Day 328: Arrival in Malomice
36yearsago.com
Vienna 1971—A Student Journal
A year of music, study, travel, sightseeing &
friends.
Day
328 — Arrival in Malomice
25-Jun-1972
(Sun.)
TRANSCRIPT
POLAND
Last night was
terrible. After freezing at Lygnice, the train
ride to Lubin was also freezing. Was dead tired
and cold. Couldn’t get a room at the hotel. I
think the guy thought I was German. Tried to
sleep in the waiting room—torture.
Left around 5:00 A.M for Malomice. (Gets light at
3:30.) First bus—part way. Driver was friendly.
Walked, got directions.
Lubin. A new industrial type town. Highrise
apartments.
Crazy
thing
On the way to Malomice, while walking, a police car
was approaching me. Obviously, I must have shocked
him because the car suddenly swerved out of control.
He tried to turn the wheel sharp and stop, and it
swerved by me and crashed into a medium size rock.
(Maybe he though he was going to get a promotion.) He
nervously got out and looked at me, but mostly at the
car. After I assured him that there was nothing wrong
with the car, he asked me for my passport, said OK
and then drove me to my aunt’s house. I thanked him
and shook his hand.
Malomice
Very small type of area just outside of Lubin. Small
houses (poor type) and small tracts of land. Chickens
running all around. Like small farms.
Teta M’s house was very
small and old. Chickens in the yard. Also a mad dog.
I waited and then tried to go to the door, but the
dog was so wild that I stopped and gave up. About to
leave.
Teta M was very nice. Saw me and came out. She is
very young and friendly. I guess all of my mother’s
sisters are. Son—Bogdan—about Dennis’ age and a
daughter Ella, slightly older. Her husband is John.
Nice meeting them. Got by even with the language
problem.
Gigantic breakfast. Delicious. Eggs, cheese, butter,
coffee. All tasted so good, probably because it was
so fresh.
Sleep. For quite a while.
Dinner. Really stuffed. Soup, chicken, potatoes,
cucumbers. The relatives really stuff you.
Sat and talked and visited relatives. Michael (about
25) and mother, father, and sister. I think some kind
of second cousins. Extremely nice and friendly.
They had a really nice house. A separate house out in
the fields. Two really nice horses.
Saw my first Polish TV. “Gunsmoke” with Marshall
Dillon and Polish narration.
The son, Michael, tried to go to America, but the
Polish government wouldn’t let him go.
Another snack, and then to sleep.
REFLECTIONS
Journey
to Malomice. The
journey to the real Malomice continues in high-drama
fashion. Last night I take a freezing-cold train from
Lignice to Lubin. I arrive and wait it out in the
waiting room. I’m pretty sure I was miserable.
Remember that I’m traveling with probably two small
suitcases and a camera and lenses hanging from my
neck. In those days, I didn’t think of or feel any
sense of danger about being robbed or such. And
nothing ever did happen. Good.
The
Lubin bus. In Lubin,
I remember getting on the bus to get closer to where
I was going. It was early and the bus was packed with
many young workers going to their jobs early in the
morning. This was a Sunday morning and it was like a
normal work day. I’m willing to bet these people
worked seven days a week. At any rate, everyone was
very friendly. I remember lots of buildings and
industry. At the end of the line, I get off the bus.
Walking
to Malomice. Then,
after getting directions by showing them my
relatives’ letter and address, I start walking
towards the town of Malomice. As I later learn, it’s
really a village.
The
police. I
remember this story even without my journal. Imagine
that I’m walking down a country road (perhaps it was
a dirt road)—a solitary guy with two bags and a
camera, just walking. Certainly, I’m the “wrong” in
“what’s wrong with this picture?” A car approaches me
and as it nears me it does the stop-and-swerve
thingy, just like in the movies. I imagine that I was
a bit scared as to what was going on. It was an
old-style police car. The officer was friendly and
asked to see my papers. In my sparse Polish, I
managed to convey to him that I was on my way to my
relatives. Here’s the charmer—he drove me the rest of
the way in his car to my relative’s house. How nice
was that. Thanks.
Malomice,
the village. The
Malomice I was traveling to was a village, not on the
map. As with many villages, the homes looked very
basic and to my western eyes, poor. However, they
worked the land and seemed to be fine living within
their means. Farming is certainly hard work. I
believe that each family received a small plot of
land for their personal farming and with which they
grew most of the food that they ate. My cousin
Michael, seemed to have a nicer house off in the
fields. The opening photo shows my aunt, Teta M.,
carrying milk or water buckets. I believe this is
Michael’s house.
Meet
the relatives. Teta means
aunt in Polish. Teta M. was my aunt, one of my
mother’s sisters. Young Bohdan and Ella (Elizabeth),
Teta M’s children, were anxious to meet me. Meeting
all the relatives, including, Michael, was fun and I
imagine that I was able to communicate moderately
well with everyone, after all, I knew the names of
most of the foods. Years later, most of my relatives
emigrated to the U.S. and became productive U.S.
citizens. That’s what our country is all about.
Fresh
food. I note
that the food tasted good. That’s because it was
fresh—right off the farm. On one day, perhaps today,
I remember them catching one of the live chickens
running around—I think it was dinner. As always, even
if people don’t have money, which I’m sure they
didn’t, they don’t hesitate in the slightest to
provide a lot of food for visitors, friends, and
relatives. Giving is part of their character.
Malomice
montage. Here are
a few photos from my Malomice visit.
Teta M’s village house
Cousins Bohdan &
Elizabeth
A
village kitchen stove
Grazing
sheep in the backyard
Chickens,
what did I have for dinner?
2009.
Today is a special day in 2009. Can’t tell you what
it is. Don’t like special days, anyway.
John
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