My Husband's First Trip to Poland

 After being together for 6 years (I was the one who wanted to wait a while to get married, I wanted to go to college, and be sure of what I wanted to do in life, plus we met when we were young), my husband and I got married. 




From poland.gov.pl , Fot. Mariusz Cieszewski / www.fotcom.biz";



The wedding itself was not as tricky to plan as the honeymoon.  After all, I and every I knew, wanted us to go to Poland to meet my family.  My husband, and his family, did not want us to.

"Let's go to the Grand Canyon for our honeymoon.  I bet it's amazing", he said. 

"The Grand Canyon isn't going anywhere, it's right down the road from us (alright, it's more like many hours down several highways from us, but it's in the same country).  My Babcia is getting older.  And I feel that if we don't go for our honeymoon, you will never want to go and I'll never be able to visit there again if you don't go with me.  It's important you meet my family, see where I am from, where I was born, where I was baptized, understand me", were my arguments for going.

"I don't speak Polish.  I won't be able to talk to anyone there.  I'll be in the corner all alone and confused in some foreign country while you are off talking to your family", was the argument he would answer with.

"I will translate for you.  Many of them speak English.  And we are planning this a year ahead of time, you can start learning now so that you speak and understand some.  People learn a new language in less than half a year, you can do this", I would answer.

I have no idea why his family was against the idea of having our honeymoon in Poland.  Some of his family suggested a local resort town which we had been to many times before, others suggested Florida, Los Vegas (I don't gamble and just don't find the whole "Sin City" thing to be my cup of tea), or on a cruise to a Caribbean Island somewhere. 

I did hear one argument from them against Poland over and over that he did not speak the language.  In fact, I think that was the contention point, the fact that they thought it was unfair of me to expect him to "suddenly" learn Polish for me, while I believed that, since we had been together at that point for 5 years already before we started planning the honeymoon, he should already speak Polish. 

Don't get me wrong, I love my In-laws, as I should.  And I understood what my husband was feeling.  But my father was already paying entirely for our wedding and our honeymoon.  Meanwhile, my husband and his family had originally intended on inviting 150+ people on his side of the family, most of whom did not really get along in the first place while I had only 3 people present for my side.  I was once again (for what seemed like the millionth time in my life) being reminded that I was not born in the US, that my family was far away from me, not states away, but far away, hundreds of miles via airplane away.

I'm not sure exactly why my husband ended up agreeing with me on Poland as our honeymoon.  Perhaps because my bosses, who were as passionately Greek as I am passionately Polish, offered to give me a paid 2 week vacation if I went to Poland instead of a one week paid vacation as I was originally entitled to, and because they sat down and discussed with my now-husband how important this was, for us, for our relationship, for his future children, for himself to start seeing the world.  Perhaps it was because my father had the same conversation with him, that my father was willing to pay for our entire honeymoon if we went to Poland, even though he didn't have to since he paid for the entire wedding himself.  Perhaps it was because my then-fiance spoke to a few of my family members shortly on the phone and they were genuinely warm and spoke English to him.  I don't know, but I thank God for whatever made him change his mind and agree to go.

That does not mean he was a smiling cooperative person at first.  I still remember how grouchy he was that he would have to fly for his first time ever.  He was angry , nervous, complaining and regretting coming even as we collected our luggage in the Warsaw Airport.  But then...




Photo by krewetka Ania Krawet on Flickr.com





My Wujek (pronounced Voo-Yehk, and meaning Uncle) and two of my dearest cousins were there to greet us both with warm open smiles, hugs and kisses on both cheeks.  Not just for me, also for him.  My cousins spoke English to him and sincerely showed they wanted to communicate to him and told him "You are now Family".

Following our greetings, we went for a daytrip to Warsaw.  We then drove from Warsaw on roads, lined with trees kissed with the beauty of Polish Autumn. 

From poland.gov.pl , Fot. Mariusz Cieszewski / www.fotcom.biz"

We drove to my home city in Silesia, winding down tree covered roads, through countryside, passing farms, houses, villages, railroad stations, towns, and stopping to eat in a little spot which sums up the charm of traveling through the Polish countryside, to me. 

We took a break and enjoyed what was my husband's first meal in Poland. 
Further on the road and we eventually reached my home city.  During the ride, my cousins asked many questions and offered answers to any questions we had, and the conversation was very natural and friendly, toward myself and my husband.  We listened to Bach until my cousins made my Wujek turn off his music and put on something modern, and I giggled, discussing with my Wujek about his preference for Bach and my fathers preference for Beethoven.

