Done!

"Would you slow down on the blog posts already!! I'm usually doing other stuff on weekends and can't read it until Monday, then I have to spend until 11:30 reading your blog posts. Sure, it's a wonderful way to spend the morning but I don't know if my boss agrees."

All done! The blog is caught up... until the next adventure. Those of you who were wondering what to read while enjoying your morning coffee during the time that I was travelling can now spend the next week catching up on posts.

Please leave comments so I don't feel like I'm only writing to three or four people! I know there are a lot of you out there, I just don't know who you are. Feel free to keep it that way, but if you feel like fessing up to reading my ramblings, I'd love to find out who's following along on this crazy adventure!

Lambing - Frequently Asked Questions

What was your favourite part of lambing?
One night I went out to the barn for the midnight feeding but saw that Henry was sleeping in the caravan so I decided to work on food and water for the ewes and give him a few more minutes to sleep. I grabbed a flashlight and walked along the top of the outer wall to check on the ewes. I discovered that one had given birth while laying down and the lamb was motionless in the amniotic sack. I pulled on my surgical gloves, scrambled down a wooden pallet leaning against the wall, and pulled the lamb around to the ewe's face, breaking the sack to allow the lamb to breathe. The lamb shook its head, starting vocalizing, and I waited to make sure it was okay and the ewe was cleaning it up before moving on. As I continued around the wall I saw another ewe in labour and I could only see the nose and one hoof, but both hooves need to be present. I had my cell phone with me to call Henry but I figured I'd give it a try on my own before calling him. I ran around the wall and through the barn to reach the ewe. She started to run away but my sheep-catching lesson from Christmas came in handy and I remembered to grab a hind leg to hold her back. Thankfully she was a smaller ewe so I was able to hold her against the wall with my left hand and reach around with my right to check for the second leg. I had been curious to know what it felt like and although some people are disgusted by the thought of sticking their hand and forearm inside the birth canal, I found it fascinating. I tried a few angles but realized I wouldn't be able to get the leg without pushing the lamb back inside - not something I was about to try on my own. Just as I was about to give up and call Henry, his voice called across the barn:
"Just one hoof showing?"
"Yeah."
"Want help?"
"Yeah."
He came over and I held the ewe while he pushed the lamb in and then pulled it back out properly. A night like that would have been completely normal for him - he's done this hundreds of times - but for me, it was unforgettable. Midnight... the world is dark and quiet... and a little life takes its first breath. It's a good feeling to know that what you're doing actually means something to someone, even if that "someone" is a sheep.

What do you miss about the farm?
Being outside all day.
The lambs.
The sounds.
The work.
The freedom.
Learning something new every day.
Seeing my friends in Eastbourne.

What kinds of things did you do?
In addition to the ongoing tasks of feeding orphans, mucking pens, checking ewes, and topping up food and water, Henry gave me opportunities to try new tasks, even though I so obviously lacked the experience to do things quickly or skillfully. I can now say I've docked a couple of tails, castrated one lamb (sorry little guy!), driven the quad, and tagged a few sheep (just look for the over-sized, messy numbers - sheep squirm around way too much!). I watched and learned about other details of lambing, but those are the things I actually tried first-hand.

Did you smuggle a lamb home in your backpack?
No, although it was tempting.

While staying at the farm I hadn't really picked up the lambs for any reason outside feeding them or moving them. During my first five minutes I realized that the sheep were skittish and not interested in bonding with humans so it was quite pointless to try to pet them (besides the fact that treating them as pets is worthy of mockery from the entire Brown family). During my final moments on the farm, I realized that the only photo of me with a lamb was with one who actually ended up dying. Although it's a great photo, it always makes me a little sad. I grabbed my camera and my favourite lamb from the latest batch of orphans and asked Henry to shoot a photo before I went back to the farm house to finish packing. When I held the lamb, it quietly tucked its head up under my chin and I was amazed by how soft the wool was! I really hadn't realized how soft they are!

As I pulled the lamb closer for a photo, I put my hand around the hind legs and got a nice little present smeared on me. I wiped it off on a bit of straw and Henry quickly captured my final, very real farm moment.

Huge thanks to:
- Henry for letting me in on lambing and putting up with my endless curiousity.
- Margaret for being such a gracious hostess.
- Richard for making me laugh by mocking my floral wellies.
- Clayton and Isobel for suggesting I contact their friends at Chalk Farm - another quirky dream has been fulfilled!

