tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-45612841017190771252024-03-12T15:04:10.560-07:00The Road to Polandoliviahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13371993808242884849noreply@blogger.comBlogger271125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4561284101719077125.post-90990427334980575872020-05-20T11:24:00.002-07:002021-06-04T03:54:30.974-07:00<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">UPDATE 2020:</span></b><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Check the <a href="https://roadtopoland.blogspot.com/p/moving-comapny.html">ABOUT</a> page for a quick update, including a new email address to get in touch!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>oliviahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13371993808242884849noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4561284101719077125.post-9318652204587242142017-06-12T13:11:00.001-07:002017-06-12T13:12:12.176-07:00UPDATE 2017<b><br /></b>
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<b>Hello! </b><br />
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<b>Please see my <a href="http://roadtopoland.blogspot.com/p/moving-comapny.html">ABOUT</a> page for updated info. on our family and homeschooling in Poland</b>.<br />
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<br />oliviahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13371993808242884849noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4561284101719077125.post-28552096460686397382014-11-17T12:18:00.001-08:002014-11-17T12:22:56.432-08:00It's all the same to meWe met with some new/old friends over the weekend for dinner. Both husband and wife speak excellent English. They also have 5 children and began homeschooling this year, so you know, lots in common.<br />
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The question was asked: How is your Polish?<br />
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I gave the same answer I give everyone. "Not so great. I really don't have the time, energy, or motivation right now to learn, I get around fine."<br />
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The truth is, I get around fine. I don't like talking to people in Polish but I can and I do. I avoid conversations if I can and I remain silent most of the time we visit family and friends who don't speak English. Aside from the exhaustion of trying to keep up with the conversation and translate as well as keep my eyes on the kids and manage to scarf down the food before it's removed from the table - I really just don't mind silence. Or rather, I don't mind me getting to be silent. I'm not a naturally gregarious person, so sitting quietly while Martin visits with family is fine with me. All my friends speak English, otherwise we wouldn't be able to be friends, so it works out for everyone really.<br />
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So after giving my regular canned response I got something unfamiliar... a laugh.<br />
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"You mean you're planning on moving even further out of town, to to a tiny village, and you don't yet speak the language? Do you have any idea what village life is like? You will be so far removed from the city and then even more removed for not speaking the language, you'll be like this princess in a tower all alone..."<br />
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This was apparently very funny. And of course, a very Polish way to say it.<br />
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I just smiled and said, "I know."<br />
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Because on the really good days I remind myself that I prefer silence. I'm too busy to really care what other people think when I don't actively seek out their opinions, and heck, this way I can avoid a whole lot of town gossip, criticisms, and just plain awkwardness. It'll be great!<br />
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And on the bad days I am reminded that not only have we moved to a foreign country which continues to be fairly foreign, where I don't speak the language, but now we are basically moving to the country surrounded by people who speak even less English than the average Pole. To the side of a hill with one close neighbor and two others who all happen to be over the age of 60 (and who keep trying to give me stuff that I don't want, and won't take no for an answer)...<br />
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My sides are splitting...<br />
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But see I get the last laugh really. For two reasons.<br />
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1) *I already live outside of town, in an isolated area that takes an hour by public transport to reach downtown, 30-40 min. by car depending on traffic. We can't even secure a decent babysitter because no one wants to travel this far and taxi drivers hate us. I already travel anywhere from 30-45 min. one direction to see the few friends I have. And all our neighbors? Over the age of 60! Isolation? Inconvenience? Village life? I've got that shizz sewn up!<br />
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Reminds me of this scene from Princess Bride. Martin is the Princess, I am the man with the bitten up shoulder from fighting giant rats. ( I know all the secrets of the fire swamp...ahem) It's so sweet, you gotta watch, she gives up her freedom so he can return to <strike>America</strike> his ship, but in reality he is just going to a <strike>different kind of fire swamp</strike> certain death.<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/z0vSaQIHN2w?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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2) This little piece of info. came across my "desk" (re: lap. while sitting on the couch drinking hot chocolate after all the kids are in bed, asleep, at the same time).<br />
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http://wieliczka.eu/pl/201129/11341/pociag-solny-po-raz-pierwszy-w-wieliczce-.html#prettyPhoto<br />
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The gist: The speedy commuter rail from Wieliczka to Downtown Krakow, 20-30 min. And there is even a bus that takes people from two separate locations straight to the rail...and one of them stops right in our future little village. So by moving to a village outside of a town that's outside of Krakow we will actually be able to get to Krakow proper quicker than ever before!<br />
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It's all so funny!!<br />
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Or not. But it's good. Because I can see myself letting Hejjo and Felix, in a few years, hop on it and take themselves downtown without my help. That will be great. And some days we can ride it for fun. And did I mention it has free Wi-fi? So people who like screens can look at them even more.<br />
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Martin likes to send me these little notifications from time to time and this was his email heading...<br />
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...<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', 'Segoe UI', Helvetica, Arial, 'Lucida Grande', sans-serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 35px; white-space: nowrap;">don't say i didn't do nothin' for youuuuuuu</span><br />
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He's so benevolent.<br />
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I'm the one fighting the giant rats, Martin. Me. Don't you forget that.<br />
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*This is not necessarily because we live that far from town but rather because, I swear there is a conspiracy, Nowa Huta and surrounding areas are completely neglected when it comes to roads. People avoid our area of town like the plague. (it can take over an hour to city center to travel 8km during traffic)<br />
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<br />oliviahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13371993808242884849noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4561284101719077125.post-55595193108078518092014-11-11T13:16:00.000-08:002014-11-11T13:16:11.623-08:00It's so hard...... to leave this....<br />
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/15582555677" title="114 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="114" height="480" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7576/15582555677_0958b7d277_z.jpg" width="640" /></a>
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For this...<br />
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/15147777694" title="120 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="120" height="480" src="https://farm9.staticflickr.com/8135/15147777694_9e8a54a3b6_z.jpg" width="640" /></a>
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Even more specifically, this.....<br />
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/15582103159" title="119 2 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="119 2" height="480" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7501/15582103159_d99daf976a_z.jpg" width="640" /></a>
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Goo. Double goo. With *stoggy fudge on top. And the smell, let me tell ya', nothin' more convincin' that my 7 month old's virginal forming lungs are sufferin' than the smell...<br />
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...imagine the smell of.... burning ... RUST. Yeah, that's it. Burning rust, not burning metal with rust on it, but just the rust, burning.<br />
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Boo, Krakow, and your dirty little not so secret, secret. Boo.<br />
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*stog = smog condensed under a layer of fog, so as to wreak as much havoc as possible<br />
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**pictures taken on the same day about an hour apart<br />
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Roof going up this week and next, windows in by the end of the month/early December, media and interior walls and floors over the winter, finishing in the spring/early summer... can we do it???!!!<br />
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<<<cough, hack, argkjahfkfgkj... we have to... hack, cough, cough>>> <br />
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<br />oliviahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13371993808242884849noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4561284101719077125.post-43132473494999282172014-10-22T10:11:00.000-07:002014-10-22T10:12:24.109-07:00pick a season any seasonMartin: Hey, you got a text message, want me to read it?<br />
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Me: Sure.<br />
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Martin: It says , "Welcome back to (name of local mom's group)! We will be meeting at the regular time and place. Our topic for this meeting: Fighting Fall Depression!<br />
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Me: Fall Depression?! Who ever heard of such a thing? I love Fall! The holidays, the food, the scents. The changing leaves...Fall has all the best stuff!!!<br />
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Martin: Well, I think they just mean fighting the "depression" of summer being over. You know, it gets darker and it rains more. It gets colder. It's sort of a harbinger of things to come...<br />
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Me: You know what? What the heck is wrong with the Poles?! They have depression in Fall because Winter is coming. They have depression in Winter because Winter is here and it's cold and icy, and they have depression in Spring because Winter is melting and makes the world slushy. They only like Summer when the temperature is between 75 and 80 otherwise it's too cold for it to be real Summer, and too hot to be comfortable!!! When are they not depressed by the freakin' seasons?! They should just rename the meeting: Fighting Depression year round!<br />
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Martin: Soooooo, you gonna go?<br />
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Me: Heck no, sounds depressing.oliviahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13371993808242884849noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4561284101719077125.post-75985991262169423592014-10-13T12:00:00.000-07:002014-10-13T12:00:12.623-07:00Passing down the crazy<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/15528713162" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="037 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="037" height="480" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5608/15528713162_7c2ff5983d_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">For the first time ever ladies and gents.... public water fountain on the Old Town Square. Now if they would just add one, or 32, public restrooms, we'd be in business.<br />The sign reads, "Woda do picia" (water for drinking)</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/15526048081" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="038 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="038" height="480" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3944/15526048081_3bcfc7a893_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oh, we piciaed! We piciaed like pros.</td></tr>
