Sunday, 4 September 2022

Many Machcins

The next village (or is is villages?) to the east of Jakubowizna is (or are?) called Machcin. Not, however, if you consult any map. There, you will find Nowe Winary. But Nowe Winiary doesn't exist - not according to the Urzędowy wykaz nazw miejscowości (Poland's official list of place names, all 2,504 pages of them!). Instead, you'll find signs for Machcin II. And, beyond Machcin itself, there's a place that the maps show as Praga Machcińska - which again doesn't figure in the UWNM, but is shown on the ground as Machcin I. Funnily enough, neither Machcin I nor Machcin II make it into the UWNM, which is considered the definitive list.

Making the most of the perfect early-September weather, I took a long walk, and then a short motorbike ride, around the Machcins. Below: 'central' Machcin. This wooden house has been preserved - a new house, barn and garage stand behind a yard, full of modern farming machinery. The wooden house has been left, facing the main street, proclaiming that the owners have been here for generations. I expect this will become a trend - keep the original, old wooden house, do it up, keep it as a monument - a family museum, almost, while running a modern, commercially viable farm with comfortable modern house in the back.


Signposts need getting one's head around. As you drive from north-east to south-west, you first pass Machcin I (Praga Machcińska on maps), then Machcin proper, then Machcin II (Nowe Winiary on maps). Hope that's clear. The sign on the right, if you look carefully, looks like it's had the second 'I' painted over in white reflective paint. Note too - Polish villages tend not to have street names; the address is merely village name and number.


Below: crossroads, Machcin I. To the left, the village shop - closed for good. "Use it or lose it" - the villagers lost it. Their nearest small local stores are both 2.8km away - one in Grobice, the other in Rososz, both similar in appearance (no more than a basic box with door and window). 


Below: according to OpenStreetMap, to the east of Jakubowizna lies Nowe Winiary... 


Below: and according to the official map of Gmina Chynów, this is Nowe Winiary... 


...and yet on the ground it's Machcin II and there's no sign of Nowe Winiary on any house-number or road sign. And talking to neighbours, I've never heard 'Nowe Winiary' mentioned in all the time I've lived here.

Below: the border between Jakubowizna and Machcin lies in the middle of the forest up ahead. The year is fast approaching fruition. The apples will soon be ripe, and these farm tracks will again be full of tractors and trailers, the sound of fruit dropping into pails will be heard among the trees.


Below: just slightly further along the track, we can view the IV. Canonical Prospect of Jakubowizna.


Below: the road into Jakubowizna from Machcin - to the right, the track to Adamów Rososki, a village inaccessible via any asphalt road. Adamów Rososki is mentioned in the UWNM.


Below: further along towards Adamów Rososki. A quintessentially Polish rural byway.


Below: house on a działka, Adamów Rososki.

Below: homeward bound, the old familiarity. Sandy Lane meets Stella-Plage.


It has been another beautiful day, for which I am deeply grateful.

Bonus pic: north of Krężel station, on the way to Chynów and Jakubowizna. This is where I am from, as far as is metaphysically possible.




This time three years ago:
The Long Dark Half-Hour of the Consumerist Soul

This time four years ago:
Early-September travel news

This time five years ago:
Fields filling up with houses

This time 12 years ago:
Battle of Britain: Poland's contribution

This time 13 years ago:
Sewer under ul. Karczunkowska

Friday, 2 September 2022

The Imperceptible End of Summer

The sun may continue to shine in an almost cloudless sky, but the temperatures are dropping; morning will see a mere 7C with a daytime high of 23C. The air is full of the smell of fruit - cider, where the apples are fermenting - vinegar, where the fermentation process is complete. 


Below: looking west along what is now ulica Owocowa ('Fruity Street') towards the tracks. Apple orchards line either side of the road. Sunset is now 1hr 21mins earlier than on the longest day.


Below: the Orłowicz express on its way from Kraków to Olsztyn via Warsaw, just past Chynów station. Running to time.


Below: looking the other way from the embankment at a Warka-bound local train. On the horizon, 42km away, Warsaw. Note the white sheeting just beyond the DK50 viaduct - work is in progress on shoring up the embankments, ensuring that they will not get eroded and that the railway line will not get washed away by future flash-flood events.


No apologies for posting yet another photo of the I of the XII Canonical Prospects of Jakubowizna (although technically this is Chynów). 


Below: same place, yesterday, slightly different angle.


