Rosz ha-Szana (Rosh Hashanah) at the Kibbutz

Yesterday was the closing of Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year.  Here in Warsaw, there happens to be a Jewish 'kibbutz' (kibuc) located on Jazdów called Kibuc Warszawa.  It's in an old 'Finnish' house, as are all houses on Jazdów.  (The Finnish Houses will actually be the topic of another post).  I say "kibbutz" because it's really not an agricultural collective, more of collective 'camp' (that's how I see it, anyway).  The kibbutz is run by ZOOM, the Polish Youth organization.

The Rosh Hashanah celebration was an open invitation to Jews and Gentiles alike.  The whole thing kicked off at sunset around a heavily laden table with food and wine (there was a cash bar too that it was pretty cheap).  One who was 'the Rabbi' gave a lecture about Rosh Hashanah, the Sabbath, and the High Holy Days.  He performed the ceremony and said the proper prayers (he did, however, omit the hand washing).  Few men in the crowd wore their yamulkas (I totally rocked mine as I take advantage of the few opportunities to do so), but enough were able to recite the prayers in Hebrew.  Challah (chalka) was blessed and passed around for all to tear off a chunk.  After the blessings and prayers, we toasted each other with slices of apple and pomegranate for a sweet new year.  The table was then opened up for all to feast.

There was no blowing of the shofars, which disappointed me, because I was looking forward to a good horn-blowing concert.  But, there was an unexpected feast, so I can't complain.

The table with fruit, cakes, hummus, fish, bread, chicken, and much more.

Luckily, it happened during a mild Indian summer.  The night was cool, but not cold, and one warmed up quickly while dancing (though the DJ could have been a little bit better).  A good way to ring in new year.

Jarmark Warszawa

It seems that Plac Defilad is getting some use this year.  It's usually an eyesore of a parking lot and bus station, but the Fan Zone and now the Jarmark Warszawa (Warsaw Christmas Fair) have actually put it to some use.  Last year, the jarmark was on the south side of the PKiN.  This year, it's a little bigger (still smaller than the one in the Old Town Square), and sports a small bar, a ferris wheel, some other rides, crappy Christmas techno, and the wooden stalls selling gloves, food, scarves, and knickknacks.

The 'Warsaw Eye' and the Palace.

The entrance.

I'll ride this some time and write about the views and whether it was worth it.

 I actually like Christmas markets.  I like buying the overpriced mulled wine (not much mead for sale) and hearty bread with smalec and ogorki kiszone.  The music could be toned down (really, it's terrible.  It's almost offensive how bad it is).
It's worth fifteen minutes to ramble through.

Another All Saints' Day

All Saint's Day, better known to those in North America as The Day of the Dead (Día de los Muertos) (it's the Mexican influence.  It's like Cinco de Mayo, a well-known party day in the US, but a minor holiday in the Mexican state of Puebla), is a solemn, sad holiday were people go to visit the graves of their deceased loved ones.  They go and place special candles (znicz) as well as flowers (usually chrysanthemums) on the graves and clean up the area around the grave itself and say prayers for the dead.  The churches (usually inside the cemeteries themselves) are packed and there are on-going masses starting a few moments after the previous one ends.  National holiday (a day off from work) and most people travel back home to be with their families.

This year, I was in the Bródno Cemetery, in northeast Warsaw.  Cemeteries in Poland are not like the almost-golf courses of burial in the US.  The graves are more tomblike and grander, rather than the massive lawns spotted with headstones.  The cemeteries are also massive, sprawling areas, usually forested.  Most cemeteries have a small chapel (or two) inside where the funerals are held.

Ones who are buried recently usually sport a greater number of flowers and candles.  Older graves (going back 100+ years) are sometimes left uncleaned and unadorned.

People cleaning and decorating the graves.

Since there is such a massive influx of people to get into the cemeteries, the lines forming can become long, cramped, pushy affairs lasting many hours.  I heard of a five-hour wait to get into one cemetery.  Outside the cemeteries, sellers peddle flowers and candles, as well as taffy (panska skorka) and sweet puffed rice balls (szyszka (pine cones)), as well as sweet mini-bagels (obwarzanki).  Bródno Cemetery has a 'notorious' distinction amongst cemeteries in Warsaw, in that it's the only one with a mini-fair outside its walls.  There are grills, candy stands, hawkers selling gloves, hats, earrings, panflute CDs.  Inside, it's restricted to the taffy, rice balls, and obwarzanki.
On the way out, it too an hour of plodding long inch-by-inch to go about 200 yards.  So crammed were the people, that the police made a human divider for traffic (for one side going one direction, and the other another).  Tempers flared.

