Foreign people hardly ever have the chance to live the real Easter here in Poland. Family is the essence of this kind of events and celebrations and unfortunately, mine is out of my reach nowadays. On the other hand, experiencing other traditions it’s a great opportunity so I am glad of not having seen those crowded processions on the news or not having eaten la Mona de Pasqua at my place in Barcelona for once.
Me and other two Spanish EVS were invited to attend a traditional Easter in Kaszuby region, in the north of Poland, with a Polish friend family. Her village is five hours from Poznan through secondary roads and green fields. We arrived there at dinner time although it doesn’t really matter because the main table seems to be ready anytime. Breakfast, lunch, tea time and dinner are only a flexible schedule that becomes just an excuse to sit down, talk and relax. In essence, all turns around that piece of wood full of different Polish dishes, flowered napkins and coloured boiled eggs. I cannot figure out how much all that work weigh on a person’s shoulders, mother’s shoulders generally. Women roles at home have changed very much for some time, even though in villages years draw on at different speed.
Communication with her parents and the eldest relatives was not as good as we would like, unfortunately. It would have been great to say something further than jestem Hiszpanii, nie rozumiem, bardzo dobry!, but non-verbal communication stills there. Thank God. I have to confess that I am not catholic but rather on the opposite side of the Church. However, sometimes I can feel the passion of people during these days, as well as I guess their boredom in the middle of the mass. So as every year, Jesus was dead and, two days after, resurrected, so life could continue and men could finally drink a couple of vodka shots for celebrating.
On Monday morning the day starts very early in the quiet
Kaszuby region since kids, but not only, wake up people from their last dreams with sharp branches while yelling Smingus-dyngus, Smingus-dyngus! Traditions remain in that place surrounded by huge lakes where time goes by slowly.