Poland

Reminiscences from Poland, 2

If you read Reminiscenses from Poland, you know that I reached Bełchatów, almost without mishap. Immediately I was enveloped in a warm Zawady welcome, in the place that Dad once called home. His only remaining sister, Aunt Lusia, lives there still, daughters and grandchildren close at hand. A long summer evening was spent in her garden, rabbits proliferating, and a cardboard box sheltering the tiniest kittens you ever saw. I could feel my ankles being bitten, the pond and the sultry air an open invitation. All in a good cause. Her arm tucked through mine, we took a gentle turn beneath the apple trees. Not long since she was in hospital, with family fearful that she would not recover.

As darkness fell and eyes began to droop, I was returned to cousin Jadzia’s house. Halfway through my Polish adventure. I had scoured timetables, and lost sleep over how I would get from Bełchatów to Kraków. In the event, the problem was solved for me. Jadzia’s daughter Ania and family were driving to the Tatry Mountains, south of Kraków, for a few days holiday. If I didn’t mind being a bit squashed, they would take me with them and break the journey at Adam’s house. I’ve never been one to mind a squeeze. And so it was that me and 2 little girls, with 2 sunhats and a furry green frog, shared the back seat on a 4 hour journey.

We took the scenic route to avoid roadworks, but it was market day in Radomsko, and the car crawled beside the brimming stalls. Once out in gently rolling countryside, Hubert slipped a CD in and we sang along to Polish nursery rhymes. Two year old Nadia’s eyes sparkled as she sang, but all of a sudden they were filled with distress and she was being sick. Swerving off the road into a field, operation clean up began. “She’s never done that before” Hubert ruefully observed. “She’s normally a good traveler”. Five minutes later, in fresh clothes, she was beaming again, and munching a bag of crisps.

At Adam’s house all was suspiciously quiet. No sign of the two little boys who lived there, but the playroom overflowed with toys. A lovely respite for two little girls, who didn’t stop till every shelf and cupboard was empty and there was no space to play. Out into the garden for a quick burn off energy then, fuelled with coffee and cake, Mum and Dad round them up. Time to say goodbye….

Lusia’s garden- such a shame about the shadows

Adam, watering up after the heat

One last swing…

Marti at play

The bubble blower

I had a luxurious hour to myself before the onslaught. Toys swiftly back on shelves, a peep at TV (Rafa was playing in the French Open) and I was sitting on the balcony, waiting. Hot and mildly harrassed, Weronika and Marta shepherded two small boys through the gate. Bedlam! But in such a good way. My turn to play with Marti, 18 months old and a happy soul, and his rather more cautious brother, Bartek, aged three. Gradually the household filled as first Adam returned from work, then Wojtek, Weronika’s husband, and finally my lovely neice, Ula. One member was missing. Łukasz now lives with his girlfriend and I was promoted to his bedroom. The buzz of chatter, and patter of slippered feet on the tiled floors, filled the evening as we ate and drank. And finally, collapsed gratefully into bed.

The skylight

A lovely dawn

Fluffy clouds greeted me through the skylight next morning. Sniadanie (breakfast), and an outing to the park, followed by wolny czas (free time). When I returned from the city, preparations were in full swing, the house full of bustle. Adam’s pride and joy is his barbecue room, a design wonder of wood and folding glass panels. The end wall is solid brick to enclose the grill and a smoker. Marta’s pride and joy is her garden and the delicious meals she provides for her family. Between them they conjure up many a feast.

That evening there was a guest of honour. A gentleman to whom I will always be in debt. Tomasz, Adam’s business partner, a warm and generous man and an impeccable English speaker, made the phone call to Dad that reunited him with his Polish family. (A night I will never forget, my tearful Dad hardly daring to believe his luck). Taste is of supreme importance to Tomasz, and is one of the foundations of the bakery business. Fond of wine and good company, with many tales to tell, you can imagine how our evening progressed. Adam provided salmon and garlic bread from the barbecue and smoked sea bass to compliment Marta’s salads. Wine flowed, and then Łukasz arrived, affectionate as ever. He had spent the afternoon sleeping after an early shift. The children played. Sandpit, bubbles and swing, until it was time to haul them off to bed….

