I have been holed up at the Radisson Blu Centrum for the past three and a half days co-facilitating a Leadership Development Intensive (LDI). As usual, it is an all-absorbing experiential with days starting at 7.30am to 7pm daily. As rich and rewarding as these experientials are, the intensity means that the day after I am usually tired and spent. Today was no exception. I made a conscious choice a few months ago to cut down on travelling. This has meant more time in Warsaw. People ask me 'how do you like Warsaw?'- well, I am learning to enjoy Warsaw though I am still a long way off having any kind of relationship with this place.
As I stepped out of the hotel at around 13:00 this afternoon, I sensed that the air was sharper than it had been for a while. My feet decided to take a left instead of a right and I found myself walking down Grzybowska towards Warszawa Centralny. I had a vague notion of going to Radio Cafe for lunch. As I walked, I was aware of having a 'sunday feeling'. I saw groups of tourists looking at maps, families in their 'sunday best', tour buses, quiet roads. As I approached a major intersection, I saw that the Ministry of Culture building to my right- closer than I expected. On impluse, I decided to venture down a side road. A cosy little cafe- I could just make out that they were offering cream of brocolli soup as their soup of the day...a restaurant named 'Patagonia' that served Italian food...signpost for a synagogue...a crumbling old building with large photos of jewish families posted on the outside. The derilict building threw me back to pre-war era- dark brown-black brickwork...smashed and boarded-up windows...in warsaw, the past is never far away. Outside a large church, an incongruently small statute of Pope John Paul II and at his feet, a small carpet of bright yellow and red flowers and wreaths...the thunderous scraping of skateboards...the delicate 'ting ting' from a passing bicycle...
my eyes wandered towards the sky and I saw the light- the diffused orange pink glow of winter-light, soft orange sorbet against a bright bronze dome and a soot black cross. This light is so evocative, so unique to this part of the world that when I see it, I always feel like I am in a movie- Dr Zhivago or Anna Karenina. The unmistakeable light of early winter in central eastern europe. How bizzare it is that I am here! How lucky it is that I am here! How surreal!
