Au revoir to Gdansk

I will be going back to my second home tomorrow. With some regret I will be saying “see you later Gdansk”. A lot has happened in Gdansk for me. Good, fantastic, uplifting, bad and sad. This year it has been more good than during my last stays here. I have been able to reflect on what next and even if I do not have all the answers I feel that I have made progress. My proverbial “how to live prime minister?” has some answers now.

I have done a lot of flaneuring in Gdansk and I discovered a lot of beauty in the old streets, old parks, coffee places and European lash nature. I am aware that I lived through the summer best. The doom is just around the corner and I am flying away to my warm count

My favourite park

My favourite street

I always loved the concept of café life. The famous café Les Deux Magots in Paris the hub of literary life always woke up special feelings and reflections in me. Mind you it was in the first half of the XX century but some of that atmosphere is still alive in Europe. I do not know people in Gdansk I could sit for hours at a table in a corner of an atmospheric cafe and discuss important things. But I can go to a place of an old beauty and sit there for hours with a book, notebook or a computer. 

This is the view from one of such cafes 

 But I can go to a place of an old beauty and sit there for hours with a book, notebook or a computer. They usually even have a wi fi.  Nobody comes to indicate that my time in the place is up. Such is the case in Sydney and I think in the whole Australia. Coffee places are places of business and that requires that new orders are placed frequently. The European ways are not money spinners and I have no idea how it all functions from the financial point of view, I suspect not very well for the owners but great for me – a customer.

I will be missing all that.

Still about The Goldfinch

I am still dwelling on some parts of The Goldfinch that particularly caught my attention. The book is full of interesting observations so AC Observes is compelled to notice and make her own conclusions and parallels.

I stopped and pondered on Theo’s reflection regarding people who loved him and supported him. There were two people in his life that cared for him exceptionally much, they were guessing his needs and his worries in attempt to fulfill the first and remedy the second. This is a very special type of love and our mothers usually give us that. Good mothers, that is. Mine was a good mother and she smothered me with guessing what may worry me or what may hurt me. Sometimes this was even irritating and I tried to shake off her affectionate caring. I wish I could experience such moments again, I would take it in a different way. Unfortunately, I do not think that it will happen, not my age and not with my mother passing away. Not all her caring was particularly clever. She may have helped me to become a hypochondriac or at least thinking about my health too much. It was also unfortunate that she did not appreciate value of physical fitness. Very few people did in Poland in the time I was growing up. One day we had a running competition at school and I won the run for 100 meters. It was exhilarating but my mother checked if I did not get by any chance sweaty as the result of my sporty achievement. I did. This was the end of my running carrier and I obediently took her council. Silly and funny. For many years I followed old saying “in healthy body lives a healthy cow” and kept away from sport and redirected my efforts to intellectual pursuits. I wish I could reverse the time and correct mistakes.

My mother was right caring for me the best way she knew. 

                                                          

Lives turn in unexpected ways. We plan, work towards some goals, go about our days as usually and then suddenly something happens that changes the course of our life. If we only knew, we may have chosen different path and our life would be different. Maybe better, maybe worse. Theo’s life changed dramatically when he and his mother on the way to Theo’s school went to the Met Museum to see a particular exhibition. There are many “if onlys” that Theo deliberates on. Things could have been different and his mother would have been alive, if only… Many of us have such situations in life that from a distance of time we see that we could have changed the course of our history. I do. And sometimes we blame ourselves; the right steps are so obvious when we look at the situation later on. We are now aware of the signs that should have redirected our steps and actions. We feel guilty that we were not able to correctly foresee the future, use our intuition to protect ourselves. Theo does in hard times of his life. He realizes that he had at least partial knowledge that could have taken his life in a different direction. I, myself sometimes experience similar feelings. One of such moments was my last goodbye to my mother at the Warsaw airport. If I only read the signs, stayed with her maybe she would not pass away so early. She left such a big gap in my life.  And here Donna Tartt comes to the rescue. She says that sometimes after the events we think we knew what we should have done but this is not so. We had only partial knowledge, nor sufficient to make different decisions. We did not know enough. Later, we found new pieces of the puzzle and only this information would have allowed us act differently. Then it was already too late. For a person like myself this is very uplifting explanation.