Last day…ostatni dzien… and one last trip into the city. A tram ride home, stopping to collect a deep red rose bush for Marta, and a bag of cherries. A whirl of emotions. Adam, watering the garden after another hot one. Marta, pottering beside him, relaxed after feeding everybody again. The children at a birthday party in the neighbours’ garden next door, laughter and occasional tears drifting our way. The evening settling around us. Time for more goodbyes… we don’t know till when. In halting Polish on the way to the airport, I try to tell Adam how very grateful I am. His eyes twinkle as hugs me….

You must have met Cathy over at Wander.essence? I’m adding this to her Prose challenge. It’s the last of my Polish adventures… for now.

Reminiscences from Poland

It began with so much angst, and then developed into the most heartwarming experience. Come with me to Poland?

My 12th floor hotel room in Warsaw was wonderfully luxurious but I slept fitfully, with one eye on the clock, as you do when needing to rise early and excited for the journey. Tiny beads of red tail lights trailed into the distance until a hazy dawn crept through my window. Patches of mist nudged the buildings as I gazed down on the city in all its immensity. I made coffee and the mournful tones of Leonard Cohen filled the room as I showered and gathered together my belongings. Downstairs in reception a smiling face awaited. Meg, promptly at 7, to deliver me safely to my coach station, Zachodnie.

Down into the subway we went, that subterranean city maze that bewilders me so, but with Meg by my side it didn’t seem so bad. The ticket lady understood me, and sunlight beamed down on the tracks at Sródmiescie. Two stops later we sat side by side on a bench, speculating on which coach it might be. Trying to cram a world of emotions into dying minutes. Those hugs may have to last us a long time…..

On the bus my neighbour is an elderly Polish lady, who tells me in minute detail about her health and her family. No matter that I can only translate one word in ten. I nod and shake my head vigorously, and attempt a brief family history, and moments later she is fishing in her capacious handbag to pull out a blue and white plastic bracelet with a St. Christopher attached. She presses it upon me. Apparently it will bring me good fortune, but I must look very needy, because immediately she’s back in the bag pulling out a red and white necklace and crucifix too. I am mildly alarmed, wondering if I should offer money or will I give offence and destroy our budding friendship? I risk all and she merely shakes her head. We ride in companionable silence but I am shamefully relieved when she gets off at the first stop….

Two hours later the bus stops on the outskirts of Bełchatów, and lots of passengers climb aboard. An imperious looking lady demands to know where I am getting off and I mumble ‘na centrum’. With a toss of her head she declines to sit next to me and moves on down the bus. She thinks I’m stupid because the bus isn’t going to the centre. I only realise this when a voice from the back of the bus penetrates my consciousness… ‘Johanna! Johanna!’ It is Andrzej, my cousin Jadwiga’s husband, waving his arms frantically. Sent to collect me from the stop, he has had to board the bus to attract my attention. I have arrived….

The animal pens at the nearby park

Jadzia loves the horses

And her garden

Andrzej prefers his bike

Nadia, with ‘no pedal’ bike

Mum assists

And Nadia looks beautiful anywhere

At home with the ducklings

Things I can do without language…. almost. Sit on the floor and piece together a Snow White jigsaw with a 2 year old. Blow bubbles. Not so successful with the king-sized version- much twirling and blowing, to no avail, but producing gales of laughter from 2 small girls, so a result in entertainment terms. Bounce on a trampoline. Peel potatoes. Eat strawberries and icecream with Marysia and Pawel. Take a walk around the neighbourhood. But the biggest success? Play dominoes with my Uncle Jakub, rolling back the years to when he and Dad played for many an hour. He won, of course! And kiss and cuddle my beloved Aunt Lusia….

Memories…. Andrzej, retired now, with time to ride on his motorbike, feed the rapidly growing ducklings with his granddaughters, and attempt to learn English on his Ipad with Duolingo. Much scratching of head. Silly English language!

His wife, lovely Jadzia, drives the bus for the local school for handicapped children. On an event day in a nearby park, the children flock round her, eager to introduce themselves and curious about her company. They dance with no inhibitions, inside a tent, and drive buggies, under casual supervision. Blond and beautiful, Nadia attracts much attention. Her mind is firmly on candyfloss. ‘Zielony, prosze’ she insists. Green….

