Midsummer evening, Jeziorki

Moni and I go for a short evening walk around Jeziorki. Perfect weather and light.

Above: barn on ul. Trombity, by our house. The oats are ripening and will have been harvested within the next four weeks, by which time they will have turned golden in colour.

Above: flooded woodland on ul. Dumki; as last year, the surface of the water has become covered with algae in bloom. And the far end of Dumki, as it was last year, is still under water, so we are forced to detour through farmland across to ul. Baletowa.

Left: as we approach our house, crossing the field from ul. Sarabandy, a Polish Air Force YAK-40 from the 36th Special Aviation Regiment flies overhead. Moni is surprised that they're still flying. This one is 32 years old (which actually is not that old in modern aircraft terms). We ponder on how the Smolensk catastrophe still looms large in everyday life in Poland.

This time last year:
Feininger in Kraków

This time two years ago:
Agricultural notes from Jeziorki

This time three years ago:
Stormy Sunday - lightning photos

This time four years ago:
Peacocks wow tourists in Łazienki Park

Maddening Łopień

It's not the highest mountain of the Beskid Wyspowy - but it's the closest to our base in Dobra, so we've walked up, around, over, and by Łopień (968m above sea level) more than any other mountain. The trouble is, it's nigh-impossible to navigate. I've yet to make it up from the bottom to the top and down again as I'd like to. Once again today we got lost on Łopień.

Above: from left: Zosia, Sabina and Eddie. We've set off along the green tourist trail (zielony szlak turystyczny) that runs from the DK 28 in Dobra. All looks straightforward here.

Left: Still easy going - the waymarks are clearly displayed, the path winds ever higher. But once we reach the top of this plateau, we're lost. Which way is Jurków? There is actually no marked trail down. One choice is a getting down to Śmigły-Rydz pass - but we don't want to go there. Too far back to Dobra. So, reluctantly, we decide to come back exactly the same way we came up (not something I like doing).

At the top, we meet a hiker looking for the caves that run under the top of the plateau. We know they're there - but they are not signed properly. I think that a handheld GPS is the only real answer to conquering Łopień.

Above: We spend some time looking around the plateau for the vantage point. In the distance - Mogielica - which Eddie and I visited yesterday. The vantage point at the top of Łopień is there, I've been there before - it's just that this time we can't find it.

This time last year:
From the bottom to the top

This time two years ago:
Polish regulatory absurdities

This time three years ago:
The meaning of Alignment

This time four years ago:
Joy, pain, sunshine, rain

The Call of Mogielica

If there's a 'must climb' peak in the Beskid Wyspowy, it must be Mogielica (1,171m above sea level). From the north, there are two routes; the green szlak turistyczny (tourist trail) from Smigly-Rydz pass, and the blue route, which starts from Jurków, the village to the south of Dobra. Eddie and I set off from Jurków at 10:15 and by 12:00 we were at the summit. Eddie has the knack of complaining like mad but in the end proving himself a trooper and setting a cracking pace from the bottom to the top. His endurance amazes me; all on literally one slice of dry white toast and a mug of cocoa.


At the top there's an observation tower (the base of it visible in the shot below); Eddie gets three-quarters of the way to the top of the tower, then his courage gives out. So close and yet so far! I make it to the top (not a place for those afraid of heights) to reward readers with this view (looking east) taken on my Nikon D80 (top) - and yet, somehow, the snap taken on my Nokia N6700 Classic (above, looking north) has some qualities that make it worth sharing too.

Below: On the way down. Note - Eddie's neither carrying a rucksack, nor water, nor a camera and long lens. Dad is doing all of that. We get to the bottom and call in for refreshments at a place called Baranówka, a new thatched log-cabin style karczma that I can certainly recommend. Generous portions, most reasonable prices. Some pierogi, chips, ogórki malosolne, a beer and a coke (six quid) and we're off from Jurków back to Dobra on foot. The lady serving us at Baranówka is impressed that we made it to the top and back down again in three and half hours.

This time last year:
Off to Dobra

Down the line from Mszana Dolna

Greetings, dear readers, from Dobra (my tenth visit here in three years). Weather has finally improved after six days of heavy rain - the sunshine is very, very welcome. So today, leaving Eddie with Sabina back at base, I set off by bus to Kasina Wielka, and from there I walked the six kilometres to Mszana Dolna along the Transwersalka, the railway built by the Austro-Hungarian empire (of which this part of Poland was once a part) for strategic reasons.


