their numbers swelled because of the holiday this week-end

Two professors, arguing about a battle that took place on Polish soil some 500 years ago. 

finding a quiet spot on the Square at dusk can be hard 

We had some combination of these with every meal: carrots, white cabbage, red cabbage, cucumbers, a pickle. Note the gingerbread cookie at the side. 

trout with garlic butter; they did not skimp on the garlic butter. 

forest mushrooms with cream and onions 

(From Krakow): Nina, a.d.

Sometimes an event or an epiphanous thought will change your life. You’ll say: I was this way until Y happened and then I changed.

That’s what I am thinking on this bright May morning as I’m passing hour upon hour, sitting on the Main Square of Krakow, not doing much of anything.

No event or epiphanous thought has crossed my path, and yet – I know something: a change has occurred.

And so take heed good friends and readers: the author of Ocean is entering a new era. It’s as if my counting backwards has come to a 0 and a count forward begins. In this case, with no apologies. It’s just the way it is.

So, let me just note here the one change that will be evident on this blog:
There will be days when instead of text, you will see the following post here: “today, Ocean is taking a nap.” I do believe in writing every day, but sometimes that is all the posting I feel I can offer. I’ve posted daily for just about a year and a half now, and if I am to continue blogging, I have to take occasional days off.

Other changes? What’s life without mystery! Wait and see.

morning hours 

(From Krakow): so ends my first ever trip back home with friends from across the ocean

I’m not leaving Poland just yet. Tomorrow I head for the mountains. My father is not well and he is staying there at least until the end of the month. It is the only way I can see him while I am in this country.

But Oscar and B are leaving for Germany tomorrow and with their departure, my time with Madisonians in Poland comes to end.

It has been a transformative experience for me to be with all these guys here, that’s for sure. It would be almost too personal for me to write at length about it, but I do want to note here my most general thoughts about these days of black currant juice and lilies of the valley:

- a revelation for me: yes, yes, an outsider can appreciate what an insider may be feeling. And, they can understand and have a greater tolerance than you for malfunctions and indelicacies, and they can take a greater delight and show a finer appreciation than you for the intricate fabric of your homeland.

- Poland is not for the fainthearted. The often violent and sometimes tender past are part of every cobblestone. But Poland is discoverable. I didn’t think it could be done well, and yet, all four travelers faced her squarely and with compassion.

- The language is not impossible. It’s not it’s not, it’s not! Right Oscar?

- You can eat a whole poppyseed cake and walk away with clean teeth.

- A café latte here can be superb: better than at any number of places in Madison. And it often comes with a view.

a latte, a cheese bun, and my notebook 

(From Krakow): sweet and savvy

Is it really the case that Oscar and B gave up seeing Prague altogether for an extra day in Krakow?

Is it really the case that I was treated to the best red barszcz ever?

Is it really the case that these delicately knit (by a Polish artist) earrings are now mine?

Thanks, Oscar and B. You really know how to make this Pole feel good.

I need this recipe. No other will do. 

delicate work 

(From Krakow): when the heat wave turns into a cold spell

... you use every opportunity to hide in one of the numerous coffee shops and indulge your palate.

a Krakovian cheesecake: with white raisins, orange peel and chocolate 

(From Krakow): a classic

If I were to be asked to summarily present in one photo the "inner psyche" of a young (urban) Pole, I would do so by posting something close to this:

a café moment
 

(From Krakow): in need of a fix

What do these three have in common?

wild 

wilder 

wildest 

...you could say that they're all having a bad hair day.

Seriously, hair color ideas have taken some extreme directions around town. The blue is rarer than the carrot top, but still... And certainly the carrot top is oranger than orange.

My man Jason would make a fortune by restoring sanity to the world of hair color. If ever there was a need, I see it here, right now, immediately. Please!

(From Krakow): outing Oscar

It turns out that Oscar (who is, along with B, in Krakow right now) has an addiction. Or at least a very ingrained habit. And I share it. A dinner cannot end without a nibble on something sweet, preferably chocolate. Try adding black currants to it. Mmmmm...

But what started as an innocent candy bar carried into the room late at night, now has developed into a virtual industry, feeding his admitted craving as well as mine. Last night I was amused (astonished?) to see the size of his supplies as he brought out the stuff. Not only was there choice, but there were multiple bars, just in case some beggar (me) dug in too deeply into a certain favorite.

