Daily life

Remembering Smolensk – Six Years Later

April 10, 2016 by polishhousewife 4 Comments

Six years ago today, a Polish military airliner crashed in Smolensk, Russia, killing the 96 souls on board. The passengers were the Polish president, his wife, senior military officers and clergy, the president of the national bank, members of Parliament and others. They were on their way to a ceremony remembering the 22,000 Polish military officers, academics, professionals, clergy and other Polish leaders slaughtered by the Russians at Katyn in 1940. It was only recently that Russia had acknowledged their role in the massacre. For the longest time, when Russia controlled what was taught in Polish schools, young Poles were taught that Nazi Germany had been responsible for the travesty.

This happen before I made the permanent move to Poland. Ed was living there on his own. The tragedy took place on a Saturday. I recall that he had been out of town, maybe visiting our daughter in Berlin, and got call from his employer in the states as he was driving back to Poznań to tell him what had happened. I remember him saying that the streets were eerily quiet that weekend.

It seemed that many people were remembering Vladimir Putin saying “Poland will pay for this.” This being wanting to host NATO missile sites. When I was visiting Poland months later, I found many Poles were sure this crash had been planned by the Russian government.

The plane was trying to land in terrible weather. I remember a few days after the crash, former Polish president, Lech Wałęsa saying that we shouldn’t jump to conclusions; hinting that when he had been president that there had been times when he had ordered his pilot to attempt landings that he shouldn’t have; landings they had been lucky to survive. It appears that was the case here, but luck was not with the pilot and his passengers. A few months before this fateful day, the presidential pilot had “gone around” when attempting to land in Tbilisi, Georgia. The president had made it clear that if the pilot couldn’t put the plane on the ground that he would find a pilot who could, that his career who be over. That may have been the message he was receiving from the Chief of Staff of the Air Force, who was in the cockpit at the time of the crash rather than strapped in his seat for landing. The plane, below glide slope, caught a wing on a wire, severing much of the wing. They didn’t stand a chance.

It was not uncommon in the days after the crash to hear speculation about the future of the country. So many in leadership were lost in one tragic event. Would the country continue? Would neighboring countries try to take advantage of the void in leadership by moving in and taking over? I was surprised by these questions, until I remembered that the current governmental structure in the Republic of Poland was relatively new, and as I learned more about Polish history (Michner’s Poland is a great source), I could see where people would worry about neighboring countries interfering.

The crash at Smolensk was a terrible loss for the country and for the Polish military. Elections were held, the government and the republic carried on, but the military has yet to recover. The Polish Air Force lost its most progressive leaders, visionaries with an eye for change. Command was returned to the old guard, those unwilling to look beyond their Soviet training and mindset. Sadly, mountains of paperwork and official stamps continue to be the order of the day at the expense of improvement.

A Day of the Dead Ofrenda

November 5, 2015 by polishhousewife 7 Comments

I’ve written before about All Saints Day on November 1st in Poland, posting photos from an evening visit to military cemetaries at the Citadel in Poznan, or an early morning visit on November 2nd while groups were tidying up the cemetary, picking up trash and relighting candles. Today, I want to compare and contrast All Saints Day in Poland to a Dia de los Muertos (Day of the Dead) as it’s celebrated here in Tucson.

Citadela, Poznan, Nov. 2nd

Day of the Dead has it’s roots in Atzec civilization. When the Spainish arrived brining Catholisism to the New World, they insisted the locals had to adapt their Day of the Dead celebration to fit with the Catholic Tradition of All Souls/All Saints Day, so the timing changed from Spring to Fall.

The finished ofrenda

The church where I’m working will celebrate All Souls Day on November 2nd. An artist who happens to be my colleague on the church staff, Stella M. Lopez, for several years, been setting up and ofrenda (offering in English) in the columbarium, just outside the church. She creates a similar ofrenda at the Tucson Botantical Garden. She’s sharing with us a practice she learned from her Mexican-American grandmother and great-grandmother.

