AU in Krakow

Was God in Auschwitz?

2004-08-09T15:19:00.000+02:00

After leaving Auschwitz and waiting to go to Birkenau Jenny asked me something quite interesting; she said: “did you feel like there is no God there?” It is interesting because since WWII people have been asking where God was during the Jews’ extermination, more than that, many were questioning His existence because how could God allow something like Holocaust to happen? Well, by no means I feel knowledgeable enough to answer his question, but I have few modest ideas about it.
First, I believe that the answer to the above question will depend on a very notion of how we see God. Those that believe that God actively participates in our lives and sometimes intervenes are more than likely to conclude that God, indeed, was absent in the death camps. However, those who are stronger believers in human free will and see God as more of a observer, who one day will judge all of us can better experience God’s presence during the Holocaust.
Ellie Wiesel (spelling?) is a good example of the first group. After surviving Auschwitz he questions his faith and humanity. He cannot comprehend the fact God could allow for such atrocities, therefore, He must not exist. Mira Ryczke-Kimmelman, also an Auschwitz survivor, has a quite opposite outlook on things. In her memoirs she claims that faith was one of the few things that helped her through the war and the camp. She wrote about how sadden and disappointed in people God must have been and she believed that they will be punished when the time comes. Same place, similar experiences, yet absolutely different attitudes.
Of course, I won’t and don’t want to answer if God was present in Auschwitz. This question is way too complicated for me to handle. However, I think it motivates one to think about his/her individual faith. There have been way too many horrible events in our history, events that we can contribute to men and men only. It is easy to question God? Because he is this sort of safety net, which is supposed to protect us when needed. If it doesn’t protect us we panic. What about our choices? What about our free will? Everyone appears to want to have a freedom of choice and will, but if these choices are evil we wish they were controlled or stopped by the higher power. It doesn’t work that way, we cannot have it all. Just because God cannot save us from our own mistakes doesn’t mean He is not there.

Withdrawal symptoms

2004-08-03T13:04:00.000+02:00

This morning someone held the door open for me while I was going into office building here on campus. Unbidden, the first thing that jumped into my mind was "jenquia," which is a kind of phonetic spelling for the Polish word for "thank-you." (Actually, what jumped into my head started with a D, but I have no idea how to spell it properly and at the moment I am too lazy to look it up.)

I have discovered, since getting back to the US a few days ago, that I miss Krakow. I miss the cheap but good food, I miss having the Rynek right nearby as a place to go and sit and read, I miss running down by the banks of the Visła and around the Wavel Castle (suburbs are not as pretty). But I especially miss the total immersion teaching -- the fact that for the last month I have been able to use every waking moment as a teachable example, and continue conversations in one context that began in quite another one. Everything was so compressed over the course of the month that I felt like we were able to get to a very profound level of discussion by the end; it takes much longer to get there under "normal" semester conditions. We hit the ground running and hardly stopped, but I think that helped the experience along.

The problem, of course, comes when you then have to readjust to the rhythms of everyday life in another context entirely. As Jen put it in a conversation, there is a kind of feeling that one wants to go home and show off the "new clothes" and new facets of identity that one has acquired, but there is also the gravitational pull of older social arrangements that has to be resisted in order to keep a space for that new understanding and new mode of being oneself. Combine that with the withdrawal pangs -- the sudden, inexplicable longing for a pierogi or one of those Polish bagel-things that everyone sells on the street corners -- and the whole experience of coming home is somewhat bittersweet.

Fortunately, teaching is therapy (among other things), and I suspect that later classes will be enriched by my public working-through of these issues. That's how social bounding processes work, after all: if no one acknowledges a boundary, whether explicitly or in the orientation of their meaningful actions, there is no analytical sense in identifying a boundary at all. (There may be a normative or political sense, but that's another matter.) Withdrawal is all about boundaries, about settling into some kind of habit of life that integrates various facets in such a way that they are liveable for all concerned. And at the moment I find myself in the thick of it, which is probably where I am supposed to be at the moment.

Two things that I do know: there will be a Polish case in my next book, and I will run a study abroad program like this one again in the not-too-distant future.

[Posted with ecto]

Farewell Krakow

2004-07-31T10:25:00.000+02:00

This past month has certainly been eventful. A bit hectic and intense at times, but a good experience overall. I really enjoyed spending an extended time in Poland - especially not knowing when I will have the opportunity to return as the real world is quickly approaching. I found that this time around I felt much more connected to the country than I have any other time I have visited Poland. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that I was with foreigners (except for Agnieszka) who were unfamiliar with the country and the language - this contrast between them and myself made me feel more connected as a result. Or perhaps simply spending a month so fully emerged in the culture causes one to connect deeper on some level. Regardless of the cause, I felt more Polish and more proud to be half-Polish than I think I have ever felt before. Growing up, I was often reluctant to go back and visit the country with my mom. I felt bored and different while we were there - before the fall of the wall one could easily spot us to be expatriates just by looking at the clothing we wore. Then there was the obvious poverty that I never faced growing up in Scandinavia. I suppose that as a kid it was hard to really understand why this country, only a few hundred kilometres from the shores of Sweden, was so different in every way. Now that I more fully understand these differences, it is also easier to appreciate those and recognize the bright spots that did exist even during the gloomiest periods of Polish history; people's kindness (except for certain state employees of course) and curiosity, appreciation of history, optimism in the future, and aspiration to make their country a better place to live in. Although I know I will be back, I leave with a bit of sadness knowing that it may be a while before I return. I will certainly miss this place more than before.

postscript

2004-07-30T19:33:00.000+02:00

Class is officially over. We shared a toast to its outcome and I am now nursing the effects of a late night of celebrating. As I begin to answer the waxing flow of e-mail asking me about my experience in Krakow (usually a sophisticated version of what did you learn while you were there?), I fully grasp how little I learned inside the classroom. Of the top 10 things that I am taking back with me (the serious version, although the David Letterman spin has been kicked around as well), 8 of them stemed from experiences outside of the "academic" environment - in this case books and classroom discussions. One could argue that this is correlated to my predisposition for kinetic learning, but I think that it says more about the subject matter that I have been studying than my learning capability: Identity is formed through a continual subjective process that can be best understood through witnessing and participatory experience (and of course a lot of vodka consumption). And because we have been "participants" in studying identity, our own personal identities have been irevocabley modified. In a twist of scholarly irony, my study of another's identity has added to the construction of my own personal identity.
As I silently whisper good-bye to St.Mary's and the Rynek, I can not help but feel my chest tighten and my eyes brim with tears. I immediately question this highly emotional response: afterall, I am one of the few in the group that have absolutely no ties to Poland - no pre-existing family, heritage, or friends; I just came along for the ride. So why grieve at leaving? I think of Milosz' warnings to "Love no country: countries soon disappear/Love no city: cities are soon rubble"(Child of Europe) and challenge myself even more strongly to understand why I am saddened to leave buildings. Buildings! Which are man-made compilations of brick and mortor, inanimate objects.
As I continue my slow walk through the Plank, I understand that Milosz is correct: countries and cities are objects. But I mourn my impending separation because these objects are the physical reminders of my identity in Poland. My identity as student and traveler is emphasized here in Poland in a very unique and contextually specific way. This part of my identity will begin to fade upon take off from the Krakow airport. And I will ache for it: perhaps this what is meant to have "left" a piece of yourself. I hope to return one day to reclaim it.

Italy as the Center of Europe?

2004-07-27T19:50:00.000+02:00

Last night in the Rynek, while again singing the odd Franco-English version of “Total Eclipse of the Heart,” Jenny, Jenn, and I were approached by two Italien men, the oldest of which informed me that “Rome is the center of the world.” The layers and complexities that can be inferred from this statement are innumerable. Was he making reference merely to its geographical location? Was their a religious spin placed on it with Rome as the Catholic center of the World? Or perhaps historical, given the legacy of the Roman Empire? Due to our inability to communicate very well (we were speaking in a mixture of french and English, neither of which was well understood), I didn’t press the Italien in question to delve into the meanings behind his words, and perhaps he would not read as much into them as I do..chalking it up to simple nationalism or a common Italien saying, and not a question of personal and national identity. These “centers” keep changing. Prague one day, Rome the next. Is there such a thing as a “TRUE” cultural / geographical center? Probably not. Otherwise as the European Union expands, and it will expand, the center would move along with it. While geographically and politically unlikely, imagine the implications should Moscow at some point become the “center” of Europe. How would this affect the “other” relations that have been in progress for so long. Or if not Moscow, what about Istanbul. I have a tendency to believe that even should geographical complexities lead the center to either of these places, it would never be recognized or adopted as such, at least not by those outside of the center. To do so would be to alter the perception of what it is to be European, a concept which has been developing for centuries. Prague or Rome. I’m not sure which one, if either, I would vote for, but it does invoke some interesting debate over how different countries infer their own relative position, and the possibiltiy that such an inferrence and specificity will become more important as Europe contintues to expand.

My two identities brought together by Zakopane trip

2004-07-27T17:50:00.000+02:00

I couldn'tt wait for our trip to Zakopane, not because it would be a fun trip, but because it was a part of me that I have never before had an opportunity to share with my American friends. It appears that I have these two lives/identities. One in Poland with a family, friends, and great memories. The other is in the US. It also consists of a family, friends, and great memories. However, I feel like I am two different people in these two different words. I act a little different, my friends are different, expectations and experiences are different as well. Thus, it was very important to me to be able to bring those two worlds together and see what will come out of it.
I am not going to describe how the trip went because we were all there and I think everyone has their own opinion about it. I had a great time. It was awesome to have everyone in the program at my house and hang out with my father. My crazy aunt said that those American girls are very nice and she cried when we were leaving. What does that mean? It means, I think, that our different identities dont necessarily need to be separated just because they differ from each other. I think that it also means, that all of our identities are part of what I would call the big identity, identity which makes us who we are. Thus, my Polish, Catholic, European, Highlander, student, etc. Identities are building blocks of the Big Agnieszka Identity. The trouble is that sometimes some of the parts dont fit together so perfectly; however, we are constantly evolving and changing so maybe with time we can make it all work.

When We Became Old Polish Women

2004-07-26T20:58:00.000+02:00

July 20
As I have said before I feel as though sometimes I am in a fish bowl, being watched and questioned. I especially feel this as I walk in and out of our flat each day. I am so used to this, I would actually be concerned if I didnt see a little head pop up behind a window. But as I have come to live and understand Polands culture, identity, and history I can forgive the nosy neighbors. Our next door neighbor has been in our flat complex since she was born. She survived World War II, communism, and the filming of Shindlers list. Poland has a history of occupations, partitions, and redefinitions. She and the others that peer through windows have something at stake-a feeling that what they have could be taken away in the blink of an eye. They have not fogotten the recent history of Krakow and greater Poland.
I too can relate to this staring in a smaller way. I came back late Sunday night with my flatemate Brooke. As usual I was tempted to wave at the woman in the corner unit, who yells at us in Polish when shes not passively staring from a window. As Brooke and I waited late Monday evening for our other 2 flatmates (Monica and Agnieska) to return from Warsaw we became those old Polish women. Every noise in the corridor and central quad made us curious when noise did not produce Monica and Agnieska. It wasnt a paranoia. We just wanted to know what to expect, just like the other Polish women in our complex. When you know what to expect youre better prepared for what lies ahead. I guess it is only human to want to know whats or who is coming into the quad of the flat complex.

