate in the dividing fence. The gate was not used often as there were no friendly visits between the two families.  However I can imagine that my naughty grandpa when he wanted to smoke a forbidden cigarette, he would cross the gate to go to the neighbour for a smoko.

Once I ventured into the forbidden territory to be warmly welcome and given a treat – big slice of dark bread, covered with glistening lard spiked with cracklings and sugar sprinkled on top. Revolting? Perhaps. But not too my taste at the time. It was heavenly good, a completely new, exciting taste. And a forbidden fruit! The bliss did not last long. I was not clever enough to hide my tressure and eat it in private. With my original sandwich in hand, I marched in to the kitchen of my grandma who seized it immediately and threw it to the rubbish bin with disgust. Oh, what a disappointment to the little girl! Such a fantastic food and so rudely taken away! Perhaps I will not ever be able to taste anything as good as that! Of course I have tasted many fantastic food after this event, like the oysters in Paris, I wrote about earlier. Or bread dunked in fragrant olive oil at Santo Spirito. This black bread with lard belongs however to the list of best food I tasted in my life. Actually some form of that specialty is now served in Polish folk restaurants, only the bread is not dark enough and there is no sugar served with it.

This was served while waiting for lunch with my Aussie friend when she visited Gdansk this year.

 In my dreamy plans I see myself someday visiting Sadowne again. This most likely will remain only a dream. But who knows?