These ladies kept small shrines on a bureau or chest of drawers in their bedrooms, faithfully saying their morning and evening prayers in front of the shrines which would have rosaries, flowers, candles, photos of favorite saints, or during World War II photos of sons who were had been called up.

Even though Stella’s parents were both from Mexican families and grew up in Tucson, but they didn’t want their children to learn Spanish. They wanted them to speak English without an accent. Something I’ve heard of Polish-American families doing too. Their home, which moved from place to place during her father’s military career, had a more cosmopolitan feel than that of her aunts and uncles back in Tucson.

Stella would tell you that she returned to her Mexican roots as a young adult when she was far from home and family, studying art in Boston. That’s when she began keeping a shrine at home, a practice she continues today. Hers is on the wall in her breakfast nook. It not only has items that remind her of saints and departed loved ones, but also photos of her daughter, projects that are of interest, etc.

Some items from her personal shrine are brought in for the ofrenda she sets up at church. Members of the congregation are urged to bring in items or photos that remind them of loved ones who have passed on. The collection keeps growing as the days go by. On November 2nd, the church had a service to rember those in the congregation who have died in the last year, and they processed past the ofrenda by candlelight.

Tucson is home to one of the largest Dia de los Muertos processions. Stella and her daughter have always participated since it began in the 1990s. They’ll join 150,000 other Tucsonans, who will walk two miles togehter and at the end of their march will burn in a cerimonial urn scraps of paper that contain the memories and prayers for the deceased.

I told Stella about the significance of All Saints Day in Poland, how families gather to pray for ancestors who might not have made it to heaven yet, for those who might be stuck in pergatory. She said that the emphasis of Dia de los Muertos was different, that the goal was not to pray the departed to heaven, but to encourage them to return and visit us here on earth. That’s why things are put out on ofrendas that would hold meaning for deceased loved ones, to entice them to return for one day, including favorite foods or cigarettes.

I wondered how Stella felt about the surging popularity of this celebration. She said she can see why non-hispanics would be drawn to the tradition because of the colorful pagentry. She said those who participate in the Tucson procession behave appropriately and understand the significance of the day. They haven’t made it into warped American version of the holiday, as we have with St. Patrick’s Day and Cinco de Mayo.

Check out some of Stella’s Dia de los Muertos artwork on her website. I’m happy to have one of her butterflies.

Pozdrowiam,

Lois

Wear Sunscreen

June 19, 2015 by polishhousewife 5 Comments

We made a road trip with our daughter Lisa last week. The subject of sunscreen came up, and we were surprised to hear her say that her boyfriend doesn’t wear sunscreen. He feels that sunscreen is something moms make their kids wear, but that it’s not something adults need to be concerned about. I said that he needed to hear the faux commencement address that used to be played on the radio almost 20 years ago called “Wear Sunscreen.” Lisa didn’t remember it, so I googled it to share the words of wisdom. As I read the essay, being almost twenty years older, the words rang so much more true!

Originally written by columnist Mary Schmich in the Chicago Tribune, these words have mistakenly been attributed to author Kurt Vonnegut. They became the popular spoken word song by Baz Lurhmann that I remembered.

In case you’ve never heard it or it’s been a while, here it is. I’ll bet it rings true with you too!

Ladies and gentlemen of the class of ’97:

Wear sunscreen.

If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be it. The long-term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by scientists, whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own meandering experience. I will dispense this advice now.

Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth. Oh, never mind. You will not understand the power and beauty of your youth until they’ve faded. But trust me, in 20 years, you’ll look back at photos of yourself and recall in a way you can’t grasp now how much possibility lay before you and how fabulous you really looked. You are not as fat as you imagine.

Don’t worry about the future. Or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubble gum. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind, the kind that blindside you at 4 p.m. on some idle Tuesday.

Do one thing every day that scares you.

Sing.

Don’t be reckless with other people’s hearts. Don’t put up with people who are reckless with yours.

Floss.