Irony and Contrast in Warsaw

2004-07-26T20:22:00.000+02:00

My first impression of Warsaw was the faster pace, the nicer cars, and the noise of a city. It looked and acted like a city. It also had a stronger reminder of communism in the architecture. The architecture gives Warsaw a sense of a working atmosphere. The large, boxy, boring, buildings, statues, and monuments impart a communist feeling. Warsaw is the place to come and work, not play. It is like there is a gray cloud saying "work, work, work" floating over Warsaw. This is mostly true, except inside the seemingly post-communist shops, that have their own character. In contrast
My first impression of Warsaw was the faster pace, the nicer cars, and the noise of a city. It looked and acted like a city. It also had a stronger reminder of communism in the architecture. The archictecture gives Warsaw a sense of “working” atmosphere. The large, boxy, boring, and uncreative buildings, statues, and monuments impart a communist feeling. Warsaw is the place to come and work, not play. It’s almost like there is a gray cloud saying “work, work, work” floats over Warsaw. This is mostly true except inside the newer shops that are seemingly post-communist, that have their own character. In contrast Wajinkski park is a paradise within this tormented city. The grass, trees, ponds, and music festivals are a huge contrast to the Kultural palace. An ironic escape into a secret world away from the constant noise of the city.
Warsaw is a place of contrast. A few blocks away from the reconstructed old town was a facinating monument to the bravery and betrayl of those in the Warsaw uprising. The civilians depicted rise out of the seemingly rubble of a sculpture. Some with guns, grenades, and strickingly one with a bottle. A simple glass bottle would not kill a well armed German soldier-but it brings to light the Polish pride and dedication to defending Poland. In another part of the sculpture a Polish solider is holding a baby. Although I am sure there was not a live baby in the uprising it shows a deeper sense of the uprising that goes beyond a mere retaliation. This uprising was for future children and the existance of Poland. A few blocks away the new, bright colorful old town buzzed with tourists, street muscians, and merchants selling their wares. It’s difficult to imagine the old town was once leveled to the ground. But life now goes on, children play in the water of the fountain, splashing with happiness on a summer day. Lazienki park is a paradise within this tormented city. The grass, trees, ponds, and music festivals are a huge contrast to the Kultural Palace. Lazienki park is an ironic escape into a secret world away from the constant noise of the city.
Warsaw is a place of contrast. A few blocks away from the reconstructed old town was a fascinating monument to the bravery and betrayal of those in the Warsaw uprising. The civilians depicted arise out of the seemingly rubble of a sculpture. Some with guns, grenades, and strikingly one with a bottle. A simple glass bottle would not kill a well armed German soldier-but it brings to light the Polish pride and dedication to defending Poland. In another part of the sculpture a Polish soldier is holding a baby. Although I am sure there was not a live baby in the uprising, it shows a deeper sense that goes beyond a mere retaliation. This uprising was for future children and the existence of Poland. A few blocks away the new bright and colorful old town buzzes with tourists, street musicians, and merchants selling their wares. Its difficult to imagine the old town was once leveled to the ground. But life goes on now, children play in the water of a fountain, splashing with happiness on a summer day.

A Sense of Familiarity

2004-07-26T19:26:00.000+02:00

           It's funny how this place seems different, yet familiar to me at the same time. The countryside looks like countryside I've seen in Western Europe. Through the windows on the train I see houses that look just like the ones I use to live in in Belgium. If not for the street signs in Polish, I may forget what country I'm in. In Zakopane this weekend, I noticed that the Tatry mountains reminded me of other mountains I had hiked in Greece and Scotland. While thinking about the similarities, it seemed real odd to stumble upon a border crossing way up at the top of one of the peaks. To my right, where my right leg was planted, were the Slovakian mountains. To my left, where my left leg was planted, were the Polish Mountains. Both sides looks exactly the same, except they were comprised of different people, with different nationalities, who speak different languages.
           By drawing lines straight through the mountains we differentiate between groups of people and throw them into neat little boxes defining their culture and terrain. This makes life a lot more simple for people who want to theorize about one group of people and compare them to another. It makes each group distinct and different. But the reality is that borders are quite a bit more fluid than one can see from a map. The architecture shares similarities, the landscapes are reminiscent of each other and even the people look like memories of those I once knew.
             When we were in Zakopane, Agnieszka's uncle drove us around and I was struck by the similarity between him and my host father in Belgium. Both smoked like chimneys, drove like maniacs and were missing quite a few teeth. It's funny because if he didn't open his mouth, I'd swear I'd be able to talk to him in French. The Radio is also a constant reminder of a general "Europeaness" that seems to be shared by these countries. The same songs that I danced to in Belgium seven years ago, and in Germany three years ago, are still being played on the radio. These songs bring back a kind of nostalgia about living in Europe and of doing European things.
           Since I've been here, I've felt a greater sense of familiarity than I had imagined. Since Poland was on the East side of the Wall, I always thought that it had to be different from the West- but it's not real. Poland is not Siberia. In many ways it looks and feels like countries in the West.

The People of Oscwiecim

2004-07-26T19:11:00.000+02:00

Today I went to Auschwitz-Birkenau for the second time. Needless to say, there are no adequate words to describe what one feels while touring this place. Since this was my second visit, however, I feel as though I managed to detach myself (at least a bit) from the emotion and horror one feels in a place that symbolizes such evil and suffering. This time I chose to reflect more on what it must be like for the people of Oswiecim (Auschwitz in Polish – also the name of the town right by the concentration camp site) to live with such a painful symbol literally in their backyards. I have to wonder if being a citizen of Oswiecim isn’t terribly depressing since everyone associates their town as the site of mass murder and deat? To some Jews, the entire country of Poland is merely a cemetery and a site of the attempted destruction of their people. If that is so, then what is the town of Oswiecim? Is it merely a specific cite of that mass murder? Or is it a real community with all that goes along with that word? As we approached the city limits of Oswiecim, I got an overwhelming feeling of sadness and regret. Regret that so many people had to perish because of the insanity of a few mad men. I wonder if that is how everyone who sets foot in Oswiecim feels? If so, how can life there be bearable? I suppose that the answer to that is detachment. If you detach yourself from the fact that over 1.5 million Jews, Poles, Gypsies and other peoples were murdered here, perhaps life here is bearable. And if you are born into this community (as was our excellent tour guide was) you may not even think about it until you see the next busload of tourists coming through. As we sat on a bench immediately after the end of the tour of Birkenau, we noticed that the name of one of the streets leading away from it was called “Ulica Ofiary Fascitow” – “the Victims of Fascism Street.” To me this symbolized the fact that no matter how many years pass, the people living in Oswiecim will have a constant reminder of the atrocities committed on the outskirts of their town. And although detaching yourself from that specific event might sometimes work, I am sure that life in this place is forever a bit more sad than elsewhere.

The City of Warsaw: Sad yet Attractive

2004-07-26T18:49:00.000+02:00

Warsaw was never my one of my favorite Polish cities yet I have always known that sooner or later I will end up there for a while. This is just what Warsaw does to you it draws you in either you like it or not. It is not as charming as Krakow, not as pretty as Gdansk, and not as fun as Zakopane. After all it was completely destroyed during the WWII. When Communists rebuilt it they used their very well known sense of style, which resulted in massive gray buildings and hideous Palace of Culture and Science in the city center. Thus, when one travels around Europe he or she is often filled with its culture, history and never ending charm. Then, one stumbles upon Warsaw and is often hit with the cold shower of ugly architecture and the lack of so called historical atmosphere.
The interesting thing is that after a while one can sympathize with this sad city because arent most of us sort of misplaced and not always put together? This capital city, behind its gray walls, hides the power and strength of Poland. After all, it is here where the opportunities are, it is here where the money is, and finally it is here, where most Polish youth at some point wants to end up if wanting to be successful.
I am going to live in Warsaw for 4 months and I must admit that I am scared of that city. In the same time, I have many great friends and relatives that are from there and love it dearly. They claim that Warsaw has a lot to offer and that it is open to everyone. We are taught not to judge a book by its cover; thus, I truly believe we should apply this idea to Warsaw as well.

Differences

2004-07-26T18:27:00.000+02:00

      Waiting in line for the bathroom yesterday a woman in from of me turned around and just stared me down, For about two uncomfortable minutes I looked off in a bunch of different directions pretending I didn't see her and hoping she would stop and turn back around. If your an American, you know how it's done. But, like a true Pole she continued to stare. Finally, I decided to look her straight in the eyes and let her know I was not ok with her behavior. According to the American script, she should have quickly looked away. But unfortunately I was forced to hold her gazed for what seemed like forever before she turned back around.
      This is just one of many examples of something I've learned quite well about the Polish people. They like to stare, a lot. As an American, I become very uncomfortable when someone stares at me for an extended period of time. Where I'm from, staring is considered rude. Not that Americans don't stare- I just think that we hide it better, because it's not socially accepted. Here, it's ok to stare. It's ok to stand right next to someone and look them up and down, up and down. They study every detail about me with no expression on their faces. No smile, no frown, no anything- just a blank expression with a hint of curiosity. But that's just it. They stare because they are curious, and because in their culture it's not considered rude. Still, it's hard to get use to.
       Another thing that I've found a little difficult to get use to is the differences in the understanding of personal space. Knocking into someone does not necessarily warrant a "przepraszam." Whereas in the States, we would go out of our way to offer many apologies, even our first born child, if we just barley brush up beside someone. Sometimes this invasion of space can get really overwhelming when standing in line at the check out counter- if you can even call it a line. Everyone just crowds up behind you, as if somehow this will make the checker go faster. It's funny. First I feel annoyed and want to push them away. Then I feel guilty because I'm in their country and I feel like a spoiled, bratty American. I just doesn't seem to bother them, so I guess I can't let it bother me.

Loud Americans

2004-07-26T08:09:00.000+02:00

The scene: a very good Hungarian restaurant, just off the Rynek in downtown Krakow. Myself and three students having dinner, laughing and generally having a good time -- not overly dramatically, although we were perhaps being a little causally rowdy. Nothing too extreme. Then an older woman dressed in some kind of purple outfit (for some reason the color of it, including the color of her hat, sticks in my mind), walked over and began to berate us in English: those people at the next table are making comments about how uncivilized and unruly Americans are, and how loud and disrespectful we were being; at this point in time, she went on, when "they" are looking for excuses to hate "us" (her English was heavily accented, as though she had been an expat for a long time), we had to be more careful. Then she went to sit down, leaving us all stunned. We paid the bill and exited rather quickly.

