Grzybow Farm- Week in Review

Last night I sat around a campfire, eating kielbasa and drinking beer with a taxi cab driver from Warsaw and a self described "Far-Right-Christian-Libertarian" who loves the Grateful Dead and translates movies from the 90's from English into Polish.  They know Eva and Peter and moonlight as apple farmers on a farm near where I am staying  The apples were just off the tree, sweet and ripe for the picking.

Earlier that day I had visited a school with Eva that had been damaged in the fairly recent flood. When the Wisla river rose, approx. 2,000 people were displaced, and are still in the process of restoring their homes and attempting to revitalize their fields. This particular school received a lot of aid, and is now renovated and very beautiful, and had an open, welcoming feel to it. With Eva as translator we had a Q&A with a fairly small group of 10-12 year olds who were there for an after school program, then I played guitar and led some drama games.  A group of Polish children can now stumble through the chorus of "I'll Fly Away.". 

Earlier in the week I went with Peter to pick up grain from another local farmer who lives about half and hour away.  He greeted us warmly and showed us his young goat, who Peter gave him a few months ago, and said she was doing very well. In fact, she sometimes jumps up on her hind legs and dances, and has been seen performing this trick on the roof of the shed which she can climb up to by way of hay bales! Does anyone else hear the start of a great children's story here? It was very cold that day, and when I was invited into the house I entered to find a lovely, modest home and a Grandma who was ready to feed me.  I had noodle soup, mashed potatoes, cauliflower, and tender pork.  Then a cup of tea and a chocolate covered gingerbread cake that resembled a donut.  The farmer came in, we chatted via Peter, and he wasted little time in telling me that his son recently "lost" his girlfriend, and if I were to marry him he has a lot of vodka ready for the wedding! He then showed me a giant jug of vodka, and we had a shot of Krupnik, Polish honey liqeur. It was all in good fun, and I said perhaps I would learn Polish and come back.

Grandma, who fed me the delicious meal and sent me away with another piece of cake for the road, was the only member of her family to survive the Holacaust. A Catholic Polish family, her parents had been hiding resistance fighters in their barn.  When the Gestapo found out, they killed the family, but her mother managed to hide her under pillows and blankets in the bed, and she survived, and was raised in an orphanage.

There is an old man who lives near Peter who is considered handicapped. I asked about it, Peter said he was beat on the head by a Nazi solider and suffered brain damage when he was 9 years old.
 
After the war, they converted the Synagogue into a cinema because there were no Jews left to worship there.

I mention this because as I hear bits and pieces I realize that just below the surface there are so many stories that tell of what happened here.  I had a dream the other night that my Bubby was alive, and living in Poland, and I couldn't believe I hadn't thought to visit her, until I finally remembered that she passed many years ago.

That said, there is what I like to call a direct line to the spirits here, and it is not all full of tragedy and pain.  There have been moments where I feel something get plugged in, like I get some strange and lovely metaphysical goosebumps while looking at the crazy full moon or staring at a tree.

In happier news there are so many kittens here! Holy hell! A pair of black kittens that were left in the ditch by the side of the road got moved to the cow stable, where they are happy little guys drinking warm milk, and there are 4 more kittens in the house. With so many cats running around I have seen 4 mice get eaten in the last week. Whoa, buddy. Snack time.

This evening we watched a fire show on the lawn near the driveway, performed by a group of at-risk youth who are here doing a weekend retreat.  The spun fire and played drums, and it was fabulous. They really want to milk the cows and make bread, too.

My evening ended by swapping songs on the guitar with Peter. I am teaching him Paradise, the old John Prine tune, and he is teaching me Wrobelki, a Polish song about two little gray birds that rub their wings together and fall in love.  It's very beautiful, but Eva says its kind of dirty. I think it's hysterical, made better by the fact that Peter still has a pronounced Swiss-German accent, so I may sing the song a little funny.

 Lastly, on the subject of language. I have decided that only speaking one language in this day and age is kind of like wearing a unitard- it fits great, but then you go outside and realize how ridiculous you look because you have nothing else to wear! Put that in your pipe and smoke it, and let me know what y'all come up with.

Til' next time . . .

yours truly,
Pippi Longstocking