Don’t waste your time on jealousy. Sometimes you’re ahead, sometimes you’re behind. The race is long and, in the end, it’s only with yourself.

Remember compliments you receive. Forget the insults. If you succeed in doing this, tell me how.

Keep your old love letters. Throw away your old bank statements.

Stretch.

Don’t feel guilty if you don’t know what you want to do with your life. The most interesting people I know didn’t know at 22 what they wanted to do with their lives. Some of the most interesting 40-year-olds I know still don’t.

Get plenty of calcium. Be kind to your knees. You’ll miss them when they’re gone.

Maybe you’ll marry, maybe you won’t. Maybe you’ll have children, maybe you won’t. Maybe you’ll divorce at 40, maybe you’ll dance the funky chicken on your 75th wedding anniversary. Whatever you do, don’t congratulate yourself too much, or berate yourself either. Your choices are half chance. So are everybody else’s.

Enjoy your body. Use it every way you can. Don’t be afraid of it or of what other people think of it. It’s the greatest instrument you’ll ever own.

Dance, even if you have nowhere to do it but your living room.

Read the directions, even if you don’t follow them.

Do not read beauty magazines. They will only make you feel ugly.

Get to know your parents. You never know when they’ll be gone for good. Be nice to your siblings. They’re your best link to your past and the people most likely to stick with you in the future.

Understand that friends come and go, but with a precious few you should hold on. Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography and lifestyle, because the older you get, the more you need the people who knew you when you were young.

Live in New York City once, but leave before it makes you hard. Live in Northern California once, but leave before it makes you soft. Travel.

Accept certain inalienable truths: Prices will rise. Politicians will philander. You, too, will get old. And when you do, you’ll fantasize that when you were young, prices were reasonable, politicians were noble and children respected their elders.

Respect your elders.

Don’t expect anyone else to support you. Maybe you have a trust fund. Maybe you’ll have a wealthy spouse. But you never know when either one might run out.

Don’t mess too much with your hair or by the time you’re 40 it will look 85.

Be careful whose advice you buy, but be patient with those who supply it. Advice is a form of nostalgia. Dispensing it is a way of fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts and recycling it for more than it’s worth.

But trust me on the sunscreen.

FC Tucson, Futbol in Tucson

May 5, 2015 by polishhousewife 6 Comments

Tucson has a semi-professional soccer club, FC Tucson. Semi-professional means that they are closer to Kozły Poznań (the Poznan Goats, a semi-professional American Football team) than to Lech Poznań. They started playing just as I moved to Poland in 2011, so last night was the first time we’ve taken in a match. FC Tucson is part of the Premier Development League (PDL). FC Tucson doesn’t list a team roster on their website, so we don’t know the background of the players. I can tell you that in the PDL most of the players are amateurs, not receiving payment for playing. Some are college students, but the team can also include high school players, and former professional players who want to continue playing at a high level. In the PDL, only eight of a team’s 26 players can be over 23 years old and at least three players must be 18 or younger.

Their pitch has been converted from a Spring Training baseball field. My friend Melinda is very sad about the fact that we no longer have professional baseball in Tucson. She mentioned today soccer is being marketed as a substitute for baseball. I can see how for the die-hard fan like Melinda, it wouldn’t be a suitable replacement. For me, it’s even better! Soccer, as we’re learning to call it again, moves so much faster than baseball, more action, more athleticism.

Even for a layperson like me, the level of play last night was impressive. The play was fast with amazing footwork and most importantly, with some GOALS! The first half was very exciting, but after a 20 minute half-time, I found myself fading during the second half. It seemed like the players did too. The second half brought more passing of the ball back and forth across the field rather than moving it down the field. In this regard, they were much like Lech Poznan. The important thing is they won the first match of the season; we’re off to a good start!

Since we’ve come from the home of “the Poznan.” I would be remiss not to mention the FC Tucson version of the Ultras. They are know as the Cactus Pricks. A dedicated bunch, complete with drum, who did their best to bring the fan involvement and pageantry to our humble stands.