Several striking things for me about this encounter. First of all, how easily we were hailed into the very subject-position -- obnoxious, disrespectful tourists -- that we had previously criticized others (the British stag parties in Prague, for example) for occupying. When she activated the script, we were all chastened. Speaking for myself, I felt a kind of tightness in my chest and throat, a fear that maybe in fact we were in fact enacting the role that we despised. It was as though that possibility had simply been lurking around us in a cloud of potentiality, and when she spoke to us it crystallized and became actual. (Indeed, this is probably a good account of what happened: her admonition wouldn't have been as powerful, or as effective, had it not already been "objectively" [in the specific, Weberian sense of the term: the potentiality was apparently there whether we knew it or not, but the only way that we could come to know that was through the historically contingent course of events that produced this specific outcome] present in our social context, and present at several levels of nesting -- our own specific histories in critiquing others, our self-images as sensitive travelers as opposed to obnoxious tourists, and so on.) She couldn't have known -- we never completely grasp the results of our interventions, whether in advance or in retrospect -- but she invoked something and, as Andrew Abbott describes it, the tumblers turned and spat out an outcome. A psychologically crushing one.

Second, the anger. Walking out of the restaurant (after we had several minutes of sputtering silence) we began to process the experience, and I was somewhat surprised to find that I was deeply angry at her. Angry that she might be right, even though I remain convinced that we were not being loud and obnoxious at all. Angry that she took it upon her self to act in loco parentis, as though we were a group of naive teenagers intruding into a formal dinner party. Angry that we might in fact have been setting people off without knowing it. And finally, angry that we didn't use the best comeback line ever, the one that we came up with afterwards: "um, we're Canadian."

Third, the subsequent analysis. We talked it out and generally agreed that we might have fallen into a situation where we couldn't have done much differently, since the muttering diners seemed to already be predisposed to criticize Americans, and were only looking for an excuse or for some "evidence" to use in supporting their case. We ran several counterfactual situations (what if we had all been speaking Polish, or German? What if it had been later in the evening, or earlier, or another restaurant?) and also noted the fact that "they have no manners" is one of those floating condemnations that is traditionally used against outgroups, and is closely related to "they smell bad because of their inferior hygiene." So in a sense we shouldn't take it personally.

But we did, and I now feel a little chastened. I don't want to be thought of as a loud American, even by disgruntled expats in odd purple outfits. Here we see the delivery of the "other transcript" provoking identity effects, as we struggle to determine whether or not we do or should fit into it -- and what the proper response ought to be to the declaration that we do fit.

Still working on a decent response.

[Posted with ecto]

Experiencing the Highlands

2004-07-25T18:42:00.000+02:00

This weekend I observed a different Polish culture. Although I knew that Polish highlanders (thanks to Agnieszka we now know that the “real” highlanders are the peoples of the Tatra mountains, not the smaller mountains nearby) spoke a “funny” dialect and had some different words from mainstream Polish, I had never really reflected on what a distinct and interesting culture they really have. Not only is their vocabulary and pronunciation slightly different, they also have their own customs, history, music, food items, and architecture.
              After Agnieszka explained to us what a traditional highlander wedding is like, several of the girls in the group instantly expressed interest in marrying a highlander as a result of that very detailed and animated description.
              She also informed us that during World War II, the Nazis decided that the highlanders (or the “goralenvolk”) were deemed “different” from the other Slavs and were therefore to be spared the treatment inflicted upon most other Poles. I had never even heard of such a thing until this weekend.
              The highlander music was a lot of fun. Although most songs were hard to understand and many were a bit dirty in content, the music was really enjoyable and very unique.
              As for the food, well I tried the traditional highlander goat cheese “Oscypek.” Smoky in taste and apparently very long-lasting (can be stored for up to a month without refrigeration), it was served hot with lingonberry jam.
              And lastly there was the architecture. The houses in the mountains were all made out of wood with very steep A-shaped roofs and elaborate wood carvings. I am sure that during the winter the scenery looks like it was out of a fairly tale. There was a very rustic and cozy feel to the inside of the houses as well, something we got to experience when Agnieszka’s father was kind enough to throw us a party in his home on Saturday night. Actually, the houses reminded me a great deal of the summer cottages and ski lodges in Scandinavia.
Overall, the weekend in Zakopane was wonderful. After a long, beautiful and in retrospect rather painful hike (we are now feeling the effects of a 15 km hike up and down mountains), two failed attempts to go out and experience the nightlife (we did go out but yours truly was too tired to really participate), and meeting many very kind and sincere people, I have promised myself to return to Zakopane again as soon as I can. Only this time I would like to explore the ski slopes.

The Polish Experience

2004-07-22T17:00:00.000+02:00

I found it interesting reading Borowskis writings about living in Auschwitz. He paints a very different picture than the one I received growing up. He describes how the people consider themselves to be privileged, almost better, than those in the other camps. They pity Borowski (or Borowski's character) for coming from Birkenau and comment on how terrible it must have been there. Of course, these are the later years of the war, but it is interesting to hear how things become almost humane- as if the Germans themselves have softened in their roles as judges and executioners. As if they are tired of pretending, of ignoring their emotions and feelings. In Borowsk's letter to his fiance he stresses the obsession the prisoners have with women. This situation has come about only because they are no longer hungry (in a relative sense), they have nice clean uniforms and they don't have to worry too much about going to the gas chambers- since at this time they have stopped executing non-Jews. I was shocked to read about the brothel, where the men and women undergo sanitary treatments before and after visits, about the library and the museum and about the nightly entertainment of symphonies and boxing matches. This is an Auschwitz I have never hear of.
I never really knew that Auschwitz was the place where "Polish Catholics" died. Having been a German major in college I have studied the Holocaust quite a bit and I can never really recall a time when we discussed the non-Jewish victims in the concentration camps. One thing that has really struck me since I've been in Poland is the constant defensive stance that the Poles take concerning the Holocaust. Although I've never really thought about it, I understand their sensitivity. I was never taught, nor have I ever thought, of the Poles as "collaborators." Their country was invaded, their land was used for the death camps, their citizens where victims. Yet it seems that some view the Poles as collaborators because so much of the tragedies during the Second World War happened on Polish soil. Furthermore, this seems to be mixed with a kind of guilt held by some of the Poles themselves- a guilt so vividly expressed in Borowski's writings. A feeling that Poles didn't do enough- that they are guilty of a basic human instinct, survival
Now that I understand the Polish experience a little more, I hope that I will be more aware of such slants in the stories which retell the horrors of the Holocaust. Stories which may leave out certain perspectives, or may not accurately portray the political and social atmosphere at that time. Sometimes you learn more by looking at the information that is absent, than you do by actually studying the details which are presented.

Using the words of others: a mosaic of sorts

2004-07-22T16:26:00.000+02:00

While walking home through the Rynek one gloriously sultry summer evening I was struck by the wonderful contrast of evening; a different energy and dynamic rises as the sun sets. And I am highly confident that this dynamic fits into identity: by analogy all identities - individual, collective, even global - exhibit a similar stark duality. But here my communication ability breaks down and I am unable to reach further detail, to fully articulate the what and how and why. Some refer to this as writer's block: your mind is pregnant with something, but you just aren't quite sure what it is or how you want to express it.
Since I am unable to speak for myself today, permit me to share with you my thoughts through the words of others (all from www.bartleby.com):

"Oh, blank confusion! true epitome
Of what the mighty city is herself,
To thousands upon thousands of her sons,
Living amid the same perpetual whirl
Of trivial objects, melted and reduced
To one identity, by differences
That have no law, no meaning, and no end—"
-- William Wordsworth, The Prelude; VII. "Residence in London" (l. 722–728)

"An identity is questioned only when it is menaced, as when the mighty begin to fall, or when the wretched begin to rise, or when the stranger enters the gates, never, thereafter, to be a stranger...Identity would seem to be the garment with which one covers the nakedness of the self: in which case, it is best that the garment be loose, a little like the robes of the desert, through which one's nakedness can always be felt, and, sometimes, discerned. This trust in one's own nakedness is all that gives one the power to change one's robes." --- James Balwin, The Price of the Ticket

"The real meditation is ... the meditation on one’s identity. Ah, voilà une chose!! You try it. You try finding out why you’re you and not somebody else. And who in the blazes are you anyhow? Ah, voilà une chose!" -- Ezra Pound, Ezra Pound and Dorothy Shakespeare: Their Letters 1909-1914

"Surely no mere mortal who has at all gone down into himself will ever pretend that his slightest thought or act solely originates in his own defined identity." -- Herman Melville, The Writings of Herman Melville, vol. 7

"The glance is natural magic. The mysterious communication established across a house between two entire strangers, moves all the springs of wonder. The communication by the glance is in the greatest part not subject to the control of the will. It is the bodily symbol of identity with nature. We look into the eyes to know if this other form is another self, and the eyes will not lie, but make a faithful confession what inhabitant is there." -- Ralph Emerson, “Behavior,” The Conduct of Life

The Myriad of One

2004-07-21T20:05:00.000+02:00

We are all going to leave Poland with something; something unique to our experience here. For me, that something is a sense of self I've never had before. I am no longer a single person with a single, finite, being (or core, or soul, take your preference). I now recognize in myself the culmination of many different facets. As Meredith Brooks so aptly described it:

I'm a little bit of everything /All rolled into one
I'm a bitch, I'm a lover; I'm a child, I'm a mother; I'm a sinner, I'm a saint; I do not feel ashamed.

I'm your hell, I'm your dream; I'm nothing in between. You know you wouldn't want it any other way!

Today, Jenny, Jenn, and I were sitting in Roosters and "Bittersweet Symphany" began to play; and the line:

I'm a million different people from one day to the next

really struck me. It's not that I wasn't aware that I acted differently depending on the environment I found myself it, but that I had never thought of it outside of the moment. I never recognized myself as adopting various roles, becoming so ingrossed in the play I forgot that I was acting. Which raises an interesting point: is there a time then when I don't act? when I am not adopting a facade? NO, since they are all mine, I'm never really acting outside of my character. "Me" is not an uncompounded concept. It is multi-faceted yet indivisible (UGH! I'm the United States of America!), but seriously, I recognize my distinctness as a part of the whole. You can't have one without all the others.

We are all 32 flavors and then some

-Ani Difranco

Which brings me to the "Authentic" Popcorn Bowl. So they give you this small, ceramic bowl full of popcorn when you go to Roosters. During our discussion concerning Identity, Buddhism, and what it means to be a Person (you know, typical meal-time conversations), Jenny picked up the empty bowl and mentioned something about the essence of the popcorn bowl. At which point, I mentioned that you can't discuss that bowl's essence as a popcorn holder as it was the same type of bowl that was used to hold our three different sauces that came with the meal: garlic, spicy ketchup, and 1000 island-esque. Throughout the course of the day, that bowl probably adopts innumerable different identities and is thought about differently by many different people: from the prep boys to the dish washers, the servers to the patrons. If one can imagine The Public Transcripts and Other Transcripts surrounding an inanimate object, the possibilities and depth attainable by people and concepts is almost mind-numbing in its hugeness. I'm a novice now, but I hope one day to take this newly acquired tool and see the world and the relationships it forms with clarity. And in the process, perhaps see my self more clearly too.

