The letters of our thoughts are the ideas present in our mind before they come to realization . . . Thoughts that are, yet not felt . . . The words of the subconscious . . . of the soul . . .

These are the LETTERS OF MY THOUGHTS.

Tuesday, March 21, 2006

A Sunset in Galicia



The Flying Dutch Jew woke me up at five thirty in the morning.
"Who gets up at 5:30?" I asked him.
"I do!" He responded.
"That's exactly my point."
I rolled onto my other side and fell asleep.
He came again at five thiry five . . .
and then at five forty.
finally, at six thirty I got up -after all, I did want to catch the 7:40 train to Lizajsk for R' Meilech's yahrtziet.




The Galician Coat of Arms

We took the long train ride (5 1/2 hours) deep into Galicia, accompanied by Yitzchok Moshe (Tomak) Krakowsky and his friend . . .
The idea had been to distribute Chassidus to the many guests, but somebody didn't bring it . . .

Lizajsk


The site of old shul the ohel

The place was packed with Jews of all sorts -' Polishers', 'Litvaks', s'fardim and the like.
No big deal.
Many of these Jews were collecting for various Tzedakos.
Also no big deal.
Many of those Jews who were collecting for various Tzedakos felt the need to let everyone else know that the were collecting for various Tzedakos by means of screaming at the top of their lungs into megaphones and then sending small children who hadn't showered since last Rosh Hashana in Uman to collect the said money to be given to the various said Tzedakos.
Not a big deal -but very, very annoying.


inside the Ohel.


The cemetery was like most in Eastern Europe - a few remaining M'tzevos
(headstones) sitting rather forlornly amongst the trees.
Apparently many of the guests did not realize that the 'Heiliger R' Mailech' wasn't the only Jew in the area; as they made themselves at home . . . one of them even decided to water one of the trees à la Polak on the side of the road when he just can't hold in those bottles of Vodka much longer . . .
I dunno.

matzevos

eating

Besides the many Polishers mulling around, there were also several groups of Polaks -some took pictures, others tried to make a few quick Zloty, but for the most part, they simply seemed to be taking in the oddity of seeing so many living Jews . . . after all Lezajsk is a rather small town, so seeing us there is probably the biggest thing next to the time that Tomasz stole the chickens that lived in Renik's backyard.



watching


the station



For those of you who have been waiting, the train to Hel leaves at 9:20



Tomak with a Lezajsk Beer.

When we began to roll out of Lezajsk the conductress made herself rather comfortable in our cabin; and began, in perfect Polish fashion, to ask us questions in Polish despite the fact that we had made it very clear that we do not speak Polish.
We showed her our tickets.
We showed her our Passports.
We took her picture.
We gave her a D'var Malchus.
We could not, however, figure out what she wanted.
At last Tomak came and let us know . . . she wanted to know where we were from.
These conductors must be very bored.


the conductor

The trip back went much like the trip there -I slept, The Flying Dutchman made the same joke that he makes at least thirty times per trip . . . that I always sleep on the train, and everyone else tried to sleep over the jokes about me sleeping.
Oh . . .



and we got to see the sunset over the fields of Galicia.

3 comments:

Sefirah said...

i like that one part about Hel.

awesome.

nice pictures - dont be too depressed

Minor Fast Days said...

Mottel, these photos are great. I'd love to see more of your journeys.

Mottel said...

G-d willing when I go on them I'll put them up.