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What would a football match be with a flare in the stands? 😉 Photo source: FC Tucson facebook page

Advice for new expats

March 22, 2015 by polishhousewife 4 Comments

Before we left Poznań, I was interviewed for a coming issue of the Poznan International Ladies Club (PILC) newsletter. The questions, as you might expect, had to do with my experience with the club, looking back at my time in Poznań. Sometimes it helps you get a clearer picture when you step back and look at the past few years.

From the outside looking in, many PILC gatherings are large events. For example, a monthly meeting of 25-30 women, fund-raising parties with 100 people, not exactly comfortable for an introvert like me, but I have loved doing things with the ladies individually. As we talked about it, I realized that the one-on-one meetings I’ve enjoyed with other club members were only possible because I had stepped outside my comfort zone and attended the big meetings. That’s where I met the individuals with whom I’d had so much fun.

It started early. My first function was an Irish luncheon hosted by two Irish members for the club on St. Patrick’s Day. They had a huge turn out. So I found myself thrown into this new feminine subculture.

New things to learn, always take your shoes off when entering someone’s home, or at least start to and maybe they’ll tell you it’s OK to leave them on. And everyone is greeted with hugs and kisses. That’s wasn’t at all natural for an American. The hugging and kissing has become second nature for me over the years, and have caused me to startle more than one old friend when I’ve been back in Tucson.

It was at that first luncheon that I met Elzbieta, who has become my dear friend. I have learned many new recipes hanging out in her kitchen. We’ve had fun adventures in the great outdoors too — biking to the dairy farm to see their newborn twin calves, paddling around the Swardzęz lake.

One day at a breakfast meeting, Joanna asked what I was doing after, and invited me to check out the design event at the trade center. It was a fun time, and we both left with a new handbag.

Barbara invited me to join her for the culinary part of the Transatlantyk film festival, something that had always interested me, but I just hadn’t been able to figure it out by myself.

The cooking lesson at Gosia’s house where she taught the three foreigners in the book club to make pierogi were just the beginning. After that, I would get emails from Gosia’s with suggestions on how to prepare traditional Polish produce as it came into season.

All this got me looking back through photos. My memories have grown from the wonderful, rich view of Poznan that these ladies have shared with me, to the fun we’ve had sharing it with family and friends from the states.

The advice for new expats in Poland that wrapped up our interview:

Don’t expect it to be like home
Don’t expect to change them
Enjoy the adventure!

Marzanna — The Winter Witch

March 20, 2015 by polishhousewife 4 Comments

National customs are facisinating! Does it seem crazy to the rest of the world when men in top hats and tails pull a slumbering groundhog from his den in Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania on February 2nd, in an effort to predict the arrival of spring? That ritual is very tame compared to the drowning of Marzanna the winter witch in Poland.

Not long after I arrived in Poznań, I hosted a group of ladies in our little Polish kitchen for a bagel making class. It must have been on March 20th.

My friend Joanna received a call from her mother to say she’d seen Joanna’s children down by the river. Joanna’s family and her mom both live in apartments along the Warta river. The flats have beautiful large windows facing the river. As Joanna relayed the story of Marzanna the winter witch, I’m sure that I look incredioulous. This isn’t a celebration that would ever happen in the United States.

This is what the first day of spring looks like in Tucson

Marzanna the winter witch

The school children had built an effigy of Marzanna, representing winter, something akin to a female scarecrow. On the first day of spring they take Marzanna down to the river, put her on a little raft, perhaps a wooden pallet. They light the effigy on fire and send her off into the water to drown signifying the end of winter. It’s a tradition from midieval times.

I’m sure my Polish readers have fond memories of this celebration; and I’d love to hear about them. My friends who write the amazing travel blog, KarolinaPatryk.com, have more to tell you about Marzanna and other things unique to Poland in their witty post, 10 Funny Facts About Poland.

