In case you didn’t know I am Polish. Well 1/2 Polish as my mum is Polish. My mum grew up in a mountain village called Zakopane which is located an hour and a half away from Krakow and cradled by the Tatra mountains.
I grew up on a steady diet of Polish food, tradition and tales of my mum’s mountain adventures. Zakopane always seemed a magic place from what my mum told us. A place were you can drink water from a cool mountain stream after spending the day hiking through the forest while feasting on wild berries. For as long as I can remember, I have always wanted to follow in my mother’s footsteps and see that magical land of her youth.
I caught glimpses of that fairytale land on this trip. Timber houses emerging from behind tall pine trees that look like Hansel and Gretel’s place were interspersed between newer alpine houses. Freshly stacked hay and horse carts driven by górale (highland folk) added to the atmosphere of the place.
For a while now, I’ve had a crazy dream of climbing to the top of Mt Giewont with my mum one day. It is a dream that I don’t think will come true (mum is 70 and doesn’t like to travel so much anymore) so I decided that this time I would go up. I was lucky to have one of mum’s best friends (also 70) make the climb with us. The journey was rough and tested the limits of my fear threshold. I’m not very surefooted or have the best balance and my mantra was ‘I am a mountain goat’ which oddly enough helped steady me. Standing on that peak and treading the same path as mum was a great experience. While I didn’t have a feast of berries (not the right season) I did drink from that clear mountain stream.
This was not my first visit here. This is was my third. I have to say that I was a bit sad because this time I couldn’t see my great aunt “Ciocia Pela”. My beloved Aunt passed away last year and Zakopane seems a bit empty without her. I did pay her a visit at the cemetery, said a prayer and lit a purple candle for her soul and one for my great grandmother who rests beside her. It was not the same as seeing her in her rollers and polish slippers and having a chat over some herbata with cytryna (tea with lemon). My ciocia was the most Polish person I knew. My uncle, her husband, was a famous góral fiddler. He liked to put butter in his coffee and looked amazing when he played in his góral regalia. My uncle was one cool dude. My ciocia was an amazing dancer – she could dance all night and would usually wear a string of pearls. She was always elegant. I did catch up with her two sons, my uncles, and an Auntie. It was great to reconnect and actually meet my uncle Andrzej for the first time but it wasn’t the same without Ciocia Pela. I miss her.
We stayed with my mum’s friend and his family. Polish hospitality is something special. We wanted for nothing and they went out of their way to ensure we were well fed. I don’t even want to know how many kilos I’ve gained! We’ve feasted on wild mushrooms cooked in butter, barscz, bigos, chicken, pierogi and pączki (donuts). This is not even mentioning the smorgasbord of deli meats and cheeses we had for breakfast! No cornflakes for Polish breakfast. I am inspired by Hania’s cooking and I’m looking forward to making my own sauerkraut, zurek, bigos and pierogi when I return to Australia.
It was rainy during most of our stay but we did manage 3 sunny days out of 7. On the sunny days we explored. One of the highlights was going on a hike to Rusinowa Polana which is a valley where you see a panoramic view of the Tatra mountains. It was a moderate hike through forest. About an hour into the hike there was a church – apparently people hike up there (young and old) to go to church. You have really got to be faithful or mad to make that journey! About 15 minutes beyond the church we got to a clearing and heard the gentle tinkling of bells. Beautiful highland sheep were grazing in the paddock with the Tatra mountains rising majestically behind them. It was a real “Sound of Music” moment and I had to hold myself back from doing my best Julie Andrews impression! The views were spectacular and I understood the magic of Zakopane at that moment. On the way down we saw a woman in her wedding dress and hiking boots off to have her wedding pics taken. It was so cute!
The Kropuwki Street of my mum’s childhood is now long gone replaced by cheap souvenir vendors, average restaurants (there are a few exceptions of course!) and the odd sleazy strip club. Those clubs are so far out of place here. It is really a blight on such a beautiful place. Another thing that was wrong about Krupowki was the fact that many of the so-called “handmade” souvenirs are made in China. I know that most stuff is made there but come on, a ciupaga has got to be made by a góral living in the Tatra mountains! I was careful in buying my gifts and am now the proud owner of wool papucie (slippers) just like my ciocia used to wear. Her’s were undoubtedly purple, mine are white. I also bought a few scarves in the traditional góralka pattern.
I really reconnected to my Polish roots thanks to my gracious hosts Stasiu, Hania, Edyta and Bartek. They made us feel like family and for that I will never forget this visit. Stasiu was amazing in his energy to take us everywhere – he really wanted us to have an amazing time. He definitely succeeded.
I am proud to be unashamedly Polish. I like colourful scarves, wearing embroidered slippers, eating cabbage, sausage and fermented vegetables as salad all while listening to the wailing of a góralska kapela. I speak po polsku and sometimes my English sounds funny (it is my 3rd language after all). If you come to my house you won’t leave unless you’ve had a cuppa and a biscuit at the very least but preferably a full meal. If you can’t handle that, mam cię w dupie!
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