Experiencing life on a farm during lambing season was unforgettable and something I'll always be grateful for.

Eastbourne - Final Day

This morning I asked Margaret when she would be free to take me to the train station and she said we would leave shortly after 10:00 a.m. A little while later I got a call from Henry asking if I wanted one final farm experience. My trip to the train was postponed until mid-afternoon and I pulled on my mucky clothes for a trip to the livestock market.

Each farmer uses his own colour coding - this was the most colourful group I had seen! No idea what was being tracked by each colour, but it looked like a bunch of five year olds were let loose on the sheep with giant markers.

Not impressed to be going to auction.

There were a wide variety of breeds and ages up for sale.

Henry usually just drops off his sheep and returns to the farm, but since I was there with my curiousity and my camera, we stuck around and he visited with other farmers, showed me around the place, answered my random questions, and explained all sorts of things about the auction and what the buyers are looking for. Never having been exposed to the details of farming as I was growing up, I never really even considered the existence of livestock auctions or how farmers determine when an animal is ready for slaughter or the issues that concern farmers. I actually found it all quite fascinating - it's really a different world.

While I was standing near the pens where sheep were being dropped off to be organized and auctioned off later in the morning, a truck pulled up with very non-sheep sounds emitting from the back. The biggest, ugliest pig I've ever seen was soon offloaded.

Thanks to Hollywood, I figure all pigs look like Babe and Wilbur. This one looked like it had a nasty run-in with a few skin diseases and the back end of a Mack truck.

I know that city centres or beaches are usually the most fun for people-watching, but try visiting a livestock market sometime! It's a whole new world of characters! Many of them look like they're related to Farmer Hoggett from Babe. (Today I learned why "Hoggett" is a funny name for the farmer - click here).

It was interesting to watch the men work to check over the sheep and get them organized. It was also amusing to catch them watching me - I don't think they get an audience very often. Apparently some of them thought I was a reporter; you'd think the mucky jeans and t.shirt with "Canada" written across it would have made them realize I wasn't looking for a scoop.

The bell used to call everyone when the auction was about to begin.

Quick clip of sheep being auctioned.

I watched later as a huge, black pig was moved into a pen, but it didn't want to go all the way in. Henry explained that if a pig doesn't want to move, it will simply plant its feet into the ground and refuse to budge. You can usually get it to move by shielding its eyes by holding a board to shield one eye so it moves in the opposite direction, then shielding the other eye and eventually the pig should get to where you want it to go. The pig in the clip below stopped moving just outside its final destination and four men ended up gathered around it, pushing and smacking its shoulders to no avail. After much hoof-planting and squealing, the pig finally moved all the way into the pen. Quite a comical sight!

That is one huge pile of pork chops!
The adorable piglets that Robyn and Madelein are falling in love with would grow to be this big if they didn't go to slaughter after just a few months.

Eastbourne - Another Year

Happy Birthday to Me!

I'm now twenty-nine... my last year in my twenties... hard to believe. I remember not too long ago when I thought twenty-nine was old. Thankfully I don't feel old, except when I see kids I used to babysit and they're married and having babies - then I feel really old. No, you don't need to tell me I don't look twenty-nine - I hear that fact on a regular basis but I don't think it'll be flattering for at least another ten years. Helping out at youth groups where the young guys coyly ask me what grade I'm in, only to see their jaws drop when I tell them I graduated ten years ago, doesn't make me feel good (no, I didn't make that up - it has actually happened more than once).

This morning I got a phone call from Robyn at 7:45 a.m. as I was in the middle of slowly waking up. I picked up my phone and heard her cheerful voice call out, "Good morning! Happy birthday! We're coming up to your room to give you your birthday present!" In my charming morning-voice I croaked, "Right now?" "Yes, we're right outside the door of the farm house!" A few minutes later and I was opening my present and getting hugs before they rushed off to work. Definitely a good start to my day!

My mom passed along the farm's mailing address to a bunch of family and friends, so after breakfast I had a great time opening a stack of birthday cards.
Thank you to:
Mom & Dad; Mark, Cori, & snuggly Steve; Jon & Ann; Rachel & her boys; David & Keri; Sherri; Grandma; Carol; Anne-Marie; Marsha, Andy, Melinda, Andrew, & Daniel; Christa; Len & Glenda

At noon I went and took care of feeding the lambs. I could have claimed "birthday princess" status and avoided it, but I actually think it's fun to pull on my wellies and muck around in the barn.