Cousin Ewa, quietly but proudly showing me the shell of her home, with its rudimentary furnishings. Her husband Henryk was building it for them when he died 3 years ago, and there is no money to finish it off. The hardware business she was running has failed and she has moved in to the house to save rent. ‘At least I am close to family.’ We sit by the open fire in the garden, bottles of beer in hand, turning the kielbasa on the homemade barbecue as evening fades. Squeals as cousin Marysia plays hide and seek with the children. And then peace….

The neighbourhood….

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Cathy is throwing out challenges left and right over at Wander.essence. I thought I would enter this for Prose. Part 2 will follow next week.

Jo’s Monday walk : Same river, different city

You might remember, a few weeks ago, I had the bubbly and delicious company of Gilly on the banks of the River Wisła (Vistula) in Warsaw. Fast forward a mere 5 days and there I was, beside that same river but many miles further south, in Poland’s second city, Kraków. A mighty river, this one, it begins its journey on the Baltic Coast and flows south for 1,022 kilometres (635 miles). How I got there is another story, but my mission today is simply to take you for a wander and, as luck would have it, a boat ride.

Earlier that morning I’d been in Kraków’s green and leafy suburbs, assisting with toddlers aged 3 and 18 months on an outing to the park. Wilting in the heat, the little family had been glad to return home. A cooling drink, then I hopped a bus into a city that never fails to delight me.

With no particular aim in mind, as I approached the river it was almost automatic to jump off. If cooling breezes were to be found anywhere in Kraków, this would be the place. Truth be told, I didn’t get very far before the notion of a glass of wine and an icecream became very appealing indeed. What could be finer than sitting on the deck of a restaurant boat, facing lovely Na Skalce (the Church on the Rock)? The steady hum of traffic crossing Most Grunwaldzki became a soothing murmur. Hooray! Here comes the paddle steamer, big wheels churning. And a burst of speedboat cleaves the water in front of Wawel Castle.

I couldn’t sit there enjoying myself all day. Time to cross over the river. But scarcely was I on the other side than temptation struck again. No, not cake! The first time I ever came to Kraków I walked my husband’s legs off. He was more than happy to agree to a boat ride, just to sit down. Unfortunately on that occasion the ride was accompanied by a light drizzle, whereas this was the perfect day to be afloat. One of those lovely little wooden boats was about to leave the jetty. It was meant to be, and 30zł (about £6) for an hour wasn’t going to break the bank.

The boat sailed in one direction along the river, as far as the Salwator Church, then returned to the jetty. This half hour trip cost 15zł, but if you stayed on board it then sailed in the opposite direction, passing Na Skalce and a sequence of bridges before returning to the jetty. This second leg I found fascinating as the area was less familiar to me. An idea was germinating that I might return the following day to explore on foot.

Trams and trains passed overhead, but it was the bridge Kładka Ojca Bernatka that particularly captured my imagination, and I resolved to come back for a closer look at the figures suspended over the river. A building with an industrial chimney and appearing to be clad in corten steel also caught my eye. On the river bank, the footpath stretches grandly into the distance, stylish riverboat restaurants just calling out to be visited.

Disembarking, I look wistfully up at Wawel Castle. No time today. I am being summoned to ‘obiad’, late afternoon lunch with my Polish family. Walking back to the bus stop I mingle with school trips, and the riverside coach park bustling with vendors. Billboards shout holiday destinations, demanding my attention, but who would willingly leave this fair city?

Come with me next week and we’ll explore the world beyond that beautiful bridge. Meanwhile there are many stories to tell. Thanks for bearing with me as I flit from here to there. I’m grounded now, for a little while, and looking forward to my English summer. I hope you’ve got the kettle on as there are some wonderful walks to share. I’ll go easy on the cake as I over-indulged at an Open Garden event yesterday.

From high in the Alps to the lovely capital of Malta, with my good friend Drake :

Last morning in the Alps

Little pearl in the sun

You can always rely on Debbie to make life colourful and interesting :

Industry and art come together in Seoul

And for Susan to write beautifully, whatever the weather :

Walking Hurricane Ridge, Olympic National Park

32 years together! Lady Lee shares a special celebration :

Many thanks!