Below: moment of communion. This is why I'm here.


Below: the sun's gone down; looking across to Chynów station, the lights have come on - what's missing is a station bar. A cold beer on arrival would be nice.


Left: just round the corner from the działka - among the tall pines. I do love it in Jakubowizna; a place that clicks with my aesthetic preferences. Summer may be fading into autumn - meteorological autumn began yesterday, astronomical autumn won't begin for another three weeks. By then, we will have lost another half an hour of evening daylight.

I am currently cat-sitting - this is Moni's rescue-cat, Jowisz ('Jupiter'), whose name has been anglicised as Jovis. His previous owner, an elderly lady, died of Covid. Jovis is a gentle cat in late-middle age, and entirely happy to spend life indoors. (Outdoors in Jakubowizna can be dangerous for cats - my neighbours' cat had a large chunk of his face torn away in a fight with another cat.) Jovis will have a happy - and safe - week on the działka.


This time last year:

Tuesday, 30 August 2022

The S7 extension opens (well, part of it anyway)

As got off the train at W-wa Jeziorki, I heard a disturbing sound. What I heard was the sound of a thousand lost motorists, seeking Kraków. But they'll not find Kraków. Because it's too early. Sections A and C of the S7 extension might be ready, but section B is two years behind schedule.

This evening, around six, the barriers came down and traffic was allowed, for the first time, to drive onto the southbound carriageways of the S7 at Węzeł Lotnisko (airport junction). But only as far as Węzeł Lesznowola - and there, the automotive fun comes to an end. The junction, which was meant to connect to a new local road, just drops cars off at a pair of stumps going nowhere. The new local road is not even a plan at this stage. And so motorists have to drive around the byways of Nowa Wola, looking for a way to connect with the existing DK7, that eventually connects with Section C of the extension somewhere north of Tarczyn. Sub-optimal if you are heading for Kraków. But fine for local inhabitants. Section B is said will be 'passable' (ie. just one lane open in each direction as the other carriageway is completed) between Lesznowola and Tarczyn later this year. Good luck with that.

Below: looking towards Warsaw. Note the separated carriageways - the one to the left carries three lanes with traffic from the eastbound S2, the one from the right carries two lanes with traffic from the southbound S79 and the westbound S2 (so guess which carriageway will be more congested). They merge south of the viaduct that I'm standing on.

Below: the viaduct over the S7 - note the direction 'Kraków' still taped over.

Below: the slip road to the southbound carriageway also denies Kraków.

Below: Action sunset. For the first time, traffic passes under the viaduct. It's been a little over two and half years from the beginning of works - February 2020


The opening of the service roads on either side of the S7 will be of use to the local community. I must say, however, I mourn the passing of that short window when I could walk along them, unbothered by traffic. All good things must come to an end.

Two years ago:
Infrastructure delays everywhere

This time three years ago:
Let's stop spitting at the other tribe
[today, I'm still more inclined to say "fuck 'em".]

This time four years ago:
Progress on the Działka

This time eight years ago:
Changes to Poland's traffic regulations

This time 11 years ago:
Teasers in the Polish-English linguistic space

This time 12 years ago:
Summer slipping away

This time 13 years ago:
To the airport by bike

This time 14 years ago:
My translation of Tuwim's Lokomotywa

Sunday, 28 August 2022

The Bright Side

Most nights before I go to bed, I will open the front door and peer out. If there's a cloudless sky, and I can see stars, I'll go outside onto the balcony round the back of the house. Looking up, I'll observe the night sky for several minutes. Over the summer, on warm nights, I do this frequently. Once, I saw a meteor from the Perseid shower entering the earth's atmosphere; another time, I observed a satellite in orbit, moving from south to north. I have spotted and identified (using charts from Timeanddate.com) Saturn and Jupiter, Venus and Mars. I have seen the Starlink satellite train overhead. Quite something.

Yet try as I might, I have yet to see a black triangle, the size of three football fields, hovering silently 50ft above my head. I haven't witnessed multiple luminous orbs dancing in the sky or saucer-shaped craft performing manoeuvres that defy the laws of physics. And across in the forest next door, I have never seen any strange creatures with glowing red eyes moving stealthily through the undergrowth. 

These kinds of anomalous phenomena have evaded me somehow.