Catholic in the Bible Belt

2004-07-20T17:20:00.000+02:00

Religion is a controversial subject no matter where and to whom we are speaking. The problem is that almost every faith claims to be the only true one; thus, by definition, every other faith must be wrong. As most of us know from an experience once you tell somebody that they are wrong that’s where the problems and arguments start.
I grew up in Poland, which, as we all learned, is mainly Catholic. Therefore, throughout my entire childhood I was never exposed to anything else but Catholicism. Not only that I thought that it was a right way – I thought that it was the only way. I never really thought to much about my faith or religion because it was always there, I was surrounded by it. I was active in the church, I sang in a choir, played Mary in the Christmas play and all of it was so normal and natural among my other activities that I never really gave it too much thought.
Than big change occured in my life because I moved to the US. We lived in Knoxville, TN – so called Bible Belt, which was predominantly Protestant, out of which most believed Catholics weren’t Christians. It was a huge shock for me because I never thought that I would ever had to prove to anyone that I am a Christian. More than that, for most of my life I thought that Catholics are the only Christians simply because I was not aware of any other Christian groups.
I quickly learned that there are many varieties of Christian churches many of which take the Bible word by word and often memorize the entire thing. That put me in a disadvantage because even though I did read the Bible I did not meorize it and thus could not argue with those who would throw verses at me simply because I did not know verses that I could throw back at them.
Overall, my American experience made me a stronger Catholic. I actually took time to evaluate my beliefs and compare them with those of others. I was foced to learn my religion so I could defend it better. Now, looking at our, to some silly Catholic rituals in Poland I must say that I am fond of them because they are mine and they enhance our Polish culture in many ways. That is why I love coming home for Christams because Christams here, thanks to our rituals, is like no other Christmas in the world. Maybe it is not better, but it is our, Polish and that is how I like it.

Finally Someone Else is on the Hot Seat

2004-07-20T16:33:00.000+02:00

July 13-15
I have a mixed feelings about Prague. On the one hand it felt very touristy, almost Western European but on the other hand a beautiful preservation of old Europe. I was also struck by the differences between the many groups of tourists. From the bourgouis singing Hungarian Harley Davidson Motorcycle gang, to the boisterous and profane British Stag parties, and the Spainish and Portugese travelers. With so many tourists it was difficult to find a authentic Czech, even though Prague has “Czech Republic” on mailing addresses. We were lucky enough however, to hang out with a troup of Czechs for an evening-but otherwise I did not feel a sense of “Czechness” during the weekend. Although this bothered me, I understand I was only there for a few days and have not seen the greater Czech land. Maybe it is safe to say that Prague is not the pure essence of “Czechness”.
Another thought that crossed my mind was the United Kingdom. Although I didn’t know it, I’ve always had a more possitive opinion of the British. Perhaps this is from my understanding of my family’s genology that’s traced back to England, or because I happen to like British comedy, Shakespeare, and other things attributed to England. The reality of the Stag parties in Prague was disappointing. Although I am sure most Brits are fair minded people, this drunken minority is helps a human trafficing economy while annoying the merchants and other tourists. For example I was in a store buying some souvainers when a Stag group outside got so loud I couldn’t talk to the sales girl. After talking to her for a few minutes, she expressed her frustrations with the Stag parties because they drive her customers away. Stag chants at those passersby pursuades tourists to shop elsewhere. Later in the night I ran across a sign outside a bar that said “No Stag Groups”. I was fed up with the Stag’s rude shirts, and comments to other women, including me. At the same time I also feel relieved that finally another tourist group was taking the title of “obnoixious”. In a sense it was easier for me to relate to the shop keeper, and a Frenchman I talked to during my visit, because we had a common enemy for conversation. At the same time I can relate with the average Brit who does not participate in these racus Stag weekends. These Stag groups are giving the average British citizen a bad wrap in much the same way the small obnoxious American groups give the average American a bad title. Dispite these concerns I thouroughly enjoyed Prague and would return again.

Encountering Warsaw

2004-07-20T11:41:00.000+02:00

I have to admit that I did not like Warsaw when we first arrived. I think that there were several reasons for this:

1) it was raining. Weather is significant in a way that it shouldn't be, I think; it only rained that first day in Warsaw but I do think of it as a grey city. Weather is like "mood" in that respect; if the world of the happy man is different from the world of the sad man, how much more is the raining world different from the sunny world? (Especially since "weather" presents itself as though it were a-socially objective, a "fact of nature" with which we mere individual humans have to struggle -- even in our language, as we say "it is raining" without ever clearly specifying what the "it" refers to. And we can't really specify what the referent is, except for "the world" as a whole -- furthering the connection between weather and mood.)

2) Laura's foot. There was a little accident a few days ago in which Laura fell and sprained her ankle (but we didn't know that it was only sprained until mid-day Saturday), so abruptly the travel plans had to change: Jenny and Laura remained in Krakow while the rest of us went to Warsaw. So I found myself trying to occupy two places at the same time -- two cities, Warsaw and Krakow -- and two sets of concerns, each specific to a different group of students. Thank goodness for SMS technology, which allowed us to stay in touch. It's not fair to Warsaw to blame my initial experiences on it when they so clearly have nothing to do with the city, but those initial experiences did color the city for me.

3) architecture. Warsaw remains dominated by solid grey blocks designed for the New Soviet Man, together with the fascinatingly hideous Palace of Culture and Industry. This adds to a more formal and forbidding atmosphere, certainly in contrast with Krakow. (Wartime devastation is obviously to blame for this, but the causation of the architecture is less interesting to me at the moment than the effect of that architecture.)

4) there is a German word -- Gemütlichkeit -- which indicates a certain kind of homey-ness, comfort, richness of communal feeling; it also has connotations of provincialism, small-town-ness, and the like. Köln has it, at least in the suburbs. München has it pretty much all over the place. So does Krakow. Warsaw doesn't. Warsaw is a city in a way that Krakow isn't. Maybe it's the architecture, maybe it's the wider streets and extensive mass transportation network, maybe it's the sheer number of people. Maybe all of the above. But Warsaw is -- or was, at least to me -- less comfortable than Krakow was.

As we spent a little more time there this weekend, I began to be able to let go of my expectations -- my expectation of seeing Krakow, I think -- and see Warsaw differently. The grey architecture looked more like an unfortunate legacy after a while, and the monumental Soviet carvings on the buildings started to take on a less ominous character. And we found good places to eat, even if they were a little more expensive than in Krakow. Plus, we went to see memorials and monuments and the like over the next two days, which also gave an access point into what was at first a somewhat forbidding edifice. Running Saturday morning also helped.

I am under no illusions that my experience of Warsaw remains a highly idiosyncratic one. But from looking over other people's notes, I see continuities. Undoubtedly these arise largely from our collective process of making meaning, and will continue to do so. Is Warsaw really a grey and forbidding city? Is it really like Berlin, especially East Berlin, which was the parallel that kept coming to mind for me throughout the weekend? What might "really" mean here?

Did we actually encounter Warsaw? How would we know?

[Posted with ecto]

"And now I also know what it is to be charged with mass guilt"

2004-07-20T11:19:00.000+02:00

I think one of the most important questions posed by Milosz and discussed by Fiut is the question of what somone living in an oppressive state is obligated to do. Are we obligated to become martyrs, to stand up for the Good, the Right, and the True even though we know it's suicidal? Ought we mimic Fiut's own professor, focusing on our own , uncontroversial work, using the language of the oppressors when necessary? Perhaps we should take the route of Milosz, and defect, or follow the example of Agnieszka's family and contribute what we can to the underground opposition while speaking the Truth at home as well. Should we "[keep] one hand on Marx's writings, [reading] the Bible in private"? Is there a best way, or a moral way to live in these circumstances? What would I have chosen in the place of those who had to make these decisions?

I don't think these are idle questions. Even if, God willing, I never live in a totalitarian state, there are still (many) times when I feel my government is acting immorally, and I question what my obligation to stand up for what I believe in is. There's a Pete Seeger song, taken from a woman's testimony before Congress during the time of the Vietnam War, that touches on a lot of these questions. Since I suspect this crowd is at least slightly less folky than I am, I've included the lyrics below:

LISA KALVELAGE

My name is Lisa Kalvelage, I was born in Nuremberg
And when the trials were held there nineteen years ago
It seemed to me ridiculous to hold a nation all to blame
For the horrors that the world did undergo
A short while later when I applied to be a G. I. bride
An American consular official questioned me
He refused my exit permit, said my answers did not show
I'd learned my lesson about responsibility.

Thus suddenly I was forced to start thinking on this theme
And when later I was permitted to emigrate
I must have been asked a hundred times where I was and what I did
In those years when Hitler ruled our state
I said I was a child or at most a teen-ager
But that only extended the questioning
They'd ask, where were my parents, my father, my mother
And to this I could answer not a thing.

The seed planted there at Nuremberg in 1947
Started to sprout and to grow
Gradually I understood what that verdict meant to me
When there are crimes that I can see and I can know
And now I also know what it is to be charged with mass guilt
Once in a lifetime is enough for me
No, I could not take it for a second time
And that is why I am here today.

The events of May 25th, the day of our protest,
Put a small balance weight on the other side
Hopefully, someday my contribution to peace
Will help just a bit to turn the tide
And perhaps I can tell my children six
And later on their own children
That at least in the future they need not be silent
When they are asked, "Where was your mother, when?"

Words adapted and Music by Pete Seeger (1972)
(c) 1966 by Sanga Music Inc.

Gimpy hits the Road

2004-07-19T21:00:00.000+02:00

They say you can never know a man until you've walked a mile in his shoes. I say you can never know yourself until you've spent a week in a cast. The trip to Zakopane was most definitely one of the hardest for me: not physically nor emotionally, but psychologically, in terms of finally putting aside my pride and accepting that, while I like to think of myself as being imbued with certain super powers, I'm only human and need to know when to throw in the towel. I was surprised by how much it hurt to remain behind while everyone else went mountain climbing. Not that I begrudged them their right or the fun that they were surely having, but that I couldn't share in it. Those would be memories in which I had no place. (I like to think that my time spent at the house was at least a source of comfort for the goats, but they only spared me the cursory glance to assure themselves I wasn't going to make any sudden moves towards the precious grass). The fact that I had known beforehand that I wouldn't be able to participate didn't make me feel any better, or alleviate the frustration that became my constant companion. To the chagrin of everyone trying to make sure that I didn't hurt myself more during the course of my "healing" process from sheer foolhardiness, I had reinforced my already existing iron-clad stubbornness with a deep determination to make it on my own with the least amount of help possible (strengthened by the necessity of deterring my thoughts from my growing sense of helplessness), making for a touchy bit of goods if I do say so myself. I could guess at the identity interplays that lead me to act the way I did, but acknowledging their existence will have to suffice for now. Despite my inability to see as much of Zakopane as I would like, and I would really like to see more, I felt in some respects that I had still managed to form a special bond with some of the locals based upon my injury. Agnieszka informed me how the land lady felt horrible that I was up in the room with no food and that if her legs were better and she could get up stairs, she would have sent me a sandwich. At another time I was buying some Highlander Lollipops when an old lady looked down at my foot and then pointed at her hand indicating a cast. Perhaps I'm being overly sentimental, but I felt better through the shared experience of inadequecy that each of these women must have no doubt felt at some point, and the bond that that knowledge can create. And it made everything all the more bearable because I wasn't alone. Sure, it might be an odd thing to pick as a common denomenator, but we've limped in each other's shoes, and we know the pain of frustration and helplessness, that in itself is enough. My unique Polish idenity is the Gimp, and I can say with only the slightest amount of fasciousness: "Gimps of the World, UNITE!"

