Saturday, February 28, 2015

Northern Falé II

To say the least, 
my kids are very excited 
to build our new home.

After living in our "student villa"
for over 12 years,
we're all feeling ready 
to make the
house of our dreams
a reality.

My kids have house-dreams too.

I've asked them to
design their dreams for our home
a popular kids building game.

First up is Rémi, 12yrs. old:

Rémi's redesign of the front of our home.

In-house Architect's critical analysis:
The front entry and generous porch space 
is obviously important to Rémi.
Réminds me somewhat of Frank Llyod Wright's 
style of Architecture.



Rémi's redesign of our kitchen.

In-house Architect's critical analysis:

Clearly lots of space for guests
and 
lots of space for eating.
A very social space as Rémi included books.
Nice view out to the landscape beyond.


Rémi's redesign of our kitchen table in a new diningroom.
In-house Architect's critical analysis:

I just see table.
Here's someone who likes to eat.
Clearly a Hobbit!

More to come!
Stay tuned!

Northern Falé journey: I, III, IV, V, VI 

Saturday, February 14, 2015

Polski

These are *not* doughnut holes. Not even close! Read on!

People used to ask me if "Daisy" was my nickname. Nope. That's my true blue, through and through bona fide birth-given name. My Mum's highschool friend was named Daisy and she looooooved her friend's name and wanted this name for me. 

I've had few nicknames throughout my life but a good friend, who wanted to highlight my Polish heritage, would call me "Polski".

"Polski" made sense.

My last name (at the time) was Podeszwa (pronounced POh-dEz-wAh in English. pronounced POh-dEsh-vAh in Polish). 

I loved my last name. It took me awhile to love it. Growing up, on the first day of school, I would sit with my head down on my desk, filled with anxiety, while the teacher went down the class list:

Sarah Adams? "here!"....Karen Brown? "here!" Jason MacDonald? "here!"....Daisy Po...Po...Po-desk...Po-zed...Po-zzzzwah (in my younger years, roars of laughter would erupt from the class depending on the phoenetic acrobatics that would come out of the teacher's jumbled mouth) "PODESZWA!" I would call to help out. The teacher would stick to "Daisy" and quickly move on.

Growing up I was told that "Podeszwa" meant "heel of the shoe". Our close teenage friends would bug us saying that's why my brother's and my teenage feet stunk so bad. Hahahaha! Good times!

I wasn't sure if the translation to English of Podeszwa was really true, so, I just googled "Podeszwa" to see what I would find. I cried from laughing SO hard! In "google images", there's a seemingly endless supply of pictures of the bottom of shoes or heels of fancy shoes/boots. So. Many. Different. Kinds. Of. Shoes. Once again, I literally "LOL"! Try it! What images come up for your last name?


I have SO many pictures of my brothers and I working in a garden & Dad's stories of his trips to Poland, 
visiting all the farms, that this picture perfectly defines being Polish to me.
Here are the Podeszwa kids, with Dad Podeszwa, soles of our feet covered in a garden, working. 
I bet my younger brother "watered" the plants after this pic!

I also found an "English translation" on the net for "Podeszwa". Here it is: 
sole {noun} [sports]
So there were no longer shoe makers, but now there are people slapping soles on people's shoes.
sole (of the foot and of shoe) {noun}
So there you go! "Podeszwa" is the "Smith" of Poland! Funny short story: my brother married a Smith. Yup! True short story!

On Feb.12th, 2015, I popped onto Facebook. Two interesting things happened:

1. A friend of mine, who served her Mormon mission in Poland, began posting "Fat Thursday" (in Polish, Tłusty Czwartekpictures. She smothered her Facebook page full of Pączki (Polish pastries, very much like doughnuts) pictures. My mouth was certainly watering by now and with every picture, this treat was looking very familiar. I thought I never tried this treat before but my watering mouth told me that this treat was familiar.

2. My brother's Mother-in-law, yup, the "Smith", posted a website to my brother with a photo of my Dad's older brother's gravestone on it. My brother has been gathering his family history and his Mother-in-law found the gravestone, of my Uncle that died as an infant, online. Weird! How could it be "Fat Thursday" and my Uncle's discovery day in one? I was particularly excited because I had just recently gathered information about my Uncle Charles from my Dad. I could confirm the identity of this grave stone because I had just written down my Uncle Charles' birth & death years and the cemetery that he was buried in. Everything on the site was correct. 