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For some reason blogger won't let me comment on any of my last few posts. If you've been waiting for me to respond, I promise, I haven't been avoiding you. Blogger is just kind of a piece every now and then.<br />
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There is so much I want to say about all of this. It interests me. I'm not moving mountains with my words but I am genuinely intrigued and want to discuss it. I appreciate your willingness to comment and share your stories.<br />
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When Martin asks people why they don't allow cold drinks, why they don't drink tap water, why the child has to wear a hat once the temp. goes below 70, why children can't sit on the ground (I'll get to that in a second), he usually gets this response first...<br />
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"That's just what you do or don't do (sometimes ending with, "in Poland")!" Depending on the age of the person it will also be accompanied with something like a shocked scowl. Those exist here.<br />
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He strongly dislikes that response. And bless his heart he almost always retorts with, " What do you mean, that's just "what you do"?!" No, it's not. You don't JUST DO anything!!"<br />
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And here's the thing. He's right. But perhaps it's not that the other person is wrong, perhaps it's because the other person is, in fact, Polish. Could it be?<br />
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I sincerely want to know why. I want to know the old wives tales. I want to know the wisdom and the "wisdom" that has been passed down from generation to generation here in this country.<br />
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For whatever reason, perhaps Communism, perhaps homogeneity, perhaps patriotism, perhaps all three in one... seems to have frozen Poland for a couple generations. These "isms" are still around because these generations are still around. But they won't be for long. The generations that bring us these delightful parental admonishments and pearls of wisdom meant to protect our health will die some day.<br />
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For better or for worse each generation relies far less on familial wisdom and more and more on books, experts, t.v. programs, mom's groups, and the like for information about how to do things, how to raise kids, health issues, nutrition, home remedies, recipes, how to fix a toilet... There's a reason of course. Sometimes our mom's and grandma's are just plain wrong. A lot of the wisdom passed down can be traced back to superstition, lack of knowledge of the way the body works, or just some sort of short term fix that turned in to 'how's it done always and forever.'<br />
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(let's not be too hasty to "throw the baby out with the bath water" as the English would say.... I am most impressed that many people here, and their children, know natural remedies that Americans don't even bother to research. There are many other examples as well but this one comes to mind first.)<br />
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Or are they? Are they wrong?<br />
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Don't all of these "isms" have some truth to them? Don't they all stem from something real at some point in history that causes such strong reactions? So strong as to actually create fears and prejudices, and "just do/don't do?!" Right?<br />
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And in some areas it is still being passed on, to my children's generation, despite the books, and knowledge at our finger tips, and proof that there is no "just do/don't do."<br />
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Gosh, I wish I were a better writer. I think it's all clear but then it's not. And of course none of this is all that important. It's just so interesting to me. Truly interesting.<br />
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I learned today: No matter what, no matter the temperature outside/inside or what the baby is wearing, under no circumstances save, perhaps, an emergency, should a child be placed to sit directly on the ground/floor/grass. It's been insinuated before, but today I was told the truth of the matter. Very authoritatively. This is interesting!!!<br />
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(and humbling)<br />
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(let me take a moment here to say that if you want to be truly humbled, truly truly humbled, move to a different country where no matter how hard you try you will make a cultural or linguistic faux pas every.single.day, sometimes several times a day, and you will gently, or not so gently be corrected by the general public every.single.day..................they are moments of grace, or moments to sin... you "get" to choose, every.single.day.)<br />
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I asked Martin why.<br />
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He said he thinks it has something to do with the kidneys - the floor/ground/grass is cold, and this is bad for the kidneys. Anyone?<br />
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We're both baffled.<br />
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I might just have to start asking people.<br />
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Oy. Won't that be a can of worms. :)<br />
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P.S. This post hearkens back to an <a href="http://roadtopoland.blogspot.com/2013/04/do-americans-have-habits.html">older post </a>from early 2014. So, you know, it's been on my mind. Some great comments over there. ;)<br />
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<br />oliviahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13371993808242884849noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4561284101719077125.post-16675533115823402162014-10-09T10:22:00.004-07:002014-10-09T10:52:06.696-07:00Another question for my readers...Why are people so afraid to give children cold drinks?<br />
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That is all.<br />
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No, wait, there's more.<br />
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Summer before last we had a 4th of July party and invited some of the neighborhood children for the fireworks. They also ate some chips and some drank some drinks. One such child, we'll call him "Jack," was having fun, eating, drinking, joinign int he revelry. His mother came to check on him, enters the yard and immediately rushes to his side...<br />
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"You haven't drunken anything cold, have you?"<br />
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Jack: No<br />
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"are you sure?!"<br />
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Jack: Yes, I'm sure, I haven't drunken anything cold.<br />
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I mean, this mother was worried. Really worried. I don't know what she would have done if he had said yes. I don't really want to find out.<br />
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Weird.<br />
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Fast forward to this past 4th of July...<br />
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Jack is back. Eating and playing. And then Jack gets thirsty.<br />
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"Excuse me, sir, do you have any drinks that are not cold?"<br />
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Martin looks in the ice chest full of ice and cold beverages, water, beer, juice, soda.....<br />
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"No, I'm sorry, but this soda hasn't been in there too long, it's not too cold, do you want that?"<br />
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Jack feels the bottle, "no sir, I can't have that. My mother doesn't allow me to drink cold drinks."<br />
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Major props to Jack for being so obedient. Seriously. The kid was thirsty and he followed his mother's instructions. Way to go Jack.<br />
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Now for my REAL question. How scared did his mother make him of drinking cold drinks, that a child of 8 would be so terrified of cold drinks so as to forgo drinking anything at all at a party? I mean, I felt bad for him. (and we did find him something in the end) Then again, maybe he's just an obedient child and, like many children, doesn't quite understand why he can't do something, but he was simply following the rules.<br />
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Again his mother came to join us and again she asked him if he drank something cold and Martin walked right up and said.<br />
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"No, he didn't, he said you wouldn't like it, he did just what you told him."<br />
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She smiled. All was well.<br />
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But, seriously... cold drinks. What't the deal?<br />
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(I have had people not want to sell me drinks because they were cold and I had children with me, like clearly I wouldn't want the cold drink since my children would be drinking it and they seemed quite flabbergasted when I actually asked for a cold drink, or ice.)<br />
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To round out me question for today I will share with you something that happened not 2 hours ago.<br />
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I go the store with all the kids, walk in a store and attempt to buy a water.<br />
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Lady asks me: "kjfhahkckjhsoivhsvn, cieplo?"<br />
"Przepraszam"? (ok, she wants to know something about the water, she's holding the bottle up and talking about the water being warm... but I pulled a cold one out of the little fridge so.... ugh, Kacio where are you ? Veronica stop pulling my hair!... "Hejjo, go find Kacio!" Felix, please stop teasing you sister!)<br />
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Lady asks again: Do you want a warm one?<br />
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Um, um, (whatever! I just want to buy the water and leave, why the heck is she asking me this, I don't understand??! Is the cold water broken in some way? Is it rotten? Expired?...)<br />
"Tak, tak, prosze." (when in doubt be polite and nod)<br />
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She went and put back my gloriously cold water and returned with a room temp. one.<br />
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Sigh.<br />
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I mean, I understood the question, but I didn't understand what she meant by it. Why is she even asking this question? I grabbed the cold one on purpose... you do SELL cold waters!<br />
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Double sigh.<br />
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Oh, Poland, you gotta give me a break here.<br />
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(next time I'm just gonna skip to the worst sin ever by asking her to fill my baby's sippy cup with... dun, dun, dunnnnn... Woda prosto z kranu! Mwahahahahahaha....)oliviahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13371993808242884849noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4561284101719077125.post-77532736621745723202014-10-03T12:31:00.000-07:002014-10-03T12:31:29.352-07:00Fun Photo Friday<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/15430563612" title="205 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="205" height="480" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3932/15430563612_e751faa7d2_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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I (mostly) love the shirts with the English.<br />
They make me laugh.<br />
Happy Friday!oliviahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13371993808242884849noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4561284101719077125.post-42992333097676541972014-10-02T10:47:00.000-07:002014-10-02T10:54:25.396-07:00Your questions.I get a lot of email from readers. I'd say that half of them are the "I know exactly what you're talking about, I have been there!" kind, and those are great. It can be a lonely place to enter a new country and feel like you're the first to do so. You're not! I promise! But sometimes it feels like it.... the other emails I get are often questions. Most of the questions are in the vein of... "my husband and I are thinking of moving to Poland can you tell me..." or "My wife and I are transplanting ourselves and our kids to Poland next year and plan on homeschooling, can we do it ...?" These are also great emails to receive because sometime our sanity is questioned by those around us. And yet, at least once a month I hear from people who are choosing to do just that and they want to end up here, in Poland So, you know, we're trendy. Always nice to be on the cutting edge of something. ;)<br />