As I posted here, the Transwersalka was the so-called transversal route built by the Austro-Hungarian Empire in the 1880s to defend it (then) northern borders against Russia. Walking these tracks made me ponder Poland's history, especially in the light of the recent death of Otto von Habsburg at the splendid age of 98, the last successor to the throne of Austro-Hungary.

Austro-Hungary! What a strange entity! How difficult for the anglophone world to grasp the concept! A royal family that once ruled Spain managed to make their way across Europe to rule in effect peoples of a dozen or so different nations, glue the whole thing together and keep it going for half a century!

The entire idea is just so bizarre... In England, there was Alfred the Great burning the cakes, 1066 and all that, the Tudors and Stuarts, a great global empire on which the sun has only just set. However, here, in Central Europe, the territory belonged to a divinely-appointed gang of Spaniards-cum-Austrians, who managed to fight or negotiate their way to a huge multicultural empire stretching from the borders of Switzerland to the Balkans and across to Ukraine, taking in Kraków and the southern fifth ofPoland (the Austrian partition).

Now, much as I can appreciate the merits of the Transwersalka as a cycle path (easy gradients, stunning scenery, great tourist attraction), I know full well that once the tracks have been ripped up, they'll never return. Steam-hauled rail excursions are very popular and are a great stimulus to local tourism.

It's good to see that the line is still intact, but on the other hand, not enough is being done with it, especially in light of its history. I'd love to see this line brought back to full use - even if it meant I couldn't walk it any longer.

Above: the line crosses the Droga Krajowa 28, which rises towards the Głuszowiec pass, to the south of Śnieżnica, the peak visible to the left.

Above: the river Słomka running behind the main road in Dobra, before it joins the Mszanka. In the distance, Luboń Wielki rises above Rabka.

Above: Mszana Dolna station. The same architectural style as the station buildings at Dobra and at Kasina Wielka.

Right: Mszana Dolna, the church viewed from the main road. I waited for a bus back to Dobra - the local mini-buses are regular and cheap. Unbridled competition between bus companies mean that the timetables are ripped down or sprayed over by rivals. Sad - it helps none of the companies competing on the route.

It feels good to be back in Dobra, a place that's become so familiar to me, part of my DNA almost.

I can really recommend a stay here: Gospodarstwo Agroturystyczna Zofia Nowak 'Dobra Chata' (tel: +48 18 333 0117); you'll find it on Facebook.

This time last year:
Gone is the threat of Państwo Smoleńskie

This time two years ago:
Get on your bike and RIDE!

This time three years ago:
Moles in my own garden

This time four years ago:
Lublin and the Road

Marmite XO makes it to Warsaw

I wrote recently about Marmite, the 'love-it-or-hate-it' spread that most British children grew up on. Mr N. Marsh of Kent asked whether I'd tried Marmite XO (the Extra Old, fully matured, full strength version). Not having been Kingdom-side since Christmas, I hadn't. Now, I have. Kuchnie Świata have started selling it (45 zlotys or £10.00 for a 250g jar). Right: Eddie anticipating his first taste of the stuff. The mark-up is ferocious; Tesco in the UK charges £3.99 for the same product.

Still, the question is - how good is it? Worth the premium? (in the UK, 'standard' or 'classic' in marketing-speak Marmite costs £2.68 for 250g). Well, in a blind tasting, both Dad and Lad could tell the difference - the XO was sharper, tangier, more mmmhhyyyy*... than the original.

Forty-five zeds a bit steep however; £3.99 is a fair price - I guess there's some arbitraging to be done all you frequent UK-PL flyers... If you love Marmite, you'll not be disappointed by the XO version.

Below: for all my Polish readers unaware of the savoury brown spread - here's Moni (16 years ago) on the Marmite. A reaction shot. Note elbow embedded in a second slice of toast. The growing-up spread indeed.

A propos of Moni, for those I've not shared the news with yet, she made it into Łódź Film School, something of which I'm inordinately proud.

* I have it on the highest authority that it's three 'm's, two 'h's and four 'ys'.

This time last year:
Komorowski wins second round of Presidential elections?

