Again the day is split in half. And again finding time to write is not easy. Stay with me while I figure out where and when to squeeze in a few words. (Keeping up with Ocean has always been like that: the more words and images I have in me for the day, the less time there is to create a post.) The first half of the day belongs to my sister as we walk the streets of this city, the second half belongs to my friends -- our first big meetup as a group.
But let's start with breakfast. Another irony here: the bigger the hotel, the buffet, the selection, the less happy I am. A small but good selection is always better to me -- small wardrobe, small book collection, small number of choices at breakfast. Here, I look around at the various tables loaded with foods that I dont want and finally pick up a mini croissant. It's okay. The nice thing is that it's a warm enough morning to eat outside in their little courtyard.
My sister joins me after breakfast. She brings with her small photo albums from the past. I'm good at remembering who is who and what's what, but she is better. It's so obvious how much I've left this world behind me. And I do want to reclaim some of it. But not a lot. I pick one small album to take back with me. That's all.
She and I go for a lovely walk then, all the way to the riverfront. It's drizzling lightly, but that hardly matters. (I suppose it influences the number and quality of photos I take.)
(the mermaid, with her sword and shield, is Warsaw's greatly beloved symbol)
Much of the investment in the aesthetics of Warsaw has been along the riverfront in the last decade and it shows. For example, the city's pride is the new pedestrian bridge over the river. To Praga.
We come to it, cross it, admire the views -- old Warsaw, new Warsaw...
... and then back to the right bank. Up the hill to the Old Town.
Without bothering to do the traditional walk through the Market Square, we give a mere glance to the familiar blocks.
My high school best friend lived here. How well I remember those earnest talks in her locked bedroom late into the night, as we tried to make sense of life, me, at age fourteen (my school friends were all two years older than me). Did we think we had it figured out, or were there always more questions than answers?
My sister returns to her place, I walk back along Nowy Swiat, pausing at yet another bakery, waffling, waffling what to have with my afternoon cup of milky coffee, smiling a little at the fact that these days you can get a latte at a bakery. A latte!
At the hotel, I change into my party frame of mind. I catch a few breaths, then set out for Bee's house. We'll be going to the group party together.
The Group party. Now there's a chapter in its own right! What I affectionately call The Group (without intending to be exclusive) is actually a pack of ten (me included) that dates back to our university years, but really even earlier. At the core are three guys who were best pals in high school. Not my high school. I didn't know them then. One of them, Bee's husband, went on to study econometrics at the university, as did I. We became friends and I joined his pack. As did another econometrics couple. The guys got married, there were some divorces, too, and remarriages, some movement crossing borders, but now things have settled. Everyone is once again in Warsaw (except for me!). Everyone is on good terms. We welcomed the new spouses and the old (indeed, Bee is my best friend from the whole Polish pack). When we don't argue about politics among ourselves, we feel very happy together.
It is no surprise that my return to Warsaw would create an excuse for a gathering and we will have several such gatherings while I am here. Tonight, one of the original guys is hosting it in his new house just outside the city limits.
(the original three, and yes, I picked up the t-shirts in Madison!)
It's a beautiful and large place and it offers fantastic outdoor opportunities for wining and dining.
(dinners require at least one story toast...)
Oh, but it's grand to be together. We're all in our early seventies, we've lived through a lot in our lives. (Some more than others.) It's easy to get silly, it's easy to turn serious.
(someone grabbed my camera)
(the food was copious and absolutely delicious! Soups, salads, meats, more salads.. I'll leave you with just one photo of the just baked plum dessert...)
I had the nutty idea that we should play 13 Questions (that's how many we came up with before the gathering). I saw it as a way to give us a chance to reflect a little on where we have been and where we are heading. I saw it, too, as one way to give everyone a chance to participate equally in this kind of conversation. In Poland, social dynamics from my generation are such that there are the talkers, the story tellers (inevitably male) and there are the listeners (you guessed it). Sure, you can break in aggressively and seize the floor, but most often you dont. I wondered if forcing this sort of taking turns would have us all listening to each other more closely.
How did it go? Well, not necessarily as expected, but not too bad! I recommend it for your group parties. Unless you're content to sit back and observe and let the talkers take the floor!
A joyous evening indeed, lasting well into the night.
I smile at how much we've all changed. (Ha! Fifty years ago I would not have regarded anything that ended by midnight as "well into the night!") And yet, here we are, all ten of us, bound by threads of a shared past, feeling our way forward, perhaps with more patience, more gentility, and of course, with love...