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So, maybe some of you all have questions. I don't know. Maybe. Post away. I can't promise that I will answer all of them. But as for me, I often have questions for Poles/Poland. I wish I had a place to ask them all.<br />
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In the spirit of "going first" here are a few questions for my Polish, living in Poland, (or not, I guess), readers....<br />
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- What's with the crazy hair? (especially the whole, only one half of the head shaved)<br />
- Why do they make the "L" drivers drive so slowly?!<br />
- Why do so many people have their children sit in the front seat of the car and their spouse/other adult in the back? Isn't that dangerous?<br />
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There ya go. Curiosity. I've got lots more but we'll start slow.oliviahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13371993808242884849noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4561284101719077125.post-58466845041946110662014-10-01T13:39:00.001-07:002014-10-01T13:39:56.435-07:00Rancho Texas! Dębniki Days, country music... kind of like home. In Krakow there are "districts" of the city, kind of like neighborhoods although they span more than just a few streets. You know, districts. Often these different districts will celebrate the anniversary of the district or just sort of throw a big party to celebrate the area. We don't live in Dębniki. It's actually a really nice area of town and it has a little city center that we would love to own a piece of in the future but I'm pretty sure that's down on like number 8 or 9 on our property acquiring list (we have a list, oh yes, we do, and while it's true we're still working on #1, we might make it to number 3 before we die so the list is relevant!). And seeing as how I don't have my own ranch in Texas yet (that's #2 - I have high hopes), we have to settle for just pretending to live near the area by crashing their big ol' party.<br />
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The theme this year: Country Style!<br />
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Awesome. (and a bit scary, I'm not gonna lie... there was much talk of how much this "Texas style" would be *Polified...)<br />
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The festivities were held at a restaurant called... get this... Rancho Texas!!!<br />
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Yeeeeah, buddy.<br />
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The music, at least right when we got there, luckily, was country-ish (not so much later on when some local ladies had a mini American Idol thing goin' on. sigh), the food was typical Polish sausage type stuff, which is as close to Bar-B-Q as it comes without actually having real Bar-B-Q. They had beer on tap, out of plastic cups. Straight up Texas style right there. And there were even horses for the children to ride! We loved it. I loved it. It was a fun time. I even spotted a cowboy hat and a pair of cowboy boots. I didn't wear mine of course, that would have been a little too cliche and I am far too cool for that, ;), but I was glad to see someone else sportin' a pair of really not practical footwear, all in the name of neighborhood solidarity.<br />
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If you blurred your eyes for a minute, took in the smells of roasting animal flesh and slightly stale beer, the sounds of country music played on acoustic guitars, and didn't listen to a durn thing any real life person was sayin', it was almost like being back home at a really small, tiny, backyard state fair.<br />
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I also have to take this moment to give a nod to my husband who misses all of these Texan things just as much as I do and who took the time to seek it out and plan for us to go. Thanks, hon, sorry I wouldn't two-step with you, I don't like to call attention to our freak show of a family any more than I have to. ;)<br />
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/15413645022" title="002 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="002" height="480" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3928/15413645022_76951e741d_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/15410806651" title="003 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="003" height="480" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3928/15410806651_8ccff30f44_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/15227398568" title="005 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="005" height="480" src="https://farm3.staticflickr.com/2942/15227398568_0bf1b4368b_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/15410819511" title="006 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="006" height="480" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3927/15410819511_4dce3fdaf5_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/15413665592" title="009 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="009" height="640" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3929/15413665592_be54f841f5_z.jpg" width="480" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/15410827391" title="018 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="018" height="480" src="https://farm3.staticflickr.com/2943/15410827391_5537d8d94d_z.jpg" width="640" /></a>
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Ignore me picking food out of my teeth and the FLY IN MY CONDIMENTS and just listen to the music...<br />
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* polified<br />
pr. (poe - lih - fied)<br />
verb<br />
past tense<br />
to make more Polish as by adding Polish food, custom, or taste to an already existing item of different ethnic/regional origin<br />
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: Susan polified her lasagna by inserting a layer of cabbage between the mozzarella and cottage cheese.<br />
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: The polification of the home was complete with the addition of the wiatrolap and one large wall without windows.<br />
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: The mayor order 23 more directional signs and advertisements to be added to main street in an attempt to polify the city.<br />
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oliviahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13371993808242884849noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4561284101719077125.post-3806562368470441732014-09-27T12:18:00.001-07:002014-09-27T12:18:49.608-07:00Why are you staring at us?<br />
Why are you staring at us? Why?<br />
<br />
Is it because I wear those silly cowboy boots?<br />
Is it because my son is wearing pink crocs ( "I like pink, mama!" "me too, Kacio!") and purple pants?<br />
Is it because my daughter is wearing two different colored socks?<br />
<br />
Such little things.<br />
<br />
That can't be it because you just nudged the person standing next to you and now they're staring. It must be something else.<br />
<br />
Is it because I am wearing my baby in a backpack carrier?<br />
Is it because I'm speaking English to the children?<br />
Is it because my husband is speaking Polish to the children?<br />
<br />
Not everyday fare, for sure.<br />
<br />
That can't be it because now you're not only both staring but you're whispering and shaking your head and...and... wait... scowling?<br />
<br />
I just waved and smiled at you to let you know I can see you staring and scowling and shaking your head and whispering. But you didn't smile back at me. You just kept staring and scowling.<br />
<br />
That's weird.<br />
<br />
I sure wish I knew what was going on.<br />
<br />
Until then I'll just assume the best. I'll assume that you stop and stare and scowl and whisper and not return smiles to ALL the people you pass by.<br />
<br />
I'll say a sincere prayer for you.<br />
That you become a happier person.<br />
A more joyful person.<br />
<br />
A person that sees a happy family and smiles.<br />
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<br />oliviahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13371993808242884849noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4561284101719077125.post-54326977568509795062014-09-16T13:12:00.000-07:002014-09-16T13:12:41.044-07:00random house stuff, other random stuff, book question We signed the contract with the bank for the loan. That's good news. Only about a year after starting to apply and 2 year after buying the land. Some of us might be discouraged by the time it has taken us to get this far. Some of of us might like to recall certain conversations where certain people promised certain other people that we would not be living where we are right now for more than 2 years. And even then, those same people like to remind the others that they knew it all along, and it's ok because the "internal calculate for real life time" time line (versus the building contract time line aka OTHER PERSON'S time line) has the house finishing well into next fall (even though next summer has been talked about ad nauseam), one year from now, and anything before then will feel like a wonderful fairy tale dream. It all works out in the end you see.<br />
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You would think I'd be a bit more like !!!! and HEY, LISTEN TO THIS, and much more ohmygoshyouwon'tbelieveiti'msohappyyouwon'tbelieveit about the whole signing for the money thing but what you don't know is that up until the day of the signing we were being told that there was a possibility that the bank wouldn't have the papers ready which would mean the offer would have expired (past 60 days from first offer) and we would have to START ALL OVER.<br />
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Insert this face...<br />
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/15074500467" title="130115-214442 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="130115-214442" height="480" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5592/15074500467_336620f5ef_z.jpg" width="640" /></a>
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Classic.<br />
<br />
So, rather than a big high five or excited calls to parents or romantic dinner to celebrate, Martin and I just let out the loudest sigh of relief heard 'round the world. Or, parking lot of the bank.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/15260809692" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="002 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="002" height="480" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5586/15260809692_a936011e2d_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is the parking lot where we signed other papers the week before. I can double park better than you can.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
Anyway, it's done. We can now tell out builder to go crazy, don't stop for nothin' let us know when you need us...<br />
<br />
So far...<br />
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/15074240377" title="011 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="011" height="480" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5566/15074240377_801ee77d3e_z.jpg" width="640" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/15260818395" title="014 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="014" height="640" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3894/15260818395_c8a2d27977_z.jpg" width="480" /></a>
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They are building the outside walls of the "parter"/0 level/first floor/main floor...whatever you call it in your country. It is, as it should be, very exciting.<br />