Share an extravaganza of food with Jackie, and then…

Coffee to go

Jesh takes a look at life, always in her own unique way :

Background Jumps

While Jaspa takes us back in history for a closer look at these ruins :

The Step Pyramid of Djoser – Part of the Saqqara Necropolis, Egypt

Persistence rewarded for Eunice and ruins of an entirely different nature at the end of her walk :

Part 2 – Llanlleiana, Porth Wen, and a long walk

Emma treats us to one of Wales’ great beauty spots, lovely paintings, and even a hang glider ride!

Gower Coastal Walk : Rhossili Bay

Who IS that mysterious lady on the beach? Walking with Meg always makes me smile :

Eurobodalla beaches : around Tuross

It’s a while since Jude took a walk. She’s usually too busy in the garden. Wild orchids and butterflies, a lovely reward :

A Walk to the Lighthouse

Another orchid, I think, from my lovely Gilly, enfolded in lushness with a dramatic dragonfly :

Walking to the mill

And in complete contrast, Cathy finds spellbinding beauty in the desert :

Upper Ute Canyon & the Coke Ovens Trail at Colorado National Monument

A magnificent collection and many thanks to one and all. Join me any time on Jo’s Monday walk and I’ll try to make you welcome. The sun is still shining here in the north east and it’s time I rejoined my English walking group. Wishing you all a lovely week!

Six word Saturday

Shout it from the roof tops!

It’s June, and Becky’s back again with a brand new series of squares. Knowing how much everyone enjoyed the last series, I can’t help but feel I’ll be missing out, but I’m off to Poland tomorrow. Plac Zamkowy (Castle Square) in Warsaw will be my only contribution to Roof Squares for now, but I’ll be keeping a watchful eye on those roof tops.

No Monday walk next week, but I have a post scheduled for Thursday, when I hope to be on my way to Kraków with a fistful of happy memories. Apologies if my responses are slow. Till then, have a great weekend and don’t forget to share your Six Words with Debbie.

My Call to Poland

Sukiennice, the impressive Medieval Cloth Hall, in Kraków’s Rynek Glowny

You might call me unimaginative, but I’d never thought a great deal about Poland until that strange evening, 12 years ago, when Dad got a phone call from ‘home’. For 64 years he’d had no contact with his Polish family, leaving the farm aged just 15, and in German custody. That phone call turned our lives upside down. Until then Dad had been my only Polish relative. Imagine, overnight, you belong in an enormous family, who don’t even speak the same language as you. But who welcome you with open arms.

That’s just how it was, and when Cathy asks ‘what is it that draws you to a place?’ then the lure of family surely has a part to play. Over at Wanderessence she’s been exploring the reasons why we travel, and so much more. I’ve always had that restless urge, but my first visit to Poland was a revelation. I’ve never been hugged and kissed so much in my life. Now, don’t get me wrong. Outside of family and friends, Polish people are not normally smiling nor especially welcoming. Given their history, they have good cause to hold a little in reserve. But Dad was the long lost brother, and was treated like Polish royalty, while I followed along in his wake, smiling fondly but often with little real idea of what was going on. The language barrier, you see.

Coach and horses have right of way in Rynek Glowny

The country looked so very different to the one I was used to calling home. The chalet style houses looked different, out in the countryside. One of the things I found really strange was that pipes often ran overhead alongside the country roads, rather than underground, as I was used. But in the historic centres of the cities, the intricately painted and decorated facades had me stand and gaze in awe. Kraków and Wrocław- I’ve been privileged to know both of these beautiful cities, because of my family.

Ratusz, the Town Hall, in Wroclaw

Fountains in Wroclaw’s main square

Polish eating habits are different too. Second breakfast, lunch at 3 in the afternoon, and cake before and after almost everything! (that must be where I get it from 🙂 ) In the previous year, I and my husband had acquired a holiday home in Portugal. Totally different culturally and in climate too, yet I found myself wondering, if we had known of the existence of the Polish family sooner, would I have been looking for a house in Poland? I suspect I might. I’ve always had the sea on my doorstep, and Poland is landlocked on 3 sides. The Baltic coast is too far from family, but I’ve always been drawn to lakes and mountains too. A visit to the Pieniny Mountain range, and the spa resort Szczawnica, linger in my memory. Rafting through the Dunajec Gorge was a totally unforgettable experience.