I then shared with my bro's Mother-in-law the story behind that stone. You see, my Dad had recently replaced his older brother's stone. I thought he replaced it because it was worn down. My Dad is 75, so that would make his brother 77. I called my Dad again and my Dad shared that he replaced the stone because "Podeszwa" was not spelled correctly (no surprise there!). Also, My Uncle's first name, Charles, was not included on the stone. My Dad did this for his older brother, the brother he had not even met. This story had always touched me. After hearing about it again recently, I was even more determined to get back to my home-town, in London, ON, to see my Uncle's new stone but here I was seeing it for the first time on the internet. A stranger had taken a picture of it and uploaded it online for this exact purpose. So that people looking for their lost loved ones, can find them online. I told my Dad that the stone for his brother was now online. I wasn't sure what he would think of that. He simply said that it was amazing. Just amazing. At the time that my Dad put this stone together, I was busy with little ones and did not have time to support him in this worthy cause. His efforts seemed to go unnoticed and unheralded. That bothered him. In fact, he wanted to be there when that stone was laid but the nuns at the cemetery had neglected to notify him of the stone's replacement. This never sat well with him but all seemed to wash away when his efforts were validated by a volunteer who took time to take that picture, upload it online and now his son, who lives on the other side of the country, and his daughter, have viewed the stone.

Many of you know that I lost my fourth baby, Isoefa Alofa. It has been six years since we lost him and I have not yet had the heart to put his stone together and placed at his grave site. I felt like the time was getting closer and this would probably be the year. When I saw my Uncle Charles' stone, I knew for sure this would be the year. I want my baby's stone to reflect my Uncle Charles' stone. I'm ready and I now look forward to this special moment. 

Through my baby's loss and the loss of my Uncle Charles, I feel closer to my Nana, my Dad's Mother. She died when I was little but I remember her very well. I feel her loss. I feel for her loss and now I feel that much closer to her.


I Love this picture of my Nana. She looks SO Polish to me.
The dress, the hat, her strong body.
Nice legs Nana!

So, when I jumped on twitter later in the day and saw this tweet from one of my favourite local European bakeries, Nougat Bakery,



I couldn't take it any more! I called the bakery, made sure they still had Paczki (they did!), and then called my husband to pick them up on his way home from work.

My husband arrived soon after and our family sat around the table learning about Paczki (pronounced pawnch-ki). This Polish delicacy is traditionally served on Fat Thursday, the last Thursday before the Catholic Ash Wednesday, where Lent begins along with the ban of lard, sugar, eggs and fruit, until Easter. These beautifully simple ingredients are used up together to create this brilliant fruit-filled bun. I must learn how to make them. I carry all these ingredients in my home. All-the-time. Why wouldn't I? I'm Polish!


Paczki!

We tried 3 different kinds of Paczki; Rose (rose-hip jam.lovely!), Raspberry and Advocat (like a boston cream but better).

The table favourite? Without a doubt, it was the raspberry. Each Paczki was beautiful and delicious and would win my dessert heart. However, the raspberry seemed to burst in our mouths with depths of flavour that perfectly complimented the fluffy pastry. It made us all wish there was more raspberry!


Raspberry Paczki.
Heaven!
For me personally, it was a rich taste of something familiar. I think my Dad has bought a cheaper version in the past or I had them as a young child with my staunchly Catholic Nana. Either way, the taste was a taste of home and on Fat Thursday, I felt closer to my Nana and my Uncle Charles. It was a special day and I thank my friend for honouring her time in Poland by posting those pictures and I thank my adopted Mother-in-law for finding Uncle Charles on Fat Thursday. It truly was a Fat Thursday - fat with the spirit of loved ones and cultural heritage. 


My Valentines Day is dedicated to my Nana Podeszwa, 
who suffered the loss of a child, 
on her own, in a strange new country where she began building 
her new home and future. My Valentines Day is also dedicated to my Uncle Charles, who I know enjoys eternal glory 
with his humble Mother and Father. 
Much Love,
your little,
Polski