This time two years ago:
A beautiful summer dusk in Jeziorki

This time three years ago:
Classic cars, London and Warsaw

Saying farewell to things

The entire weekend was a washout. So I continue with the Great Bedroom Clearout. Yesterday the model aircraft fleet was consigned to the attic; today bookshelves are tidied, frayed ties and shirts passed on to Pan Heniek spod budki z piwem, papers sorted, rubbish thrown out.

I find it difficult to part with old things, especially those which have pleasant associations. Like old photos, old things can bring back fond memories. But so much of it is essentially clutter; one needs to live a tidy life amidst a minimum of junk. And here's a life-in-balance conundrum - how to sort out Artefacts of Meaning from the clutter - and then how to store them in a curatorly way, so that their presence will add and not detract from the quality of one's later life. How do you deal with this conundrum, dear readers? (comments please!)

Pleasant associations and the recognition that Things are often Created by Man with Thought and Care. An old silk tie, Italian; so much craftsmanship there; and yet getting it repaired at Pani krawcowa's is not economically viable. Similarly a tatty old shirt, a worn-out pair of shoes.

We live in an age of disposability; things are either made by machine or by poorly-paid, distant workers of whose lives we know little. One way or another, corporations are selling us these things, some of which we need, most of which we don't. But from this act stems economic growth; advertising and sales people forever pushing, pushing, pushing - and so much of the resultant activity is unwanted things taking up space in our lives.

But among them there are things that are very much wanted and needed and loved.

I've recently learned I need to take care of things better, so that they last longer. Less dirt on clothes, fewer wash cycles, less fraying long-term. Books too. Books... one's accumulation of books over a lifetime is most important. Again, they must be cherished.

One category that made it straight to the bin bag is CD-ROM software. Some time in the mid-1990s, someone at Microsoft decided that the future was not online but multimedia CDs. How many cubic kilometres of plastic disc were filled with content that now graces the net free of charge. I've been chucking out bucketfuls of the stuff - mainly children's computer games, multimedia presentations of Polish cities' investment opportunities, mobile phone utilities, etc.

I have a penchant for things that do have that slightly vintage, lived-in, look; cameras that look like they've seen action rather than straight-out-of-the-box and mint, shoes that are clean, well-polished yet well-worn, cherished books that show signs that they've been read many times rather than being placed on the bookshelf unopened. But at some stage that 'used' look becomes unacceptable - the trick is having to determine when that tipping point has been reached!

And so - at the end of the weekend - a tidy bedroom, masses of rubbish thrown out, a cleaner, clutter-free life. Tomorrow also threatens to be rainy - the fourth day of July in row - and Tuesday too.

Still, I managed to catch this marvellous sunset from my bedroom window this evening - again, click on the photo to enlarge, stare at the setting sun and meditate upon it...

Polish State takes a welcome step back

Pushing the trolley around Auchan this morning, I had a very pleasant surprise. Heading off to buy some decent Cabernet-Shiraz, Carmenere or Pinot Noirs, I discovered that the barriers surrounding the alcohol department and the separate cash tills had disappeared. A large sign above the aisles of wine said that as of 1 July 2011, the Law of 26 October 1982 on Upbringing in Sobriety and Counteracting Alcoholism has been amended (again) so that supermarkets no longer need to operate separate tills for drink.

Hurrah! Three cheers! I remember when the previous amendment was introduced by the AWS government in the late '90s (an interesting administration - proto-PiS and proto-Platforma somehow working together) ushering in this peculiar restriction. The idea that somehow making everyone pay separately for alcohol would reduce alcoholism rates was peculiarly absurd.

The upshot was that for 12 years or so, to buy a bottle or two of wine I'd have to stand in a separate queue, usually just behind a couple who were buying a trolleyful of drink to celebrate their child's first communion. Meanwhile, Pan Heniek, hardened alcoholic, would be saying to Pan Ziutek, "Well, Ziutku, I would have bought a małpka of vodka for immediate consumption outside the shop, but this separate cash-till business has completely put me off the whole idea". Palpable nonsense, eh, readers?

It's hugely convenient to able to place the wine bottles on the same check-out conveyor belt as the rest of my groceries, rather than having to pay at a separate till, bag up the wine and get the goods and receipt re-inspected at the main check-out. This change in the law will save me at least 10 minutes a week (and far more before Christmas Day, Easter Sunday and the eves of those Holy Days of Obligation such as Zesłanie Duch Świętego that result in store closure).

