Two weeks later

1^st November, All Saints Day

It was a big day in Poland that I completely missed. In bed with a cold, while the sun shone and everybody and their mother turned up at the cemetery to remember their dead, All Saints Day. They went again in the evening, with all the candles lit it must have been beautiful. The country is, I think, 95% Catholic.

Note to self: don’t be sick on 1. 11. 2016

11^th  November, Independence Day

Although most countries take this day to honour the dead from both World Wars, in Poland there is cause for some celebration.

11^th November commemorates the restoration of the country’s independence after 123 years of non-existence. The country had been subsumed, carved up between Austria, Russia and Germany in a brutal series of partitions, but by the end of the First World War all three empires had finally crumbled. Polish independence was once more established and that is as good an excuse for celebration as anything. The day was punctuated by right wing, anti immigration demonstrations in Warsaw, but sad to say these are not confined to Poland.

On this day I did go to the cemetery as the light faded and candles glowed in the gloom. I find the cemetery, so lovingly cared for, terribly sad.            

Stopnica cemetery in the gloom

The rainwater pipe that leads to the well

Family stuff

National holidays are another excuse for family get togethers. It is extraordinary to me. Stefan’s enormous family is scattered all over, but a large contingent of siblings and cousins live right here, in Stopnica. Most of them are in their early 60’s, so were playmates and classmates.  They can sit around for hours, chatting and reminiscing about their joint childhoods.  As a first generation Brit., of refugee Austrian parents, with remains of family scattered from Austria to Australia, who on earth would I discuss family members and my childhood pranks with?  I am still getting used to this, it is completely new to me to spend time in this way.  I am so glad we have our house…. I can withdraw if it gets too much.

This …  language

From experiencing the language not so very long ago as one continuous stream of jabber I am beginning, at last, if not to follow the conversation at least, on occasion, to figure out what they are talking about!  Oh joy.

Quince cheesecake with cut off burnt bits. Was yummy.

Good old chicken soup

At every gathering, whether at home with family or at weddings etc., first dish is soup. Known as rosół, pron. ‘rosoow’, it is standard and never, ever, varies. Made from chicken and certain vegetables, cooked fine noodles are placed in the bowl and the strained clear soup poured over.  It is delicious, largely due to the quality of the chicken. The stock of course can be used for any other dish. I am making all sorts of soups with  the stock and stuff from the garden.

Our desk, centre of operations

Chicken soup in the making

Next door

We have done nothing in our own house on this trip, which is disappointing for me in that I would like it all done NOW, but Stefan, his brother and nephew have been going great guns on next door, the ‘guest house’.  The walls and roof are insulated, wiring done, plumbing and electrics.  It is rapidly looking like a proper, warm house.  The stairs are nearly done as I write. The lovely stone wall which runs along all three houses will be re grouted, as was done in ours.  Maybe we will be able to rent the house out. Big shame to have it empty, waiting for the odd visitor who can’t/won’t stay with us in OUR house!

Building the stairs, from the top

Block painting

In towns like Poznań I have seen some clever treatments of the dreadful communist blocks of flats. Breaking up the surfaces and creating interesting pattern, with relatively courageous use of colour, mitigates their total hideousness. This Warsaw hotel, not communist though it could be, gives you the idea.

Radisson, Warsaw

Market

Market

The market here is not a lot different from most small town markets but the stallholders are interesting, particularly the gypsies.  They are very energetic, and tough. No pics though, I am too scared of them and can only takes pics of geeese.

Quince compote, pickle and jelly

Making the jelly

These pics are reversed and there is no way I can do anything about it. Laying out the blog is horrible!

Home again

We leave in 6 days for Poznan, then to London. Being only a month away is easier for the parents, I suppose. And I suppose, too, that my dad is getting used to it. Who knows what my mother understands at this point.  We heard from a friend that she heard my dad had had a ‘turn’ at the pool. I know the kind of thing, dizzy etc., but I was alarmed, of course. I understood he had gone home on the bus. I didn’t call him as he would only say, I’m fine.  I finally heard from him that it was ok, and he is resting.  But it shows, we are on call all the time; a phone call can mean we drop everything and run!      

Next time from London, maybe.