Here comes my Polish thing again...

Today is a day of note in Poland. On June 1st, the country celebrates children. Oh, they say it's become too commercialized. I don't even know what that means, given that kids in general like to celebrate with things, prefereably acquired, preferably by them, preferably in huge amounts.

I understand that indulging greed is not the way to go to raise happy healthy people and I know it has not always been all about bribing a kid to be good by offering up a storm of gifts on this one June day. When I was a kid, I thought that all those ice cream cones freely handed out to kids on June first had more to do with a Lenin mentality (we learned young): you know, him saying "give me one generation of youth and I will transform the entire world" or words to that effect. I thought by dousing us with sugared treats, the country was saying -- hey, we want YOU to return the favor one day. [I wasn't really as cynical as that sounds. I just believed that Lenin was everywhere, much like some people believe that a divine spirit is everywhere.]

I'm straying here. I actually just want to say "happy children's day" and to throw out a few photos of Polish children, taken quickly, randomly as I jumped and skipped from one place to another in the last several weeks.

wanting to get to his juice, in Lazienki Park, Warsaw 

before the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, in Warsaw; "fix your hair for the photo!" the teacher shouted -- and they listened. 

secrets 

in a mountain village, near Zakopane 

summer reading

I am well aware of the fact that Ocean has once again crossed over into light and airy land. Consider this: I was in Paris on the day of the French EU Constitution vote. I could have staked out polling places, interviewed people on the street, written a brief summary of why the left and the right fought hard to say Non! to the hefty tome that showed up in everyone’s mailbox just before the vote.

I did not of that. I wrote about parts of lobster swimming in some undefined yet lovely sauce.

Similarly, today, as I sat for hours at the dentist’s and listened to his analysis of the revelation made by Deep Throat (there is something quaint about your dentist talking about deep throat while poking inside your mouth), I thought – why didn’t I take on this interesting piece of political gossip on the blog? Why, instead, do I want to let the world know that my dentist eats cheerios for breakfast and cannot resist two cookies after every dinner?

It’s when my days become more serious that the blog becomes less so. And these days are all about serious. I predict a summer of light Ocean reading. For more serious blogs, check out just about any on the sidebar. They’ll deliver, even as I ponder about what would happen if I actually stopped reading the newspaper entirely and based my entire worldview on what the dentist tells me during my occasional visits to his office. He voted for Kerry, after all. I could do worse.

Last in the trilogy of bold and daring moves

After the tattooing and waxing – what is left? Cutting off the hair of course. My hair guy Jason and I reached an agreement. To taunt and play havoc with this rather awful last day of May I let him have a field day with the scissors.

The buck stops here. I’m NOT into body piercing.

…life was such an easy game to play

Yesterday, my breakfast was at this favorite spot. The blackboard sign says that full meals are served there as well. I remember having eaten a yummy salad of French green beans there not too long ago. But the morning croissants are equally exquisite. Sitting, sipping, watching people (it’s mostly men in the early morning hours) come in and exchange a few words – the world seemed a hospitable place.

the best moment of the entire day 

a good beginning to a day 

Today, my breakfast looked like this, and it was on a counter littered with unpaid bills and misc. papers. There were no cool men or women to watch or listen to.

healthy and terribly boring 

If returns are always unpleasant, let me tell you that mine ranks up there in the unpleasant domain. It may get a prize. At least third place finish in terms of yukyness. Not to complain, but:

1. I missed the bus from Chicago to Madison by minutes and was therefore forced to wait for hours until the next one.
2. I nursed my sorrows at the Hilton bar.
3. My suitcases and bags were heavy, but they had to be lugged (in Madison) over to the parking lot at the Business School, where my car was parked.
4. The Business School was locked up for the holiday and so I had to walk, suitcases and all, down the serpentine driveway, all the way down down down to the car.
5. The car would not start. Dead. Completely.
6. The wonderful custodial staff offered to jump start it for me.
7. It did not work. The car is more than dead. It is negative dead.
8. The wonderful custodial staff offered to give me a ride home.
9. I wanted to log on last night, but I had lost my link card in one of those frantic searches for computer hook up in Europe.
10. So instead I used the phone to conduct unpleasant business.
11. There was no pleasant offset.
12. I fell asleep sometime when I think in Europe people were already on their lunch hour.

As a post script, I have to say the following:
1. The day is sunny. Things look saner under a bright blue sky.
2. I found an extra link card at home for my computer and so I am back on line.
3. Being on line allowed me to discover some pretty special notes from people who had been tracking my travels. Given the above twelve points, I’d say they could not have come at a better time. So thank you. I promise to make this needy stretch as short as possible.
4. The irises are blooming in the back yard. I may hereafter forever hate irises, but they are blooming, and they are pretty.

this morning 

(From Paris): A tale of a meal

When you need to wrap it all up and stuff it inside, when you cannot walk another mile or look into the window of another shop, when the rain starts its Parisian thing again – I say head for a good meal.

I don’t think about where to eat in Paris. If I am here only for a day or two, I check the menu of an old standby and if it looks good (as it always does) then I go there. This isn’t the time to step outside the box – it’s a time to snuggle into a familiar setting and enjoy the parade of pleasurable sights and tastes.

So, I’m ending my Europe posts with a parade of pleasurable sights and tastes of my last evening on this side of the ocean.

Early in the evening, I considered grabbing a snack. Street food tempts.

baguette avec jambon 

Instead, I settled for a Victor Hugo aperitif, if only for the funky color, along with some serious people watching.

Victor Hugo: champagne, pear and creme de curacao 

Much later, when the skies turned dark from both the evening light and the puffed up rain clouds, I go over to the place where Madame was holding a table for me. I’d been there just two weeks ago, but today the menu offered a three week special: a love affair with the lobster. Irresistible.

Next to me, two women were doing a perfect rendition of multi-tasking: savoring the food, the wine, speaking in animated tones and puffing away at their cigarettes. I do not want to exalt smoking of course, but I so completely associate restaurants with smoking in France that I will feel a layer of sensations will be erased the day the last stub is crushed into an ash tray and France becomes smoke free.

at the table next to me...