There are so many reasons why this wouldn’t happen in the US. A school field trip with water is risky enough, but a school field trip with fire? Burning effigies just isn’t politically correct. We have to respect winter’s rights too. Can’t you just imagine a child hatching a similar plan to get rid of an annoying sibling?

Let me be the first to say that Americans worry too much. We worry about offending someone; we worry about law suits; we worry about protecting people from being stupid. It prevents us from having some having some crazy fun traditions like drowning Marzanna the winter witch, but it just can’t happen here, where People for the Ethical Treatmeant of Animals (PETA) protest Grounhog Day, demanding the groundhog be released from his duties and set free.

Are there wilder spring rituals out there than the drowning of the winter witch?

What makes an influential blog?

February 19, 2015 by polishhousewife 8 Comments

There were a couple of blogs that I loved following early on (one of them Butteryum); that’s what made me decide to start writing one. It’s kind of strange feeling in the beginning — putting your thoughts out there for the whole world to see. Part of you hopes that people magically find you and connect with what you’re saying, but there is also a small part that hopes no one sees it (I’ve gotten over that).

Few of us enjoy the readership of the big name blogs. I think that’s why so many blogs are short lived. Just because you write it doesn’t necessarily mean that readers and revenue will follow. It’s sad to find a blog you’ve cared about hasn’t had a post in ages, but it’s understandable too. Blogging takes time, and as lives change that time can be hard to find.

What makes an influential blog?

I’m here to make the case this morning that a blog can be one of influence and rewarding for the blogger even if you’re not a household name. The question is, “have you said something that someone somewhere needs to hear?”

I had a letter last week from a young Army wife. She and her husband are being transferred to Poland later this year. For the average American (that would have been me back in 2009), this can be unsettleing. We had no idea what to expect, and all kinds of questions crossed our minds back then. Will it be grey and dingy? Will you be able to buy things you’ll want and need? Will anyone speak English? Will our home be freezing in the winter? The letter said that reading about our experience had given them some peace of mind.

It’s always nice to hear from a reader, but to hear that you’ve inproved someone’s outlook or given them confidence about the future, well. . . it touches my heart.

Jury Duty, 3 Days in Downtown Tucson

February 8, 2015 by polishhousewife 8 Comments

I had to report for jury duty a couple of weeks ago. I don’t know if a similar civic responsiblity exists in Poland. I never heard anyone mention (complain about) being called for jury duty. I’ve just started a new job; I have surgery scheduled on my knee. Both reasons why I asked the Jury Commissioner to postpone my service, but sadly, I used up my two allowable postponments while I was overseas. So I hobbled into the courthouse on Wednesday, and was promptly put on a jury. The beginning of my 3 day adventure in downtown Tucson.

Sleep pods for the homeless in downtown Tucson

We began with 60 prospective jurors. The goal was to have 25 viable candidates from which to choose a 13 jurors. The judge asked the people in the first 25 chairs a number of questions:

Do you know anyone involved in the case?
Have you been a vicitim of a violent crime?
Can you keep an open mind?
Are you available for the next 3 to 5 days? (No, having to go to work is not an excuse.)

I watched person after person be excused, 34 in all, becuase someone in their family had been murdered, because they were had a pro-police stand, because they had travel plans. When we finally got down to 25 suitable candidates on the panel, there was only one person remaining in the gallery.

So I found myself with 12 of the most intellegent, honest, responsible people in Tucson for three days. None of us wanted to be there, but none of us were willing to make things up to get out of serving. The case we were to hear was a criminal one, with the most serious charge attempted first-degree murder.

The actualy testimony lasted only one day. There wasn’t much in the way of evidence. The only fact was that a person had been stabbed. The police and a doctor referred to their notes, and told us what they’d seen that night. Three people, two men and one woman, who had been smoking meth with the defendant earlier in the day, said they saw him in the apartment with a knife, however, there was little else they could agree on.

In the end, we found the defendant not guilty, even though we all thought that he probably did it. But we followed the legal instructions given to us by the judge, the evidence presented by the state did not convience us beyond a reasonable doubt, so the defendant must go free.