From time to time, I'll go for a walk in the dark - through the orchards and into the big forest at the top of the lane. Entering the forest at night holds no terror for me. This is, however, something that evolution warns us against doing. Our imagination kicks in first. Nocturnal predators maybe on the prowl. But not today, not in my world. Living here, I know these forests, fields and orchards well. I see hares and deer, buzzards and pheasants, and once, I saw an elk. But there are no big cats, wolves or bears stalking these parts. Even humans are not to be seen round here at night - I've yet to run into one. Dogs I can hear barking in adjacent farms, but they are behind fences.

The night doesn't scare me - there are no demons lurking in the darkness. Just the same trees and bushes that are present there during the day - but with far fewer photons bouncing off them into my visual cortex. The familiar is not frightening. Familiar by day, familiar by night. And there's nothing that goes bump in the night, other than the refrigerator's pump toggling between on or off or the radiator casing expanding or contracting with a metallic 'rdank!'. 

I may never see a ghost, UFO, werewolf or hobgoblin; my own experiences of the anomalous reside exclusively in my subjective realm - dreams and anomalous qualia-memory flashbacks to another time and another place; both being products of consciousness. A consciousness, which - I hope - is increasingly open to the Cosmos, to spiritual inputs. 

We who seek God - or Purpose - or whatever we call this end-point of the unfolding of the Universe - all travel the journey in our own way. For some it is religious practice; for others - contact with the spirit world; others claim to have experienced contact with UFOs. (This isn't to say I don't believe in visitations from intelligent beings from other worlds - it's just that I've never witnessed one.)

I have always tended to look on the bright side of life, but not in a cynical way. Cynicism is corrosive. I am instinctively drawn to brightness; my favourite qualia experience is looking towards a hot sun in a cloudless sky, with a cool wind blowing in my face. 

I am not drawn to the dark side; yet night scares me not.

This time five years ago:
Waiting for the level-crossing barriers - Nowa Iwiczna and W-wa Dawidy

This time six years ago:
More Sandomierz photos

This time seven years ago:
All aboard the Gold Train rush

This time 11 years ago:
Dominicans at large, Służew 

This time 12 years ago: 
Late summer moods, Jeziorki 

This time 13 years ago: 
The next one hundred years 

This time 14 years ago: 
"What do we want? Early retirement!
When do we want it? NOW!"
 

This time 15 years ago: 
Twilight of Warsaw's greenhouse economy

Saturday, 27 August 2022

Bike ride to the Past

This is what it's all about! A cloudless sky, 31C, no rain predicted all day. Riding a motorbike in these conditions is pure joy. Jacket unzipped to scoop up the cooling air, this is perfect. Time, then, to go out hunting those exomnesial moments of past-life qualia congruence! And indeed, they came thick and fast! Below: round at Deke's place, Galatea, Ohio, 1952. All that's missing is the Schlitz neon.


[Kinda what I''m getting – AI-generated  image to my prompt.]


I have written often about the need to live in comfort (as opposed to luxury) – here's a village just south of Chynów – Wygodne – which literally means 'comfortable'.


Below: the landscape at the crossroads. South for Trzcianka, west for Zbrosza, north for Leżne – and east for Koziegłowy (lit. 'Goatsheads'). Orchards in every direction. 


Below: the reverse shot. Catching the vibe? I've Photoshopped a 1952 presidential election poster to make the scene complete.


I cross the Pilica at Warka, carry on briefly along the rather busy road towards Kozienice. Orchards are fewer south of the river – the Puszcza Kozienicka extends in a broad swathe towards Radom. Below: following the tracks – the Warsaw-Radom line between Grabów nad Pilicą and Strzyżyna. Does this road await asphalt, or will it be left like this to inevitably decay after a few seasons of rain, mud, snow, ice and thaw? 


Below: "It don't matter which way I'm comin' from, it's which way I'm goin' to." A quote from the greatest-ever biker movie, Kathryn Bigelow's The Loveless (1982). There's no rush. I rarely exceed 60km/h; I slow down to 30km/h as I ride through villages – not as much for safety, but to give the villagers more time to admire my bike.


Having covered 132km, I burnt four litres of petroleum, turning them into CO2 and particulates - for which I apologise to the planet.

Below: 
Back home in Jakubowizna, time for an evening stroll - and on the DK50 in Grobice, just after sunset, I'm still catching the klimat... "C'mon radio relay towers/Won't you lead me to my baby" – Bruce Springsteen, Open All Night.


This time two years ago:
Muscle memory

Thursday, 25 August 2022

Strange twilight

From yesterday, pictures all 'straight out of the box', i.e. the jpeg files with no tampering in Photoshop other than perspective correction. 