A group of fish in a bowl #2

2004-07-19T16:52:00.000+02:00

Week of July 6-8
For me there were two steps to finding commonality with a group. As a group of students studying in Krakow I feel eyes on us at times. These eyes sometimes look away a little embarrassed they were caught staring, most give us an odd look-trying to figure out who we are and why we act the way we do. Although in these moments I know our identity is being questioned, for me it is an affirmation that I am an American because I’m different from the Polish Nationals. After 5 days however, this wore off. In a way, I shrug my shoulders in a certain tolerance, and acceptance. Much in the way I accept that the Polish ladies around our flat will peak through the windows everytime we come and go. Once I came to this conclusion I found that I needed learn more about the Polish identity. I was tired of being different and wanted a small part of me to have commonality with the Poles.
Why did this happen and why in 2 steps? The first step is human nature, because it’s human nature to point out the differences first. The second step is driven by nessesity to live better. Nessesity to find commonality with the Polish people-because commonality helps you become part of the group or on a larger scale a part of society. At a micro-level example a girl asked me if I knew anything about an American cigarrette brand she liked. She wanted to know if the cigarettes were really made in the U.S.. She was probably wondering if the Polish advertisements and sales clerks were telling the truth. I don’t smoke, so I can’t relate. But we do have commonality. Although not explicitly expressed we both have an underlying commonality because we feel misguided or ripped off by the cigarette industry. She doesn’t know if the cigarettes are real, and I am disgusted by the industry’s lies and advertisements. Although our skeptisms were different in the end our skeptism was our underlying commonality, bringing me 1 very small step closer to a possibly fushion with the Polish identity.

The Fishbowl #1

2004-07-19T16:49:00.000+02:00

A Fish Bowl-Week of July6-8
Identity for a person or group can be conscience and unconscience as it is apparent or hidden from others. As an American/ Californian many times I feel like I’m in a fish bowl as I walk along the Renick Square-even when I have not utttered a word. In a material centric way you could say that I dress differently-but that’s not totally true some days. It is the intangible points of my identity that guide me to choose the tangible identity. This tangible identity changes also. Life expierences will challenge your current intangible identity that will change your outward identity changing continuously. For example some teens reject the family identity and take on the punk/gothic look in their clothing simulantously symbolizing a defiance for the normal, but also a quest for acceptance or recognition from their parents. What the teen does not understand is that these new clothes disintegrate, just as their own understanding of being “punk” disintegrates. After I began to identify wear bankomats, skleps, buty stores, the Renick, and CES were my identity changed. I no longer felt as confused or uncomfortable. I started wearing the skirts, and longer pants a tangible difference. The first confirmation that I had lost some of my “American/Californian” identity was when an older Polish woman asked me why so many people were out at the bars-for this one moment my identity was Polish. This however soon disappeared when she discovered I couldn’t speak Polish.

Living History in Warsaw

2004-07-19T16:25:00.000+02:00

Every time I go back to Warsaw, I am always reminded of the city’s (and the country’s) past. There is a memorial plaque seemingly on every street corner, a constant reminder of the city’s painful history. Although this can at times be overwhelming, I feel as though these memories are important to preserve and pass on to the generations to come. But can preserving these memories so explicitly also be a burden to the country? I sometimes wonder if by constantly reliving the past (a painful past especially) we limit ourselves from looking toward the future and fostering better relations with those who once used to be called our enemies? I am by no means a proponent of ignoring or “touching up” history, but I do at times feel concern about victimizing ourselves indefinately. Warsaw is not only a perfect reminder of the devastation caused by the Second World War, it is also a reminder of the communist regime that held Poland captive for nearly fifty years. Just by strolling down the streets of the city we see the Soviet-style architecture, monuments (although far and few between nowadays), and perhaps less obvious things such as the pavement we walk on or the way the paint is chipping off many apartment buildings. Despite these less aesthetically pleasing aspects of Warsaw, this is a city I love to return to. Being in Warsaw this time was much different from all the other times I have been there because I was there without the company of my mother. This felt very strange (it is amazing how we associate certain places with certain individuals) and awkward at times, but in the end I was glad that I had the opportunity to revisit the city and my family that lives there.

Charming old ladies

2004-07-19T15:07:00.000+02:00

While walking - or watching, dependant upon the day's schedule - the streets of Warsaw this weekend, I desperately sought some connection between Warsaw's urban malaise and Krakow's picturesque charm. This connection, this link, would in turn lead me to some brilliant ephipany about Polish identity. And, my distinguished audience, the only thing that immediately struck me is the shared sub-culture of charming elderly polish women. They walk in pairs, shaking their heads or holding hands/interlinking arms, here in Krakow in much the same way as they do in Warsaw. There is something comforting in their hunched stance and world weary eyes; they suggest that the human experience is not completely extinguished despite the hardships inflicted by our political machinations.
Do these charming "little old ladies" really indicate anything about identity? Or are they simply a cultural manifestation of familial hierarchy? What is relevant to national identity? What does identity mean to them? Do they see themselves as survivers? As victims? Both? And I wonder if another Pole would notice them as I do; do I only notice them because I am constantly filtering my perspective by categorizing what is like me and my experience and what is not (the other: in America, we do not have elderly women who congregate in the same way). I can not make any definitive claims about Polish identity from my congruent observations of elderly women in both Warsaw and Krakow (and the absense of similiar behavior from Prague and America). I only know that when I think of my experience in Poland, I will remember with fondness the little old ladies who hold onto each other to make it across the street.

Post-Warsaw Musings

2004-07-19T11:59:00.000+02:00

Before leaving for Warsaw this weekend I had a couple of thoughts the I thought might be worked out while traveling. No such luck. So I thought that I would send out these incomplete ideas into the ether as questions with the hope that someone might be willing to share an (as opposed to "the") answer.
1) I am continually facinated by the connection between "home" and identity. When I speak of "home" today it context specific: it can refer to our flat in Krakow, my humble studio in DC, or my parents house in California. Each of these "homes" is tied to particuar aspects of my identity - explorer, student, and daughter. This multiplicity leads me to question what "home" means, how do feeling of "home" arise? Is "home" simply a function of comfort? For example, throughout these weekend excursions, do I continually enjoy returning to Krakow as "home" because I am most comfortable here? Or is there something about the character of the city that resonnates with me so that I prefer to be in Krakow? (Thus indicating that home is preferential distinction; can preference really be disentangled from comfort? Generally, don't you prefer what is comfortable? Not necessarily...) I have varying degrees of loyalty to each of these "homes" which seem to be a function of my experience there; while I may not have any particular nationalist loyalty to Poland, I would become defensive if someone claimed that they felt that Prague was a better city. How did this happen? Does it mean anything? What is it's relevance to national identity formation?
2) Does anyone else get the feeling that Poland is exchanging one central control (Russian communism) for another (Brussels European Union)? Milosz writes of communism that "Each people's democracy becomes a province of the Empire, ruled by edicts from the Center. It retains some autonomy, but to an ever-diminishing degree. Perhaps the era of independent states is over, perhaps they are no more than museum pieces." (emphais added) Can the same be said of the EU? In our age of current multinational organizations (think OAS, Union of African States, Arab League), is the era of independent states over? If so, how is this reconciled with the increasing proliferation of smaller "sovereign" states (who - one could argue - by their very size, must cooperate with other states in order to compete economically and politically.)? Milosz "dreams of a federation of equal nations, of a United States of Europe in which differing languages and differing cultures would have equal status." Is this the EU?

"Identity" in the news

2004-07-18T20:28:00.000+02:00

Chirac on gay marriage

Here's an interesting look at how an issue also divisive in the US is playing into French concerns about identity.

Home

2004-07-18T16:33:00.000+02:00

     It’s funny how quickly we can adopt foreign environments and refer to them as “home.” Both in Praque and in Warsaw, although excited to see and expereince new things, part of me was aching to get back “home.” Of course, much of that was due to my need for a little down time-to be able to be in one place for more than three nights. Still, instead of talking about going back to Krakow, I found myself saying how nice it would be to be“back home.” What’s strange about this is that in Krakow I don’t feel as though I’m “at home.” In fact today, I felt very much not at home.
     Escaping the thunderstorm I ran into a little cafe in the heart of Kazimierz to get some coffee. As I was reading and watching the hail, I was assaulted by cigarette smoke as the woman sitting in front of me inhaled what seemed like an entire pack in 45 minutes. For some reason I felt the need to inform her that she will have a face full of wrinkles by the time she is 50 years old- at which point she will die of lung cancer. Did she know that, I thought? Where I’m from most people have some sort of sense of the dangers of cigarettes (which can be seen in our legislation concerning smoking in public places). Where I’m from people don’t chain smoke in coffee shops.
Later that afternoon I went searching for a payphone from which to call “home.” Nothing makes you feel more like an alien than an automated machine in another language. Three payphones and many more attempts later, I heading back to my apartment defeated, feeling a mixture of frustration and lonliness. Yet just when I was cursing my new found home, a pigeon, who seemed to feel the need to help me reaffirm my uncomfortable feelings of alienation, shat all over my back. Such an incident had never happened to me before I arrived in Krakow. However, this was now the second of such events in the two weeks since my arrival. It seems that even the pigeons feel the need to remind me that this is not where I belong.
     Yet how can I not feel at home when I’m in Krakow, yet refer to it as such when I’m away? In D.C. I often complain about things that are very “east coast,” yet when I’m back in Oregon, I will stop at nothing to defend the city against criticism. I suppose where ever I start to develope a daily routine and settle down, even for a short while, can become my temporary “home,” even if I may not necessarily feel at home. Krakow may still seem foreign to me, but Warsaw (and Prague to a lesser extent) seems even more so. At least here I know a great jogging route, I know some fun places to go out and I know of several good crepe and coffee shops –even if I have to surcumb to an early death due to second hand smoke.

