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2,805

Peryferie

Ambulance around the world. Karetką dookoła świata.
From Poland to Alaska.

Peryferie is feeling lovely at Narwiański Park Narodowy.

6 months ago

Mr. Czarek is climbing Giewont. He's climbing because he doesn't want to take the cable car. That would be a bit like cheating. Like putting a motor on a shallow, wooden punt boat. An acquaintance of his suggested it. An electric one, and cheap, but Mr. Czarek said no – he prefers an oar. A wooden one, three meters and thirty-seven centimetres long. It's perfectly enough on the Narew because it's a shallow river. You can walk from one bank to the other without even getting your waist wet. And this year, it's very shallow indeed. He has never seen the water so low. Though on the bends, it can still reach up to three meters. The whole oar disappears. And with an oar, you can probe the bottom. You know where there’s sand, where there’s silt, where there are stones. With an oar, you get to know the riverbed by Braille. By touching. Motors only scare the fish away. And some people still use petrol ones. Even though it's forbidden in the Narew National Park. What can you do? People are irresponsible.Mr. Czarek is climbing Giewont. He listens to the birds and thinks how different they are from the ones back home on the Narew. There, in the reeds, live the reed warblers. Tiny, inconspicuous little birds, but they screech to high heaven! Non-stop, as if their tiny lungs didn't even need to draw breath. They screech but beautifully, not like rooks. He recently saw a kestrel chasing them off. They were probably attacking its nest. All by herself, smaller than two rooks, the kestrel didn’t back down. A tenacious parent. Here, on the way to Giewont, he thinks he hears finches. There, by the river, there are red-backed shrikes. They rarely sing, but when they do, they can weave imitations of other birds into their characteristic calls. Why do they do that? Who knows. They have another name, too – butcher-birds. That one comes from the way they impale what they catch – insects, caterpillars – on thorns or sharp twigs. By the Narew, you can also hear willow warblers, skylarks, and cuckoos – measuring out time rhythmically, reliably, and slowly. And on the river, time itself seems to flow in slow motion. The river, too, flows unhurriedly. Its current rarely speeds up. Well, unless a storm is coming. Then it ripples restlessly, combed by the wind. Mr. Czarek doesn’t go out on the water in a storm. It’s terrifying. It gets so dark you could poke your eye out. Lightning cut the sky like a luminous scalpel. Not at all from top to bottom, as gravity would have it. Sometimes sideways, defying physics. The Narew itself sometimes stands defiant against the world's order. It can flow against the current. That's because of the Vistula, which it flows into. When the queen of rivers swells too much, it pushes into the Narew's channel and shoves it upstream.Pushes it upstream, just as Mr. Czarek pushes himself up Giewont. And why is he pushing himself like this? And why these mountains, anyway? Well, somehow, in his old age, he decided to climb Giewont. Because why not? It was always the river, so for a change, he decided to carry his sixty-plus crosses up and place them next to the one on Giewont. He’d only ever been to the Czech Bohemian Paradise once. Beautiful! But the water was expensive as hell! Beer was twice as cheap, but water?! What a scheme they came up with! And Mr. Czarek doesn’t drink alcohol. He used to drink a beer now and then, but he no longer likes the taste. Non-alcoholic? He hasn't tried it. Is it any good? Well, you have to know which one to get and to know that, how many would you have to try.Mr. Czarek is not complaining, absolutely not! He's in good shape. His health is holding up. It's probably because of the Narew and the oar. He keeps moving. He pops out for some fishing almost every day. He likes catching pike the most. But only the big, grown ones. He releases all the small ones. Some catch even the fry. What can you do? People are irresponsible. And then there are the poachers. They cast nets and catch whatever they can. And the police? Well, what about the police? The police know exactly who, where, and when. But they do nothing. Mr. Czarek, in fact, usually releases what he catches. He only keeps enough for himself and his wife. A pike, a perch. He's heard you can catch an eel, but he never has. He heard it from someone he can trust. Others sometimes tell tall tales. There are also asps. Those aren't very tasty. There was this one fellow here who would catch fish and sell them to buy booze. The priest's housekeeper once asked him to catch her something, just not an asp, because it’s not tasty, and the priest would be angry. As luck would have it, an asp was all that bit. So what did he do? He took it to the presbytery. The woman knew nothing about fish, so she didn’t even recognise. Well, what can you do? People are irresponsible. They don't respect the river. And the Narew, though narrow and shallow, can be surprising. It is, after all, still an element. How many times have people drowned? A group of young people were once walking along the bank. Right by the water's edge. And the bank is undermined, of course. The grass covers the washed-out patches, and you don't even know when you might fall into the river. And as luck would have it, a girl fell in just like that. Mr Czarek happened to be fishing nearby in his punt. He fished the girl out, too. God, how scared she was! She'll remember it for the rest of her life. He's pulled out people who couldn't respect the river a few times now. That's why he prefers to stay away from people these days. Such human irresponsibility