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On the weekends we have been living it up in town. We saw the 20th annual Dachshund parade (we went last year as well, twice in a row = family tradition). A Pole and American won best male and female dogs in the show. The girl dog was American. How apt.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/15237870196" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="011 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="011" height="480" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3836/15237870196_0de9f8e420_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">our cousin playing the cymbals</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/15074343517" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="025 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="025" height="480" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3872/15074343517_d065f78509_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">another cousin, sister to the cymbal playing cousin, on the far right, playing the greatest instrument in the world, in sunglasses.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/15074318147" title="017 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="017" height="480" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5574/15074318147_e73d66a21e_z.jpg" width="640" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/15074138709" title="020 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="020" height="480" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5561/15074138709_95c9ac8c3f_z.jpg" width="640" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/15074196820" title="021 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="021" height="480" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5581/15074196820_e89377b1a1_z.jpg" width="640" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/15257802591" title="022 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="022" height="480" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3879/15257802591_e7556d92da_z.jpg" width="640" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/15074156669" title="023 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="023" height="480" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3836/15074156669_9de81e027e_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/15074169999" title="028 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="028" height="480" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3900/15074169999_33916c67e4_z.jpg" width="640" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/15074173739" title="032 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="032" height="480" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3891/15074173739_f397a6ff26_z.jpg" width="640" /></a>
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Eating large cupcakes at Cupcake Corner after Mass which is just around the corner from our beloved St. Giles English language Mass. We have been going every weekend lately. Balm for the soul. (I appreciate Martin's willingness to let us go every weekend, when we can). Bad for the pocketbook...those cupcakes are 'spensive.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/15074396037" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="013 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="013" height="480" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5595/15074396037_6ef275d84d_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">As Lina would say "the whole family!"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Oh yeah, and school started last week. That's a big one, but I don't have any photos of that. Martin is working really hard with the boys to get their Polish where it should be. They have passed all tests with flying colors but at the same time they just don't think in Polish, and that's what we want. I keep threatening to send them to school for a semester or two until it gets to be like second nature but Martin wants to try this first. We'll see...<br />
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That reminds me. Any good books for kids, in Polish, that you all would recommend? They like books that come in a series and they like adventure and "questing" books (whatever that means). They are currently reading the Redwall Series in English but we need more in Polish. Any suggestions?<br />
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Oh, and I got a hair cut. So that was fun.<br />
<br />
Come back Friday for a riveting tale about my deep connection with Dr. Dre. The rapper. Yeah, that's right. Friday.oliviahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13371993808242884849noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4561284101719077125.post-65470406223073591602014-09-12T12:24:00.000-07:002014-09-12T12:24:44.377-07:00Fun Photo FridayI've been thinkin' about changin' up my hair. Been scoutin' the neighborhood for some inspiration...<br />
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/15218519435" title="007 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="007" height="640" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5591/15218519435_a6e9af971c_z.jpg" width="480" /></a><br />
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Yeah, maybe you're right, he's probably the only one who can pull that off.oliviahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13371993808242884849noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4561284101719077125.post-52932020519076438292014-09-07T12:00:00.000-07:002014-09-08T04:01:50.932-07:00I'm no Kelly Ripa - Sopot, Poland picture dumpWhen I was younger there was a show called "Live with Regis and Kathy Lee." One of these early morning talk shows, coffee talk where they discuss current events but nothing too serious. Kathy Lee was famous for her big fluffy hair, Laura Ashley dresses, complete with shoulder pads, and constantly talking about her children. I found her to be loud and obnoxious, but America liked her. They liked her so much that she now has her own show where she gets to drink wine in the middle of the day and be loud and obnoxious on purpose. She has found her calling. Good for her. (this is the most I have ever talked about this woman and now I will never again mention her). All of this is build up to say that sometime after, when she left the show, she was replaced by a little tiny blonde woman with incredibly toned arms and way too much energy named Kelly Ripa. Kelly Ripa is still, to this day, the female host on the morning show, though, sadly, Regis has left due to his being very very old. I used to watch this show occasionally during my earliest mom years. It fell right after Dinosaur train and smack dab in the middle of morning nap time. So I, with my basket of clean laundry, and cup of late morning coffee (American housewife perfection) would switch it on and listen to them chat. Kelly revealed one day that she often stays in hotels. She travels a lot so hotels are like a second home. She then revealed that she is so grossed out by the idea of other people sleeping in the beds in the rooms that she actually brings her own sheets/towels, comforter and pillows to the hotels where she stays, strips all the beds, and remakes them with her own. She can do this. She is a celebrity. <br />
<br />
We happen to stay in a lot of different homes due to traveling. Notice I didn't say "hotels." Hotels are expensive, the rooms are too small for our ever growing family, and they lack privacy (re: thick walls so no one can hear the screaming). So we decided after child #3 that we would only stay in homes. Home-away type homes. Flats rented out to couples, families, bachelor parties. These types of places. Waaaaay cheaper (like a whole week for the price of one night in a nice hotel ), and often allow us to "live" in some pretty great old flats with the crown molding and the tall ceilings, and the beautiful wooden floors. Aaaaaand....<br />
<br />
...all the beds, furniture, silverware, bathroom, etc. that are used by all those other people that came before us. And there is no hotel staff coming behind all of them and sterilizing the room with their sprays and their industrial boiling water laundry systems and their little nice tags wrapped around the toilet that promises the toilet has been sterilized... NOTHING is sterilized in a home-away type house. NOTH. ING. It is a big time "hit or miss" type of situation in terms of cleanliness and "comes with". And this time it was a big miss. It was a particularly not so great feeling coming from the stained couch, the not so well cleaned silverware in the drawer, and the lone roll of almost finished toilet paper that made me feel just a little put out that I was not a celebrity who had thought to bring her own sheets (or towels, washcloths, soap - which all definitely did not "come with"). Because I can see with my own eyes that those other things are dirty... but the sheets? No. telling. We are the healthier for it, right? Other people's germs of the past are our immunities of the future? Ms. Ripa doesn't know what she's missing!<br />
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Flat 'quirkiness' aside, the trip was great. The weather was cool and windy at first and then warmed up more each day. And the drive, well, there was no vomiting, only a little crying, and only one instance of 3 year having to pee in a bottle (those return trip toll booth lines are a pain in the rear). I'd say it was quite a success. And it's a drive that takes you from the South of Poland to the very North, so you get to tour the whole country, sort of. Very cool. Everything you see pictured, we did. Rode on boats, toured battleships, saw fish, swam in the sea, ... I think the kids will remember it for some time to come. <br />
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/14982779750" title="022 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="022" height="480" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3911/14982779750_e46c5a8935_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/15166447521" title="023 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="023" height="480" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3854/15166447521_9ee88b24d8_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/15166454581" title="025 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="025" height="480" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3906/15166454581_e26620e1f0_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/14982882417" title="026 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="026" height="480" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3846/14982882417_585e454940_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/14982894007" title="027 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="027" height="480" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5582/14982894007_0584735622_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/15169464955" title="029 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="029" height="480" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3865/15169464955_38c2f21b0a_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/14982893457" title="030 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="030" height="480" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5554/14982893457_ff16975b72_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/14982771779" title="042 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="042" height="640" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3905/14982771779_cdbdcb5f5c_z.jpg" width="480" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/14982930127" title="052 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="052" height="480" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3852/14982930127_a837d2734e_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/15166510931" title="058 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="058" height="480" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3926/15166510931_9964fc7c21_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/14982854920" title="078 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="078" height="640" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3836/14982854920_230e27eea0_z.jpg" width="480" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/14982861950" title="082 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="082" height="480" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3849/14982861950_2fb0ae24d4_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/14982795629" title="088 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="088" height="480" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3901/14982795629_a950a1bc9e_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/14982953958" title="089 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="089" height="480" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5580/14982953958_efe403315d_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/14982892470" title="135 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="135" height="480" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3913/14982892470_fd5f8093f4_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/15166564611" title="152 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="152" height="480" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3849/15166564611_a4d78cf458_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/14982994807" title="156 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="156" height="480" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5581/14982994807_af1008bd0c_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/15169191442" title="173 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="173" height="480" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3877/15169191442_678b03ffb1_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/14983008307" title="189 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="189" height="640" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3841/14983008307_79ca50cf7f_z.jpg" width="480" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/14982934590" title="210 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="210" height="480" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3868/14982934590_7f582347e8_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/14982938930" title="229 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="229" height="480" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5579/14982938930_0df1bf63c1_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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<br />oliviahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13371993808242884849noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4561284101719077125.post-70816840006446828462014-08-28T07:21:00.001-07:002014-08-28T07:21:41.050-07:00noticing the normal part 2After living here and then returning to the States I noticed the difference in what you are exposed to more than anything. On the streets, in the stores, at restaurants. America, the part I am from, is very... sterile, I guess you could say. Very clean, manicured. (In fact you pay money to an association, in your neighborhood, whose sole purpose is to make sure that everyone around you keeps their homes manicured and sterile).<br />