Quo Vadis?

                                               

I perhaps read too much into the book’s messages but I still maintain that this is the beauty of the book that takes us on our own tangents, things that are significant to an individual person.  

The Goldfinch

I have finished The Goldfinch of Donna Tartt two days ago. I am usually a slow reader, maybe because I read difficult books, rarely novels. I get my brain rest watching feel good repeats on television. Books are meant to teach me something. Lately, I have been making some exceptions though, reading Knausgaard’s My Struggle and more. At the moment I have more books on the go than usually, this is because there were so many temptations in Polish bookstores to which I have succumbed and my reading backlog, as the result, is very impressive. Or overwhelming, if you like. The Goldfinch made me put all the other books aside and I finished it in a record time six or seven days. The book has over 800 pages. Big part of my days and sometimes nights was dedicated to reading. I was totally immersed in the book. Nice feeling, really. I experienced it often in my young years so I felt rejuvenated in spirit. 

Various people classify the book as a bildungsroman, a type of novel concerned with development and maturing of a person. This is a story about Theo who is thirteen years old when the story starts with a very dramatic event of explosion in the Metropolitan Museum. He is in the museum with his mother when the tragedy strikes. His mother is killed in the explosion and the boy escapes from the place with his life, a ring and the small painting of the goldfinch painted by Fabritius  in 1654. I do not intend to write about the story, just my major impressions and observations resulting from reading the book.

I must have seen the painting a long time ago, maybe even twice as I have been twice in the gallery of Mauritshuis in the Hage. That’s where the painting is on display. Mauritshuis is my most favourite gallery in the world. Of course, I have seen rather limited number of galleries, but this one is to me very special. Maybe because I like the Dutch paintings or maybe because it is not too big and one can enjoy the paintings without being overwhelmed. 

                                  

I must confess that there were other paintings in the Maurithuis that made bigger impression on me than The Goldfinch.  I can hardly remember the little painting of the little bird from those times, but there is a vague recollection in me.

                                                   

The story is gripping and this is one of the reasons why it reads so well and captures one’s attention. For me it was much more, though. I have been always pondering over questions: “how to live Prime minister?” or “what it is all about?”. Maybe the book has not given me definite answers but it gave me some pointers. Or maybe it was me who came to my own conclusions? I feel, however, that improved clarity of thought was inspired by the book. This is, I think, one of the many strength of the book. It triggers off readers’ reflection over their own lives.

The book is concerned with love of beauty and particularly with preservation of antique objects or even only their fragments. Antiques have been my interest since many years, so I responded to the book in a particular way. There were times when I thought that I pay too much attention to objects, to “stuff” as I sometimes dismissively called my treasures. The book made me think of attachment to possessions as more noble than I saw it before. I look at it now as a love of beauty rather than possessiveness. Nice feeling.

Friendship, one of my core values, is a very strong part of the book. The friendship that is accepting, understanding, accepting without understanding, blind because it is based on trust that underlines the relationship. Friendship I would like to experience but I am not sure if I could master that much trust as Theo has for Boris. I find Boris’ character absolutely fascinating. He is Russian who is thrown into various countries and he assimilates well there. However, to me deep down he is Russian, he has Russian soul and Russian complexities of the character. It is very difficult to understand the Russian soul.  Donna Tartt does. This is colourful and fascinating part of the book.

If I was rating the book, I would give it 10 out of 10.

The Goldfinch and old buildings

About one month ago, I have been given three books as my name-day’s presents. I must confess that my first reaction was not gracious or positive. I am talking here about my thoughts, not verbalizing my disappointment. The reason for my initial reaction was not that I would have preferred some other presents. It was an issue of feeling obliged to read something I would not have chosen myself. This approach would be an explanation why I still do not belong to any book club even though I like the concept a lot. I obviously do not like much to be told what I should read. Time is precious.