is too much for his nerves. He prefers to float into an oxbow lake.They call the Narew the "Polish Amazon" because it has so many backwaters, estuaries, and channels. If someone doesn't know it and goes kayaking, they can get lost. Not Mr. Czarek. He knows the Narew like his own backyard. The one in front of the house that was built in 'thirty-seven. Only that one and one other survived the war. He moved here from the town next door. Their borders meet, and if it weren't for the sign, you wouldn't know where one ends and the other begins. You enter the smaller one from the bigger one as if walking from a living room into a hallway. A natural extension. He used to live in an apartment block. This house was in his wife's family, and she inherited it. Maybe someday they'll move to the county town. When their strength runs out. Their daughter lives there with her husband. She's doing well for herself. She lectures in mathematics at the university. A smart girl. Sometimes, he and his wife pay them a "parental inspection" visit. They show up unannounced to see if everything is all right. And the daughter supposedly isn't expecting them, but she always seems to know. Her mother probably calls beforehand. Mr. Czarek doesn't call. He doesn't even answer. For him, the phone might as well not exist. He will, indeed, reply to a text message. But not right away. He doesn't take it to work – he's a welder – because what for? You either work or you make calls. Not when he's fishing, either, because it might fall into the water. And they make them so flimsy these days that a bit of rain is enough to make them stop working. He once had a flip phone. Damn! It fell in the water, he took the battery out, dried it, and it worked like new. And now?In the mountains, he would prefer not to have too many people around. Though he doesn't want to go alone either. Because if you don't know the way, you can get lost. This way, you can latch onto someone. It's different on the Narew. There, he floats with no one around. He'll glide into an oxbow lake, and it's as if he were sliding over a carpet. Leaves of yellow water-lilies and reeds. As if nature were casting a tapestry under his punt. He glides along, his punt a breaker of green, and sees paths woven into this tapestry with black, muddy threads. They are trodden tirelessly by the hooves of deer and wild boar, the claws of beavers, and the webbed feet of ducks.Nature rarely surprises Mr. Czarek, but sometimes it manages. He's fishing one day. Moored in the reeds as usual. He's smoking a cigarette – one for three sessions. It's healthier that way. And suddenly, he hears: splash, splash, splash. Splashing comes from the bank. A person couldn't get through those reeds. It must be an animal. But what kind? It's splashing loudly. Powerfully. It must be a moose. And indeed, out of the corner of his eye, Mr. Czarek sees a moose cow and her calf entering the Narew. Oh, it's a good thing they passed him by because he would have been no match for a worried mother. Not even with his oar – three meters, thirty-seven centimetres – which he had prepared just in case. And he probably wouldn't have used it anyway. He'd sooner swim to the other side. Mr. Czarek likes nature. Respects it. His dog used to sleep in the house and ate what the people ate. But only from your hand, because if you put the same food in his bowl, he wouldn't touch it. He recently saw on TV somewhere a dog drowning in a firefighting reservoir. There was another dog with him, and when it saw its friend in trouble, it ran to get a human. And went straight for a firefighter! Finally, it jumped into the water itself to save its companion. And let someone try to say that animals are not intelligent. That they have no soul! And that's why, for anyone who hurts them – the highest penalty. Or do the same thing to them that they did to the animal, like that senator who dragged his dog on a leash behind his car. Tie him to a car and let him feel what suffering is. Well, what can you do? People are irresponsible.Mr. Czarek walks up Giewont to place his sixty-odd crosses next to the single one, and he thinks. He would maybe go somewhere in a camper van, but his wife doesn't want to. She's gotten a bit lazy. He even has to pick her up from her sister's in the neighbouring town. Nine hours at work, and then off to fetch her. But he goes because he feels sorry for his wife. Thirty-six years together. A lifetime. You have to learn to compromise. You have to learn to be there for better or for worse. And that's why he will keep driving to fetch his wife. And he will drive her to do the shopping, and on Saturday, when she cleans – because she always cleans on Saturdays – he will escape the house so as not to be in the way. He will escape to his punt. To the Narew.The Narew is calm, unhurried, shallow. But it can surprise you. It can unexpectedly send a fire station and young firefighters who don't know if anyone in the area uses a punt. But his father will surely know. Oh! There he is now. The father – Piotr – is coming out of the little shop by the fire station with a beer and some crisps, and he knows. And he calls. He calls Mr. Czarek's wife because everyone knows Czarek won't answer. For him, the phone might as well not exist. His wife answers and arranges everything. Tomorrow at twelve, because Czarek works until eleven. He will be waiting behind the playground by the kayak rental. With his oar – three meters, thirty-seven centimetres long. It could be ten past twelve or even twenty past. He'll wait a bit. Well, unless there's a storm. Not then. He doesn’t go out on the water in a storm.#Narew #narewnationalpark ... See MoreSee Less

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Peryferie is at Kapadocja-Turcja.