That’s how our legal system works, and that is why I try not to second guess jury decsions. The decision is based on the evidence presented in court with the legal instructions given by the presiding judge. It’s often a different decision than we might reach outside of those constraints.

I left, not feeling proud because I’d done my civic duty, but sad because I’d had an intimate peek into the lives of people who are spiraling downward with no end in sight:

Six adults living in a one bedroom apartment
No one had a job
Everyone slept with a knife or baseball bat by their side
Their days are spent smoking meth, fights with each other and the neighbors
The original trial date had to be pushed back because the victim crashed head-on into a tree when trying to evade the police in a car he’d stolen
Two of the three witnesses were unintelligible, not many brain cells left
In this most formal setting, in front of a room full of strangers, they used the phrase “my old lady,” as if everyone spoke this way

I’ve been on juries three or four times now, and this judge was by far the best I’ve seen as far as jurors go. He always ended the day at 4:30, to give us a chance to leave downtown before rush hour traffic. He didn’t stand on ceremony. He was always seated when we entered the room; there was no need for the jury to remain standing, He came to the jury room after the trial to thank us again for serving, and answer any questions about the trial. He also sent thank you notes to our homes after the trial. Judge Browning will always get my vote to be retained.

Downtown Tucson

Take a lesson in observing holidays from the Polish

January 1, 2015 by polishhousewife 12 Comments

It’s New Year’s Day. Let me wish you health, happiness, and prosperity in the coming year, zdrowia szczescia i pomyslnosci w Nowym Roku! (Thanks KH.) We ended 2014 with a light dusting of snow in Tucson, something that rarely happens. It will be gone by afternoon, but you know what felt more out-of-place than the snow? There was no need for the nagging reminder in the back of my mind. “Tomorrow’s a holiday. Do we need anything from the store? Better get it today!” Holidays in Poland are like stepping back into the past for me. Stores and businesses are closed. People spend time with their families. Americans have much to learn about observing holidays from the Polish.

photo credit: Patricia Adams

It’s not that we’re totally unfamiliar with the idea, but remembering a time when businesses were closed on Sundays and holidays dates one, kind of like remembering the assassination of JFK. We can add it to the list of cultural knowledge (or lack thereof) for a given year’s incoming college freshmen:

bottle caps have always been screw-off and plastic
they have never used a floppy disk
their lifetime has always included AIDS, cable TV, and stores being open on holidays

It’s not that I’m anti-business, not by a long shot, but so often, it makes no economic sense. Last year, our daughter was the assistant manager of a small store in the mall (galleria, for my Polish friends). She had the first shift on New Years Day. By the end of her shift the store had rung up $20 in sales, but if her store hadn’t been open, they would have been fined by the mall. It’s part of the lease agreement. This year, a different job, but she’s still off to work.

Somethings tend to be cyclical. Let’s hope our desire for commerce 24/7 at the expense of observing holidays goes the way of American infatuation with preservatives and artificial ingredients. You can’t be efficient and productive all the time. People need rest. We need to make time for observing holidays and reflecting.

There are some things in Poland that would benefit from a little Americanization, but it’s isn’t one. Are you listening, Poland? Don’t copy us on this one; holiday comes from holy day.

P.S. Thanks to my friend, Pat Adams, for sharing her beautiful photo of our New Year’s snow.

3 Crazy Things to Avoid Being the Ugly American

December 9, 2014 by polishhousewife 11 Comments

When you’re a foreigner, it’s natural to feel that you’re always being judged — not just personally, but judged on how your nationality reacts in a given situation. I find myself doing crazy things just to avoid being the ugly American.

1. Avoid Being the Ugly American – the Perfect Tenant

As we were moving out of our flat and cleaning up before turning the keys over to the landlord, it occurred to me that I was cleaning with a frenzy that bears little resemblance to my somewhat laid back approach to housekeeping. When my late mother-in-law paid her first visit to our new home, she asked how to clean under the burners as we were tidying up after dinner one night. I had to fess up and say that I had no idea!

