Busting Sterotypes

Poland has been one of our better suprises. (Frequent Italian train strikes were a bad surprise, as were Austrian toilets, Swiss fondue, and German coffee.) Our experience here has included wonderful people, hearty food, and CHEAP prices.

Our first host was with the Servas organization and he didn't kill us. When Valdi, the enormous Polish body builder, opened his apartment door, I thought we were goners. Turns out that weight-lifting is just a hobby (he never even mentioned it). He is a mechanical engineering professor at the university and will be defending his doctorate thesis next month. He speaks Polish, Russian, German, and English and was a hilarous father to his 1-year-old, Albert. We had a great time chatting about all sorts of things from growing up during the communist era to Poland's upcoming EU membership to films (his John Wayne imitation was classic) to computer programs. He and his wife opened up their homemade sherry (vodka marinated with cherries) to go with our gift of Belgium chocolates -- what a great introduction to Poland!

After a couple days touring Krakow and dancing with baby Albert, we headed to another host. This story is even wackier! Jim's mom discovered that Jim's childhood dentist's secretary is Polish and has family still in 'the old country.' She insisted that we contact her family and stay with them. Jim had been e-mailing the daughter of the family to arrange a visit. She helped us figure out how to get to her hometown and assured us that we were welcome. Unfortunately, neither the English-speaking daughter (who goes to school in Warsaw) nor the English-speaking father (who is working on a project in Austria) were in town for our visit. 'No problem' said that daughter, we were still expected. Sooooo, in Krakow we boarded a 'mini bus' (literally a big van with about thirty seats crammed inside)and headed away from the city lights. As darkness fell and the road became bumpier, we wondered if we would be sleeping in a bed that evening or in the woods. About an hour and a half later, we saw a sign for 'Tymbark,' our town. The driver seemed reluctant to let us out into the night by ourselves (it was a little scary looking). I don't know how he did it, but Jim communicated to the Polish driver that it was okay and we had someone to call to pick us up. The driver pulled out his cell phone and called them for us! Within about three minutes Maria and Renata pulled up. In another five minutes we had dropped off our bags in a room and had a plate of food in front of us. The mother and two of her daughters and us sort of stared at each other cheerily since their English was minimal ('Please come,' 'Food?' 'Please sit') and our Polish is nonexistent (I never did get their 'thank you' correct). At one point, Jim pointed to some household knick knack that had German writing on it. One of the daughters asked if he spoke German (in perfect German) and the communication lines were opened! Both of the daughters had taken about nine years of German and were able to talk almost fluenty with Jim. The conversation was still a little butchered because everyone had to stop occassionally for translation sessions (Jim turned to me and translated into English while the girls translated into Polish for their mom). We spent a fantastic two days relaxing in their home, hiking in the woods nearby, and eating perogis!

Do widzenia (don't ask me to pronounce it),

Tera and Jim