My personal photo from our trip to Wroclaw

The week and a half in Poland went by in a blur, a fantastic fairytale blur.  Our apartment in which we stayed was breathtaking.  It was a gift from our family to stay there, although I had intended on our renting a hotel room.  The view was stupendous with the tram rolling by several stories below, the Botanical Garden and oldest part of the city around us, and multicolored houses on our street.  I have a wonderful picture I personally treasure of my husband on our balcony once we were alone just smiling ear to ear.

My personal photo from our trip to Wroclaw

We spent time with my Babcia and Dziadek, who greeted my husband with warm hugs, kisses on both cheeks, and proclamations of him belonging to our family now.  My Dziadek attempted to get us drunk on his brandy and another time took us to his favorite store, Tesco, which is a bit like a Sam's Club or Aldi's.  We ate cake together with him at IKEA.  My Babcia made us Bigos (pronounced Bee-Gohs and meaning Hunter's stew, also my husbands all-time favorite Polish dish which he calls "The Big Stuff") and Crepes filled with her very own homemade Applebutter.  My Babcia was so pleased to watch him eat 6 bowls of her Bigos, and my Dziadek, who never cared for it, ended up joining in and eating 3 of his own bowls.

My cousins and their husbands took us to a fantastic local bar for beers and wine, which was in the basement of what used to be a very old bakery.  Later during the trip, we went with them to another local bar which used to be a part of a nobleman's house. 

We went with my family picking mushrooms in the Polish Mountains. 

We spent time during our honeymoon holding hands strolling together through the streets of my home city, walking along the park trails that my mother had taken me on "spaceri" (pronounced "Spah-TSEH-rih" and meaning strolls) as a baby before we left Poland, and feeding ducks in the ancient river that my home city sprang up around centuries upon centuries ago. 

My personal photo from our trip to Wroclaw

We visited the church I was baptized at, a Gothic Catholic building in which my husband finally felt what I had told him about before, that in the churches of Poland, you walk in and suddenly feel the blood, sweat and tears with which they were built, something you generally did not feel in American churches, as they weren't so old or built by the peasants and their sons and their sons. 

From poland.gov.pl , Fot. Mariusz Cieszewski / www.fotcom.biz"

We purchased flowers for my Babcia from the abundant flower stands in the Rynek Solny (pronounced "Rih-nehk Sool-Nihk" and meaning the Salt Square), I explained to him briefly the importance of flowers to Polish hearts and the history of the minor Square, where once Salt was weighed as more precious than gold and Poland was an important ecopower in Europe and Asia, where caravans stopped to purchase this life-giving mineral and transport it hundreds of miles through major trade routes.

My personal photo from our trip to Wroclaw

We walked around the Rynek, gazed at the Town Hall, I reminisced how beautifully my home town had changed, from the renovations taking place after Communism when I had first returned, to the vibrantly colored facades.  And enjoyed the popular restaurants and stores which are now open and celebrating European living. 

When asked about his trip to Poland, my husband always tells people about his experience at a well known restaurant in Poland. 

From my home city, we took the train back to Warsaw, which was also my husband's first train ride ever.




Fot. Mariusz Cieszewski / www.fotcom.biz



All in all, the experience for me was one of the most romantic weeks of my life, sharing with my husband a true piece of who I am.  You can tell someone about yourself, show pictures, and everything like that.  But you can't really explain to them fully who you are until they see where you are from and they meet your family. 

Taking my husband to Poland was easier than telling him about what it was like for me growing up as an immigrant.

So, how successful was the trip?  My husband now has a Polish tattoo, encourages me to call my family overseas, looks for recipes for me to make for him, and has since sent me twice to Poland to visit my family without him because he now understands how important it is to me and how wonderful it is.  He wants our daughters to also share in my heritage, to have their Feet in Two Worlds. 

I hope this inspires you to travel and see the world and enjoy the wonderful people, culture, and sights it has to offer. 




From poland.gov.pl , Fot. Mariusz Cieszewski / www.fotcom.biz"

 

Who knows?  Maybe I will see you sometime in Poland...

Our Honeymoon Daytrip in Warsaw-Warszawa

Photo by Mike McHolm

On our honeymoon, my husband and I flew from the US to Warsaw.  From Warsaw, we planned to drive to my hometown.  But first, we all walked a bit through Warsaw after leaving the airport. 