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If someone is drinking, in public, in the middle of the day, the police are immediately called. Inebriation happens in your backyard, your living room, or at a bar. Never out in the open (at least not for long).<br />
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Old people. Older, like 10 years past retirement age, walking slowly, white hair. Where are these people in America? I rarely saw them as I went about my daily life. I certainly wasn't rubbing elbows with them at the checkout line in Target.<br />
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People with physical or mental disabilities. Never. Ok, maybe every once in a while, in a group whose sole purpose is to take people out for an outing and then back to the school or home where they spend most of their time.<br />
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It's almost as if, along with our lawns and our appearance, we have manicured who we encounter as we walk out our front door. How? I don't know. Societal pressure. Choice. Money. In a country that prides itself on being diverse and tolerant, America also likes it's special schools, it's special homes, and it's institutions. Visible difference or suffering makes people uncomfortable. A lot of people simply tuck it away or don't deal with it at all. It's easy to do that in America.<br />
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So when we had a friend visit us last summer, here in Krakow, he asked us one evening as we were discussing his trip to Europe (including several countries)...<br />
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"Why are there so many "different" people?... have you guys noticed that?... so many people with disabilities, or really old, or looking kind of not all put together," ( he was trying to be nice...how does one discuss these things after all?).<br />
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Martin and I both kind of chuckled. He had noticed all the "not normal."<br />
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Part of raising my kids here is choosing to expose them to all of this life..as I mentioned in my rant against <i>those people</i> in Kazimierz... this WORLD. See, what you get in American suburbs is exactly what American suburbs are serving up... normality. A pre-prescribed normality. An agreed upon normality. A uniformity. A uniformity that money can buy, and one that is increasingly manicured and detailed the more money you have. I grew up in this. Most of my friends grew up in this. Martin, at least in America, grew up in this. And to be able to live in the American suburbs is the "American dream," white picket fence, and all that. Safety, good schools, neighbors who are similar to you in many ways. It's not very far to the soup kitchen for the homeless or the women's shelter for battered women, but you have to make the effort, you have to seek out the suffering, the different.<br />
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There's nothing wrong with that. I mean, nothing morally wrong with that. At least I don't think so. It's a very comforting, restful existence. You have to be invited into people's homes to see them live. There are the differences, the struggles, the "not normal". But only if you're invited, if you're trusted. Rarely in public.<br />
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So sterile. So prepackaged. So predictable.<br />
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Poland, perhaps I should say, Europe, is just so... raw. So <i>real</i>. So unpredictable.<br />
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I like that. It's been good for me. To know that this is what life can be like, all the pretty and ugly, together. Being exposed to, on a daily basis, what I normally would have to seek out. I like that my kids get to see all kinds of people living out their lives. ALL kinds of people, not just the ones that are socially acceptable, even if that means they have to see things that are "unpleasant."<br />
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If you have always lived here you probably think I'm crazy to talk about this for so long. For sure, I'm talking about your backyard, and it has always looked like that, all of this is normal for you, regular, every day living in Krakow, Poland. <br />
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Little by little it is becoming so for me as well. It's a good thing.<br />
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<br />oliviahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13371993808242884849noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4561284101719077125.post-45504104927782997432014-08-26T13:22:00.000-07:002014-08-26T13:22:07.665-07:00noticing the normal part 1See, the thing is, there just ARE more people in your line of vision. Everywhere. More people. Because Europe builds up, not out. People here walk or ride public transportation. Lots of cars too, more every day, but still, bursting at the seams public transport. You see people. All kinds of people, every day. You see people eating and drinking while walking. You see people of all ages and sizes and races and genders (well, just the two really) licking ice cream cones.<br />
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This always makes me chuckle. Guys with shaved heads, muscle shirts, iphone to ear, licking an ice cream cone and walking to the bus stop. Imagine it for a second. There is no cool way to eat an ice cream. It's chuckle worthy.<br />
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What this means is that you are seeing people living. Not just people "at the store", or "at the mall," or "at the work place,"...but people in the middle of living their lives.<br />
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You see a lot. You hear a lot. You smell a lot. Some of it not so pleasant. Some of it not very pretty. All of it VERY human.<br />
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I once saw two men who had clearly just been fighting, drunk, make-up their fight for well over 30 minutes. Talking, hugging, and explaining. One of them was wearing nothing but boxer shorts.<br />
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You see many more people with physical and mental disabilities. People with facial or physical dis-figuration. People who have clearly lived very hard lives, care worn and tired. You see a lot of elderly people. A lot of elderly people. Everywhere.<br />
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If you visit here you aren't going to notice these things as more than just quirks. You see people rifling through trash cans or men drinking on a bench at 10:30am on a Sunday morning and you are a little shocked but in that "oh, look at Europe" kind of way. You see people who walk funny or look a little weather beaten and assume they must be poor. Or you simply don't see them at all because you're busy looking up at the pretty buildings or booking it to the recommended restaurant or your face is behind the camera. Because you're visiting, and that's what you came for. The fancy European stuff.<br />
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What happens when you live here is a bit different.<br />
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You start to notice all these people living, and then you notice the grungy stuff, and the not so pretty stuff. The broken stuff. Because now you live here and instead of noticing the pretty buildings, you start to notice the trash can rifling, and the drunken stumbling, and the graffiti. Except its not quirky, or other worldy...it's home.<br />
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And then it seems as if that's all there is to see. Because you start to really notice it. Because it stands out. It's not "normal." Because after a while, after taking your face away from the camera and looking around, you start to look for the normal. The moms with strollers and dads with kids on shoulders. The ladies out for a coffee together and friends sharing a soda. At first you can't see it. You can't see the normal because there is so much "other." So. much. OTHER. So much that is not clean and neat and fits into, well, into a neat and clean store or restaurant or place of business...where you're used to encountering other people.<br />
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It's not cleaned up ship shape for public viewing. It's not polished. It's not predictable.<br />
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There are so many reactions I have had to this reality. Sometimes it's disgust. Warranted disgust. For some things are not appropriate or tolerable anywhere. Sometimes it's fatigue. Just tiring of trying to navigate the good, the bad, and the ugly, take in the good, pray for the bad, and hope the ugly goes out of style. But more often than that I have found myself just looking on (or away) with curiosity. It's not every day that you see a man riding a bike with nothing on but mesh underwear. Very intriguing.<br />
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Martin says that it's easy to not notice the normal, because when surrounded by so many people on a daily basis, every time you step out of the house, the not normal stands out. In a crowd of people you aren't going to notice all the regular people doing regular things like sitting and looking out the window on the tram, you're going to notice the girl who's brushing her teeth and texting at the same time (true story) standing directly in front of you.<br />
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No, you have to look for it. You have to make an effort to notice it, instead of the other. To refocus your eyes...<br />
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<br />oliviahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13371993808242884849noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4561284101719077125.post-14424221983867118672014-08-19T14:29:00.000-07:002014-08-19T14:31:41.062-07:00speaking of things my children have seen that they could do without seeingOh, Finland, you ol' creepy country you.<br />
Givin' Poland a run for it's money.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/14787067848" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="photo (8) by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="photo (8)" height="480" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3839/14787067848_30e15ff03f_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thankfully they have that protective rope. </td></tr>
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<br />oliviahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13371993808242884849noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4561284101719077125.post-83391358813087131412014-08-19T13:30:00.000-07:002014-08-19T13:30:13.973-07:00home bageling, for nowOne of Martin's earliest memories of living in America was when he was 3. His parents had just moved to Austin, they were living in an Apartment complex on the second floor. Little 3 year old Martin thought it would be a good idea to ride his tricycle down the flight of (metal) stairs that connected the first and second floors. As he hit the ground his eyebrow, that spot so prone to cuts, popped open and blood started spilling everywhere. His father found him covered in blood, holding his eye. Head injuries bleed like there is no tomorrow, which is to say, a lot. I've been there with my own sons, I know the fear his dad felt. His father assumed he had lost an eye. The story goes, as he was running up the stairs to clean him up and take him to the hospital, that his father's first thoughts were along the lines of ... "why did I bring them to this country?!" Which, after hearing this story told about 8 or 9 times (it never gets old, none of my father-in-law's stories ever get old, I love them, I love them all, especially the one about the nun and the bones...), sounds more and more absurd...<br />