Main thoroughfares in the cemetery we clogged, but there was enough space for people to branch out.  The road leading to the entrance of the cemetery was another story…

It usually ends with families going home and having a big dinner together.  Sometimes they reminisce about those that have passed away.  Overall it's a very solemn and sad holiday.  Traditions are changing and many people did party the night before on Halloween.  They have license to party even harder because November 1st is a free day (no school and no work).  Not that there hasn't been backlash against Halloween.  There is a small campaign to banish it, as it is un-Polish.

Adoration of The Virgin.

Corpus Christi in Łowicz

I've got to tell the truth, I'm a sucker for traditional costumes.  Lederhosen, kimonos, you name it.  Anyway, practically every Polish girl I meet gets the same question, "So, do you have a traditional Polish dress?  No?  Why not?"   And why not indeed, they are adorable.  They're bright, flashy, garish, totally impractical in today's world.  They also are expensive (around 1000zl per dress) and weigh a ton.  (NOTE:  Not every girl gets treated to that question, but I have asked it on occasion.  I just wanted some hyperbole in this thing and to add a dash of danger and mystery.)

Anyway, on Corpus Christi, there is a procession in Lowicz, a town to the west of Warsaw and about an hour away by train.  The procession in Lowicz is fairly well known, as is the beautiful cathedral that stands in the center of the town.  As soon as I was told that there'd be a 'parade' with these costumes, followed by a fair, I was like, "I'm there!"  So, I high-tailed it to Lowicz to catch the procession and take all sorts of pictures (be warned, there are many, because I just couldn't make my mind up.)

The start of the procession.

The first group of girls in costumes.

 The day was rather dreary and threatened rain, but that didn't put anyone off.  Everyone was out in force, and the procession was walking around the cathedral square.  I whipped out my trusty digital camera and joined every other person there in shooting as many pictures as I could of these wonderful clothes.  About six pictures in, my camera batteries gave out and I was left cursing myself for not preparing well.  Luckily, there was a kiosk not far away that sold batteries, and I was back making digital records of everything I saw.  Also, luckily, the procession proceeded  ploddingly, often stopping for long periods of time while prayers were said and hymns were sung and everyone watching swarmed the folks walking in the procession, taking enormous amounts of pictures.  (Seriously, half the show was watching everyone snapping away while the people in the procession posed, chatted with friends and family, or just sat.)  Halfway through, a mass was said (and I believe the celebrating priest was a Frenchman speaking as a guest.)  During these long pauses, the marchers often sat down, because, as I said before, the weight of their dresses was significant.  Most had to be helped up from their resting spot.  With weight comes good insulating ability, and just walking down the road could make one perspire in such a getup.

Both the very old and the very young were dressed up. 

When not marching, many posed and showed off their beautiful gowns.

A banner of a parish in Lowicz.

Who were these folks marching?  Well, they were mostly from Lowicz and the surrounding areas.  They were arranged in groups, each from a parish, and each carrying a banner (usually dedicated to Mary the Mother of God).  Men in spiffy outfits carried the poles to the banners, while the women and girls (and sometimes little boys) carried ribbons attached the the banner.  Sometimes a small pillow, again with the likeness of Mary on it, as well.  The pillow doubled as a seat when pauses were in effect.
There were also a group of Polish veterans, a troop of Ukrainians (invited in to dance and sing at the fair), and I guess anyone else who wanted to show off his or her fancy outfit.

Elderly women carrying an enormous rosary.

The procession of the banners.

Banners and marchers.

Looping around the square.

 The procession wasn't actually physically very long, 100 yards maybe, but they did move pretty slowly.  Every time the procession stopped, the men carrying the poles set them down, then turned around and faced toward the aft of the procession (I'm not sure why).

I like this getup: this poor fellow has two speakers as a backpack to project the mass.

Stopped and posing.

A Ukrainian troop marched as well as part of a Ukrainian exhibition at the fair.

Showing off her apron.

Listening to the Mass.

Little tiny bagels!  She seems to be enjoying herself.

Taking a rest from the walk.