Beyond First Impressions

2004-07-17T13:26:00.000+02:00

When one arrives in Warsaw, one of the first things that strikes you (particularly if you have been to other “untouched” cities such as Krakow and Prague) is the difference in the architecture. Soviet-style block houses are a aesthetic shock compared to the graceful melange of colors and design that one sees in the Stare Miasto and the Rynek in Krakow. For those not as aquainted with Warszawians it might come accross as a city built to be a cosmopolitican, industry- and politically-oriented capital. The stark buildings fitting neatly with the character of those who live these. Having lived in Warsaw for a month-and-a-half, however, I came to see Warsaw as a town not quite able to throw off its communist heritage, living in the shadow of the monstrously ugly Palace of Science and Culture. What becomes important than for those living there is to constantly educate those unfamiliar with Warsaw and her history on the true way of interpreting it. The Warszawians will be the first to tell you that to truly see Poland, you will not find it in Warsaw, but in Krakow. In the untouched and beautiful architecture that is purely Polish. Identiy then is a constant struggle is this city. The residents continuously reinforcing their own sense of Polishness and beauty against the other of the Soviet institutions still standing and the block houses that only heighten the sense of loss felt at the absolute destruction of Warsaw. This is perhaps why the Stare Miasto is so important, even if it is a replica, it is an oasis of Polishness, the center focusing on the Emblem of Warsaw, the mermaid holding the sword and spear. Here one no longer need struggle against the enforced rigidity and conformity that is the legacy of communism, and for a moment remember the beauty that once belonged to Warsaw, the beauty that once belonged to Poland.

A Middle Ground

2004-07-12T14:03:00.000+02:00

The struggle that many states in this area have undertaken in order to carve out an identity as central or eastern Europe is very interesting to me. Until I arrived in Krakow I had always thought of anything east of Germany as belonging to Eastern Europe. Even after being here for several days I wrote an e-mail back home describing the "Eastern European" charm of my apartment complex.
Milan Kundera traces the cultural history of this area (generally understood as the area between Germany and Russia- although such boundaries are at the heart of this debate) and claims that its orientation has always been wesward. I found it interesting reading the literature on this issue that scholars stress the fact that many ideas which have formed Western culture have roots in the literature and great minds of the people from this region. Kundera argues, however, that the invasion of the Soviet troops and the subsequential changes in the political system of these states transformed them into the "East" in the minds of the Western world. Thus, in effect, the Western culture in this area was crushed by the advance of the Soviet Union and swallowed up by the eastern block.
Now that the cold war is over this area has tried to relclaim its roots in Western culture, or as Kundra would say, reclaim its identity as a Western civilization. This point was illustrated to me last night in a very subtle way as I was hanging out in my neighborhood here in Krakow. An older man who had served in the Polish army for seven years, stoped to talk to me because he heard me speaking English. At one point he mentined that "Americans don't like the Russians," and then added, "but that's ok because neither do the Poles." I found this very telling in that he seemed to want to distance himself from those in the East, and at the same time connect with us in the West.
This task of re-claiming or inventing a new Central European identity involves, not only drawing boundaries, but defining the region as well. In Prague this weekend I met a man who told me that the Czech Republic is the heart of Europe and that their role is simular to Americans, who are the heart of the world. I also noticed a dance club when I was there with the words "The Best Club in Middle Europe" written in large print down the entire side of the building. Whether "central" or "middle," the Czechs have defined themselves as such and certainly do not consider themselves eastern.
All of these distinctions are new to me, yet the concept of Central Europe is fairly easy to grasp. The idea of a region caught between two large identities, East and West, seems very fitting given its history. It will be interesting to see how the concept of Central Europe plays out in the future.

Is there such thing as Central Europe?

2004-07-12T13:16:00.000+02:00

We have been discussing the idea of Central Europe for a while now and I have started to wonder what the idea of Central Europe means or if it even means anything to me at all. Until now, the thought of Central Europe appeared to me to be fake and not really necessary. I thought that it represented an escape from the idea of Eastern Europe, which had a bad association with Eastern Block and thus the Soviet Union. For so many years Europe was divided into the East and the West where the East has represented something less attractive or perhaps even worse than the West. Therefore, I believe inhabitants of the East felt an urge to call themselves something different, something that did not bring up bad memories, finally, something that symbolized fresh start and hope for the future.
What I found interesting is the fact that either I agree with the term or not, there is such thing as common identity for the Central Europeans. In Prague some of us were fortunate to meat some locals and spend some time with them. As soon as they found out that I was from Poland they referred to me as their Central European comrade as if them and I had something in common other girls couldn’t relate to. I can’t really explain it, but I must say that night I liked the fact that I was a member of that “Central European Club”.
Most Poles refer to themselves Central European and they don’t like to thing of themselves as Eastern Europeans. Many believe that Poland is situated in the middle of Europe, thus it is only natural to call themselves Central Europeans. Well, Czechs happen to think the same of themselves. In Prague we even met a guy who announced that the Czech Republic is the heart of Europe while the United States is the heart of the world! Now, that is some statement isn’t it? I don’t know what the center of the Europe or of the world, for that matter, is, but I do know that more and more I am beginning to fell that Central Europeanism in me even though I am not exactly sure what that entitles.

Multiple identities?

2004-07-12T13:11:00.000+02:00

It is difficult to define who we are or what we identify with because we are complex creatures. Many of us will never find the true meaning of their identity due to the fact that person often identifies with more than one thing and his/her identity constantly modifies itself – even changes. Motivated by class discussion I was trying to think about my own identity and my role in the world. I thought of myself as a woman, a Polish, a European, a Catholic, a student. I know that now my “student” identity is the primary one because my education is currently a priority. It is safe to assume; however, that one day identity of a wife, a mother, or a career person will replace the one of a student. Would that mean that my identity of “student” wasn’t real? Or it was real then, but is not anymore. So is that ok? Can identity be temporary or if it is an identity then it must be something more permanent/stable?
Also, conflict may exist between identities. My identity of being Polish may clash with my identity of being European because European interest may differ with the one of Poland so which is more important. Well, in such case I believe that it is not a question of a choice of identity, but it is a question of what issues we think are more important or which side is right. Example: in the case of voting in European Council I believe double majority method is better than the one proposed by the Niece Treaty even though it disfavors Poland. I believe double majority is more democratic and it better represents population of Europe. However, in the case of buying land in Poland I favor Polish side because I believe that there should be restrictions on how foreigners can buy land in Poland, otherwise they could literally buyout half of the country. Thus, these examples illustrate that it is not identity that I chose, but particular issues are the ones influencing my choices. Well, I’ll continue to search my identity/s, but I don’t expect to find one that will overtake the others.

Central v. Eastern European

2004-07-11T16:24:00.000+02:00

I had never really reflected upon the term “Central and Eastern Europe” until it was called to my attention last spring in a “Central and Eastern European” history course at GWU. The professor pointed out that the term is a fairly new invention in fact. Less than ten years ago people referred to the area east of the Iron Curtain as simply Eastern Europe. I always considered myself half eastern European – not half central European. I suppose that removing the “east” or at least adding on the word “central” was a way for people to start fresh - an attempt to erase the negative memories associated with the term “eastern European.” Or could it be that calling this area (which is another problem that follows – what are the geographic boundaries of this area?) is a part of a nostalgia for the past when for instance Poland was a great power in the heart of Europe? I believe that by calling this area Central Europe instead of Eastern Europe, “central Europeans” emphasize the fact that they feel like they are now once again part of the center of Europe rather than just the periphery (and part of the former Soviet bloc). This is illustrated in Neumann’s discussion of present-day efforts by “central Europeans” constructing “clear boundaries between themselves and a Russian other (Neumann, 82).” During conversations in Prague with Czech university students it became clear that they also view themselves as “central European” and along with that different from the people further east (mainly Russians of course). They mentioned the fact that they consider Poles to be more like them - a group of people that were also wrongfully placed behind the dividing-line between east and west for so many years. So perhaps there is really such a thing as a “central European” identity. Or perhaps it is just a passing fad that will disappear along with the generations that can recollect what living on the “wrong” side of the Iron Curtain was really like.

Fear and Loathing in Krakow

2004-07-09T15:49:00.000+02:00

While walking to dinner with Jenny the other day, we were both shocked and then extremely alarmed when we heard a strange howl followed by the frenzied and spastic running of a young Polish man, who had obviously recently sustained an injury to his eye and wrist. He ran, constantly looking over his shoulder, before slowing to a walk not too far in front of us, his blood vividly red against the grey stones of the sidewalk. As we rounded the corner, we noticed him talking to another young man who had a cell phone, while an older woman appeared to be helping him. Neither Jenny nor I had any idea what had really happened, whether it was an accident or not; but the sounds and actions of the man in question appeared to be ones of fear, and I quickly found a strange echo of that fear resonating inside of me. For the first time since coming to Poland in mid-May I was, and to some extent still am, aware of my own vulnerability. We have discuessed many aspects concerning the identities (be they varied or similar) of the different cities in Central Europe and Poland in particular, and while it never seemed strange before, I can’t help but be surprised that the topic of crime has never been raised outside of guarding one’s purse (or gentleman’s handbag as the case may be) from the infamous pickpockets. Without even realizing it, I had begun to take for granted the sense of security I perceived from both Warsaw and Krakow (and yes, even from Prague), never once fearing for my safety. The idea that I could be in a large, foreign city and not once appreciate my vulnerable position makes me call into quesiton my own interpretation of Polish identity (or, to be more specific, Warsaw-Krakowian identity). While studying in Paris, it was common knowledge that one did not walk alone after dark, and that if traveling alone, you did nothing that would differentiate yourself from the throngs of other Parisians. Granted, this fear could also be contributed to the fact that I was studying in Paris during the 9/11 attack and was therefore instructed to be extremely careful about being too “American” (the ability of which will have to be debated another time), but even before these attacks we entered Paris with the notion that this was an internaitional hub and we should appreciate all that such a title entails. What then makes Poland any different? Why should I immediately feel safer here as compared to other European cities? Should I readjust my evaluation? In response, whether for good or ill, my answer is “no.” This singular incident, exactly because it was jarring and unexpected, reinforces my first impression of Poland. The incredible sense of wrongness in seeing the young Pole running in fear, through a strange and illogical route, supports my feeling of security. Or, perhaps I am just marginalizing the evidence to support what I want to believe. Regardless of the “truth,” the initial shock is wearing thin and my fear is disappating. Perhaps it is safer and wiser to maintian the impression of fear, but I do not want to be controled by it. End conclusion? Drinking buddies are good.

facination with fatigue

2004-07-09T12:22:00.000+02:00

Reading and reflecting Czeslaw Milosz's poem "Child of Europe", I am facinated by the following line: "Let your lie be even more logical than the truth itself,/ So the weary travelers may find repose in the lie." Perhaps the line resonates so well because I myself have felt like a weary traveler the past couple of days. But there is something about fatigue that is fundamentally influential to behavior, something about it that is economic in nature: when you are tired, you ruthlessly guard your last reserves of energy (e.g. one may no longer expend energy to communicate our thoughts in a socially acceptable manner, thereby earning the title "grouchy"). When I have reached my own personal "fatigue threshold" I crave people, things, and activities that are familiar, that do not require "activation energy" or "brain power". Thus, similar to the above line from Milosz's poem, I too seek out clearly delineated "western" logic and effeciency because there is no energy required to comprehend it. When tired, I care much less about questing for the truth and much more about simplistic explanations.
Fatigue is an interesting and critical variable of identity development and maitenance (is perpetuation a better word?). How intellectually "weary" a population/culture is may greatly influence how much a complex identity is questioned and re-written. In his "Letters to a German Friend: First Letter", Albert Camus eloquently reflects:
"For there is always something in us that yields to instinct, to contempt for intelligence, to the cult of efficiency. Our great virtues eventually become tiresome to use. We become ashamed of our intelligence, and sometimes we imagine some barbarous state where truth would be effortless."
In learning from history, often we question how certain events could have been "allowed" to happen. But perhaps it has much less to do with an inherent capacity for human good or evil, and much more with the economic constraints of energetic scarcity; it is not whether people are good or bad, but how much energy is required to question societal norms. Analyzing how a population becomes "exhausted", how they become "rejuvenated", and what effect these processes have on a narrative may prove as illustrative as any moral comentary.

