TRAVELLING LIGHT – O ZWROT PIENIĘDZY

If I’ve learnt one thing over the years it’s that travelling light is nothing more than a flight of the imagination. True enough, most people I know would regard the few possessions I own as nothing more than a reversal of custom – a diminishing debris the likes of which can be found in any old newsreels showing refugees on the move, but the pots, pans – my own pots, pans and the like, the boat loads of art surplus, plus the tools to work with, are the continuing, although unfortunately, weighty essentials needed by anyone just this side of hopelessness. If it was possible to survive with nothing more than a laptop and camera, believe me, I’d opt for it, dump the rest, and truly travel in a state of weightlessness.

Even with so few belongings the move still took nearly a full two weeks of nothing but sorting, packing and unpacking to get to the point now where I can sit comfortably in the knowledge that I can relax and begin thinking of work again... Admittedly, relax may be overstating the feel-good factor a little, for only time will tell whether I’ve opted to live in a safe part of the city or not..? The flat itself, although small, is more than smart enough and the three nights I’ve spent here so far have proved beautifully tranquil... Well, apart from the already regular after-work and early morning domestics from the apartment next door, where, if the woman continues in her present role and yelling like a banshee for hours on end, then there’s bound to be the alternative drama of cardiac arrest; and the accumulation of your stereotypical drunks quaffing something abrasive from well worn cans of Żubr in the communal entrance is perhaps a bit worrying too, all be it that they don’t appear to use the place as a toilet – something which I’ve been told to expect in the old apartment blocks throughout Poland but as yet haven’t had a sniff of.

Here’s to Broniewskiego then, the street I now find myself laying my hat for the time-being, and let’s raise a glass to those resident punters who respect the need for a clean and secure den to drink in. Or, let’s not..! For, with a bit of luck, the place should be fastened down, bolted and made reverently secure soon, with all legitimate residents being presented a brand new key. The landlord, who failed to mention the broken lock before the move, assures me of this, insisting that it will be fixed soon... Being the land of enigmatic deeds however and I’m not altogether sure just how soon, soon will be..? I could hardly keep up with the speed of events considering the show for example, and the guy who set me up happily on the net again yesterday worked like Billy Whiz, but there’s still some stuff here (let’s not go on about Pelican Crossings again eh) which can take for ever. Dominika was amused the other day for instance when we stood outside a well known high street store for over twenty minutes with a sign on the door saying ‘back in five’. With me starting my usual moaning over wasted time – better things to do – this wouldn’t happen in England etc., she smiled, exclaiming in that calming tone of hers while stroking my face repeatedly in that reassuringly yet typically haughty Polish girlfriend way, ‘Spokojnie, kochanie.., we haven’t been waiting a full Polish five minutes yet!’

In the meantime then, although the drinkers downstairs seem harmless and even interesting enough, I’ll continue to keep my head down for the time being as I pass them in the lobby, say, ‘dzien dobry’, quickly followed apologetically with ‘nie dziękuję’ when they offer something inaudible and hold out something just a little too rank for the nose to risk for the pallet.

For now then, takie jest życie