The dresses themselves are pretty interesting.  There are many layers: petticoats, blouses, vests, skirts, and all wrapped up by a big, stiff apron.  The apron is what everyone sees and can be mistaken for a skirt.  They're big, stiff, and heavy.  They also kind of make every girl look pregnant (by the shape they take).
The men, in my opinion, kind of looked like Swiss guardsmen.  They also carried birch springs tucked into the back of their belts.  I was not able to find out the significance of the springs.

This beautiful young lass was kind enough to explain about the dress.

Lifting up her skirt so we could peek at what's beneath: her petticoats.

One method of sitting down.

Most of the girls had a standard leather boot with a small high-heel and red laces.  Others, wore stilettos (not the brightest decision, based upon their facial expressions), or simple flats.

Most of the girls wore these shin-high leather lace-ups.

Resting in a group, their backs to each other.

Standing around in those iron maidens can be tough.  It looks  kind of like they're all drunk.

The guys have their own costumes.  Also, the carried birch sprigs in their belts.

The inside of the Lowicz Cathedral.

The marching band!  (At the end of the procession.)

Recipe: Paczki

Most people know paczki (singular: Pączek) as a Polish doughnut, jelly doughnut, or as Berliners (pretty much the same thing.)  They are a soft, yeast-dough doughnut, traditionally filled with rose hip jam.
Paczki are imbedded in Polish cuisine like wódka, piernik, and pierogi.  On Fat Thursday (Tłusty Czwartek, the Thursday before Lent.  The French have Mardi Gras and the Poles have Tlusty Czwartek), Poles traditionally eat paczki.  Businesses order them by the bushel for their employees (I alone at five at work and brought another three home.)  The only downside is that Paczki don't keep very well and are best eaten fresh.  You can revive them by sticking them in an oven or microwave, but nothing beats that sinfully soft and chewy dough, mere moments from being pulled from the boiling vat of oil (get it all in before Lent.)

Without much further ado, here's a traditional recipe:

1 kg flour
100 grams yeast
1/2 liter milk (warm)
7 yolks
1 whole egg
3/4 cup sugar
100 grams butter (melted, cooled)
1 jigger (shot) of rum or spirytus (grain alcohol)
Juice of 1 lemon
Pinch of salt

1.5 liters of cooking oil plus 2 spoonfuls of lard
Rose hip confiture (or any other fruit preserve) for the filling
Powdered sugar for dusting (or a mixture of lemon juice and powdered sugar for a glaze.) (Optional)
Candied orange peels (cubed into small pieces) (Optional)

Mix the yeast and 2 teaspoons of sugar and 2-3 teaspoons of flour with a little bit of milk and warm water until it starts foaming.  In a large bowl, beat together the egg and yolks and sugar.  Add in the milk, butter, yeast mixture and then flour.  Mix together and add in lemon juice and alcohol.  Knead for 20 minutes, cover in a bowl and let rise for 30 minutes to an hour.
Punch down the dough.  Place the dough on a floured cutting board and roll it into a thick rope.  Cut the dough into 1.5 cm lengths and roll out into fat pancakes.  Add a spoonful the fruit preserves to the center of every-other pancake. Seal the paczki well using the other 'pancake', making sure they are round.  Place the paczki on a floured surface, cover them, and let them rise for 30 minutes to an hour.
In a wide, shallow pot or wok, gently boil the oil and lard.  Add the paczki to the oil, flipping them occasionally so they cook equally on either side—a nice brown.  Set the fried paczki on a grate to drip dry or on paper towels.  Place on a plate and dust with powered sugar, or sprinkle with candied orange pieces and drizzle with glaze.

Smacznego!

A New Year

(NOTE:  This post was in the works for some time.  I've only got around to posting it now, so enjoy.)

Well, it's 2011.

Last night was Noc Sylwesterowa (or just Sylwester), New Year's Eve.  Warsaw—specifically Plac Konstytucji— was treated to a concert by Roxette (anyone remember them?) and a fireworks show.  From Centrum to Politechnika, a raucous cheap-wine-swilling crowd formed and danced to '80s pop music.  The slush on the street was trodden many times over, plus the broken wine bottles made it pretty edgy.  There was a small town of portapotties that could have serviced Woodstock.  It was a pretty good time; I had fun.