6 months ago

Wraz z Onet Podróże zapraszamy w podróż do niezwykłej, bo... śnieżnej Kapadocji 😁🤩#kapadocja #turcjaOdkryłam tajemnice niezwykłej tureckiej krainy. Bajka wykuta w skale: Onet./Zdjęcia własnedlvr.it/TLF0S2 ... See MoreSee Less

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Peryferie is feeling puzzled with Andrzej Wiśniewski in Larnaca District, Cyprus.

10 months ago

He called me. The rate was standard for the first zone of the European Union. The connection was surprisingly good, considering he was calling from the 4th century BC.So, he calls and says that he was born here. Here in Larnaca, although then it was still called Citium. His name is Zeno. I know that because it showed up on my phone. I also scanned the QR code from the monument myself. I probably wouldn't have answered if I hadn't known who was calling. I usually don't answer calls from strangers.He introduced himself politely. Plus, his voice was pleasant and deep - a pleasure to listen to. So, I listened. And he says that he is the son of a merchant. The family was doing well; they lacked nothing because, in his time, Citium was a prominent trading port. He helped his father at work like a good son, being prepared to take over the business. Once, he sailed with goods - fabrics - to Athens. Normal thing - sell and come back. Not this time. The ship crashed, but he survived the disaster.This event changed his life. Yes, disasters tend to change lives. And contrary to popular belief, it is not always for the worse. Zeno himself sees the whole affair at sea as an extremely happy event. Thanks to this, he ended up in Athens, no longer as a merchant but as a man seeking knowledge and understanding. And he sought them from the great Greek philosophers. He soon became one of them himself. He taught that man should live in harmony with nature and accept everything that it sends with equal calmness. Even what is bad and negative from a human perspective. He delivered his teachings in the porticoes of the Athenian square called stoae. Hence, the name of his philosophy is Stoicism.I was surprised by his public speaking because, at the beginning of the conversation, he admitted that he did not like crowds. That he prefers nature, its harmony, wisdom and peace. I completely agree with him here, but apparently, the desire to spread knowledge was stronger than the self-preservation instincts. So, he went to the agora and preached his teachings. And in order not to be unfounded - he lived by them. He renounced wealth because it leads to nothing good. It only deepens divisions: the rich get richer, and the poor get even poorer. And he firmly believed that all people should be equal because equal they are. Period. The Athenians (certainly not all of them) liked his teachings so much that they gave him the Golden Laurel - a great distinction. What's more, they offered Zeno Athenian citizenship. However, he politely refused because he did not want to betray his native Citium.Zeno lived in Stoic tranquillity for a long time—for 98 years, he says—until finally, the Earth called him. How?"One day, I hit my toe; I think I even broke it. I knew right away that it was the Earth's calling. What to do. I said to Earth: "Yes, yes, I hear you! No need to shout like that." I lay down, closed my eyes, held my breath and died. But I've been talking here for far too long. And yet a man has only one mouth and two ears, which means he should talk less and listen more. Now go and explore my Larnaca, my Citium - says Zeno and hangs up.So, we're exploring. We explore the museum with the temple ruins of Citium. Maybe one of them was next to Zeno's house? Maybe. History locked in the remains of earthen walls is silent. But behind our backs, a lively and loud one unfolds. The ear-piercing screech of a beautiful blue parrot echoes. The elderly security guard catches it to his collection. According to the olden method, he put sticks smeared with a sticky substance on the pomegranate tree right next to the fruits, so plump they burst. If you put your finger on it, it will come off without any problems. The bird's tiny paws will not. It will get stuck until someone releases it. Or until it dies of hunger and exhaustion. The guard catches the parrot for his collection. Poachers en masse catch small migratory birds to the point of extermination of entire populations. They sell them to restaurants for bird shasliks - a traditional Cypriot dish. And what would Zeno say to that?He says nothing. Doesn't call anymore. Even when we visit his second monument on Europe Square. Around there are colonial buildings that once housed the port manager, the customs office and warehouses. Today, it is the City Hall, gallery and archive. Opposite is the promenade and marina with luxury yachts. And Zeno is nowhere to be seen. We walk, we search. We even illegally peek behind the ugly metal fences of the amusement park that is being dismantled. And we almost missed him, among the cables, scaffolding, metal parts and colourful lights that only yesterday were still carousels. He stands on a pedestal, which now serves as a stand for toolboxes, work gloves and half-empty water bottles. He stands in complete and utter chaos. And he stood like that when, for many months, human feet swirled above him. He stood in noise, din, and commotion. He stood and did not move. So stoic.Would he be just as stoic if he wasn't encased in stone?#cypr #cyprus #larnaka #larnaca_city #zenoofcitium #stoicyzm #stoicphilosophy ... See MoreSee Less

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