I'm grateful. It's always nice to have partners in crime. Ones that get to the candy stores before they close.

midnight madness 

(From Krakow): Who are they and what are they doing?

My God, isn’t it obvious? They are Krakowiaks and Krakowiankas and they are living the life of the city:

[BTW, I asked Oscar and B their impressions, now that they have spent some time in both Krakow and Warsaw, and I have to say they won my heart when they said: Krakow is precious. Warsaw is a city. Krakow was allowed to be old. Warsaw was allowed to be new. Krakow is small. Warsaw is cosmopolitan. You cannot see one without the other. You have to experience both. I am paraphrasing, but I think I got the tenor of it right. Oscar is trying desperately to blog and inhale the city all in the course of a day with the limited hours available to us. I know what that’s like. Do check out his blog. It’s a marvel, especially, but not only, given how difficult it is for all of us to hook up -- in the most innocent of ways!]

they're catching a reading of poems by Bronislaw Maj at a local coffee shop (he's up there with Szymborska and Milosz - Krakow's literary heritage) 

now why didn't I try that when I was her age? 

feeding those dumb birds 

(From Krakow): if you have been to Krakow, you’ll know the answer to this:

They are everywhere. At every corner, every street. You cannot walk more than a block or two without running into them. Ubiquitous. Rain or shine. You can count on their presence.

What are they?

Answer: actually, as far as I’m concerned, there are two answers: nuns and Krakowskie obwazanki [i.e. Krakow bagels (to me, they look more like pretzels, and they're often with poppy-seeds), sold from a stand]. The penultimate? When you see a nun eating an obwazanek. Krakow, through and through.

daily fare 

(From Krakow): a second glance

I asked my friend Basia yesterday – “if your family, your friends, your work could be placed anywhere, would you have preferred to be located in Krakow?” [translate into American: would you choose Krakow over Warsaw to live in?]

She cannot answer. It’s a nonquestion for her. She tells me what I already know. She says “I was born in Warsaw, so that is my home, my city. I don’t know how it would be to be from elsewhere.”

I think you cannot understand this feeling of belonging unless you live in a place like this, where you would no more switch towns than families.

Driving back from the country yesterday, my friends took shortcuts through remote neighborhoods. As markers of where to go, they used homes of relatives. “And now you should turn into this street, as if you were going to Aunt Eva’s house.”

This morning I’m coming back to Krakow, with the confusion of just having been there under different circumstances. People, sights, sounds, walks, foods, everything swimming in one big caldron of events. But of this I am certain: I approach the city as a tourist. My Polishness gives me a jump-start, but I know Krakow not from its core – merely its tourist shell.

A lovely shell it is though. And its magic, so palpable just days ago as I walked its evenly spaced blocks, is still there, now with an added layer of memories, ingrained permanently, much like a tattoo would be, for those audacious enough to succumb to it all.

Palace of Culture: towering over Warsaw 

St. Mary's: towering over Krakow 

(From Warsaw): dejeuner sur l’herbe

It’s kind of unfair to use French in my title for this day. I am in Poland after all. I have no great desire to be in France right now. In fact, I have no great desire to be in France at all in this period of time. But I have always had this image that in France, in the summer especially, family and friends congregate outside on Sundays and linger over a dinner that lasts somewhere to the tune of ten hours.

I have no reason to believe that this is solely a French thing, but you can’t fight images readily and besides, French painters have appropriated this title for monumentally significant canvases and so I feel okay stepping on French toes and appropriating it for my own Polish Sunday in the country.

While Oscar and B made their way to Krakow for an early glimpse of the city, I spent the day with old friends in their country home outside Warsaw.

It was another one of those brightest of bright days. The sun shone, the flies buzzed and Basia, Tomek and their daughter Ania served food while Marcin, Wanda and I ate. And ate. And ate. In the midst of this we took a stroll, in much the same way I imagine turn-of-the-century French men and women took walks through fields, with the men throwing jackets over damp spots so that women would not muddy their footware.

Marcin and Tomek did not throw jackets, but nonetheless they were gallant and kind and the whole day reminded me again that I do well with friends when I see them. Distance makes me distrustful and edgy. Proximity creates the warmth and comfort that allow me to close my eyes and exhale.

Ania, in a sea of green 

chlodnik: young beets, cucumber, dill, chives and yogurt over a hard boiled egg 

sharing the path