Andrzejki and Advent

With the onset of December, we have (semi-officially) entered the Christmas Season (OK, technically November 28th this year.)  Now, some may call false and say that the Christmas Season officially starts when Santa goes by in the Macy's Thanksgiving Parade. I shake a stiff finger at them and remind them that Christmastide actually begins on Christmas Eve if you strictly want to follow the liturgical calendar.  Advent still rings in Christmastide.
Anyway, right before Advent (November 30th, which actually was right after the start of Advent this year), the Poles celebrate Andrzejki (Darling Little Andrews), which is the feast of St. Andrew and also the nameday (imieniny) for Andrew.  It happens to be the last real party time before Advent (kind of like a Mardi Gras, but in winter), so people usually throw parties in and around that day, usually the preceding weekend (conveniently right before the start of Advent.)  During Advent, they observe a strict no-party rule where dancing is apparently forbidden (I found this out last night, much to my chagrin.)  Now, this doesn't stop everyone, but it does cut down on the wild office parties that have so plagued other nations.  Banging the secretary on top of the photocopier is generally avoided during this time.

We may be three weeks away from the start of winter, but I have to say that right now it's colder than a witch's titty outside.  The last few days have brought a decent amount of snow and the wind has been howling something fierce.  I actually enjoy this type of weather, and I loathe when it warms, allowing the snow to melt and then form treacherous ice.

The Eleventh and Travels

I was particularly excited for this November, mostly because I thought I would be able to spend the 11th in Poland, which happens to be its Independence Day.  First off, you might ask why a nation that claims to be 1000-years old and whose inception started with the baptism of a king would need an independence day.  Well, it celebrates its independence from Germany, Austria, and Russia, which was secured on November 11th, 1918 (yes, the end of World War I), ending a partitioned rule of 123 years.  Next, you might ask why I would care at all since the Poles don't really have any super-fun holiday extravaganzas.  From what I've heard, Independence Day is just a day everyone stays at home and the military holds some token parades.  Meanwhile, the people in the States hold raucous parades for just about every holiday they can (Memorial Day, Thanksgiving Day, the Fourth of July, Veterans Day, St. Patrick's Day, Easter.)  Well, I've just never seen it, and I really wanted to see it.  Unfortunately, I was recalled to the US (on tragic circumstances) and spent the day (Veterans Day) hearing from veterans describing the free meal they got from Applebee's.  On the flipside, I did get to spend the Fourth of July in the States, instead of Poland as I have or the past couple of years (mostly by drinking a few beers and watching Gettysburg.  There's nothing more satisfyingly patriotic than watching the Confederates' dreams and hopes crushed on the battlefield.)

My journey to the States was surprisingly uneventful; everything went as smoothly as could be.  I flew Air France, and every flight was on time.  The layover in Paris was short enough and on both flights I didn't have to sit next to any horrible miscreants.  Even my passage through Customs was swift.  (Not that I'm plugging for Air France.  It was almost two years ago when they cancelled my flight from Paris to Warsaw on Christmas Eve and couldn't get me out until Christmas Day.  Then, they left my baggage in Paris.)
The trip from Boston to Rome (I flew Alitalia on the way back) was a different story.  The lass at the ticket counter  squeezed me up to seat 11A on account of the flight being full, which I immediately fantasized that I was bumped up to Business Class or the mythical First Class.  Unfortunately, I was relegated to the first seat of economy.  It wasn't all bad: there was no seat in front of me that would recline backwards and I got to exit rather quickly, plus I could stick my feet up on the partition.  The bad thing was the family across the aisle (and whose fat grandfather sat next to me) with the noisy toddlers.
I've never had a problem with kids on an air plane; if anything they're usually better than the horrible adults that usually ruin my flight.  The babies cry during takeoff and landing, but then quiet down after ten minutes and sleep the whole time.  These little brats didn't sleep at all and did nothing but talk really loudly and cry.  I mean, they. would. NOT. shut up.  Meanwhile, their loving parents proceeded to ignore them and continue to watch their movies.  The mother saw fit to change one of their diapers in the cabin instead of the bathroom, where there are perfectly good accommodations for changing a shit-filled sack from little child.  Also, they turned on a DVD player sans headphones so the rest of us could enjoy the crappy kids movie.  And another thing: when I first arrived at my seat, I was greeted by the grandmother playing with the two kids in my seat.  She then went, "Oh, you're the one sitting here." and spent ten minutes picking up toys and uncooperative kids to clear out and let me sit down (meanwhile backing up the line for people waiting to get on the plane.)  Did she just think that someone wasn't going to sit in that seat on an over-booked flight?
The flight from Rome to Warsaw was fine, but I was picked out by Customs for inspection, who scanned my bag.  The guard then spent a few minutes writing something down and said I could go.  Why the need to write down something when nothing happened?  They feel the need to note anything of importance and whatnot.  It's like when a few years ago I got off a late train and headed for the benches under the walkways in Centralna to wait for a friend.  Two policemen followed me and took down all my information in a little book then let me go.  Doesn't really make sense.

