Thursday, June 16, 2005
A tale of two cities, birds and houses
As if I haven’t written enough about my feelings toward Warsaw and Krakow, I yet again encountered the phenomenon of deep Warsaw derision and so here I am, returning to what would appear to be a beaten horse: why bother going to Warsaw, when you've got Krakow just three hours away?
Most conversations of this sort run like this. Incredibly dense person: Warsaw doesn’t tempt me at all. Me: have you ever been there? Incredibly dense person: No, and I wont go there because it sucks.
After this kind of provocative (if not especially evocative) statement, I am then typically offered a fistful of irrelevant reasons for the opinion, ranging from: Prague is cooler, to Krakow is prettier – all statements about places other than Warsaw herself.
I suppose, at this point, my desire to engage in the debate of whether one can see Krakow and let that be the end of one’s sojourn in Poland has been sucked out of me and so now I mostly just say profound things like “oh really” and “is that so.”
For me it’s like these two birds that I brought home this time (see photo below). I have all sorts of beautiful birds on my window sill in my office and these guys will soon join them in some manner of pomp and ceremony. One is called Warsaw and the other Krakow (for the dumb reason that each came from their named city). Note that Krakow is the looker. But when I stand them side by side, I'm remembering something else. The little one charmed me on a rainy day where you had to look beyond the clouds to find anything to smile about. The dazzling rooster – I got him under brilliant sunny skies, but it was a blah moment. I walked in, saw the very real prettiness of Mr. Krakow and whammo, the bird was mine.
Is it possible for the less splendid to take on a glamour of its own? For a smaller, lesser house, for example, to rise above the big and beautiful counterpart? Sure. Getting beyond the door helps. Listening to its story adds value. A city square, a bird, a house – they are nothing but visual props, right? They jog the memory, they create a context and help us think about what’s inside, that’s all.
Most conversations of this sort run like this. Incredibly dense person: Warsaw doesn’t tempt me at all. Me: have you ever been there? Incredibly dense person: No, and I wont go there because it sucks.
After this kind of provocative (if not especially evocative) statement, I am then typically offered a fistful of irrelevant reasons for the opinion, ranging from: Prague is cooler, to Krakow is prettier – all statements about places other than Warsaw herself.
I suppose, at this point, my desire to engage in the debate of whether one can see Krakow and let that be the end of one’s sojourn in Poland has been sucked out of me and so now I mostly just say profound things like “oh really” and “is that so.”
For me it’s like these two birds that I brought home this time (see photo below). I have all sorts of beautiful birds on my window sill in my office and these guys will soon join them in some manner of pomp and ceremony. One is called Warsaw and the other Krakow (for the dumb reason that each came from their named city). Note that Krakow is the looker. But when I stand them side by side, I'm remembering something else. The little one charmed me on a rainy day where you had to look beyond the clouds to find anything to smile about. The dazzling rooster – I got him under brilliant sunny skies, but it was a blah moment. I walked in, saw the very real prettiness of Mr. Krakow and whammo, the bird was mine.
Is it possible for the less splendid to take on a glamour of its own? For a smaller, lesser house, for example, to rise above the big and beautiful counterpart? Sure. Getting beyond the door helps. Listening to its story adds value. A city square, a bird, a house – they are nothing but visual props, right? They jog the memory, they create a context and help us think about what’s inside, that’s all.
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