I will be very honest right now.  When I thought of Warsaw prior to this trip, I thought of a city which frankly left me puzzled and a bit angry.  Yes, angry.  You see, Warsaw is Poland's current capital, prior to Warsaw the capital was magical Krakow and before that it was the legendary "birthplace" of Poland and later, the site where Poland and her country became irrevokably Catholic, Gniezno (literally, meaning "The Nest", as in an eagle's nest).

By comparison, Warsaw is new.  New buildings, roads, everything.  It's all steel, concrete, metal, glass.  At least, that was all I ever saw going from the airport to the car and driving straight out in the afternoon, jet lagged and not interested in exploring.  I just couldn't understand why the Polish people would want their capital to be so, capitalistic, in appearance.  Sure the buildings are beautiful in their modern architecture but I'm personally not "into" modern architecture but rather, prefer historic.



Photo by Adam Fagen 

But, when you consider it's history, you get a sense of the bigger picture.  For 200 years, Poland was occupied by Austria, Prussia and Russia, then thrust into the middle, literally, of the Great War as the three nations battled over their borders and territories, between one another and against the Allies.  Following that, only briefly was Poland given back what was rightly Poland's, before the Nazis marched in.  World War II saw Warsaw being ripped apart, with 80% of it's buildings destroyed.  After the War, Poland was handed over to Soviet Russia and the Soviets did what they wanted with rebuilding Poland.  That included the metal, glass, and concrete.  Because that was what Socialist Realism and Communist Architecture is, after all.

But, apparently, I owe Warsaw an apology, because...

We peeled back the top layer of Warsaw and found it's heart.  Warsaw can be for lovers.  It's romantic.  It's filled with amazing and inspiring history and architecture.  It is also filled with sad, profoundly sad history and monuments.

I can tell you about the various sights in no particular order simply because I was so taken by surprise by Warsaw that it was a fantastic blur, with my memory recalling it all but not in chronological order.

We stopped to look at the King Zygmunt III Waza Column (Kolumna Zygmunta III Wazy) and my Wujek explained it's history to us, with my translation lacking dates because I am terrible at Polish numbers and months, no matter how hard I try.



Photo by Alan Light

Inside the Warsaw Royal Palace, we wandered from room to room, my Wujek and cousins telling us about the history around us, myself feeling like I should know all of it as well as they do, but I don't.  We came upon a group of elementary school students who were on a school field trip and were sittng on the floor in a magnificent room listening to their teacher.  They were saying the names of the various kings and rulers of Poland as the teacher held up pictures of them.  I looked at my husband and whispered "I can't tell you all of the U.S. Presidents, can you?"  He shook his head. 

He was particularly fascinated, while walking through the museum, by a suit of armor worn by the famous Hussari (pronounced Hoo-Sahr-ih, in English Hussars).  To this day, that was one of his favorite highlights of his trip.  I believe he may actually one day get a tattoo of their wings on his back, which would be fantastic.

We walked around to a church where Pope John Paul II had prayed.

Through a doorway in what was the defensive wall of Old Warsaw, we strolled hand in hand and I translated as best I could (after all, I am terrible with translating dates), his eyes changed their perspective.  He saw that Poland was full of beauty, culture, history, amazing things to see and absorb.  And, I hope, he started to understand who I am, where I come from, and why this was so important to me that we made this trip.

We walked around the Barbican, or Barbakan, which is a gatehouse of red brick dating from the 16th century and which separates the Old Town from the New Town.  At the time, some maintenance was being performed on it and what I believe was the moat area around it.  He commented that it looked like out of a movie, which I can understand, it does have a feel of "Robin Hood" or other end of the Medieval Era buildings about it.



Photo by Iwona Erskine-Kellie 

After walking through a gateway with sections of Warsaw's 14th century defensive walls visible, which to me is one of the thrilling charms of Poland, the constant peek-a-boo with history, we browsed through an antique store charmingly tucked into a corner and filled with items which could easily have been up to two centuries old. 

Overlooking several residential buildings on a light stone terrace,we stopped for a time to absorb one of many views while my cousin tossed a bit of bread to some bickering and well-fed sparrows and we discussed the drive to my hometown. 

We stopped to pay quiet homage to the famous statue A Boy Insurgent, and I thought about how my grandfather must have suffered mentally to have lived through World War II as a young boy in Poland.  I didn't have the words to say to my husband but I could only think "What lucky times we live in now to know that our future children in, hopefully, not suffer so much as those poor children did then".  I guess that's a part of being Polish, going about your daily existence and, here and there, being reminded of sadder times.