Dunajec Gorge

Boatman in traditional costume

Heading downstream

I have shared some wonderful times with my Polish family, and written about them extensively, while trying not to give embarrassment. The series My Personal A-Z of Poland has many tales to tell. Dad died in October 2016 and I haven’t been back to Poland since. But I can still feel the call. Writing Easter cards took me back into each of their homes. New youngsters have been born since my last visit, but my elders are growing older and, in some cases, frail. I’m feeling the need to return, just once more, before starting my new life in the Algarve.

Dad with Uncle Wlodek, at home in Zgorzelec

I’m linking this to Cathy, on her series A Call to Place. The lady is a human dynamo, seeking to improve her travel writing and to entertain us along the way. Pay her a call. She’ll be so glad to see you.

Piotrków Trybunalski

I’d like to spend just a little more time with my Zawady family, before returning you to the big city sights of Kraków.

We sat out, on my last night, under the stars and beside a roaring bonfire. Myself and Jadzia, with husband Andrzej and sister, Ewa. I was quiet, letting the conversation flow around me, while Jadzia and Andrzej took turns to stoke the fire, the kiełbasa bursting and sizzling on the grill. My head was still full of the day’s excitement, with Meg in Łódź.

Broad smiles and hugs had greeted me when I pronounced the day ‘fantastyczny’ on my return. Ewa was quick to produce a bottle of something soothing to rub on my black eye, which was rapidly developing after the previous night’s misadventure. How is it possible to walk into a lighted porch lamp? I’ve no idea, but I knew that an early start was intended next day.

If you look closely you’ll see Andrzej, sitting on the hammock. For the past 50 years he has wanted a motor bike. Finally, as he approaches retirement, Jadzia is considering letting him buy one. And so we went to the Saturday morning market at Piotrków Trybunalski. The last place it would have occurred to me to go looking for a bike, but sure enough, bikes there were. And just about every other conceivable thing too. We stowed our purchases (but not a bike- they were all too old!) in the car, and drove into the town centre.

Seldom have I seen a sleepier Saturday morning than at Piotrków Trybunalski, yet the grandeur of the main square hints at its illustrious past. Medieval Piotrków was an important trading centre, and much later became the seat of the Sejm, the Polish Parliament. In between times it was home to the Polish prince’s tribunals or law courts, including the Royal Tribunal, the highest court in Poland. I knew little of this, as I strolled through the peaceful square.

Under Austrian occupation in World War 1, Piotrków became a centre for Polish patriotic activity and a headquarters of the voluntary troops, the Polish Legions. The town had a large Jewish population, and in October 1939 became the site of the first Jewish Ghetto of World War 11. Fierce fighting took place but the town was subsequently occupied by the Germans for 6 years. The Great Synagogue, listed as one of Poland’s most notable architectural buildings, was destroyed by the Nazis, but renovated after the war.

As we wandered, Jadzia pointed out the school she used to go to, catching the early bus from Zawady each morning. She was proud of the connection with Copernicus, and I was happy to be there with her.

It was time to return to Zawady, but first a very swish motor bike shop, and a stop to collect cake. Just one last coffee before we set off to meet Dad, for the journey south. And then the hugs, goodbye.

Paula has a new approach to Thursday’s Special this week. I think I might just squeeze this under the heading of Transience, don’t you? Family meetings and former glory.

Zbiornik Wawrzkowizna

Life is pretty busy for my Polish family, so when I was bundled into the car for a swift outing, between shifts of work, I didn’t know quite what to expect. Staying in rural Zawady, I seldom did. Language so often seemed to get the better of me.

With interest I gazed out of the window as we passed through our local town, Bełchatów, and soon after that turned down a path signed Zbiornik Wawrzkowizna. I know! Not the easiest place name you ever saw. Dad insists that Polish is simple. You just spell out each letter, slowly. Mystified, I followed, as we left the car in woodland parking. A complex of buildings sat off to one side, and a gate led to a small animal farm and stables.

My cousin, Jadwiga, smilingly explained that she sometimes comes here to ride, and pointed out her favourite horse. It was dimly lit in the stables, so I can’t show him to you. Soon though we were out in bright sunlight, beside a swiftly flowing canal and heading towards a vast expanse of water.

Nestled in amongst the trees were a series of tall, green Toblerone-shaped chalets, several of them occupied. A few youngsters lounged on the steps, idling the day away. It felt a little like ‘Center Parcs’ and I realised that it was, in fact, a sports and recreation centre. In Summer there would be an admission charge, but in low season it was free to wander, and we did.