Ugly Americans

2004-07-08T17:33:00.000+02:00

While Jenny, Jenn and I were walking home from a delightful literary rendezvous on the Rynek involving hot chocolate, tiramisu, and the theorist-of-the-day, we passed a small group of Polish youth headed in the opposite direction. The girls were in the process of singing “Total Eclipse of the Heart” (I’ll refrain from debating which cover). As they walked by, we immediately picked up the song and sang it (in my case, at the top of my lungs) down the nighttime streets. I was at first struck by the mobility of the “identity-sharing” taking place between our group and theirs, but whose identity were we indeed expressing? By many accounts we could have easily been the epitomy of the “ugly American”: sauntering down the street singing without regard for those in the homes we passed. On the other hand, did the fact that the Polish youth were also singing negate that identity, or am I an “ugly American” regardless, unable to surround myself in a blanket of “Polishness” just as the wolf was unable to become a sheep? Jen reflected in her blog on how Polish culture is homogenizing with the West, adopting American fast-food chains and music. And yet, it is still maintaining an “essence” of polishness, a core that remains regardless of the changes made to the outside, a core, it seems, found in each Polish person, even if they have never realized that it’s there (ex. Jenny’s core of Polishness that truly revealed itself once she returned from her year abroad). I assume then that as all their actions are filtered though this core, and are therefore perceived as “Polish;” mine are filtered through my Americanism, which makes it difficult to perceive them as anything else.

I don’t want to be an “ugly American.” In past encounters, I’ve tried to distance myself from them, speaking as much of the indigenous language as possible, in order to not be associated with the horriblly arrogant and self-serving attitude that marks this particular breed. While I don’t identify with them, I wonder how often that aspect is presumed as a part of my identity, or if it isn’t? What does it take to be seen as a “passible European?” In the end, my only thought is that I can’t help who I am (a singer with no sense of public/private boundaries and an American), but I can control the way I portray these aspects of my identity (by at least singing really, REALLY good pop songs).

Thoughts about my identity

2004-07-08T16:21:00.000+02:00

Yesterday in class we spent a great deal of time discussing identity and what the word means to each one of us. I found it rather hard to define – there are so many different associations and meanings one could attach to the word. Rather than discussing group identity and whether or not identity is a social construction or an innate being, I will focus on thoughts on my individual identity. Each time someone asks me where I am from I am faced with a problem. Being a half Polish, half American, Swedish/U.S. citizen born in Finland makes that question quite hard to answer. I consider myself more of a “citizen of the world” (as clichee as that may sound), but since we live in a world that loves to label everything I feel as though that simplified answer often does not suffice. It is quite a dilemma because I do not really feel like I belong anywhere completely. Growing up in Sweden I always felt like a foreigner (we did not speak Swedish in my home, we did not share the same religion as the majority of Swedes, we had different traditions in our home, etc.) but interestingly enough, once I went to the U.S. for college, I felt more Swedish than I ever had before. Then when I would go back to Sweden during the summer I would feel more American than before. My Polish identity on the other hand has always been a bit different because I never actually lived in Poland for an extended period of time. Despite not ever actually living here (although I spent many summers and Christmas holidays in Warsaw visting my grandparents and my mother never spoke to us in any other language but Polish), I feel like I return to a part of “myself” each time I come back to Poland. Having such a “schizophrenic”(for lack of a better word) identity can feel fairly problematic at times, but I think that it comes with some advantages also. Perhaps not feeling like I belong anywhere one hundred percent makes me more culturally sensitive and able to adapt to new surroundings quicker – both traits that will hopefully prove beneficial to a future career in international relations.

Choices within Identity

2004-07-08T16:14:00.000+02:00

Identities are not fixed, there is an element of choice. This seems like a pretty accurate statment, afterall, we are constantly re-inventing ourselves and our perceptions of who we are. Today I chose to be a student- that is part of my identity. Eventually I will choose a profession and will take that on as a new part of my identity, I will no longer be a student (in the technical use of the term). Everyday I choose some type of outward expression with which to to convey my identity. Yet, in all of these choices, I cannot escape the reality that I am a white female from a strong Christian home in Eugene, Oregon (not that I want to escape). This shows the limitations within which I can make my choices.
To my friends at American, I am instantly recognizable as "west coast" (in fact I can usually pick out other west-coasters on campus). To my housemates in D.C., I will always be a hippy from Oregon-no matter how conservatively dressed I am, and how many times I have explained that "real hippies do not bathe with soap and only eat vegan foods. This I know, I am afer all, from Eugene. Yet although I may identify with the "west coast," I do not identify with such concepts as vegan or hippie. Neither of which, I have choosen.
The idea of identity as a choice within boundaries reminds me of another concept, which, having grown up in a Christian home, I have come to understand and identify with- the religious concept of free will. Free will, much like identity, is also explained by theologians as a choice within a set of limitations. According to Christian theology, free will has to exist, otherwise humans would simply operate like machines- our identities would be "choosen" for us. Yet, according to Christianity, God is omnipotent, omnipresent and omipotent. This means that God has a hand in what we do. For example, we choose what path to take, but God will choose the obstacles we may encounter on that path. In this way, we agree to endure such obstacles, since in essence, we are given the choice to "choose" and not simply respond to commands. Thus, we have the opportunity to experience success and failure, tragedy and exhaltation, life and death. With our identity, our choices may not seem so extreme as in the spiritual realm, but they are important.1 Today I woke up a white girl from Oregon in a foreign country where I do not speak the language. I chose to go for a run and be stared at by the locals. They know I'm not from here- but today I chose to be a runner and for now, I can endure the stares.

1.Of course there is more to the concept of free will, but I was stuck during our discussion of identity with the parallels between these two paradims.

seeking boundaries

2004-07-08T09:00:00.000+02:00

While purusing Frederick Barth's "Introduction" I was struck by his claim that "categorical ethnic distinctions do not depend on an absence of mobility, contact and information, but do entail social processes of exclusion and incorporation whereby discrete categories are maintained despite changing participation and membership." Seemingly simple enough. And yet, I have difficulty finding these boundaries or “categorical ethnic distinctions” here in Poland. They are highly subtle, perhaps no more dramatic than visiting London or France; Poland at first blush is a variation on a theme.
Perhaps I can not readily pinpoint these “categorical distinctions” because Krakow is a textbook example of global homogentation, or as some might say, westernization: I can buy Head and Shoulders shampoo, I have counted 2 McDonalds and a Pizza Hut, American pop music is frequently played in clubs and bars, and my personal favorite - last night I attended a step aerobics class. All of these are recognizable trademarks of western culture. This importation of culture, mainly from America, but from other states as well, is often decried by culture conservatives as "destroying" the cultural legacies of various countries. The interesting point of Barth's claim however, is that "Polishness" will survive, it may just be redefined to be more "western" or in the context of this class, more "Central European".
Is it this chosen redefinition of what constitutes Polish that is the most telling? There is something indicative - and a bit frightening - in the Polish population actively wanting to emulate the so-called "western" world. After all, as our landlady reminded us, “anything is possible in your America.” Does her statement just highlight the Realist emphasis on power (e.g. would the west still be emulated if the cold war has been won by the Soviets? Will it still be the case in 50-75 years when China's economic prowess matches if not surpasses that of the US?)? Or, as other cultural critics suggest, does it signal a desire to return to shared cultural roots which define human freedoms, including social mobility, more liberally? Alternatively, it may have less to do with cultural dynamics and more to do with logistics (the nature-abhors-a-vacuum dynamic): when Poland's market economy launched there were few domestic companies that could offer the products and competition that constitute "healthy" capitalism. As nothing is monocausal, it is a combination of all these factors: emulation of power, desire to be accepted by the European community, and the mechanics of transition. But in what proportion?
Perhaps the greatest contributing factor today is Poland’s desire to become a fully accepted member of the European community. This desire encourages the assimilation of more western cultural affectations and behaviors while simulaneously discouraging those considered “eastern european”. Although this may intially lead to a kind of cultural homogenation which partially contradicts Barth’s claim; it must be viewed within a temporal context. I would predict that once Poland is comfortably accepted within the European “community”, it will, perhaps even artificially, strengthen those “categorical ethnic distinctions” that delineate Poland from the other Central and Western European states.

Refrigerator, again

2004-07-07T10:03:00.000+02:00

I spoke to the gentleman who owns the apartment that I am renting, and he clued me in to the secret of the fridge: kick it closed, and occasionally kick it to make sure that it stays closed. I did and now it appears to be working, to some extent.

I wonder how many other little tricks like this were required to make the Soviet system keep functioning.

[Posted with ecto]

Soviet manufacturing

2004-07-06T00:08:00.000+02:00

Midnight, Krakow time. I am now finally getting to bed after an hour of mopping and using towels and rags to clean up the mess left by the demise of the Soviet-era refrigerator that used to serve my apartment. (It really is Soviet; the dials were all in Cyrillic script and it looked like something out of the 1950s.) The fridge started leaking this morning, and by this afternoon we had to turn it off for defrosting because it had apparently become so waterlogged that it couldn't take any more. Then, after cleaning up most of the water on the kitchen floor, I chanced to nudge the pan under the unit with my foot…producing a new cascading torrent. Lovely. I think it's under control now, although this does leave me quite without any way to store most food. So I either have to a) eat out; b) use one of the students' refrigerators or the common one at CES temporarily; or c) only buy enough for one meal and toss whatever I don't eat. None of these are particularly appealing.

The Soviet system's inability to produce consumer goods is legendary; until now I had never actually been on the receiving end of it. Now I can check that one off of my list -- after I change my socks.

[Posted with ecto]

National day in another nation

2004-07-05T09:47:00.000+02:00

Our first visit to Nowy Kleparz (New Market) was entertaining for all involved, particularly the proprieters of the small produce stall at which we spent roughly half the GDP of Borneo. It's been over a year since I've been in the position to regularly speak Polish, and so asking for vegetables and fruits whose names I couldn't remember involved much charades, clumsy approximations (watermelon as "the big, green, round thing behind the cabbage"), and audience participation. Laura, Jen, and I explained that we were shopping for a party, but the male proprieter insisted we were simply having Polish class :). We have plans to return to the market often.