And another step forward for liberty and convenience that took place on 1 July was that beer can now be served on trains. I've written before about this particular absurdity (here and here). On international trains running through Poland, beer, wine, champagne and spirits are freely available - but trains inside Poland have had a ban on all forms of alcohol since the law was tightened up in the late '90s. The last tightening of the law took years to effect. At first, alcohol-free beers were on display but with a nod and a wink the usual-strength sort would appear 'z pod lady' (from under the counter). After a few years however, the restaurant staff on trains would sadly say that there really is no beer on sale on the train.

While by no means would I advocating getting smashed senseless on trains, a gentle state of mild intoxication does help those slow kilometres pass by, engendering creative thoughts and giving rise to a more mellow frame of mind while travelling.

Step by step, though like PKP, far too slowly, the Polish State is becoming more normal, helping to make Poland an easier and pleasanter place to live.

This time last year:
Twin turboprop cargo

This time two years ago:
To Czachówek by train for the Polish countryside

This time three years ago:
Here's looking at you, kid

This time four years ago:
Stormy summer night

Outlets for creativity

What a day. Raining since daybreak, temperature averaging a little over 12C. A good time to do some cleaning. Something I've wanted to do for a while now is to make some room on my bookcases and put my display of model aircraft into the attic.

Model aircraft? Yes indeed, dear reader. Soon after moving to our (then) new house on ul. Trombity in 2002, I was infected by a desire to re-visit an important part of my childhood, namely the sticking together and painting of model aircraft (see this post on my blog about my formative years).

In keeping with my good Polish patriotic sentiments, I began a small project which grew and grew - to make, in 1/72 scale, replicas of all the various aircraft which Polish squadrons serving with the Royal Air Force flew during WWII. For the best part of five years, this became my chief hobby. I bought scores of books in Polish and English, scores of plastic models, paints, decals (transfers) with Polish squadron markings. 300, 301, 302, 303, 304, 305, 306, 307, 308, 309, 315, 316, 317, 318, 663, 'Skalski's Circus' - the Polish Fighting Team, as well as various training units. I've built Spitfires, Hurricanes, Mustangs, Defiants (fighters), a Lancaster and Wellington (bombers); Mosquito and Beaufighter (fighter-bombers); Tiger Moth, Dragon Rapide, Harvard, Magister (trainers).

And so, having built and painted 30 or so models, I displayed them in my bedroom, where they've been doing nothing else except gathering dust.

In February 2007 I bought my Nikon D80, and in doing so I returned in a big way to the principle hobby that occupied much of my free time from student days to fatherhood - photography. But digital photography offers so many more possibilities than the traditional type! Within weeks of buying the camera, I started this blog. The initial idea was to use this new media to showcase my photographs from our neighbourhood. And in the wake of photography - writing.

Once the blogging bug had bit me, the plastic aeroplanes ceased to be of interest. They stood there, gathering more dust (removing the dust meant risking damage to fragile parts - tiny radio aerials or gun barrels), I felt sentimentally attached to my handiwork... But there comes a time when we must move on. The period 2002- early 2007 was a resurgence of childhood, the smell of glue and the paint, the delicate fingerwork to get tiny pieces precisely right... Was it worth it?

Honestly? No. As a pastime, it was that. It passed the time. A craft skill, but one that was ultimately not creative. I was not doing anything new, anything that had never been done before. Photography is an outlet for one's vision, sharing what one sees and feels. And writing. Putting one's thoughts on a blog, where they can be read by thousands of people each month, is far more satisfying, and ultimately more useful, than sticking together plastic scale replicas of WWII aircraft.

And so what's happened to them? They have been carefully stored, amid balls of lightly-scrunched up newspaper, in crates, and taken up to the attic. Ideally, they'd be worthy of a museum (any suggestions?). I'm leaving just a few models on display, representing the most famous of all the Polish squadrons, 303, from the Battle of Britain through to the unit's decommissioning in 1946.

Hawker Hurricane Mk I, V6665 RF-J , 303 (Polish) Sqn, Northolt, September 1940.

This time two years ago:
The day I stopped commuting to work by car

This time three years ago:
Look up at the Towers of London

This time four years ago:
Wild deer in the Las Kabacki forest