It was wonderfully peaceful, with just the odd angler, casting a line. Fishing competitions are held here sometimes, and in high season there are kayaks and pedaloes for hire. A small child, well-wrapped up despite the warm temperatures, was digging in the sand on the man made beach. Her Dad hovered indulgently nearby. Looking out across the lake at a certain point it becomes impossible not to see what everyone takes for granted around here. Smoke rising from the chimneys of the power station that brought employment to this area. A blot on the landscape.

It’s rather sad, isn’t it? But no-one seems to mind. Jadzia had happy memories of distant summers, spent splashing around in those waters. And we had no time to linger. Her husband was off to work- at the power station, of course.

Jo’s Monday walk : Zawady

In total contrast to my last, extremely urban walk in the city of Łódź, I’m taking you out into the Polish countryside today. I’m going right back to where my Polish story began, in the village of Zawady, around 60kms south of the big city. It’s a different world! Dad was born in this village, more than 88 years ago.

As you can imagine, changes have taken place, but not too many. The original farmstead is still there, but much of the land has been divided up between the family. The photo above is the view I woke up to from my bedroom, on my first day back in the village. Early morning mist burnt off to a beautiful day, and it was time to feed the week old ducklings.

I had been staying in the suburbs of Kraków, so the difference was considerable. The daughter of a farmer, with memories of driving the tractor with her Dad, Zygmunt, when she was young, my cousin Jadwiga loves her garden. But growing vegetables and keeping hens has to come second to her day job, and more especially to her dearly loved grandchildren. They are seldom far away, as daughter Ania lives in a self build bungalow within the grounds. Meet Kinga and Nadia, with mum, Ania, and Babcia, Jadzia.

For those of you who might have wondered, ‘what is Poland like?’ let’s slide the gate open, and we’ll step outside and see. Poland is a big country and land is cheap. It’s not uncommon to see ‘land for sale’ signs in the woods that surround most villages.

The houses vary considerably, some still old farmhouses, others in a far more modern style. I peep over the fence at the pond which once belonged to Aunt Lusia. Now her daughter Graźyna and husband Marek have built a home there, among the cherry trees.

You don’t have to walk far before you’re at the end of the village, and the woods beyond. I retrace my steps, on the other side of the road this time, passing by cousin Marysia’s beautifully modern home, and a sign that cautions of the ‘good’ dog that bites!

A crossroads points to Ławy, 1.3kms away, and I am tempted to follow it out into open countryside. But first I need to complete the circuit, back to the main road through the village. These decorated crosses are found on many corners, scattered throughout Poland. Number 16F is Ania and Hubert’s house, and the garden design business she runs from home.

As the sun droops in the sky and the children play out on their bikes, I cast one more look at the cherries, and then head off down the lane.

Don’t worry! I do return, but I wanted to show you the ‘whole’ of Zawady. It’s not very big! I hope you enjoyed meeting the place, and my family.

I’ve decided to link this post to My personal A-Z of Poland, which has been sadly neglected in recent times. Much of what appears there is relevant and will provide good background, for anyone who’s interested. Time to put the kettle on now, for this week’s shares.

Many thanks to all of you who make Mondays a bit special for me. Your support and encouragement sees me through the week. If you have a walk to share and you haven’t joined me yet… well, what’s stopping you? Details are on my Jo’s Monday walk page. Just click on the logo above. You’ll be made more than welcome.

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Let’s start the ball rolling with Laura, in Costa Brava’s wild spaces this week :

A taste of salt and honey

Pauline treats us to a glimpse of an Eye, through floral abundance :

A Walk through sunny Southbank, Brisbane

Hop off your bike and take a walk in equally sunny California!

My weekly ramble- John Nicholas Trail

Yvette has her own unique and stylish way of doing things :

Jubilant Walk with Jo (Nature Day 1)

And you know that Drake does too! Welcome to Kayserberg :

Home sweet home

Geoff spent his April engrossed in a challenge. King’s Cross? Well, he might be!

X is for Crosses#atozchallenge

I don’t often think of hill climbing and Jude in the same sentence, but… she did it!