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What do mean, "why did I bring them to this country?!" It's not America's fault that your 3 year old made a conscious decision (Martin remembers choosing to do this) to ride his bike down a flight of metal stairs. Why are you blaming America? Hmmm? I seem to remember an incident involving an open window and a toddler that happened in good ol' sunny Nowa Huta...where was America on that one?... stuff happens everywhere... etc. etc. You know, all said with a hint of seriousness but mostly jollity.<br />
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Until this past week.<br />
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Now I know exactly how he feels.<br />
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Sigh.<br />
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And no, there was no blood involved. No trips to E.R.'s. And no one was the least bit hurt. At least not physically.<br />
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My story goes... eating out at one of our favorite quick and delicious <a href="http://www.bagelmama.com/">eateries in hippie dippie Kazimierz </a>when I look up and see... something. Something that I should not have to see. Something that my children should not have to see. But I saw it. We ALL saw it.<br />
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I panicked.<br />
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Well, first I informed Martin, quelled my very young and innocent children's curiosity with bold faced lies about what was really going on, and swiftly buckled them all and drove off.<br />
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*Then* I panicked.<br />
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HOW?! How could I have brought my children to this place?! To have brought my children here, to this place where they can see such things, in public! Not but a few yards away?!! How can we live in this place where people think that's ok to do, in a park, in plain view of everyone, on a Thursday afternoon?! Such boorishness, such crassness! Such a horrible display of...!!!<br />
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But really, it doesn't matter what we saw, does it? My kids see things here every day that I wish they didn't have to see. Men dragging themselves into and out of the 24 hour alcohol stores (open every day, rain or shine, Sundays, holidays, and especially Holy Days!) wasted out of their gourd, sobering up just long enough to shoot the finger at the truck that had the audacity to try and drive on the street where they were stumbling (or trying to ride their bike - so sad).Or the graffiti that not only spells out the most horrible words used to describe the co-creative act but then proper anatomy for visual aids, just in case. Mother's yanking their children by the arms, dad's telling their kids they're dumb. Older people, mentally unstable, harassing them, my children, who try and be nice, and then become afraid so that we have to duck into a nearby church to escape. Cursing! Loud, loud cursing, followed by lots of lengthy, drunken, public urination. Women/Men wearing nothing but underwear (or see-through clothing, looooots of see through clothing), because, you know, it's 30c/86f out!<br />
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Drunken men.<br />
Crazy old women.<br />
Bad parenting.<br />
Mostly naked youths (or not so youth)<br />
Public displays of... you name it.<br />
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I just panicked.<br />
Why did I bring them here?!<br />
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I missed our little home school community and the safety of the middle class American suburbs more than I ever have before. It's so different there! So normal, so clean, so simple. So NOT all this, this...this WORLD... that is constantly being shoved in our face, without our permission, in spite of our protestations!<br />
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Ugh.<br />
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It wasn't good that young Martin fell down those stairs and cut his eyebrow. It could have been a lot worse. And he will forever have the scar. But he survived. It was not good that my young children saw something that they cannot un-see. I will never forget it. But we will survive. My love for Poland has been dented a little, it's true. But over time I'm sure I'll get a good chuckle out of all of this and be reminded time and again that Poland had nothing to do with it (at least not directly, I mean, it has more to do with it than just a flight of stairs that *happen* to be in America, I mean stairs are everywhere, what we saw doesn't just happen everywhere...but I <strike>have more reason to be upset with a whole country</strike> digress).<br />
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I will not however be going back to trendy, hipster, gross Kazimierz for quite some time. At least until my mental image of it is somewhat altered, by a blanket of pure white snow perhaps? Therefore I've been forced to make my own bagels.<br />
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And that's just fine with me (and her).<br />
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<br />oliviahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13371993808242884849noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4561284101719077125.post-37628307492518218562014-08-06T12:43:00.001-07:002014-08-06T12:51:43.549-07:00To Martin, From Olivia : Our Day (aka, Day 3 without you)<br />
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<span id="yui_3_16_0_6_1407311401504_23">Today was much better than yesterday. I got way more sleep and the weather was cooler. It just gets so hot up here! What do people in 4th floor flats do?!</span></div>
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<span id="yui_3_16_0_6_1407311401504_26"><br id="yui_3_16_0_6_1407311401504_34" />Speaking of Poland and climate, why don't Poles put screens on their windows? Is there some sort of old wives tale about flies in your house/food/hair/drink being good luck or something? Fruit flies, Martin, fruit flies. And I'm pretty sure pregnant flies, giving birth somewhere where I can't see them. At this very moment.</span></div>
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<span id="yui_3_16_0_6_1407311401504_36">And don't worry, I took out the trash and the recycling... I'm so glad I'm not the man who has to pick up our trash, God bless them.</span></div>
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Speaking of trash, the boys vacuumed the floors today. They pretended I was the master and they were the slaves and they had to do everything I said. Worked great for Kacio. For once he did everything I told him to do with no stalling. They vacuumed and then commenced to suck each others shirts into the vacuum cleaner, but then that's half the fun. They were also supposed to clean their room. I think one of them didn't get the memo...<br />
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We went to M1 as promised and looked at games. So expensive!! And Felix still has his heart set on Magia i Miecz so we decided not to buy anything until we talk to your cousins about that. Soon hopefully. I also bought the elastic I needed. I had no idea what the word for elastic was, I meant to look it up before we left but forgot. Hejjo didn't know either, and why would he? But it didn't matter. The woman did not speak a single word to me the entire time she was helping me. She grunted a couple times. But I guess she understood? It was at that creepy Pasmanteria that I swear has the exact same fabric in the exact same amounts as when we moved here. How does that place stay in business? How do any of them stay in business?!! (I'm tellin' ya...money launderin'...it has to be...there is no way there are that many people that need Firanki out there that don't already have them, to keep these places in business...although there are a lot of polyester pant suits out there and someone has to be sewing them...)</div>
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I bought 2 yards, for less than 1 American dollar. What a country.</div>
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We ate at that same restaurant where we ate that time Felix got lost. The food was worse than I remembered but the kids liked it and my Zurek was ok. I ordered a Duzy Kotlet and fries for all of them (it was not the healthiest day of eating)... so we also had our evening meal sewn up.<br />
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We took the #4 tram to Amiqs. I started to get really worried when it headed towards the Old Town and then I realized that it was just a really long trip... it took us almost 40 minutes to get there. Hejjo was seriously ill from the smell on the tram when we got out. Poor kid. They were not as happy riding the tram as I thought they'd be. </div>
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I bought some yarn, attempted to get the<strike> Hobbits</strike> boys haircuts, but it didn't work out. </div>
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We got back on the tram, Kacio fell asleep. Hejjo gave up his seat for an older man with a cane, without me even having to tell him. I was proud.</div>
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Sound bites once departing the tram:</div>
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H: The second tram smelled even worse than the first.</div>
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F: Wouldn't it have been faster if we had just taken the car?</div>
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K: That wasn't scary, that wasn't scary tram ride, mama, that wasn't scary, right, mama, that wasn't scary, right? (breathe)</div>
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Me: Right.</div>
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We got the ice cream that was promised. They were so well behaved all day, they really were. We never got flustered, we stopped for lots of drinks and I made sure and take potty breaks so there were no emergencies. It was really nice to just hang out with them. No rushing. Such great kids we have.<br />
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/14843762214" title="028 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="028" height="480" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3849/14843762214_68af26879e_z.jpg" width="640" /></a>
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Then I pushed my luck and took them into H&M. Gotta love those lines at the checkout. I bought this... </div>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/14845876782" title="031 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="031" height="640" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3887/14845876782_6ecac60f3d_z.jpg" width="480" /></a>
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...<span style="font-family: HelveticaNeue, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, 'Lucida Grande', sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">except the pants I bought are a different color, a different material, and less tight. And my shirt is longer and doesn't have roses all over it. So, like, the same, but, like, different too.</span><br />
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Then we came back to the car where Felek stopped, basically in the middle of the road, almost getting hit, because he found a "ladybug wrestling an ant and wanted a closer look." The kid can't find a red pillow on a white couch but he can spot an ant and a ladybug wrestling?! Dude. Grrbbles.</div>
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/14659531090" title="034 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="034" height="480" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3877/14659531090_71bbda0b26_z.jpg" width="640" /></a>
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On the way home I saw a man on a bike, about 65 years old, with ear buds in and in one hand, (the one not steering), a 5 foot long completely rusted rod of metal except in cube form, not cylinder. </div>
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And a 'Smart' car with 4 doors and 5 seats. What's. the point.</div>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/14823249906" title="035 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="035" height="640" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3854/14823249906_130703f6e8_z.jpg" width="480" /></a>
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We came home and I let the boys watch Episode 6 of Star Wars and this happened.</div>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/14843774544" title="050 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="050" height="640" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3871/14843774544_f2dbaf524d_z.jpg" width="480" /></a>
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I hope you had a relatively easy day at work and are enjoying your time there. Thanks for chatting with my dad, I'm sure he appreciated it. Tell Lina I said hi and that I love her!</div>
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P.S. On the way to Amiqs I saw an "L" driver almost hit a pedestrian. I'm pretty sure the teacher used his own brake and the pedestrian thought it was hilarious and started laughing. 20 something guy, trendy, Ronaldo type hair, eating ice cream on a stick. It made me laugh.</div>
