Lublin, Poland--"You's my bitch" (Days 5 & 6)

Amanda: The next day, we visited the Warsaw Uprising Museum, a museum devoted to the uprising and paying tribute to the people of Poland and their courage, or at least it seemed that way to me. The museum was very educational, presenting bios of various figures in the Uprising and describing all facets of life during that time, before and after the war.

Jon combed the museum for mention of anything his grandfather was part of. This included the fireman's brigade, which his grandfather joined during the Uprising, helping people escape from fires which occurred from the heavy bombing and artillery. Throughout the whole of the museum, we could find only two small plaques/information signs relating to his grandfather--one on the role of the fireman, and one on the Jews. I was shocked at the tiny mention of the Jews. Perhaps the focus of the museum was supposed to be on Poles in general. It was not supposed to be insulting, but I still found it to be so. The Jews endured additional persecution and difficulties. Enough to merit at least a whole section of the museum. Additionally, no one at the museum spoke English, although we asked numerous museum workers.













But I did enjoy the museum. In my American education, we learned hardly anything about Poland and its role in WWII. The museum helped me to understand the facts and geography of Poland in the war. It really had the unfortunate and sad role of being in the wrong place at the wrong time--stuck between two super powers, Germany and the Soviet Union.

After the museum we took the free (?) tram over to Praga, the old part of the city, the only part that survived the war. We visited the old military hospital where Jon's Great Uncle worked. Then back to the city center to catch our bus to Lublin.






Our bus from Warsaw to Lublin was hilarious and miserable. Jon and I were the first people to arrive at the 15 passenger van, but we needed to take care of some last minute errands (buying more rechargeable batteries, restroom, food, etc.). I chose our seats on the van, putting our stuff down in the back. When we arrived back before it was ready to depart, we found it packed and we had the two worst seats in the overcrowded, overheated bus. We kept laughing about how I had chosen it.

Jon: Instensly hungry, (I now have a predispostion against saying the word famished) I ran to get some kebabs while Amanda chose seats on the bus. I returned moments before the bus left with two delicious kebabs only to learn that food on the bus was strictly verbotten. We scarfed as much kebab as possible, getting more on our shirts than in on our bellies. Crammed in the back of an overloaded, overheated fifteen passenger van, I sweated myself to sleep. I awoke a bit later and contorted my body into a yogi-like pretzel to better accomodate our tiny seats. The woman in front of me looked back at me with eyes of the devil as my knees impressed the back of her seat. This bus was not designed for people my size. Three hours later, we were in Lublin. It was 9:30 pm and dark. The bus dropped us on the side of a dark road. Armed with our address to the campground, we felt like finding our way there couldn't be too difficult. Not so.

A local drunk immediately took a liking to Amanda. I continuously positioned myself between the drunk and Amanda and he continuously tried to stumble around to the other side. In this way, the three of us engaged in a bizarre dance in which we were all constantly orbiting around each other. I dare say this dance lasted the better part of an hour, as he ignored our requests to leave. It was benign, but mildly annoying. He kept offering us a ride in his car, clearly a bad idea. While dancing with the drunk, we also encountered three twenty-something year old girls who proved to be a godsend. They helped us to find the public bus we needed, but also advised that it might be better to take a taxi-especially with the town drunk in tow. One of the girls called a taxi for us and the drunk, Amanda, and I continued our three way dance until the cab arrived.

When the cab arrived, the drunk tried to enter with us but the driver understood our frantic motions to get him away and locked the doors, speeding away without him. En route to our campsite, we bought the kebabs that had eluded us earlier in the night. These kebabs were so massive that they would double as breakfast in the morning. Score another for Amanda and Jon. The taxi took us to the campground where with only mild difficulty, we established our intention to camp rather than rent a cabin. The campsite was seven dollars US.

Lublin was the center of the communist government that the USSR set up in post-World War II Poland. All doctors and medical students who wished to practice medicine or continue schooling were forced to enlist in the Red Army. My great-uncle was already a doctor and began practicing for the Red Army. My Dziadzu and Babcia had met part way through medical school in L'viv, our next stop, but were forced to cease studies during the war. My Dziadzu moved to Lublin where "for the first time in 5 or 6 years (he)took a bath in a tub filled with warm water." He enrolled in the military medical school. My Babcia was enrolled in the medical school as well but was denied admission into the military because she was pregnant with my father. "The optimistic young couple that (they) were, overwhelmed with the exciting feeling of freedom, (they) decided to have a child. This decision was made at a time when (their) belongings and income were zero, but (they) hoped...(they) would manage quite well."



The next day Amanda and I woke up after a wonderfully peaceful rest in our new campsite. My Babcia instructed us that it would be easy to find the medical school because there would be only one in Lublin. We headed into town in the morning and got a cup of coffee in the town square. The setting was truly idealic, with cobblestone streets, outdoor beer gardens, and a beautiful day. I suspect I will never have a cup of coffee as satisfying.





