Claire in Poland

I calculated that I spend more than 400 minutes on a bus each week. In these hundreds of minutes, I observe an etiquette I was never taught. An atmosphere of uptight bodies and secluded minds. A rushing world I barely encountered in the States.  Children are taught to never sit down on public buses. The custom remains that if anyone older than you is standing, you surrender your seat. Something about this custom of standing up, saying "Proszę," (please) pointing to your seat, and the person replying “Dziękuję." (thank you) with a smile makes my day. The good deed has been engraved in the youth of Poland, but not in me. This new act of kindness, while most don’t think much of it, reassures me.  Elderly people appear happier here. Or at least, the elderly women appear happier. When sitting or even stand on the buses, they talk with a smile. Multiple times I will stand inside the door, seconds before the bus departs, and I see an elderly woman walking or hopping...

In a city that conquers miles and miles of land we still feel important. We still feel that if we accidentally say the wrong thing at the wrong time or forget to do the laundry and feed the dog, it is a tragedy. A crime.  It’s even easier to feel this way in a suburban town where you know every face and the roads like the back of your hand. Where everyone knows when you did something wrong, and the news of a mistake or achievement spreads like wild fire. Besides you and your circle of family, friends, acquaintances, strangers, places and objects, the rest of the world ceases to exist.  Sure, on the nightly news we hear about earthquakes, bombings and all other horrors occurring around the globe, but they aren’t real to us. We try to sympathize, but we probably don’t understand. How could we ever understand if we weren’t there?  We only possess knowledge of how the people’s heartbeats became louder than the sounds of crumbling buildings in their ears and how t...