My Wujek told my husband that the symbol of Warsaw was a mermaid, which confused him as we were "not by the water".  However, my Wujek pointed out the River Vistula, or Wisla, and said "Yes, we are, that river goes to the Baltic Sea and there is a legend about this mermaid.  Some say her sister went to Copenhagen while she swam to Gdansk and eventually up the Wisla to what was then the village of Warsaw.  She was eventually captured by a greedy merchant but set free by Wars (the mermaid's name being Sawa) and vowed to always protect the village from harm.  Another legend, a prince was directed to a hut on the Wisla by the mermaid, where she blessed the area and vowed to protect it, and from there the city of Warsaw began.  Either way, she is said to protect Warsaw forever."  I love that story.  We saw the symbol of the mermaid all over Warsaw in our travels.



Photo by s3k

As we drove through Warsaw to leave, he commented that Warsaw to him in many areas seemed very similar to New York, in the style of the buildings, the dress and manner of it's people all looking as though they had important business to attend to, it's traffic, and general feeling.  It is how I felt about Warsaw until that day trip. 

He also saw his first Eastern bloc residential buildings.  To him, it seemed very different from what someone would expect in an ancient country like Poland.  To be honest, they do as well to me, however, they are a part of Polish history, beautiful or not.

We drove past Warsaw's Palace of Culture and Science.  I pointed it out to my husband and my Wujek stated that many called it "Stalin's Penis".  I have to laugh at the name, because some don't like to use that word for it, but if you understood at the time how people felt about Stalin, Communism, and it's affect on Poland, it was a true example of Polish humor regarding Communism at the time. 

I do caution you, it isn't as common but occasionally a Pole will ask a foreigner what they think of the Palace of Culture and Science.  Some Poles think it's beautiful or a symbol of Polish history, like it or not, others hate it.  Your best answer is to say something like "I'm not sure what to make of it" or "It's different" or something like that.  You can't go wrong with vague and polite.



Photo by Huzhead

When we left Warsaw, I was so thankful to my Wujek and cousins for allowing me to see that city through different eyes than ever before.  Without their knowledge of the sights, I would never have explored Warsaw to find out what it truly was.  I suppose now, Warsaw seems a tremendously appropriate representation of what it is to be Polish.  After all, it is known as the "Phoenix City" for it's remarkable recovery, and to me, that is a great way to describe Polish people.



If you enjoyed this, please feel free to read about My Husband's First Polish meal.

 Also, please check out our trip Mushroom Picking in the Polish Mountains.

 And the funny story about my husband's experience at a well known restaurant in Poland.

 The photos used in this post are not my own as all of our pictures of Warsaw include myself, my husband, Wujek and cousins, and I don't have permission by them to share their pictures. 

My Husband's First Meal in Poland at a Small Road Side Restaurant

We were driving with my Wujek and cousins from Warsaw to my home city, a 6 hour drive depending on traffic and any road work that may be going on at the time.  We decided to take a break to eat.

It was a small house made of all beautiful wood, on the side of the road, no obtrusive gaudy signs screaming for miles, just a wooden sign offering a rest for food to passersby.  It was clean inside, not extremely large, perhaps enough for about a dozen dinners. 

At the cashier window inside (the staff inside consisted of a father and his two grown daughters, a family owned business), my Wujek ordered a meal for each of us.  Typical Polish food, fresh, honest, affordable, and delicious.  Kotleti Schabowe, boiled and buttered potatoes with dill, beet salads, carrot salads, bottled carbonated water. 

My Wujek and cousins ate all of their food, and they are not heavy people.  Rather, my cousins are built slim as I am.  While my husband tried very determinedly to eat his entire first real Polish meal and successfully ate it all, I enjoyed it immensely but was unsuccessful in finishing it, I can only eat so much.  In Polish culture, it is rude to not finish all your meal.  But I thought I would burst if I ate another bite.

The Polish answer to our driving through a fast food joint during our travels.  The day this is no longer the typical road side stop for getting a bite to eat in Poland is the day my beloved Poland has turned for the worse.  Thankfully, I don't see that happening.



If you enjoyed this, check out My Husband's First Trip to Poland (which is also about our Honeymoon)

My Husband's Experience at A Well Known Fast Food "Restaurant": Poland and USA

You cannot grasp the excitement my husband had when he saw the sign, of all things, in the Rynek at my home town in Poland.  Yes, that's right, he was excited to see a very well known fast food "restaurant" while in Poland (I won't say the name because, for one, I don't want to do free advertising for them as I can't stand their food, and for two, I don't want them thinking I am tarnishing their image somehow and then being sued or something). 