Shortly after sunset, I peered out into the garden to see a yellow sky. A storm is due... So here it is - the immediate environs of my działka. So weird, I had to capture this phenomenon on camera. Below: looking out my front door. 


Below: the street outside under a yellow sky. Attracting the strangeness from all around. "Dogs begin to bark/Hounds begin to howl/Watch out, strange cat people/Little red rooster's on the prowl"


Below: looking west towards Chynów. Almost as though lit by sodium.


Below: the wind is whipping up - the downdraft from an advancing deluge. But will it get here?


Below: looking east towards the end of Jakubowizna - where the asphalt ends and the wood begins. The sky is beginning to clear...


Below: looking west at the woods from the other side. The magic is passing; the spell it is broken. Seventeen minutes after sunset.


This time last year:
Ageing and the Ego

This time two years ago:
First inklings of the end of summer

This time four years ago:

This time eight years ago:
Short, sharp diet proves I'm allergy-free

This time nine years ago:
More photos from Radom Air Show

This time ten years ago:
Twilight on ul. Karczunkowska 

This time 13 years ago:
First hints of autumn in the air

This time 14 years ago:
Slovakia - we were not impressed

This time 15 years ago:
Jeziorki - late August cultivation

Wednesday, 24 August 2022

Inspiration

Many years ago, I had a dream in which I invented a ZemBord™, a wooden hemisphere upon which I could sit cross-legged, and rock gently in all 360 degrees while meditating. [The name is exactly as it was spelt and styled in my dream - Zem, not zen, Bord, not board, and the trademark symbol.] To my delight, my friend Richard B built me one! Sadly, it had one big drawback - its weight would indent any wooden floor, and it will not move on a carpet. It can only function on a smooth, hard, surface. And so it sat for a long while, unused, in my parents' garage. Now, it finds itself in Jakubowizna, in daily use, on a hard, smooth floor. Is it the only one in the world, I wonder?


I use it for back-extension exercise - lying down on it, my navel exactly over the spindle hole in the centre, I adopt a neutral position, hands clasped behind my head, legs extended. I then arch my back, lifting my legs so my thighs are no longer in contact with the wood - they curve upward and around, like a scorpion's sting. This has the effect of shifting my centre of gravity forward. Slowly; I start to rock forward, until the tip of my nose touches the floor. I hold this position for the count of five, before returning my legs to the straight position, rocking backwards as I do to the neutral position. I repeat this eight times - catch my breath - and do a second set of eight back extensions. I have to do this bare-chested; if I wear a shirt, I slide off! Recommended to me by Paul W. as a complementary antidote to doing plank exercises, I see online that these can be done on a large, inflatable ball. However, the ZemBord™ is clearly superior for this.

It is also a meditation aid, a place to sit and think, or just let the stream of consciousness go. And so it was last night, after waking up from a dream (phew!) and then not being able to return to sleep, that I sat on the ZemBord in the darkened front room. Suddenly - a flash of inspiration. Out of nowhere. Two entirely unrelated things linked! The triangular containers from Castello Danablu cheese (a dietary staple for me), and the moss that I had been cutting out from between the patio tiles at the weekend. And below, dear reader, is the result. Note the different colours of moss - the brighter green are from the patio to the east of the house, that get the least sunlight; the more scorched ones are from the southern patio, exposed to most hours of direct sunshine.


I was happy with the result - this is what I had been inspired to do while rocking on the ZemBord™. Now - I can see a whole world of interior decorating open up to indoor moss... I need to learn how to care for them... The six can be broken into two semicircles of three containers. To something - like this (below). Between them stands the Laibstein (from the German - Laib, loaf, and Stein - stone). A beautifully symmetrical and weighty ornament, found in a local field.


Returning to the subject of the ZemBord™, yesterday I watched a YouTube interview with Bruce R. Fenton (@GeologicalSETI on Twitter), about the mystery of tektites - in particular the ones found in the Australasian strewnfield, the result of an event that occurred about 788,000 years ago. Molten glass flying through the Earth's upper atmosphere cooled to form 'buttons' that look like the one below.


We know that they're not volcanic in origin (the strewnfield covers an area far vaster than any terrestrial volcano could ever reach, maybe about 20% of the earth's surface); they're not from lunar volcanoes (wrong mineral content); and if they were from an asteroid impact of this scale, there would have been a mass-extinction event - one didn't happen 788,000 years ago. Indeed, something else happened at that exact time - a series of rapid mutations in human genes which sharply increased the gulf between Homo sapiens and other primates. Bruce Fenton believes the two are connected.