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P.P.S. She was there too. Like this, in the wrap for 4.5 hours. Never once made a peep.</div>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/14866078383" title="022 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="022" height="480" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3887/14866078383_b97a5b40a5_z.jpg" width="640" /></a>
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Olivia </div>
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oliviahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13371993808242884849noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4561284101719077125.post-56177121157017653382014-08-04T23:33:00.000-07:002014-08-04T23:33:20.917-07:00To Martin, from Olivia<div id="yui_3_16_0_6_1407218290743_4" style="margin-bottom: 0.1em; margin-top: 0.1em; padding: 0px;">
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<span id="yui_3_16_0_6_1407218290743_27">I'm going to assume you're alive since your email insinuates that you got to Austin and were missing something that someone there wanted which you could only know if someone there is going through the bags. I really don't like the way Lina was sent off. She had too few underwear, the skirt she was wearing was falling apart and she really only has enough clothes for half the amount of days you are supposed to be there. So please say/do whatever you can to apologize for making your mom do laundry for Lina, but I wanted her to pack lightly. Also, she needs shoes for the wedding. And a dress for the rehearsal dinner. She should have taken her pink dress, I just didn't think about it at the time. Target should have a dress that will do just fine. I wish I was there to pick it out. :(</span></div>
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I made biscuits yesterday. The creme ones. We ate the rest of them for breakfast this morning because without you here, there is so much more food when I cook. And I made potato pancakes last night. With Smietana. I ate way too many, because you weren't here to eat them all. I would be huge if you were not around.</div>
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I ordered Tesco. I'll email you after 1 pm to let you know the Tesco guy didn't abduct us. I'm sure it will be fine but he has a big van and I bet no one would hear the screams. Wait, isn't that van air conditioned? Maybe I'll just ask him if I can ride in the back for a few hours.</div>
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It is so incredibly quiet here. Yesterday was such a peaceful day and today is already so calm. The kids are so calm when it's just me, they don't have to fight you for my attention and of course, there is no fighting, since Lina is kind of the fulcrum for that teeter totter. And there is no one yelling at me all day... I think Kacio is a little bored though The boys are just reading all day long. Mattimeo came yesterday (thank goodness) and ever since both boys have just been laying around reading. I'm trying to spend more time with Kacio. He helped me cook, he painted, he cleaned dishes in a big sink sing full of soapy water. He pooped about 5 times. He watched Bob the builder. We played two games, read books with Hejjo. Watched Shaun the sheep.</div>
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Tomorrow I plan on going to Amiqs on the tram. Parking at M1 and then riding the rest of the way (I checked the jakdojadlgjyfvgf - the 4 goes that way - takes forever). The kids will like that. That is, as long as I'm not in the back of the Tesco van being smuggled to Russia...</div>
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We had a huge storm here yesterday and I'm pretty sure that two lightning strikes were actually in the backyard. It's hard to see the backyard from the top story but we stood on our tiptoes and watched the lightning. Twice, when we were in the living room, it was that really loud cracking sound and a blue light, really close, and the thunder was amazing! No hail. And it rained forever, really hard. It's much cooler today, although I know it will warm up. </div>
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Why do the kids wake up so early?</div>
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I hope your trip went smoothly. Say hi to everyone there for us. </div>
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Tell Lina I love her and remind her to sit like a lady and brush her hair, please. And her teeth! And say please and thank you...</div>
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I love you!</div>
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Olivia </div>
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“Listen and attend with the ear of your heart.”<br />Saint Benedict</div>
oliviahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13371993808242884849noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4561284101719077125.post-92165339047221896352014-08-01T12:49:00.001-07:002014-08-01T12:49:46.258-07:00Walls!We have walls! Basement walls, but still... that means, homeschooling room walls, guest room walls and laundry room walls! LAUNDRY ROOM!!! (Laundry = my 6th child that now will have its very own room)<br />
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/14617230029" title="013 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="013" height="480" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5557/14617230029_ea2c75529d_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/14617356117" title="010 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="010" height="480" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3894/14617356117_cb0aaa40aa_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/14617257288" title="009 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="009" height="480" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3868/14617257288_f7f21fd843_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/14617158730" title="008 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="008" height="480" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3895/14617158730_58a5ecd5a7_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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Banks = Elmira Gulch<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/6jcm4kwmz44" width="560"></iframe><br />
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"county" = money<br />
23 years = 8 months<br />
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With all that's going on in the world right now, from our little family to countries we've never visited, I have found it hard to be at peace a good portion of the day. So much to think about. And pray about. Anxiety and restlessness. The house has been a source of much needed focus. Martin wants to visit every day. I have managed to hold him back to every other day (it's almost 40 minutes from where we live right now, gas is expensive, and we do have a life to live). But we both know that this Sunday we will be taking a picnic lunch and eating in one of those rooms with no roof. Just to pretend. And bask in our blessings.<br />
<br />oliviahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13371993808242884849noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4561284101719077125.post-78124533734115685012014-08-01T05:03:00.000-07:002014-08-01T05:03:34.428-07:00Exotic fruitsFound in the "exotic fruits" section of Tesco online. Just for fun.<br />
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/14614722727" title="015 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="015" height="480" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5559/14614722727_a3d5eeaf16_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/14821085303" title="016 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="016" height="640" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3920/14821085303_c4d4aba746_z.jpg" width="480" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/14798880334" title="017 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="017" height="480" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3876/14798880334_9dee4e18c9_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/14614590169" title="019 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="019" height="640" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3893/14614590169_6f8b0e7b8f_z.jpg" width="480" /></a>oliviahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13371993808242884849noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4561284101719077125.post-63605011051088653932014-07-17T13:43:00.001-07:002014-07-17T13:43:55.942-07:00Just like the State FairOne week before my due date with Veronica I decided to take the kids to the Texas Livestock Show and Rodeo. It runs for 2 weeks every March and it's always a good time. Texas has a tradition of raising livestock. 4 legged animals that give back in some way... milk, beef, wool, or animals with 2 legs, also giving back, eggs mostly. They have competitions where farms or individuals (often young adults or children) can enter their animals in contests and win prize money, usually spent on another animal to raise and show off again the next year. So, for 2 weeks, all the winning animals and some of the 2nd and 3rd place as well, are kept in a big barn for everyone to see. There are also rides for the kids, exhibitions on milking a cow, petting zoo, these types of things. Exposing the city kids to a little farm livin' is never a bad thing... see below...<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/14492336850" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="135 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="135" height="375" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3907/14492336850_4c80590070.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">pig race. they race around to reach the oreo at the end. very cute.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/14492365879" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="137 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="137" height="375" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3919/14492365879_5aabf7022b.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/14676650974" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="126 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="126" height="500" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3866/14676650974_eb0bb627b8.jpg" width="375" /></a></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/14698876233" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="124 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="124" height="500" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5552/14698876233_d58554c03f.jpg" width="375" /></a></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/14698863073" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="117 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="117" height="500" src="https://farm3.staticflickr.com/2914/14698863073_0a6da155cf.jpg" width="375" /></a></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/14492335019" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="116 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="116" height="375" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3851/14492335019_5f639fe8c6.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/14492518417" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="115 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="115" height="375" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3871/14492518417_9ef106e4f6.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/14698848823" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="113 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="113" height="375" src="https://farm3.staticflickr.com/2926/14698848823_7c9278ace7.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/14492507987" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="111 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="111" height="375" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5590/14492507987_44a5c3ac29.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/14676624164" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="109 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="109" height="375" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5489/14676624164_124ec46243.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
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Yes, yes, that's all very cute and we're making memories, etc., etc.<br />
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In REALITY, we all know why we really go to the State Fair and Rodeo...for the food...<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/14676637604" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="119 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="119" height="375" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3907/14676637604_7604c21d05.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Deep Fried anything</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/14678994125" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="120 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="120" height="375" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5575/14678994125_7482df7299.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/14656013406" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="138 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="138" height="375" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3852/14656013406_b0357aefb2.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Italian food" on a stick</td></tr>
