A Mad Biker's Ongoing Tale

Saturday, February 02, 2002

THE LORDS OF CENTRAL EUROPE
(Poland.... an Appreciation)
by Mark C Still

I The Fellowship of the Toilet Ring

Toilets. Polish Toilets. Understand them and you understand Poland.

Poland is populated with stouthearted souls who have been baptized in the vermilion fires of bondage. The current generation has been born under the fractured yoke of Communism, and the scars are real. Not deep, perhaps, but neither are they healed. The older generations lived under the heel of the Soviet boot for far longer... and the resentment is profound. Yet former communists have recently regained the reins of government, so maybe the Poles’ resentment is most profound against themselves and their long national legacy of ill-advised political choices.

For less than 20 years between the World Wars Poland was a free country, and its Restoration still peals loudly in the hearts of all patriotic Poles today (and what Pole is not?), no matter their age. It was the most glorious time in contemporary Polish history, a historical era that many wish they could experience for themselves or even return to. But that time was mockingly brief. After more than a century of virtual non-existence, partitioned to Prussia and Germany and Russia as slices of a living, heaving verdure-and-bronzed pie, Poland was betrayed by Britain, devastated by Germany, betrayed once more by Britain and America as well, then subjugated again to the harshness of Russian avarice. Two of the most bloodthirsty dictators who ever trod this Earth took sinister delight in decimating one of the proudest races which ever lived.

Freedom was a tease, a forbidden apple forever out of reach. When Poland regained its foothold on the shores of liberty after the collapse of Communism, they soon found it eroding back into the Baltic Sea, a polluted and tideless depositary of broken dreams and unrealized aspirations. While Communism was collapsing upon itself and lying to the world about the state of its health, the world left Poland behind. Today it is a penniless regime – which is exactly why this desperate people elected ex-Soviets to the posts of president and Prime minister. (Many of the ballot-droppers were rural eastern farmers who lost everything when their state-sanctions disappeared). Poland is reeling. Poland is distressed. And it shows on the faces and in the hearts of its greatest assets: it's people

Make no doubt, these are a stalwart people. But I was talking about toilets, wasn’t I?

The old-fashioned Polish receptacle - presumably I’m speaking about the Communist model here - has as its main body a shallow depression that holds maybe an inch of water in its center. At the very front of the toilet is a six-by-four inch hole, a deep well into which all the detritus in the depression must flow. And flow it does. It takes a considerable amount of pressure to move what’s in the depression to the well. I learned quickly that it’s a good idea to stand whenever you flush. On the bright side, all that pressure renders these commodes essentially self-cleaning.

Poles take care of themselves; in fact, they are loath to accept outside help. You can see it in the faces and postures of practically everyone you pass on the streets: stern, practical and joyless; the very stereotypical picture of Soviet doggedness (45 years of Communism has taught these Poles well). Proud to be a citizen of one of the most abused and misused nations in the world, thank you very much... now leave me the hell alone. As I said, self-cleaning. Or at least so they think.

Like the exuberant rush of their privies, Polish life can be a bit... messy. Let’s review: Wars, partitioning, freedom, another war, then the communists set up camp for 45 years and ruined this nation economically. Next, Lech Walesa came onto the scene and staged a brilliant series of nationwide strikes, expressing the ruddy exasperation of an entire race - the communists were defeated, then the newly-made-President Walesa publicly auditioned a slew of emerald-hued-idealistic prime ministers in his many attempts to resurrect the Polish economy, all of whom crashed in radiant flames. Poles grew tired and impatient with his fruitless efforts so they voted Walesa out and the communists in.

Heaven help them, they’re used to this. In fact, they pull together in times of crises against a common enemy. At all other times, well... they seem to be a people in search of an enemy. When people pass on the street or board public transport at the same time, they not only don’t utter a sound when they coarsely bump into each other, they in fact often seem to deliberately bruise one another. As if the streets and facilities were universally-sanctioned-mosh-pits. There is a profound lack of trust in this country, so many don’t even bother to communicate. As I said, messy. (45 years of Communism has taught these Poles well.)

