to Warsaw

First of all, I must tell you that there is no direct flight from Bergen to Warsaw. You have to fly via Amsterdam or Copenhagen or Oslo or Paris and maybe some other destinations as well, just not "nonstop." This means that the day will be devoted mainly to getting to Warsaw.

Second of all, it is still raining and cold outside. My body is pumped up for warmth, because I left a very warm Wisconsin. It hasn't yet adjusted to the cold here, which is fine, because Warsaw is about to have a heat wave. As is my last destination of this trip and surely as is the farmette upon my return. It a little reminds me of my stopover in Iceland, heading home in June. From warm to cold to warm again. Older people don't like such weather fluctuations. I will confirm that statement!

Finally, I am finding that older people are not so quick to adjust to time changes. It's as if our circadian rhythm is so set in stone, that big shifts lead us to get confused about bedtime, wake-up time, eating time. I have argued with my physical self that it really must give in to sleep before 3 a.m. It has responding with a "ha ha you can't make me."

Last night, I thought I'd have some time to maybe even do the penultimate tourist thing here -- go up the mountain in the funicular train. For the views. But I was up late and dawdled my way through the morning, eating breakfast downstairs to the music of Grieg played on the piano next to me...

Put simply -- I ran out of time. Besides, I wasn't dressed for it. Switching to clothes for the Polish heatwave makes me vulnerable to Bergen's cold winds. 

It was, therefore, a long and leisurely breakfast. Maybe that is a better use of time anyway.

I think about Norway all morning long. My visit here wasn't long and it's only the second time I've been in this country, and yet some things are glaringly obvious. I'd just read in the Economist ( here), that if you consider the three principle markers of wealth (GDP per person, adjusted for price differences, and hours worked), Norway comes out at the very top, for the second year in a row. Its wealth is in part attributable to its natural resources (oil, gas) and yet, here's a fun fact: its oil supplies do not place it in the category of countries who shun renewable energy. (I think that club is increasingly smaller; we may be the sole member by the end of the decade.) Nor do they rely on gas guzzling automobiles. I learned (by experience and asking about it) that all of Norway's taxis are EVs. Such technology! I took three cabs in the course of my stay and they all had screens that showed every human and automobile within the perimeter of the car. Their navigation tools may be common in the US as well, but I've not seen them -- not in taxis, not in Uber rides. I was surprised, too, to see the number of tunnels we went through in all my connecting drives. At first I thought it was because of mountains, but then I saw on the taxi's screen that we went under lakes, housing developments, forests -- you name it. No wonder the presence of cars isn't as obvious and audible here. So many of them are hidden from view.

For all their wealth and life's satisfactions, it is also true that Norwegians are reserved. I had to chuckle at the book I saw at the airport:

They are indeed straight-faced and they don't appear to seek out conversations with strangers, my body scrubber notwithstanding. And yet, when I see them gather with family and friends, the warmth is strong and genuine and laughter abounds. Here's just one of so many examples -- today, at breakfast, a multi generational family (the child has to stand on tiptoes as he reaches for tall grandpa's hand):

Meanwhile, also during breakfast, I'm reading an article on the NYTimes (gifted for you; note it is an opinion piece) on how the current administration's great desire to "own the libs" is putting us even further away from real prosperity for all. If the Economist reports us to be in seventh place in terms of wealth, I'd say that may come as a surprise, but it will be no surprise if we keep falling each year.

 

By 11:30, I am leaving the hotel, lovely that it is...

 (I could spend a lot of time in this lobby listening to the live piano music...)

 

 

(... or downstairs in the exhibition hall, reading all about Grieg...)

 

 

Outside, the air is very blustery, but the rains have paused.

 

 

 

Time to catch my flight to Copenhagen. One hour and five in the air. Then another flight, equally short. I arrive in Warsaw just before 6 p.m.

Warsaw, and Poland in general, are becoming more and more complicated for me. So much of my past is in this city, in this country. But I'm not programmed or self-trained or motivated to look back. I did it for my book, Like a Swallow and once that was published, I closed that lid for good. I understand that some people like to review their young lives once they get old. I am not one of them. If it weren't for one small detail, I'd probably not be running back to Poland with the regularity that has been my trademark for the past ten or twenty years. It's a small detail, but it's absolutely a game-changer: my sister, nephew, and very close friend all live in Warsaw. To skip my annual trip to my homeland would be to give up on seeing them (they will never come to America -- there is zero chance of them traveling to where I live). So for now, I go back, but every time I plan this trip, I feel the anxiety of plunging into that world again. Perhaps that adds to the rebellion against adjusting to a new circadian rhythm?

And yet...

I feel I do Warsaw a disservice. I cannot be objective and claim with certainty that it is a great place to come to, because I know it too well to regard it from the perspective of an outsider. Intimately well. But I also know that without doubt, Warsaw is fascinating. A real blend of history before your eyes. It was as grand in the eyes of the world as Vienna and Paris, before the wars tore it apart. Once cosmopolitan -- indeed, before World War II, every third resident was Jewish and according to most accounts, it had the second largest community of Jewish people in the world (after New York). Now? Well, the Ukrainian war brought Ukrainians here, but otherwise, I still think of Warsaw as ethnically and religiously undifferentiated. Still, it's got regional pride! And it's a green city, with beautiful parks. It has a dynamic food scene. My most recent hotels have been extraordinary. Objectively lovely. And yet, I'm not pressed to return frequently. Maybe I just know it too well. (But then, why keep going to Paris?) Quite likely it's that I have an ever present desire to move forward. Keep my past at the margins. Stay focused on the years before me.

 This time I am in Warsaw and in Poland for five days. Think that's short? There aren't many cities in this world (perhaps none, aside from Paris) where I would spend so many days. This year I'm trying out a brand new hotel, close to the Old Town. Ironically enough it is run by a Norwegian company -- the Puro Old Town. I booked before they even finished building the place and so I had my choice of rooms. I picked one (perhaps the only one?) with a balcony. 

I cab over to the hotel. It's a relatively short distance -- a 25 minute trip on the weekend. 

And immediately I fall in love with this Puro! It's just as described, only better. The minimalism, the freshness, the Scandinavian simplicity -- all there. And the view! Straight onto the Grand Theater and Opera House of Warsaw, which is indeed grand -- built in the early 19th century (like so many historically significant buildings, it was destroyed during World War II and meticulously rebuilt, and reopened in 1965), and larger than any theater I've come across elsewhere.

 

(only a fragment appears in the photo, taken from my balcony)

 

 (my room -- spacious and serene. the flowers? provided by my friend!)

 

Ah, my friend! She comes right away to my hotel. Bee, my awesome loyal forever friend, whom I have known for 45 years -- and our friendship only grows: an unstoppable train, moving at great speed forward, maybe because we are of the same age and we know that time is precious.

Somehow I thought I'd find food at the airports or in flight today. I would have, had I gone the longer way (through Amsterdam or Paris). But I chose the shorter connections and I arrive without lunch or dinner (but after a big breakfast!). Thus the first thing to do, after checking out my room is to find some food for me. (Not many Poles would put off eating a big meal until the evening and so Bee is across the table from me just for company.) Beets, pears and endive...

 

 

 

And delicious Polish "dumplings," with chanterelles and fava beans. 

 

 

And we share a cheesecake. Such a common dessert here. So out of favor back home. 

We talk some and of course we will do this again and again in the days ahead. I do have to keep it not too long tonight. I'm going to work on my internal clock again. Time to get serious about getting some sleep.

with love...