The Wroblewskiego Triumverate (that would be Laura, Jen, and me, as opposed to the four Girls in Kasimierz, the other half of the group) hosted a Fourth of July party for the program, and it went better than any of us could have hoped. I had felt torn about celebrating the US's "national day", as Europeans understand it, in another country, but I went with the assumption that groups of travellers are allowed to celebrate national holidays together as long as they aren't obnoxious about it. Besides, the process of buying all of the food, attempting to make hamburgers (and berry shortcake, and sangria, and crudite, and...) with the options and limitations found in a foreign country was an educational experience in itself. I think I can safely say a fun time was had by all.

Being-in-Krakow

2004-07-04T10:11:00.000+02:00

I. How many Krakows are there?

> google: krakow

http://www.krakow.pl/en/our_city

"Krakow is the city exactly on the intersection of 20 degrees East and 50 degrees North. According to some cartographers it is the geographical centre of Europe. It not difficult to come to Krakow from different parts of the world. The Krakow international airport at Balice, just 15 kilometres from the city centre, has direct flights to many foreign airports, for instance: Paris, London, Zurich, Frankfurt am Main, Vienna, Rome, Tel Aviv, New York, Chicago. The city is an important railway junction with a regular and reliable train network linking Krakow with other cities both national and international. It is also possible to come to Krakow by coach or car. Our city is linked to the main Polish and European roads and thus the access is very easy."

Well, that clears things up. According to the map, only one. Well, that's not strictly true; there is also a Krakow in Wisconsin, but there is apparently only one in Poland. And it has a particular layout:

http://www.cracow-life.com/map/krakow-map-zoom.php

All of these streets, laid out far in advance of my or anyone else's arrival; all of these remnants of a medieval past, including the green park which lies on the site of the former moat and fortifications surrounding the city; all these houses and shops and cafés just waiting to be seen and experienced by travelers and tourists. Travel guides point us in the right direction, as do tips from people who have been here before: "Oh, in Krakow, you have to make sure to go take a picture with the fire-breathing dragon statue by the big castle…" (but you can't now, because some silly American tourist climbed up to do so and scorched his or her hair, so they turned it off for the time being).

"There's no place like Krakow." Of course not -- there is only one of it.

II. How many Krakows are there?

This morning I went for my second run since arriving here. Alarm goes off at 7am (I slept in -- I want to try to be out the door by 6:30am on running days, but I was tired last night). Limp -- my right arch is a little sore after walking around in bad shoes too much a couple of days ago -- into the kitchen and make coffee on the stove (no pilot light, so a match has to be struck). Change into running gear; lace up shoes tightly for support. Drink coffee; feel brain begin to function. Create on-the-go playlist on iPod: Counting Crows "Accidently in Love"; Blackalicious "Release parts 1, 2, 3"; Transatlantic "Suite Charlotte Pike live medley including large swaths of Abbey Road"; Train "Drops of Jupiter" as a cool-down song. Walk up Biskupia, left onto Krowoderska, left again onto Szlak. Start to jog. Right on Łobzowska, cross into the Planty, turn right and make a large circle around the Rynek. Not too many people out this morning. Some workers already dealing with construction jobs or picking up trash, a few people walking their dogs. (One other jogger, too -- looked American.)

The workers obviously see a different Krakow than I do; what looks to me like an obstacle in the road looks to them like something to be picked up and replaced, or perhaps it is the necessary consequence of a repair job involving electricity or plumbing or whatever it is that they are working on. The dog-walkers obviously see a different Krakow than I do: grass is a place for the dog to relieve itself, trees and posts are message-drops from other dogs, so stopping is a frequent occurrence; vigilance means preventing the dogs from getting into fights. Indeed, any Krakow resident sees a different krakow than I do: the Barbakan looks to me like something exotic and ancient and evocative, but I suspect that it is just another building one you live here for a while.

And it's not even as if I have a single view or experience either. Yesterday on our walking tour of much of the center of the city I was in part focused on the pain in my right foot, and experienced certain pathways as simply long and problematic. This morning those pathways -- were they the "same"? How? -- served as conduits for my exercise, taking me past fascinating places and providing a character to the run that had a distinctive feel. Certainly not like jogging around my neighborhood at home. But as I jogged I also wondered how my kids would be if they were here; the Planty is a great place to walk and run and ride a bicycle, but it lacks playground equipment and large open spaces for tag and chase and the other games that my kids play together. So wearing my parent hat, even while running, the experience changed; Krakow-as-a-parent is not the same as Krakow-as-a-jogger, or Krakow-as-an-academic.

Maybe there are as many Krakows as there are persons and roles from which to experience it.

III. How many Krakows are there?

The form of the statement "there are as many Krakows as there are points of view from which to experience it" might lead one to conclude that there are both one and many Krakows: one "real" Krakow, which underlies and limits all of the diverse experiences that one can have of the place. Then we can debate precisely what the character of this one Krakow is that it can give rise to these multiple interpretations and experiences, how "thick" a baseline it provides, how severe a constraint it produces. So we have essence-of-Krakow (singular, even if vague) and experiences-of-Krakow (plural, depending on how each individual subject or agent comes to the place and what they choose to see, with those choices arising from a combination of their own personal histories and the essence-of-Krakow that pre-exists their experiences of the place). Hence, one can be a "tourist" and carry around a little bubble of your home country as you go; this is becoming easier for Americans to do in Krakow since there are McDonald's restaurants and relatively familiar-looking stores and cafés. Plus almost everyone speaks a little English, at least enough to take your order and give you your change. But one can also be a "traveler," trying to deviate from the beaten path of must-see sites and Kodak-approved photographs: take the side streets, get to know local people, soak things up in a more nuanced way. And because there is an essence-of-Krakow out there to be experienced, one can in some sense be "correct" in one's experience of Krakow and let that experience conform to the essential city, or one can be relatively oblivious and stay in one's own comfort zone.

I am not convinced by this argument. Not because I reject the distinction between a tourist and a traveler, but because I don't think that we need a concept like "essence-of-Krakow" in order to get at the plurality of experiences that people have. Tourist-Krakow is different from traveler-Krakow is different from resident-Krakow not because these are three ways of seeing the same thing, but because they are three ways of being-in-the-world (as Martin Heidegger might have put it). Being a jogger opens the world to me in a particular way, as does being an academic or being a parent. But it is also more subtle than that; "the world of the happy man is different from the world of the unhappy man," Wittgenstein reminds us (Tractatus §6.43). This is the case even if all the facts remain exactly the same: I am in Poland, the Planty runs around the center of the city, the Rynek has cobblestone paving, etc. Heidegger likewise points out that "moods" are not just subjective impressions, but more fundamental and existential modifications of how the world presents itself to us. So "the Rynek has cobblestone paving" means nothing in particular and has no determinate implications for my world.

Actually, "the Rynek has cobblestone paving" is only a fact from a certain perspective -- that perspective which contains concepts like "cobblestone paving" and "Rynek" and the like, and also one which regards tangible, empirical, physical observations to be factual. There is a whole metaphysics concealed in the simple statement "the Rynek has cobblestone paving," as well as a value-judgment about which way of cutting into the world is "factual" or fundamental and which is superfluous, secondary, "subjective." Since there is an unavoidable theoretical mediation at play here, it is far from obvious that we should privilege this perspective over others. Doing so is just as much a judgment as the privileging of any other perspective, or the privileging of none. Hence, the essence/experience distinction -- "the Rynek has cobblestone paving" vs. the meaning of that cobblestone paving and the Rynek itself -- is shown to be itself a value-laden position, rather than something transcendentally presupposed and therefore "true" in some grandiose and objective sense.

So: how many Krakows are there? In the end, this is an empirical question. There can be one Krakow only if efforts are made to harmonize and restrict people's experiential narratives of Krakow. Theoretically, there are an infinite number of Krakows, and maybe in some sense they all virtually exist simultaneously. In practice, not all of those possible Krakows are actualized, and only concrete research can ascertain which are and which are not. My Krakow -- and your Krakow -- emerges someplace between all of our experiences and narrations and memories; by coming here I am complicit in the building of a Krakow in a specific way (I could have engaged in such a process from my house, and actually did so by reading travel guides and talking to people about it before I came). But there is nothing privileged about my being here that makes my Krakow any closer to the "real" Krakow -- not because there is no such thing (which, to paraphrase Nietzsche, would be a silly statement just as dogmatic as its opposite), but because the "real" Krakow is emergent from experience, not a non-social (or, better, non-discursive) baseline for those experiences.

I suspect that I will be complicit in the building of more Krakows as the month goes on.

[Posted with ecto]

First impressions

2004-07-02T09:29:00.000+02:00

No offense to the fine people living here, but I have to say that my first impression of Krakow involves dirt. The whole place is somewhat dingy -- lots of industrial soot all over the place, buildings that are kind of run down (once you get away from the tourist-y areas that have been all prettied up), streets that are not in great shape…I suppose that this I what happens when you live under a Communist dictatorship for decades and are only just starting to re-emerge. But it's still kind of dingy in much of the city.

Went for a run this morning; lots of staring from the local people. I guess that jogging isn't that popular around here.

[Posted with ecto]

2004-06-16T20:41:00.000+02:00

ParEcon in Poland

This is an interesting interview, both because it deals with Poland, and because Robin Hahnel (Michael Albert's buddy, and co-founder of the ParEcon movement) is also an AU professor.

2004-05-13T03:47:00.000+02:00

Krakow Life:

maps, information, miscellaneous travel stuff--it's worth a look

Survival Polish Guide

2004-05-11T05:06:00.000+02:00

GoPoland! Web Travel Guide to Poland:

"I don't speak Polish: Nie mowie po polsku
(as if it weren't obvious enough from your pronunciation, but try it anyway - 'nie' as above, 'movie' then 'po' as in really poor, and 'pole sku')"

Poland travel | Lonely Planet World Guide

2004-05-11T04:54:00.000+02:00

Poland travel | Lonely Planet World Guide:
"Poland is a multifaceted country where the capital and medieval old towns are toddled by contemporary city slickers and where horse-drawn carts negotiate country lanes in areas where the new millennium appears to have got lost somewhere down the road.
Situated in the heartland of Europe, it has been both a bridge and a front line between eastern and western Europe. Today it's the place to go if you're interested in seeing how a nation picks itself up off the floor and tries to reinvent itself."

NYT gives Krakow two enthusiastic thumbs up :)

2004-05-03T02:15:00.000+02:00

The New York Times > Travel > Krakow Is Eastern Europe's Party Place:
"If Prague was the coolest city in Eastern Europe during the 1990's, then Krakow is well on its way to capturing the title this decade."

Kongratulacje to Poland for joining the EU today!

2004-05-01T17:17:00.000+02:00

IHT: Europe reunites in blazes of joy

Cheap airfare!

2004-04-30T04:25:00.000+02:00

Laura has suggested that everyone check out Student Universe for plane tix.

2004-04-28T06:18:00.000+02:00

Real information coming here soon.