At 2:00 I met Sarah in Eastbourne - she took the day off work to hang out with me. How great is that, eh? When I walked into her room she said, "Oh - I found something that we have to watch!" When we were in Switzerland we started joking about an episode of the TV show, "Friends", where Phoebe and Monica's friend is in town but they can't stand her because she lived in London for a little while and puts on a ridiculous, fake English accent. The character and plot are hilarious, but it's even better because the girl's name is "Amanda". We continually quote lines to each other, and when I visited Canada for my brother's wedding the word "mobile" occasionally escaped my lips (sans accent) and people mocked me every time. For your viewing pleasure, here's the clip we watched.

Sarah took me out for my first, proper, English cream tea! I can't believe it took over six months living here to finally go out with a friend for a proper tea. We walked along the sea front in the sunshine and had a great time visiting for the afternoon - a beautiful day.

A proper British girl - pinky out!

Tea, sandwiches, scones, cream, jam, and cakes.

I've heard several times that the lambs up on the hill (a few weeks old) love to gather in groups and run madly across the hills in the early evening. I really wanted to see them, but hadn't been able to get out there since returning from Poland. I was booked to go out for dinner with a few friends but I asked them to postpone it for about half an hour so Henry could give me a ride up to the hill in the jeep so I could see the lambs since it was my last night in Eastbourne. I loved being up on the hill a final time and seeing the lambs running around simply for the fun of it. My cell was out of range so I didn't receive Robyn's text of, "where r u?" until we left the hill... I was an hour late. Sorry girls!

These two lambs were curled up on their mom's back when we arrived, but by the time I pulled out my camera they had jumped up.

View of the hill (long clip).

Pack of lambs running (long clip).


Bounding lambs (short clip).

The girls took me to what they call the "Curly Wurly", a pub actually called the "Golden Galleon", but it's located along a curving river which the girls have nick-named the "Curly Wurly" so the name works.

Quotes on chalkboards on the pub walls:

"Life is too short to stuff a mushroom."

"There's no such thing as bad weather,
just bad clothing."

L-R: Robyn, Liz, Madelein, and me.

After dinner we took a walk along the river and returned to the house for a video and a taste of Robyn's homemade banoffee pie (I'd only had small pieces of store-bought until tonight). It's incredibly sweet but a really tasty concoction! There are lots of variations, but I found the official recipe online for those of you who want to try it.

The movie we watched was called, "Angus, Thongs and Perfect Snogging". It was filmed in Eastbourne and Brighton (I occasionally called out, "Hey! I've been there!") and it's a really cute, cheesy movie about fourteen and fifteen year old girls with mad crushes on the new boys at school. They agonize about family issues, bras, dates, and snogging techniques. Some truly funny moments and a light and fluffy chick-flick (same director as "Bend it Like Beckham"). The most hilarious thing was realizing that in our late twenties and thirties, we still behave like fifteen year old girls when it comes to guys. Sad or charming? I'm not sure.

Eastbourne - Brighton

When I was in Eastbourne for Christmas, I met Sarah, one of Henry's cousins who lives near Brighton. She told me I should visit Brighton sometime and she would show me around the city. I got in touch with her and took her up on her offer, catching the train to Brighton this morning and spending most of the day exploring the city and sea front with her. It's definitely easier and a lot more fun to see the highlights of a place with your own personal tour guide!

Sarah took me down The Lanes, a character-filled (literally), colourful shopping area covering a few narrow streets. She was able to advise me regarding the shops were worth visiting or skipping.

The Lanes.

I'm not into getting punctured with multiple piercings, but I thought this was an interesting storefront.

One street in Brighton has several parking areas with the surrounding walls smothered in beautiful graffiti.

"So good! So good! I got you!"

Sarah took me to one of the most creative restaurants I've ever been to for lunch - it's set up as a bit of a marketplace with fruit and vegetables sold near the front of the shop with the walls lined with colourful bottles of sauces or other products for sale. Judging by the appearance of the restaurant, you expect the food to be served quite casually, but everything tastes and looks amazing and the prices are reasonable. I definitely recommend Bill's if any of you are ever in Brighton!

