(From Zakopane): notes and comments

(on Thursday)

Zakopane. It’s like Aspen, Colorado. These days, no true mountain nut would choose it as a place to go to in order to get a whiff of mountain air. But for us older types who were raised to love its magic way back in the fifties and sixties (to say nothing of those who knew it even earlier), this place resonates with a nostalgic beauty. It is a mountain resort perfectly positioned at the foot of the High Tatras – the Alps of Eastern Europe.

I came on a slow moving train. It took four hours to make the 120 kilometer run from Krakow. I needed those four hours. Some people process days and events quickly, off-handedly. I need deliberate processing time. I got it on this local little chugging train. [That night, for the first time in months, I slept without guilt.]

Remember: the sky is brilliant, the air is warm. That backdrop adds to the surreal quality of these days.

I had time for a hike into the mountains before supper. Up high, there is a tea hut in a valley just at the base of one of the peaks and even though it was late (I was to meet my dad for supper that evening) I took a cup of tea, a smoked chunk of sheep cheese and a wedge of home made honey cake to a spot in the rapidly receding sun and had perhaps the most peaceful, nourishing snack ever.

The hike back to Zakopane was remarkable. No, really, I amazed myself. [A hefty amount of bragging is about to ensue.] In stretches where this was at all possible, I ran down the rocky path, jumping over protruding stones much like I imagine a mountain goat would do were she escaping some demons. I thought for the rest of the evening: hey, I am as strong as I have ever been in my life.

Mountains allow you to think in grandiose ways.