Conquering Godolphin Hill

Thanks a lot for your company, and for your friendship. I know that this was a very low key walk, but I wanted to share a little more than just a pair of boots. In the coming weeks I hope to give you a flavour of Poland, seen through my eyes. Take good care, and enjoy your walking!

I almost forgot my good friends over at Monday Escapes. Maybe something for the Bank Holiday weekend?

Six word Saturday

Thursday’s still Special on a Saturday

Last Saturday you accompanied me to a rather wonderful cake shop in Kraków. Just so you don’t think that I spent the entire two weeks eating cake, I think you should come with me on a little stroll to the park.

It’s a very busy household I was staying in. Work in the bakery starts in the early hours and often Łukasz leaves home before 5. Ula combines study with learning the trade, sometimes in the cake shop till 10 at night. Their father, Adam, is at the helm of the bakery and machine manufacturing business all day long. Which leaves wife Marta at home, feeding and nurturing, whilst oldest daughter Weronika looks after eleven month old Bartek. So what was I to do?

Find a bench in the Park and watch the world at play. All was peaceful when I first arrived, but soon excited voices broke into my reverie. A posse of pre-schoolers were being coraled in the playground. Peace was gone, but a smile lit my face.

Paula makes Thursday special every week, and you know that’s still true on a Saturday.

Hope you have a great weekend. Why not share your six words with Cate, and I’ll be back on Monday with a Polish walk for you.

Jo’s Monday walk : Meeting Meg

If ever you need a sweet-natured soul to have a stroll with- or better still, a hug or five and a hoot of laughter- I have a peerless recommendation for you. I’m a little hesitant in writing this post because I’m not sure that I can do the lady full justice. If you saw Meg’s post, ul Piotrkowska with Jo, you’ll know that she has already done my job for me. And that is very typical of Meg. Swift to offer the hand of friendship, she turned my day in the city of Łódź into something quite extraordinary.

First, let me give you a little background. The key to Meg’s being in Poland is her wnuki, her grandchildren.( pronounced f-nooki, it’s another of those tricky Polish words) How many people do you know who would leave their beloved home (think ‘good for the soul’ quiet beaches, and Australian flora and fauna, all photographed by Meg in exquisite detail) to take up residence in Poland’s capital city, Warsaw, for a year? To be near those children. Speaking almost no Polish, and reduced, like myself, to a perplexed frown as conversations roll past her, Meg then agrees to meet with an English lady in an unknown city. To make it easier for that lady, she books 3 nights in the city, alone, almost immediately after a family trip to the Polish lakes.

And now for my part. I know all too well the frustrations of a lack of ability to communicate. Occasionally I have thought that ‘signing’ would be a better method than trying to speak the Polish language. I get by well on hugs and smiles within the family but that doesn’t go down so well with strangers. Understandably the family are not keen to let this nodding, smiling person go wandering in a big city, where few of them are keen to venture themselves. How can they know that it is in my nature to wander? That I thrive on it. I have even done a little research and know how to get to Łódź. And beyond that, I will have Meg!

It is with reluctance but great patience that Andrzej accompanies me to the bus stop, and we wait and wait. When I am almost convinced that it will not arrive, despite his phone call to the bus company and being told ‘Będzie’- ‘it will come’, a small white minibus hoves into view. Can you imagine the bubble of excitement inside me as the lush green of Springtime Poland slides past my window?

Enough! The audience awaits. I step off the bus almost into her arms and we make it to a corner cafe for much needed kawa (coffee, of course). And there I discover just how delightful a companion I am to have for my day of freedom. The cafe is situated on a corner of Poland’s longest street, Ulica Piotrkowska. With unfailing lack of sense of direction I point to the ‘top end’ of the street and suggest that we head that way. Meg smiles, and points the other way. Armed with a map from the TI and directions on how to find the bus stop from which I must later leave the city, cameras in hand and huge grins on our faces, we begin to walk.

As Meg has pointed out in her beautiful post, the architecture in Łódź is ravishing. There really is something for everyone, whether you favor shabby or chique. My tendency is always to beauty and elegance, but I can sometimes be won over by the forlorn and unloved. We are each other’s eyes, and at times it’s hard to concentrate, as smiles and snippets of conversation bob back and forth. I have never taken photographs in tandem like this, and it is a remarkable experience. Sometimes I pause to see what Meg has focused on, and later I realise that she was doing the same with me. How very wonderful to find someone who understands the joy of just being there.