Hallowmas

Yesterday was All Saints Day (or All Hallows Day/Hallowmas.  Yes, Hallowe'en gets its name from All Hallows Eve, which is the day before All Hallows Day.  You are that much smarter.)  In many countries, including Poland, it's a large festive holiday.  Everyone visits the cemeteries to place flowers and candles upon their loved ones' graves.
In Poland, in particular, it's one of the more major holidays I've witnessed.  Special bus lines run often, ferrying the enormous crowds to the cemeteries on the outskirts of the cities.  The cemeteries themselves begin to look like bazaars, with candle sellers, florists, vendors selling special candies called Skórka Panska (Lordly Skin/Leather.  It's like a hard taffy.) and baked goods (tiny bagels!), plus others selling gloves, scarves, socks, hats, earrings, and mittens.  Young and old flood in amongst the dead, searching for the graves.  Some wander about, trying to discern which headstone is the right one.  When they get their, they clear away the fallen leaves, dead flowers, and extinguished candles and replace them with new ones.  Sometimes, they come and discover that another family member has come and already placed candles and flowers.  The grave sites turn into mini gardens and shrines.  Most say a small prayer, and leave, perhaps to find the next grave.

Scouts selling candles.

The crowd on the way to a cemetery.

Florists doing brisk business.

A virtual market and bazaar at the cemetery gates.

A shrine to those who perished under communism.

The crowd inside the cemetery.

The graves decorated with candles and flowers.

Supposedly, gypsies come to the cemeteries and hold mini parties atop their graves.  After wandering around a little, keeping an eye out for drinking and feasting gypsies, I rationalized that it was too early in the morning for even gypsies to take to the bottle.

After a visit to the ancestors' graves, the families usually return home for an afternoon dinner.

Stateside for the 4th

A bit 'o news:  I'm spending the 4th of July in the States for the first time since 2007.  I'll be heading back to Poland pretty soon, but I'm glad to celebrate this holiday proper style (food, beer, fireworks.)

Pic related: it's the hamburgers I made in 2007 (inside-out cheeseburgers.  They each have about a pound-and-a-half of meat.)

The Blessed Popieluszko

Yesterday it was bright and sunny and a little bit hot. It was also the day of the beatification of Jerzy Popiełuszko. It was held at Pilsudki Square, the same site as the ceremony remembering those who perished in Smolensk over a month ago.

Popieluszko was a Polish priest who was assassinated in 1984 by the Communist Secret Police. His was heavy associated with Solidarity and a staunch anti-communist, which made him an enemy of the State. His assassination caused a national uproar, and today he is considered a martyr of the Catholic Church.

Popieluszko adorns the cover of a pamphlet handed out.

I got there right as it was beginning—11:00AM—so I wasn't in the best position to see anything. In fact, I saw nothing. I was in the trees, so the branches and leaves obscured my view of the giant screens, but I could hear everything nicely. It started out with a recitation of (what I think was) all the Polish saints. There were speeches, a Mass, and a beautiful choir. The sun was bright and hot, and I think one elderly woman had to be led out of the crowd to heatstroke. Also, the crowd got pushy trying to get to the communion stations.

It was much of the same experience of the Kaczynski Memorial, but on a smaller scale. There was the crowd, the scouts, the barricades, but there were no giant water stations, or enormous screens in the Saxon Gardens. Afterwards, there was another event in Wilanow (one I did not attend.) People came from all over, supporters of Solidarnosc with bandanas around their necks with lettering such as "Solidarnosc Lodz", etc. People waved Polish flags, usually emblazoned with symbols of Popieluszko and Solidarity.

The field before Pilsudski Square the day before; they were setting it up.

The crowd jostling to get to communion.

Some hip monks in the Saxon Gardens.