I snapped this pic as we entered the restaurant and quickly had a server ask me to put the camera away.

We walked through town, past the Royal Pavillion, and down to the seafront.

The Royal Pavillion.
Thanks, Sarah, for the tip on where to find the reflection!

There seems to be a bit of a rivalry between residents of Brighton and Eastbourne regarding which city is nicer and has a better sea front. Brighton seems to have more going on but Eastbourne seems cleaner and has a more relaxed feel to it, so I think my preference would depend on the day and the friends I was with.

Brighton sea front.

Shells for sale at a shop along the sea front.

Sarah's feet on the pebble beach.

Sarah loves being outdoors, so I told her she's more than welcome to visit me in Canada as British Columbia has amazing opportunities for camping and hiking. She looked at me sceptically and asked, "Are there bears?" Most people go to Canada because they want to see bears, but Sarah isn't one of them (nothing in the UK preys on humans and she likes it that way). I told her about bears and cougars and how they're not really a threat but you have to be aware of them and be careful. She looked at me like I was crazy and said, "All we have to worry about is the weather and we still manage to kill ourselves!" I got the impression she views a trip to Canada as flirting with disaster.

Brighton's West Pier.

The Brighton Pier.

We walked along the Brighton Pier, through the arcade, and past the rides at the end of the pier. When we entered the arcade, a man madly shoving coins into a machine caught our eye. We stopped to watch for a little while and noticed a couple who had stopped for the same reason. We chatted briefly with them and they also expressed their shock at seeing this man emptying a container of ten-pence coins into the machine. The game has a sliding tray which catches your coins and, depending on how full it is, sometimes slides the coins off into the tray below and the build-up of coins eventually moves forward, pushing coins into a dispensing tray and occasionally dropping prizes into the dispensing tray as well. The man was obviously trying to get a cell phone to fall out. It was heart-breaking to watch him emptying so much cash into the machine. When we finished at the pier, we went back to see if he was still there. He was, and the other couple had returned at the same time for the same reason. None of us could believe that he had spent so much time emptying money into the machine, moving at a frantic pace to keep the coins moving through the slot. The coin kiosk was nearby so I went and asked the attendent how long he had been there. She said she wasn't sure how long he had been at that specific machine (at least an hour), but he often comes to the arcade and today he had been there since 10:30 a.m. It was now 4:30 p.m. As we watched, he finally emptied his container and left, the cell phone still inside the display case.

A sad compulsion in progress.

Sarah checked the floor and found a few coins, sharing them with me so we could try out these games of sheer luck. We split them and dropped them into a couple of machines. We continued checking other machines and the floor for spare change and were amazed by how many were left behind. As I expected, the games are set up to make us all losers and after a few minutes and lots of laughter, we left empty-handed.

Brighton Pier.

Sarah - friend and fabulous tour guide!

As we walked along one of the streets, Sarah pointed out an old theatre and I stopped dead in my tracks and gasped at the production that was being advertised. I know most of you won't understand why this means so much to me, but I know my family is going to get a good laugh out of this.



It's a West End production of Seven Brides for Seven Brothers! My all-time favourite musical and a movie I've watched so many times that I could probably quote the whole thing and sing along with the songs!

"My name's Adam Pontipee."
"Odd name I must say."
"I live on the mountain. Have a farm up there. There's high grazing meadows, sheep, milking cows. Only thing it ain't got, it ain't got a woman. How 'bout it?"
"How 'bout what?"
"I just told ya - how 'bout marryin' me?"

It makes me laugh just to type out such ridiculous lines. Best movie ever. Yes, I know I'm a loser, but I've watched that movie since I was a little kid and I still love watching it. I've seen it at least twenty or thirty times all the way through (I bought the DVD a few years ago). I can't believe it's a stage play too!

David, I look forward to reading your comments. Come on, admit it... I know you love the movie.