The ZemBord™ is like a flat-topped button tektite; a dream that inspired me many years ago - synchronicities are everywhere, if you are open to them.

This time eight years ago:
Food shopping and dietary update

This time nine years ago:
Photos from the Radom Air Show, part 1

This time ten years ago:
Offloading PKP's risk at W-wa Jeziorki

This time 12 years ago:
Time to be stuffing yourself with fresh fruit

This time 13 years ago:
First notes of autumn in the air

This time 15 years ago:
Large spider catches fly

Monday, 22 August 2022

The Epigenetics of Thrift

I pull of a sheet of kitchen paper from the roll. Just the one sheet. I fold it carefully in half and wipe the sooty deposit from the bottom of a saucepan before placing the pan back in the cupboard. Cooking on bottled gas - filthy stuff. Were I to wipe this with a cloth, the cloth would be blackened in no time, the soot won't wash out. So kitchen paper it is. But - waste not, want not.

As I wiped the soot off the bottom of the pan, I unfolded it, and folded back the other way, revealing two more sides of unblackened surface, with which to give the pan a final rubdown. But there's still one clean side - so I use it to wipe down the window sill before finally discarding the sheet of kitchen paper into the black (mixed waste) bin.

A trait I have picked up from my father. An engineer, someone who survived the hardships of German occupation, the Warsaw Uprising and a prisoner-of-war camp - and then, having made it to a post-war London of austerity and rationing, he saved hard as a young married man for a deposit on a house, and was always careful with money and material things.

He'd make do and mend, repair and watch the pennies. As a youth growing up in the 1970s, I'd find this behaviour odd and different to my friends' fathers, most of whom had also gone through the privations of wartime. He maintained this approach his whole life, as though he realised that there was a greater reason for avoiding waste than just economics. 

I'm going that way myself. Count me out of the consumerist race to own more and more material possessions. Focus on saving money rather than making money - for the good of one's soul - and for the good of our planet. Making money just to squander it is a tremendous waste of effort. 

As I wiped the bottom of the pan, I wondered about the epigenetics of thrift. Had my father had a less materially challenging youth, would he have been so careful to avoid waste? I know many Poles, who, at the end of communism, threw themselves wholeheartedly into the consumerist lifestyle, as if to catch up with those decades of drabness. My daughter tells me of young people of her age, five or six years after graduating from university, who are earning 16,000 zł a month net, or who drive Porsche Cayennes. Their parents' generation didn't have the chance to wallow in materialism; they do.

So there doesn't seem to be a connection to be made here. Maybe it's not an epigenetic, but a spiritual thing.

Below: several days ago, I found a discarded pair of shoes beside the path from Jakubowizna to Machcin II. The shoes were worn right down, but the laces were still good - so I extracted them. Just what I needed - I had an old (1990s) pair of sneakers (below) which sat around unworn because the original rawhide laces had snapped, then snapped again; but now, with the found laces, the sneakers are back in service. Shame about the holes in the canvas. The sneakers may not represent Luxury, but they are Comfortable. Walking around in sneakers without laces, however, represents Discomfort - something to be avoided.


A propos of genetics, my brother had a DNA test done a few years ago, which showed that our father's Y-DNA haplogroup was I2a (subclade CTS10228). The I2a haplogroup is interesting, a very old European lineage - the phylogenetic tree goes right back the mesolithic period. Haplogroup I2a was the most frequent Y-DNA among western European mesolithic hunter-gatherers, found in 13,500 year-old remains in modern Switzerland. (About 15 years ago, I had a 'matching pair' of dreams of astounding clarity and emotional strength in which I was a cave-dweller living with a view of snow-capped mountains in late summer, the smell of the cave, burnt animal fat, dirty animal-skin bedding; very realistic, very atavistic.)

Connections across time, across space - we can be open to them if we cease worrying about material wants.

This time two years ago:
Between Warka and Radom - Bartodzieje

This time four years ago:
Purpose

This time five years ago:
Dreamscapy

This time seven years ago:
Sad farewell to Lila the cat

This time eight years ago:
Your papers are in order, Panie Dembinski!

This time nine years ago:
Topiary garden by the Vistula

This time 11 years ago:
Raymond's Treasure - a short story