'I suppose it was something familiar to him and he perhaps wanted to see how wrong we Poles could get this American institution.  The "restaurant" was spotlessly clean inside.  On the menu was fried cucumber (pickle) and the slogan was one not then used in the USA, but which it turns out, was being tested in the European market and is now the slogan in the USA as well.

The cashier did not speak any English and my husband had not yet learned any Polish.  I was surprised because though I started to translate for him, they communicated fine without me.  She took his order correctly, they exchanged the proper amount of currency, and we put our tray to our table.  When my husband looked at the burger he ordered, he exclaimed "I had to travel all the way to Poland to get the burger in the picture?!" 

The funniest part about that was that when we returned to the USA, we stopped by a location by our house to get something to eat and our order was incorrect on the amount charged, change given, and the items we received.  My husband went inside and asked the guy behind the counter who took our order. 

When the person who took our order came out front (I'll never forget this because I, as well as the manager who had gone to high school with my husband, almost fell on the floor laughing), my husband asked "How many languages do you speak?"  The employee answered "One, English".  My husband exclaimed "So do I!  I just came back from Poland yesterday.  I don't speak Polish, the cashier at their (insert name of chain) I went to didn't speak English, and yet I got my order correct and it looked like the picture!  What's your excuse?!" 

Of all the memories of our Honeymoon in Poland, this is the one he tends to share first.

Mushroom Picking in the Polish Mountains

On our honeymoon, my Wujek and Ciocia (pronounced "Choh-Chah" and meaning "Aunt") took us for a day trip to the mountains of Poland where they own a bit of property outside of a small ancient village. 

We had a picnic of Kabanosy (pronounced "Kah-bah-NOH-sih" and is a Kielbasa, or type of sausage), smoked fish, delicious bread, Polish cheese, tomatoes, bottled carbonated water, and other baked goodies.  Butter and Polish Ketchup were our sandwich condiments.

We then went further up the mountain into Lasu (pronounced "Lah-Sooh" and meaning "the forest") to go "zbierac grzyby" (pronounced "Zbee-eh-RAhCH Gzhih-bih" and meaning "gathering mushrooms").

Forgive the lesser quality of my photos, at the time it was very damp outside (or else there would have been no mushrooms to gather!) and I had my basic point and shoot with me.  But I believe the photos give a great idea of how amazing the experience was.

Just a few feet from my family's house, we discovered a group of mushrooms many would say remind them of the Smurfs' village.  They are abundant in European, and particularly Polish, fairy tales and are where the Krasnoludki like to sleep, according to some.  I believe they were Red Pine Mushrooms.  They were the first wild mushrooms my husband had ever seen.  I, myself, am no expert in mushroom picking but have gone over a dozen times since childhood. 

We came upon a deer feed stand in the middle of the woods and my Wujek explained that in the winter, you were forbidden to shoot within so-many meters of the deer feed stand because otherwise the deer would avoid such places and likely starve because the snow there fell so high.

At one point, my husband disappeared and we were all quite nervous as he did not speak Polish and we were near the border but there were no highways or major towns nearby, only the occasional scattered ancient mountain village.  We had no idea where he could go.  After a while, he turned back up and admitted he had wandered down the mountain a bit, climbed a tree and just relaxed, watching some other people walking by gathering mushrooms.

My husband came up to me at one point, excited to have learned a word "Pienkni means Mushrooms!".   My Ciocia and I figured out that all of the mushrooms he was bringing to her were so nice looking that she kept exclaiming "Pienkni" (pronounced "Pyehn-knih" and meaning beautiful) because they were so nice looking.  He was a good sport about it. 

In our search, we found a particularly large mushroom that was bigger than my Wujek's fist, and it was promptly dubbed the King of Mushrooms.  We cut it off so that the roots would be intact, hopefully another would grow from that spot later. 

The next day, we had a fantastic dinner with my Wujek, Ciocia, and cousins.  Dishes included a fresh fish my Ciocia bought at the local market that morning, a delicious mushroom sour cream sauce, potatoes, and a broccoli salad my husband to this day talks about and wishes I would make for him.  The "King of Mushrooms" was cut up and set to dry in a corner of the warm kitchen for drying and use later in a dish, such as Bigos.

It was a truly memorable experience.