Eastbourne - Beachy Head

I walked over to Sarah's place after church (she lives right behind the church so it wasn't much of a trek) and we walked into town for lunch, then a hike up Beachy Head, stopped at the pub to cool off, and then back through Eastbourne. At the pub I ordered a lemonade and was served some kind of sparkling water with a slice of lemon. I stared at the glass, then looked at Sarah blankly and quietly asked what it was. She looked at me like I was crazy and said, "It's lemonade." I must have sounded like a complete moron as I asked, "But, it's carbonated - what's in it?" I can't handle carbonated drinks - the fizz makes me gag - so I went back and just ordered regular water with lemon. I tried to describe the North American version of lemonade and my description of "lemons and water with lots of sugar" didn't seem appealing to Sarah, though my mouth watered at the thought of a big glass of fresh lemonade... the "real" kind. It was a good learning experience! (Click the "lemonade" link above for descriptions of what you'll get when you ask for the drink in different countries - I had no idea until now!)

Sarah was one of my roommates in Switzerland and I'm so glad she lives in Eastbourne! It was fun to reconnect with her and spend an afternoon together. She's the kind of person who isn't afraid to ask or answer personal questions, yet we also have no trouble laughing for ages and cracking jokes about the most ridiculous things.

Eastbourne - Braai

Tonight I experienced my first braai... finally!

Robyn and Madelein are from South Africa and I've heard them talk about having braais, I've seen photos on Facebook, and I've heard others talk about this ritual of having a braai on a sunny evening. (A braai is essentially a barbeque, it's just a more exotic name for it, but don't tell them I said that.) Today was a beautiful day and the girls had a couple of South African friends in town so they invited a few more friends, stopped by Richard's butcher shop for chops and sausage... and then tried to light the coals on the barbeque. Robyn had just finished telling me that the only good thing about British barbequing are the self-lighting bags of charcoal. She and her friend told me how the English are crazy because they barbeque vegetable kebabs and hamburgers (seems normal to me) and the only good thing to braai is meat. I asked them why hamburgers don't qualify as "meat" and they scoffed at the idea, saying that hamburger patties should be baked or fried. Vegetables should apparently never be placed over charcoal as far as they're concerned. Anyway, the charcoal wouldn't light. The husband of their friend couldn't even get it going. The three of us were standing around the barbeque and they kept going on about how there must be something wrong with the charcoal. Being the well-trained, outdoor-loving Canadian that I am, I found some dry twigs and said, "Okay, we need to build a teepee."

The charcoal was burning in a matter of seconds. It was definitely a small yet proud moment. Thanks, Dad.

Liz relaxing in the hammock before supper.

The delicious spread of food.

The braai was great - food always tastes better cooked over a fire. I pulled out Ula's apple pancakes that I'd brought back from Poland and we heated them over the fire, topping them with dollops of sour cream and strawberry jam, and giving each person a pancake to try. They were quite good, even as left-overs, and people seemed to find the sour cream and jam combination oddly tasty, though better if the flavours are mixed a bit as a mouthful of sour cream and pancake just isn't very appetizing.

Robyn pulled out a swingball game and we set it up in the backyard. I gave it a try but it was pretty comical - I've never been good at anything involving a ball flying at my head at a high rate of speed. The first time my dad tried taking me to a raquetball court, he hit the ball and I laughed as I said, "You've got to be kidding! There's no way I can play this!" He made me try hitting it a few times but quickly realized I was right. I think it stems from being hit in the head at a couple of softball games when I was a kid. Or maybe I have an issue with depth perception. Whatever the reason, I'm much happier with a laid-back game of frisbee on a beach. I may not be good at that either, but at least I don't flinch every time the frisbee comes near me.

Liz and Katie having a game of swingball.

Henry recently decided to add a few pigs on the farm. He set up a pen behind the cottage where he, Robyn and Madelein live. Although he tried to stop them, the girls had soon named each piglet, well-knowing they'll be heading to the butcher in a few months.

Pork Chop, Rasher, Emily (the name was chosen by Henry's niece, Jess), Hank (the girls graciously let Henry name one of his pigs... all are females), and Uggo (the name was chosen by Liz), are now happily rooting around in their pen and providing Robyn and Madelein with plenty of entertainment from their kitchen window.


Pigs are one of the few animals that can make me laugh out loud without really doing anything funny. If they stop and stare at me I can hear "Pigs in Spaaaace!" in my mind and that makes me laugh even harder.

Pigs. Funny without trying.