Poles are proud and ostensibly efficient, just like the traditional commode. But it’s still got to go down that well. And if you get to close to a Pole going about his business, you might just get bumped out of the way, swept away by his flow. It’s best to stand up and get the heck out of the way.

The newer toilets don’t have cascading levels; the water funnels down to a rather large hole at the far side of the bowl. But that sudden, enormous rush of water appears to be fixated in the Polish mind. And so the upwardly mobile young Poles are perhaps in the long run a little more efficient and a little less messy - and certainly more ostentatious - but the difference between the Polish yuppie and the rest of the population is as striking as that between the toilets. Polish modernism is ultra-modernism - while the rest of the country is a decade behind the rest of the world.

Another aspect of the toilets is their situation in the general structure of the Polish household. The toilet is in one very small room (the British “watercloset”), the bath and sink in another. In the public restrooms, you will very rarely encounter anything as trite as a “stall”. Instead, you’ll find each loo comfortably tucked away into another one of those ubiquitous water-rooms. The Poles value their privacy, yet their notion of personal space is laughable, with they way they all bump into one another like errant lavender-tinted pinballs. (Many of the public lavatories themselves are unisex, so you lock yourself away into one of those WCs, then emerge to share the sink with a member of the opposite sex. Of course all the time completely ignoring you.) But try to crack the veneer of a passing Pole on the street and at the very best you’ll get an icy stare. At the worst you’ll get nothing. Privacy. They walk around in those little waterclosets of theirs all the time.

When a Pole gets to know you, however, and takes you into his heart he’ll often take you into his arms, as well. They have no American-style prohibition against men hugging or crossing their legs limply one over another. They exchange niceties and terms of endearments loudly, and as they do in the rest of their lives, totally ignore everyone else around them. Because 45 years of Communism has taught them well: true friends are rare and must be treasured, since it all may be gone in the blink of an eye (just like good toilets).

Those traditional privies of theirs break down a lot. They leak. Their wells are deep and wide and don’t get clogged as easy as their American counterparts... just like their trains and buses are big and heavy and lumbering and you better stand far to one side when you hear one coming. But if you’re taking one for a ride and don’t hang on tight at every stop and start of the transport, you’re going to get thrown halfway across the car, limbs akimbo, briefcases and purses flying. No one seems to mind, though. During rush hour people cram themselves in cheek-to-jowl... but still refuse to make eye contact or even say mutter something as innocuous as, “Boy, It’s crowded in here!” Why, two weeks week after I arrived in Polska a few inches of snow thoroughly disrupted the trains - and a six hour ride cross-country turned into a 24 hour ordeal. In the midst of all this and more, Poles will very rarely complain. At least not in public.

I guess they know that the flow will always resume. It just may take some time before they flush.

The Polish national character is a wonder to behold, rich in its history and noble in its pursuit of some modest manner of simple dignity. In the Polish mountains to the south, the Polish character is much more open and embracing, willing to bend and flow at will - despite an even lower standard of living and a more dire economic standing than that of the large cities like Warsaw and Gdansk. Like the old Buddhist monk who faced an angry lion on one side and a precipitous cliff on the other only to take pleasure in the moment by plucking a succulent berry from a nearby bush to enjoy its sweetness, the southlanders find joy in their health and environment. In simply being alive. In the things most of us of any nation take for granted.

Locked down inside - sometimes deep inside indeed - is that same joyful mountaineer in every Polish heart. You just need a little patience to draw it out. Believe me, it’s worth the effort. A Polish friend is one for life, a loyal and trustworthy companion. Polish laughter warms the heart, just as their cooking warms the belly. It was the communists who marred the Polish soul, but despite 45 years of sometimes brutal efforts, they could not vanquish it. If the Soviets had been in power another 500 years, they still could not squelch what makes these people marvelous to behold. Unquestionably, this nation will recover from the hardships it must now endure.

Because as the southlanders knew all along, the communists were like any toilet. Full of shit. Any anything that stands in the way of the Polish flow is going to get swept away.

posted by mark 12:04 AM