So as I scooted around the floor on my bum, mopping under the cabinets in our bathroom and drying the tile so there wouldn’t be mineral spots left by the water. I knew that I was doing more than was natural for me. I realized that I hadn’t turned into a cleaning machine just to be assured of getting our deposit back. I was doing it for you, my fellow Americans. I was doing it for us. So that at least one Polish family would say Americans are a tidy lot, despite the popularity of American TV shows like Hoarders: Buried Alive on Polish TLC. I also made a trip to IKEA to replace a few things that had been broken in the kitchen during the five years that we lived there, replace the cutting boards, etc. It might have been more than was called for, but it made an impression on them. As far as our landlords are concerned, we’re a responsible, generous nation, not looking to take advantage of anyone. . . you can thank me later.

2. Avoid Being the Ugly American – the Perfect Customer

As I come around to this line of thinking, I can also see a change in my behavior as a customer. I think it’s an American pastime to evaluate service. We sometimes spend more time thinking about the service when we’re dining out than enjoying the meal and our companions. My friend, Rob, is the owner-chef (James Beard semi-finalist, I might add) of The Curious Kumquat, a small restaurant in Silver City, New Mexico. One of the things I have heard Rob lament on facebook is that people fail to register their complaints in person and on the spot, especially when dealing with small businesses, like his restaurant. He would much rather a customer tell him what is wrong and give him a chance to fix it, to make amends, rather than bash him in an online review after telling him everything was fine. I try to follow Rob’s suggestion, but not in Poland.

After gently pointing out short-comings in a meal, from foreign objects found in the food to a meal that is inedible, the response from servers has ranged from “it’s not my fault” to “I didn’t cook it.” At dinner the other night, my friends, Polish and Dutch, said that if you don’t teach them how it should be, they’ll never learn. I beg to differ.

I’ve realized that pointing out the flaws just makes me a complaining American. If the owner of the business was interested in my feedback and making improvements to the business, they would train their staff in how to graciously receive and convey these comments. I’ve seen from Ed’s work with the Polish military that information doesn’t travel up the chain of command in Poland. Why would a waiter carry complains back to the chef or owner if it might cost them their job? They are paid to take orders and carry plates. That’s what they do. So like any good American, I vote with my dollars (zloty) and feel OK about leaving an objective review online.

3. Avoid Being the Ugly American – the Perfect Patient

The third and final (for this post anyway) thing I’ve done in an effort to represent myself, our family, and our part of the world in a positive light came about while Ed was in the hospital. I was staying in the hospital room, and they served us both three meals everyday. The midday meal was huge and freshly cooked, not institutional food at all. Breakfast and supper always consisted of a slice of cheese, two slices of deli meat and six slices of somewhat stale sandwich bread. Besides being boring after the third day, it was way more bread than we wanted to eat, but we didn’t want to leave it on the plate and appear to be picky eaters.

Think I’m overreacting? When I started bringing in takeaway meals of steak and shrimp when Ed’s hemoglobin count was very low, the doctor said to me, “what’s wrong with the food here?” So rather than waste 20 slices of bread everyday between us, we wrapped them up and hid them in a drawer. When I went out, I smuggled the bread out in a shopping bag, leaving them in places where I’ve seen people searching for food. Looking back on it now, it seem ridiculous, but it made perfect sense at the time.

It Works Both Ways

I used a taxi to take Benson to his groomer appointment today because my knee has been bothering me enough lately that I’m walking with a cane. You know this judging an entire nation by the actions of a stranger works the other way too. My Polish friends and acquaintances all stand on their own merit, but today, and hopefully just for today, my perception of Poles I don’t know is colored just a bit by the taxi driver that refused to bring Benson and me from his groomer appointment back to the hotel. “No dogs!” were his words to me as he drove away leaving me standing in freezing weather with a dying cell phone battery. When the next taxi I called didn’t show after 25 minutes, we hobbled off to the tram stop. I think I’m ready to leave now.