Un autre retour, un autre au revoir. Et mes plantes en encore survécu à ma négligence. Même après des années à faire la navette, à siroter des expresso double dans les terminaux d’Europe, je ne m’habituerai jamais au détachement nécessaire pour tout quitter, tout le temps. Le périple s’achève, plus que 5 mois et quelques semaines avant un retour plutôt définitif au Canada. Je dis plutôt, car il faudra bien que je retourne en Suède de temps à autres d’ici à la fin de mon doc…
J’ai finalement pu passer les douanes, malgré mes soucis consulaires. Après 5 beaux mois d’attente (alors qu’il en prend normalement 1 ou 2 mois), je n’ai toujours pas mes papiers en ordre… J’ai toutefois été honnête et j’ai su calmer mes habitudes qui me font parler trop et qui incitent les douaniers à se douter de mes propos… En plus, le douanier en question m’avait déjà causé problème en 2009, je me souvenais de lui…
Le soleil s’est pointé le bout du nez aujourd’hui, et j’ai fait un Suédois de moi-même: vite enfiler une tuque et courir dehors! Les sentiers glacé, à peine enneigés, n’ont été sillonnés récemment que par les renards. Je me plaisait aussi à observer le frimas sur les branches et d’écouter le bruit de la tourbe gelée sous le poids de mes bottes. Petits plaisirs d’un hiver timide…
Question de reconnecter avec mes racines du centre de Lanaudière, quoi de mieux que de faire la tournée des bars de la place Bourget en excellente compagnie…Vic, St-Bern, Resto Centre-Ville et le Baltazar!
Trois semaines qui passent à la vitesse de l’éclair, sans presque s’en rendre compte. À vrai dire, j’ai fait le compte en dénombrant les soirées épicuriennes et les nuits blanches qui se succédèrent. Quel plaisir de se retrouver au milieu de ceux qu’on aime et d’en profiter au maximum. Je suis vraiment chanceux…
Seul ombre au tableau, et c’est d’ordre général: j’ai observé beaucoup d’intolérance qui frisait la xénophobie au cours de mes quelques semaines au Québec. J’ignore si ma situation en Suède et les longues soirées à réfléchir sur le sujet m’ont rendu plus sensible à cet enjeu, mais autant pour des personnes qui sont proches de moi que pour d’autres que j’ai pu croiser dans la rue, je pouvais ressentir un malaise face aux accommodements raisonnables et autres enjeux culturels du genre. À titre d’exmple, à Dorval, alors que le vol Montréal-Londres comptait une minorité de francophones, les annonces n’étaient faites qu’en francais, par cette même dame qui a lancé le sac d’une vieille dame d’origine arabe en chaise roulante (qu’elle se devait d’aider) sur le plancher, prétextant qu’il était trop lourd. Plus tard, alors que nous étions en route pour Londres, l’hôtesse s’est adressée en francais (misant sur le fait qu’ils ne comprendraient pas) à mon voisin d’infortune afin de porter quelques commentaires racistes à l’endroit du couple de juif hassidique et d’un autre couple de religion hindoue ou sikhe assis de l’autre côté de la rangée…
It all started with a friendly, naive invitation. Dora meant « You should come for a visit, some day ». She should have known better, because that meant that I would be in Warsaw before she’d notice.
I landed at Chopin airport, and there she was, smiling with her 32, kindly waiting for me. Nine years had passed since I was last in Poland. I was amazed to see it so modern, rapidly organized in such a short time span. I could feel a renewed sense of pride, an identity that has been forged, not without hard work, over the last 20 years, as being truly European.
Dora brought me to her place, where her sister Olga and her sweet half, Maciek, were already waiting. They live in an immaculate apartment, right in the middle of Warsaw. You could hardly recognize the original setting for the appartment, where several families used to live, a komunnalka, Khrushchev’s legacy in Poland. After a couple of good swigs of the local brew, we were already on our way to pick up Ola P, Ola D and Gosia from the center. They had travelled the 700km that separate Szczecin from Warsaw, just to celebrate with us. How great to see those friends to whom I last said good-bye in Berlin a month ago! Great folks, I tell you. We ended the night the polish way, under a pile of those thin menthol cigarettes and a good deal of mixed drinks…
The next day began slowly, with the sun undecided to peek out or not. I could get a better feel for the city, so green and pretty. Many bad mouths had been telling me to expect a boring, Soviet looking city. Boy, how wrong they were! I surely have this thing for Soviet history and culture, but Warsaw fascinated me in many respects. We walked down the paths of a beautiful park, Park Łazienkowski, just a stone throw away from the Kamińska/Dziuba home. The naked oaks had been standing there for centuries, strangely undisturbed by the heavy bombings during the war. That particular aspect put me completely upside-down. When our stroll took us to the old town, some signs were showing how destroyed the city had been. After the people of Warsaw decided to rise against Hitler and hold their position until June 1944, Hitler and Himmler had decided to erase Warsaw from the map, making sure that no brick would still stand. The picture on the right shows Warsaw old town. I was standing there for Christ sake! The resilience of Poles, the strength and courage that is cemented in the walls of this city is impressive. I have to say that I was moved at the sight of signs of the uprisal painted on bridge, as if for a second I was a witness of the act of utter defiance people of Warsaw decided upon.
On a brighter note, I could not spend a week end in Poland without bringing back a couple of kilos of extra fat in my pants. The obligatory pelmini and the beer were just so excellent at Zapiecek, apparently a reference in the field. By the time I was done with my « grandpa portion » (as stated on the menu, I thought it would suit my personality well), it was already time to head back to Mokotów, since the monster party was about to begin. The very sweet Olga had been cooking and shopping all day, needless to say that I was feeling ashamed to be received in such a way and to show so much ingratitude. Fortunately, I am quite skilled at washing dishes, so I tried to make up for it. The night was a theme party, following characters from movies, tales or cartoon. I personally went for a simple Dr House, while my female companions had more ambition: elaborated elfic costume, little redhood and a gorgeous Marie-Antoinette (I was afraid for my life). Then came the numerous guests, in their Polish politeness, never failing to offer a small present to the host. I really appreciated their kindness. As the spirits were getting loose, I turned around, and was so surprised! My dear friend Anna, last seen in Montreal more than six years ago, was there, standing in front of me. I had invited her, hoping she’s make it. We met almost 10 years ago, in a lost part of Poland, closer to Ukraine than the the big cities. I was so thoroughly glad to see her, having not lost a bit of her sharpness and wit. The world is increasingly becoming a global village, and I live there!
Then came Sunday, meaning that I was already getting ready to leave. I was covered in sadness, feeling it had all went by too fast. An overwhelming feeling of warmth and openness reigned over those days, getting to know amazing folks that I am dying to see again soon. Olga, Dora, Maciek, Ola P, Ola D, Ania G, Ania S, Kasia, Rafal, Maciek: they moved me. It reminded me so much of home, not only because of the comfort to be among great friends, but more because of the ease to get to know people. Their kindness, the smiles, the feeling that everyone cares for each other. It may sound naive and romantic, but I might just very well be like that. Naive and romantic, and this was the place for me to be. See you soon Warszawa, I love you!
