On my errands, I go first to the PKO to shop
with my handful of US Dollars. I do not need to think about where I will spend the night,
because somebody will always ask you:
"Some Private?"
These questions are common outside the PKO, as Warsaw
residents know that the shoppers here have currency other than Zloty.
From the train station comes another group: men in long
overcoats with briefcases of money; girls in jeans and tight pullovers; and older women
with small children. They have walked past the drab, grey buildings of the local
residents, and will join the queue outside.
Before the PKO is a large park where children play, and I
often sit there on a day like like this and read from Tadeusz Rozewicz --
faces and masks.
Later in the afternoon I go to the nearby Forum Hotel, where
any Warsawer will proudly tell you that President Ford stayed, while in Poland during the
Cold War.
To stay in the Forum means caviar, salmon and the mild
polish vodka, Wyborowa; and from the Hotel bookshop, a copy of Andrej Szcipiorsky's
The Amerykanska Whisky.
It was on the way to the hotel one day, that I was asked if
I wanted a private, and this is how I met Jan, the duck seller.
The next day is New Year's Eve. Jan leaves early for the
country to collect ducks and geese from the villagers, and asks if I would like to join
him after breakfast, when he goes out to sell them to the restaurants.
He returns with 150, all very alive, and I have visions of
them dressed up on the best tables in Warsaw before the day is out. We begin the
rounds.....
We pass the zoo, where a bear claps for food; through an
underpass, and out by another residential district. The facades look like prisons, but
with a little colourful decoration, the poor city seems rich.
Left at the statue, and we are in Marsalkowska, one of the
longest shopping streets in Warsaw, where many people also congregate at the Farmers
House; a museum and eating hall.
Selling the ducks to city residents, Jan is offered drinks
by everyone and is asked about the countryside, the fishing, and the crops. Poland is a
large country, but the Warsawers may hardly ever leave the capital.
The pace is hectic, and we have to speed away from a drinks
party to make our business. Jan can not afford to talk about the country, he has to cross
the city....
To a restaurant in Mokatow, and Jan makes the time for a
hot wine served by a young waitress in an apron.
Fired up again, and on to Zolibocz, and Saska Kepa. Here I
also enter the kitchen with Jan to be greeted by a large cook bursting out of her clothes,
stirring a massive pot of bigos -- the national dish of meat and cabbage; the smell of it
is everywhere. She grabbed the ducks with one hand, continued to stir with the other, and
told me to help myself. Jan pulled me away......
It is late in the evening, and we head towards the River
Vistula.... ten or fifteen ducks left to sell. There are many hotels along this river
where I stayed before, but this time is was back to Jan's house with the biggest goose for
the family.
After that meal, I felt a twinge of guilt as my travelling
companion settled in my stomach. Every time I land in Warsaw now, I always think of the
duck seller.
By Katalin
Meszaros
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