However, I have read two of the given books with some interest and I am now reading the third of them The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt. Needless to say that eventually I feel very grateful to my friends for changing my reading plans that I had made before I left Australia for my Polish holidays.  I am particularly grateful for The Goldfinch, 800 pages plus book. I have not finished it yet but the story is fascinating and I read over 100 pages per day. I soon will be done. There is more to the book than just a story, much more, but I need to digest it a bit before I write more about it.

The book got the Pulitzer Prize in 2014 and I believe this is a controversial recognition. There are many layers in the book and many detours that I find interesting. Since the story is riveting it is easy to skim pages and bypass the meandering. I am not one of such readers who skim books to my disadvantage. I feel guilty if I do not read every word in a book. In this case I am rather happy that my habit makes me read all, or almost all.  There are little pearls on each page of the book.

                                                

Donna Tartt’s book has a lot of farewells. People and things are passing away from our lives. Things are fluid, they change and I felt that in the book there is a big dose of regret that it must be so. Such sentiments are obvious when people we love move away from our life. There is more than that though. Like the description of the old building, in which the hero of the book lived in the past, being gutted to make room for a new more modern and exclusive version. Maybe I found it particularly moving because I also have particular sentiment to old, beautiful objects and this includes buildings. I was really upset walking Sydney CBD streets when the old buildings were being destroyed. I almost felt physical pain. Most of facades were left to stay, however some of them collapsed during the demolition. I thought that in such a young country like Australia where there are not too many XIXth century buildings, the existing ones should be treasured. When I come to Poland I check what has happened in my neighbourhood.  I am always a little worried that some of my favourites may have not survived the year. There are many old buildings around and their renovation is sometimes more expensive than a replacement with a new. “Sensible” business decisions erase history too often.

I deviated from the subject of The Goldfinch. This is only the sign that the book wakes up dormant sentiments and emotions. This is part of its attraction and power.

I shall finish the book in a couple of days and I believe that I will feel compelled to write again about the book and my impressions. So stay tune if you are interested in the book. Better still start reading.

European Centre of Solidarity

The last year, with one of my Australian friends, I visited the museum dedicated to the Solidarity movement. The museum was called Roads to Freedom and it was meant to be only a temporary exhibition while the big museum European Centre of Solidarity was being built, next to the historic Gdansk Shipyard. We both were impressed by the exhibition and I was moved by the hard and dramatic times Poland went through and then emerged as a modern country with a great future. Yesterday, I went to the new Solidarity Centre to see the place and the new exhibition. I found the Centre very impressive, very well designed and the new exhibition even more moving.

The building does not meet with everybody’s approval, but I like it a lot. Some call it a rusty heap of scrap and indeed it makes such an impression. It is a very nicely stylized and sophisticated heap of scrap, though. The entrance to the centre is next to the main entrance of the shipyard. One has to pass the monument of the fallen ship yard workers, the workers of Gdansk those who started the end of communism. Approaching the place I get emotional, so much has happened here, I am grateful for the turn of events, grateful to all those who went through the extremely hard times that formed the new Poland while I was working on my personal career in Sydney. I am aware of being somewhat pathetic writing what I just did but this is the Polish part of me talking.

We entered the building and my friend said : barn!. I thought : wow! This is what it looks like, what do you think? A barn or a modern, spacious entrance?

This already inside the building

I never thought I would be that impressed by modern. Me, a lover of Florence!

The building has 6 levels and we decided to start from the top. The sixth floor. It is not really that much of a floor. It is most of all a roof with views over Gdansk.

In some distance from the museum there is another place one can see the 360 panorama of Gdansk. The Basilica of Saint Maries. They are like two brackets defining the Main Town of Gdansk - new and old.

It has been very dry and hot in Gdansk for more than one month. The roof vegetation suffered.

I think that it would be rather nice  to sit at the roof garden in one of the deck chairs having a chat with a friend looking Gdansk or reading a book. I may try it before I go back to Sydney.

There is also a great library I can visit to browse books before I decide to buy something. The book offers are endless in Poland and they are so nicely published that it is a pleasure to handle them. I find it rather easy to get carried away and buy more that I should.

The end of August is this time of when the whole Gdansk ad whole Poland should celebrate the victorious days of Solidarity that happened 35 years ago. There are celebrations and there are also painful manifestations of power and hate showing how divided Poland is these days. It saddens me.

