Dec 24
Olesnica
Olesnica
The hotel was functional and clean but contained the residue of several decades of chain smokers. I hope I don't catch any smoking related diseases from the place and that I don't smell even worse than usual for days. The shower, alas, was little more than warm.
I didn't sleep particularly well - AGAIN - so will be in a daze for most of the day. Downstairs I found an empty breakfast room, where I negotiated with two pretty waitresses. Coffee appeared but only one cup was offered. One of the girls then indicated either scrambled eggs or keilbasa on the menu. I selected the latter, feeling a little cheated as I was expecting cold meat and cheese. A plate of this was then delivered, however, with a basket of bread and even some lettuce and tomato.
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The kielbasa then appeared and also some "orange juice". Faced with all of this food, I did what I could about demolishing it. I made a fair attempt, took some photos, ordered another coffee and wrote my story.
I should have said that earlier, whilst half dressed, I went out onto the balcony, through a high grade tilt and turn door, and took a photo of the thick fog outside.If it doesn't change, I might never see dear old Blighty again, unless I walk there. A second venture onto the balcony revealed that the fog had lifted a little and that a largish church had appeared just around the corner.Right: Olesnica in the fog |
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I made phone contact with the family, who promised to appear in 30 minutes. Wishing to go out to play before then, I borrowed a map from the lady at reception. Her English was good but she struggled with "left" and "right". Luckily, I realised this, ignored her directions and set out in the direction of the town centre.
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The pavements were partially gritted, partially melted and partially icy, a vicious combination. I managed not to fall, however, and soon found my archetypal Polish image, an empty vodka bottle abandoned in the snow. I should say, at this point, that the family I stayed with drank far less than almost anyone I know in either New Zealand or the UK.
On the drive from the airport, I had noticed that zebra crossings and indicators appeared to be for decorative purposes only, so I had to be very careful when crossing the road.
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From the outside, the hotel was strictly utilitarian, as were many of the surrounding buildings. Some were classic examples of the communist brutalist school of design. There were also some beautiful old buildings, including some churches, which gave the place considerable charm. The higgledy piggledy nature of the development suggested either a rather lax attitude to planning or major damage during the war. Unfortunately, I neglected to ask anyone.
I walked around for half an hour, taking lots of photos, before returning to the hotel to await the remainder of the party.
Right: A touch of class |
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We marched off into the centre, retracing my steps of earlier, stopped to take the obvious photos of the churches, the old buildings and the local broomstick riders, and even visited a few shops.
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I bought a silver chain, which seemed much cheaper than it would have been in either the UK or New Zealand. As I was to find later, it was complicated working out what the price actually was. In the UK, that would mean paying more than expected. Here, it tended to be less. Very strange but pleasing. It was a shame that I didn’t measure it properly so it turned out to be too short.
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Unfortunately, the Christmas Market in the square wasn't open. There was a row of small, wooden, huts which normally sell all sorts of goodies. With Christmas Eve being a day of both fasting and celebration, it was closed. The banks shut at lunchtime for the start of the holiday celebrations.
Right: Christmas flowers (poinsettia) on sale |
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After returning to the house, we drove a short distance across town to the flat belonging to Robert and Eva, Aga's brother and sister-in-law. We discussed lots of Christmas traditions but I can't remember most of them. The main one was that the big celebratory Christmas meal is on Christmas Eve and that the day is traditionally one of fasting - ie no meat and no alcohol.
Both of these traditions are being increasingly ignored. The flat was small, but probably comparable to the flats inhabited by a very large number of people in the UK. It was very well appointed. When we left, the rain had started to fall. Our return angered one of the neighbours who complained very loudly.
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Back at the house, another meal was in preparation. While we were waiting, I was shown some photos of the flowers in the garden. At this time of year, there was little sign of them. When the food arrived, it was the usual mix of meat, cheese and also some cold fish in a vegetable mix. The name translates as Fish a la Greque but it was a bit different from my understanding of the concept. It was very good.
The preparations for the evening meal typified the atmosphere here. Everything had the traditional central European traits of order and timing. In many ways I feel much more at home with this than with the "she'll be right" attitude which normally prevails in New Zealand. I do like to have a plan and to stick to it wherever possible. If you know where you are going, you are much more likely to get there.
On the dot of six, we were each given some wafers - communion wafers - and broke pieces off, giving them to one another and exchanging wishes and greetings.
Food commenced with a light beetroot soup - Barszcz - containing mushroom dumplings and also some pork and cabbage dumplings. A huge quantity of fish then appeared; herring cured with onions and sultanas; fried salmon; fried carp; and a fish terrine. There was also a Polish style Russian salad and a salad of peas (almost mushy) and onions. All of it was beautiful although the carp is a little bony. The only drink was a spiced apple juice, which is only drunk on Christmas Eve. I managed not to eat too much and we had a break for presents and photos.
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After puddings, ginger cake and something similar to a cassata with ice cream, we exchanged carols in our two languages. Interestingly, the only one we had in common was Silent Night, which hales from Germany.
The conversation continued for ages, accompanied by chocolate, coffee and tea. Poland shares its love of tea with its neighbours to the East, and tends to be drunk with lemon. Herb tea was very popular. The coffee that we did find on sale was excellent.
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When it was time for me to return to my hotel, it was still drizzling but also freezing hard. The pavements were slippery and getting to the car required some care. It was agreed that we would discuss the state of the footpaths on the phone in the morning