Part of the reassurance I tried to give my Polish family was that I would not be straying far from Ulica Piotrkowska, and there truly was little need to. Our first landmark is Plac Wolnosci, where I dance in delight at the passing trams. Meg finds this funny. There is every kind of transport along this street, but trams always bring a smile to my lips.

Looking up, past a rusty old gate, cavorting weasels (or maybe rats?) catch my eye, but I have my sights on Palac Poznanskiego, Museum of the History of Łódź. Time is precious and the weather superb so, having found our target, we agree to bypass it in favour of a leafy green space. Meg takes huge pleasure in the soft shadows and gently waving trees. My best efforts for Jude are rather pathetic, and I start to giggle.

We are at the very top of Piotrkowska, and turn to head back. On a corner of Plac Wolnosci, the church of Zesłania Ducha Świętego is bathed in bright sunlight. The door is ajar, and we enter quietly. There are only a couple of people knelt in silent worship and I manage a few shots, trying hard not to be intrusive. ‘Are you any good at mosaics?’ asks Meg. I shrug and try.

Time to decide where to eat. There are plenty of choices and we are agreed that an outdoor table will do nicely. Ordering from the board outside our restaurant, I manage to confuse the waitress. Or does she confuse me? Soup, and then nalesniki (pancakes) with spinach, appear in rapid succession. I decide to ask again for some wine, and am greatly relieved when it arrives.

Many confidences were exchanged before we continued along this engaging street. Rubinstein with his piano vied for our attention with local born poet, Julian Tuwim. Whimsy there was aplenty, and some quite enchanting sculptures of children.

Nifty little archways and passages lead off Piotrkowska, some of them quite irresistible. Most lead to restaurants and quiet courtyards, but the art gallery and cafe Surindustrialle was one of our best finds. Metal art from industrial waste. Take a look at the website and you’ll see what I mean.

I have so many more photos that I could show you, but perhaps you are getting weary. Meg showcases many of them brilliantly so, if you haven’t already paid a visit, I hope that you will do so. One good thing about this walk- it’s almost impossible to get lost. But reaching the end of Ulica Piotrkowska is another matter altogether. I don’t know if we got even halfway along its 4.9km.

All too soon it was time to look for the bus stop that would take me back to the family. A landmark for Meg in finding her way around the city, the main tram station was chiefly a source of happiness for me. I had glimpsed it, with curiosity, from my bus window on the way into Łódź. Just look!

A block further south and our grand street was starting to look a little more humble. A colossal renovation project, it’s hard to know when it will be finished. But our time together was almost at an end. The bus stop was found too quickly and we looked for somewhere to conclude our meeting. Not a cafe in sight, we subsided onto the bench and continued to talk. There was so much to ask… so much to say! But 45 minutes later the bus revved its engine and I reluctantly got on board. One last hug and a wave and Meg was gone. I was both exhilarated and bereft!

I realise that this walk is of a far more personal nature than usual, but I wanted it to be a tribute to a very special lady. I do hope you enjoyed your walk with ‘us’, and I very much hope that she and I will meet again someday.

Should you be tempted by what you’ve seen, you will find the Tourist Information website in Łódź a valuable source of information.

Thank you for your patience everybody. Often I visited your blogs whilst sitting on the sofa, as Dad and my cousins watched TV, but my Smartphone has its limits (or the truthful version- I do!) ‘Normal service’ should be resumed now. Welcome to my walks! Join in if you like. The details are on my Jo’s Monday walk page. Just click on the logo above. Time for a cuppa, isn’t it?

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It always tickles me how many of our place names are the same- Monteith St. for example. Thanks, Anabel!

Toronto: an urban walk

There’s no getting away from it- Susan is a lady after my own heart :

Just for the shell of it

Classical Glass

Yvette always supplies interesting people to compliment her doors (and walks) :

Thursday Doors (walk-ing)

I’m inclined to forget that Becky has an English blog. Come along with me and learn all about ‘navigations’ :

A lovely English stroll for a Monday

I have done this walk to the Algarve’s Fonte da Mesquita but, unlike Becky, I didn’t see the orchids. Sad face! :

A happy case of ‘orchidelirium’ on our walk to the spring!