Decency and politics

I am in a particularly pensive mood today and I should perhaps refrain from writing but I made a promise to myself to write once a week. If I do not write today, I am not likely to write for another week. My dear friends are coming for a visit. So, I will give it a go risking that I may start difficult subjects without having my thought organised.

I just listened to a discussion on the subject of decency. The talk was not only about political decency but decency in general. The people who were discussing were themselves, in my opinion, really decent people in the old fashion understanding of the word. This is so sad to think that decency may already be an old fashion way of leading one’s life. I do not want it to be so. At the same time I am exposed to the Polish media when the political games are so crude with oozing falseness that this is embarrassing and painful to watch. And not decent at all. I may in self-defense stop switching my TV to political programs.

Many years ago one of the leading politicians of the Law and Justice party said – we can say anything we want, silly masses will buy it. Most of the moves and declaration of this party are now, before the parliamentary election, directed to silly masses. This time the merchandise is wrapped up nicely. What we see is the new, young  president with his attractive family, smiling when appropriate and raising voice in disapproval on other occasion. Overall good theatrical performance but decency is not meant to be a characteristic of it. Or truthfulness. And the silly masses are buying. I find it disrespectful towards those called ‘silly masses’

Things will happen as they will, I will let go for a while hoping for the best possible future for this country that I started to feel is mine again. Hope I will be able to retain the feeling.

Jews in Poland

I love the new Poland, but I do not like all that I observe. Some things are painful for me to see and difficult to comprehend. Being here and being me, I watch news. It is difficult to escape reallisation that a part of the Polish population, a big part unfortunately, is anti-Semitic. There is history to that and one may find some justification to excuse some anti-Semitic convictions, but I must say that any possible justification is weak. Polish tradition of being a Christian country is very old. Baptism of Poland happened through personal baptism of the first Polish ruler Mieszko the First. It was the year 966 and since then Poland is considered to be a Christian country. 

Jews were considered to be murderers of Christ and as such the major enemies of the Christian religions. That Jesus himself was a Jew somehow has lesser importance in Polish prejudices. It may be my ignorance talking here and if anyone could set me straight I will be obliged. Anyhow long standing Christianity of Poland is an excuse to treat Jews as “they” and justify unfriendly actions and more.

When I meet people of Jewish origin in Australia, I feel uncomfortable about my Polish background. Actually, I even feel ashamed. I sometimes try to say sorry; it was horrible how Poles behaved towards Jews at times. Not like Nazis, of course, and there were none Polish concentration camps as it sometimes is wrongly stated, but there were dark pages in Polish history. In fact this has not changed much. Sure, we behave now with more restrain but I hear very ugly words sometimes. There are even anti Semitic pamphlets available in some churches.  

So what is it about Jews that disturbs Poles? The views are – they are different, they are not US. They are not Polish. This in minds of some people is bad and Jews need to be excluded and can be offended. Not very Christian attitude to me.

My father is a good example of how deeply anti-Semitism is ingrained in Polish psyche. I remember the times when even he expressed anti-Semitic views. He did not stop to think what was wrong about Jews, but he really did not want me to get romantically involved with one. When I introduced my Swedish boyfriend to my parents, my father expressed a relief that at least this one is not likely to be Jewish. This was dictated by his doubts about my previous boyfriend, was he Jewish or one of us? But my father worried in silence and I was not forbidden to continue the relationship. My best girlfriend at school was Jewish. We sat at the same bench through grammar and high school. We went, together with our parents for holidays to the seashore. I am so glad to realize that my father’s prejudices did not translate to personal dislikes of human beings. Remembering his silly comments is not the best memory I have of my father. Thanks God there are so many other memories I cherish.

Then, I studied mathematics and math was a very Jewish faculty. Majority of my fellow students were Jewish. I did not think about who my colleagues were until such time when they started to disappear. The faculty shrunk and Polish mathematics suffered tremendous loss. Israel gained.  Many families left because they did not feel welcome at that time in Poland. I think that the situation is still difficult especially for people who contributed to Polish science and culture and now have to put up with anti-Semitic remarks expressed in private and publicly in media.