Sufficiently caffinated, we continued our pursuit of the medical school. Our waiter instructed us that there was indeed one medical school in Lublin, and we walked there. We arrived to find a nearly brand new medical campus--certainly not the one my Dziadzu attended sixty years prior. With some difficulty, we conveyed to the receptionist what we were looking for and she instructed us to the other end of town to the old medical campus--"stare unywersytet medycyny."

On our way out of the new campus, I was excited to see the name of the street the new school was built on, Ulize Ludwiga Hirszfelda--Ludwig Hirszfeld street. Later in my Dziadzu's time in Poland, Ludwig Hirszfeld was his mentor. My Dziadzu was his protegee, and together they published many studies. Under Stalin, the communist regime supressed teaching Mendelian genetics, which were widely supported by my Dziadzu and Hirszfeld's scientific findings. This scientific stifling was one of many factors eventually leading to my family's exodus from Poland. It was astonishing that, fifty years later, their science was not only widely accepted but that the street where the Lublin medical school was built was named in their tribute.



Amanda: Jon was ecstatic, and said his Babcia would be proud to hear about the street and see the pictures we took. Jon has been taking tons of pictures, documenting the places, buildings and street names that are relavent to when his grandparents were here. After finding the street, we stopped for a celebratory beer at a tiny bar in a basement around the corner from the medical campus. Professional volleyball was on the tube and we watched Poland beat the Czech Republic. After finishing our beers, we crossed back over to the other side of the city and visited the old medical school, but it was closed. We walked back to the city center, down a long plaza street. It had no cars, many restaurants and many ice cream stands. As we passed each ice cream stand, Jon looked longingly into the coolers of frozen delights (his words, not mine.)

Earlier I bought a huge container of raspberries from a street vendor, probably two and a half pints for around 30 cents. They were absolutely delicious--small and extremely juicy. We ate them as we walked. They provoked conversation between Jon and I about how in America, everyone is so concerned with the appearance of things, to the point where substance becomes less important. This includes taste. These were some of the best, sweetest raspberries we had ever tasted but because they easily squished and were small, they would probably not be sold in The States. At camp that night, Jon prepared a traditional Polish dish called bigosz. Although it wasn`t my favorite, it was nice of him to prepare it for me. He claimed his babcia`s was much better.

The next morning we broke camp, showered and headed into old town Lublin with our full packs. We revisited the medical school and after waiting for 45 minutes, Jon spoke with an English-speaking representative from the school. She confirmed this was the campus his Dziadzu had attended and, in broken English, pointed him toward a place called the "teatrnn" to find more information and perhaps photographs from his family's time in Lublin.

Jon: The teatrnn was located in a castle-like building in old town Lublin. I really had no idea what this building was. I only had the address provided by the medical school rep. I buzzed the door (who knew castles had buzzers) and was let in to a room with a few people working on computers. I explained what I was looking for and in strained English one of the individuals said, "you come with me." I was quite uncomfortable, but figured I had already come this far. He led me up many flights of stairs to what seemed like the attic of the castle. The castle attic-office contained twenty computers and seemed highly anachronistic, but who am I to say? They took my familial information and my email address and said they would be in touch. At which point I asked "what is the teatrnn?" They explained it was the archives and cultural center for the town of Lublin. It was weird and cool.



Amanda: While Jon was at teatrnn, I stopped to use the internet. We reconvened and headed toward the bus station. We had to walk through a busy bizarre-like area. It's interesting in Poland, the people are constantly bumping into each other without acknowledging this ever happened. There is no "sorry" or "excuse me," which is departed from what I am accustomed to in America. I guess I will have to get used to this, but writing this a few days later I can attest to the fact that I still haven't.

In the bizarre, we passed a stand selling pretty colored scarves. Jon pointed them out, telling me he wanted to buy me one. I smiled. He is so cute. He narrowed it down to two and surprise, I chose to the purple one. It is beautiful, and certainly improves my otherwise tenuous looks, dressing up my drab colored garb- the same I've been wearing since we left New York. In my defense, however, Jon has worn the same outfit as well. I have changed underwear everyday, although I can't say the same for him.

Jon: Boarding the bus was uneventful barring one interaction. Buses were unlabeled so we wanted to find other folks going to L'viv. We asked many folks, "L'viv?" to no avail. Nearly every bus had left and ours was running at least thirty minutes late. We finally found some ladies who nodded "yes" when we asked "L'viv" and then they angrily said something after that sounded to me like "you's my bitch." I was taken aback at first but inferred this probably meant something like "it's fucking late." I repeated back "you's my bitch," which delighted the women quite thoroughly, but slightly mortified Amanda. In this way, I made friends. The bus arrived and we were on our way from Lublin, Poland to L`viv, Ukraine (also spelled L`vov).