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There is an entire category of food that is "Fairground Food" (the first two photos) and a sub-culture within that which includes all kinds of foods on sticks. One hand for your beer. One hand for your food. No utensils needed, and if you're super careful, you won't even need a napkin.<br />
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Oh, how glorious was the day man invented food on sticks.<br />
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One such beloved food on a stick is called a 'corn dog'. This is a hot dog weiner, beef, pork, unidentifiable meat in tube form on a stick, dipped in a special cornmeal batter. It usually looks like this...<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img src="http://cdn1.moneysavingmom.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/10/soniccorn-dog.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Picture taken from Sonic, the king of fast food corn dogs.</td></tr>
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We would go to Sonic occasionally as kids. And I would always order one of two things. Hamburger - meat and bun only (no veggies or condiments - I know you Poles are just cringing at this ;)) OR a corn dog - plain. Heaven.</div>
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Poland doesn't have Sonic or Texas State Fairs. So when the corn dog can't come to us... we create it ourselves...<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/14676761764" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="003 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="003" height="375" src="https://farm3.staticflickr.com/2900/14676761764_04fc217205.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/14492466879" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="005 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="005" height="375" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5592/14492466879_bdf1fae0ce.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/14656114156" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="010 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="010" height="375" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5573/14656114156_2266fa801e.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
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This is what happens when you let your children take the pictures to "document corn dog making." Little goobers. I used Popsicle sticks ( I have tons now, thank you very much!) stuck into some short and fat parowki and followed <a href="http://allrecipes.com/recipe/corn-dogs/detail.aspx">this recipe</a> for the batter.</div>
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They. were. amazing. </div>
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I am only allowed to make these once a year says Martin, because they are the definition of heart attack inducing deliciousness. But goodness, it's worth it.</div>
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oliviahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13371993808242884849noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4561284101719077125.post-64386073116114599702014-07-15T12:57:00.003-07:002014-07-15T12:57:13.933-07:00Summer time - Picture Dump<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/14661309514" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="002 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="002" height="500" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3875/14661309514_19760e5fa5.jpg" width="375" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/14660355851" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="007 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="007" height="375" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3868/14660355851_1f7c4df919.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Martin and I took advantage of having Babcia living downstairs for a while and went out on the town by ourselves.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/14683492093" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="008 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="008" height="500" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3866/14683492093_66d42cab3e.jpg" width="375" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She came too. Fancy <i>European</i> baby. "What's that?, Europe?!, I live in Europe?!!... I was not consulted!"</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/14476906370" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="013 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="013" height="375" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3843/14476906370_b1322c6d4f.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Swimmer #1</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/14683489303" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="015 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="015" height="375" src="https://farm3.staticflickr.com/2934/14683489303_e5964c0c2f.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Swimmer #2</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/14660380111" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="018 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="018" height="375" src="https://farm3.staticflickr.com/2928/14660380111_d20c8390d1.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption">Swimmer #3</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/14477149307" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="021 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="021" height="500" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3908/14477149307_e0fdcf18a7.jpg" width="375" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fancy tired European baby.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/14640620626" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="027 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="027" height="500" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3849/14640620626_9a58ede502.jpg" width="375" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Spectator. Who dresses this kid?</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/14663247292" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="028 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="028" height="500" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5539/14663247292_f7f8f70e75.jpg" width="375" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I do exist, after all.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/14640521846" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="007 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="007" height="500" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3892/14640521846_f8fb2668a2.jpg" width="375" /></a><br /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/14660294611" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="009 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="009" height="375" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3916/14660294611_b6b87ed5cb.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Unsupervised 3 year old.<br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/14640534876" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="012 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="012" height="375" src="https://farm3.staticflickr.com/2921/14640534876_fac572777f.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">My first and only completed knit of the summer. Sigh.<br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/14640540136" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="017 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="017" height="375" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5553/14640540136_56be9abe21.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">This reads: We welcome you to a festival of hot dogs. Sounds good to me! Hosted by...your local gas station.<br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/14661263594" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="019 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="019" height="375" src="https://farm3.staticflickr.com/2898/14661263594_ff82464fd7.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/14661279434" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="033 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="033" height="375" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3886/14661279434_56ae6862ce.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">4th of July faces.<br /></td></tr>
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<span style="text-align: center;">Who am I kidding? It's summer, I have a new baby plus 4 other kids and I have never claimed to be super mom, the laundry piles and half finished sewing projects are proof of that. I like blogging but it has taken a big back seat to other things right now. Sporadic posts are what we get.</span><br />
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In case you're following along...we got our loan approved. It's a conditional approval which means that we must meet a condition before the money is released but it is a step in the right direction. We are hesitantly excited. If you have a chance and some extra space on your prayer list, send some up for Martin. He is working so hard to get all this put together. We have been told by every other person how hard it is to build a house in Poland, how all the contractors will tell you you're doing it wrong and how every neighbor will have an opinion. At this point, I welcome those comments because it means there is actually a house to criticize! Plus, then I get to wear my "Jestem szefem" shirt! (if you know what I'm talking about here you have definitely been paying attention ;) )<br />
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If you happen to come across this blog, or have been reading from the very start, please don't hesitate to shoot me an email if you're in Krakow and would like to meet up!<br />
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Cheers!<br />
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<br />oliviahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13371993808242884849noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4561284101719077125.post-2698940982837163562014-07-02T13:08:00.001-07:002014-07-02T13:08:24.282-07:00Building a house in Poland: FrustrationHere is where we are now...<br />
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/14559385632" title="024 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="024" height="375" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3909/14559385632_e33a0b24e6.jpg" width="500" /></a><br />
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and here is where we were a month ago...<br />
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/77133272@N06/14373568940" title="022 by Olivia Demkowicz, on Flickr"><img alt="022" height="500" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3924/14373568940_dd962c135b.jpg" width="375" /></a>
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If you're thinkin' they look similar, you'd be correct. Because they are similar, the exact same in fact. And no, here in Poland, foundations do not have to sit for a whole month before you can build on them.<br />
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Banks, man. Banks.<br />
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BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANKS!!!!<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/7PplbaJyPsY" width="560"></iframe>
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I'm not going to go into detail. It's been a long and arduous task, compiling all the paperwork, submitting all the forms, translations and more translation, and waiting, and waiting, and waiting..... and waiting. Martin, to be more specific, has been doing all of this, on top of his other, real job, which actually makes the money so we can even have what you see up there in those photos.<br />
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And we didn't start this process a month ago, no ma'am, we started it almost 6 months ago.<br />
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Don't. even. ask.<br />
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I know all the arguments about how Poland weathered the worldwide recession by being fiscally conservative and blah, blah, bah... but c'mon, man.<br />
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C'MON.<br />
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We just want some money. That's all. Just some money.<br />
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<br />oliviahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13371993808242884849noreply@blogger.com4