Poland to Eastbourne

This morning I left Poland, smuggling some leftover apple pancakes and pierogies in my backpack to share with friends back in Eastbourne. I couldn't find any food items on the list of forbidden items so I think it might have been legal, but I didn't ask at the security checkpoint. The guards are actually soldiers, or maybe in Poland they dress their security guards in camoflauge gear and give them guns just to intimidate tourists.


Madelein picked me up from the train station and we had a cup of tea at the cottage before I walked back to the farmhouse to unpack and prepare for dinner (I went out for a farewell dinner with six other girls as one of the girls is moving away from Eastbourne on Sunday). I noticed it was six o'clock and I saw Henry as I passed the barn so I asked if the orphans needed to be fed. A few minutes later Richard walked up and made an exaggerated gesture as though he were checking his watch. I laughed and said, "I know - it's six o'clock - I already offered to feed them." This second stay at the farm was more to have a chance to visit friends in the area, but I was happy to help on the farm whenever I could. Things were a lot quieter so Henry took care of the midnight and 6 a.m. feedings and I helped with the noon and 6 p.m. feedings whenever I was around.

I definitely had a fabulous time in Poland, but I was happy to be back on the farm. In the beginning I wasn't sure how long it would take to get past the novelty of being around the lambs, but I still haven't reached that point. They're all different, they're all cute, and there's something amazing about being surrounded by the miracle of new life. The six or seven orphans I left when I went to Poland had all been sold or fostered so I was greeted by four new hungry lambs.

Poland - Fortress, Forest Walk, Speaking Polish

I loved the breakfasts in Poland! Ula said it's easier for her to just put everything out rather than ask people what they want and make individual plates of food. New types of meat and cheese seemed to appear every day as well as different types of salad or sliced vegetables.

Clockwise from top, left:

Basket of two or three types of bread.
Platter of six or seven types of meat.
Plate of three kinds of cheese.
Smoked cheese (texture was like a dry, less salty feta).
Plate with sliced tomatoes, radishes, and cucumber with green onion.
Eggs scrambled with onion and two kinds of sausage.
(The yellow mug is my tea with lemon - when I tried it for the first time and told Ula I liked it she was thrilled and told me I could be her daughter forever - she thought it was "super" anytime I enjoyed Polish things.)
Sliced soft cheese and tomato with vinaigrette dressing.
Butter.
Jam.

This is the fattest, furriest, friendliest weiner dog mutt I've ever seen. They called him "Freddick" but I went with "Freddy".

Spring has arrived in Poland! I enjoyed temperatures in the high teens or low twenties throughout my stay!

Today Ula introduced me to her childhood haunts. She was raised in a beautiful, tiny town called Srebrna Góra, which is nestled in a narrow valley. (Ula moved to Ząbkowice with Ela when she married Stanley.)

Stanley dropped us off along a steep road leading to a fortress above the town. I've had trouble finding information about the fortress online, so for those who like extra info, you'll have to skip it this time! Here are photos of the exterior and interior. Here's what I found: "The biggest fortress in the mountains of Europe (also known as Festung Silberberg), built 1765-1777 as ordered by the Prussian king Friedrich The Great after wars over Silesia region, along with fortresses in Świdnica (Schweidnitz), Kłodzko (Glatz), Nysa (Neisse) and Koźle (Kosel) was called by him 'one by the five keys to Silesia'."



After wandering through the fort, we followed a path along the top of the outside edge of the massive trench surrounding the fortress. Ula told me about how she used to explore this area as a child prior to the area undergoing reconstruction and repairs. She said it was the ultimate place to play games - crawling through tunnels and exploring the hills with complete freedom.

Reminded me of the Kootenays, British Columbia.

On the left and in the background are fortress walls, in the middle is a shallow area of the trench (much deeper and wider at other areas), with the pathway on the right.

We descended the hill and turned down the road to follow another pathway through the forest and along two huge bridges that haven't been used in quite some time. Birds were singing, butterflies fluttered past, trees and flowers were blooming, and the sun was shining brightly. A beautiful day for a long walk! Ula said she used to spend hours walking these trails as a child.

Emerging from the forest to sweeping views of agricultural land.

Stanley picked us up and on our way back to the house we stopped by a bar and Ula said that Stanley was going in to pick up some pierogies for me for supper because she didn't have time to prepare any for me from scratch. I told her it really wasn't necessary and she said, "No, no! We must serve you pierogi while you're here!" I was secretly really thrilled to have a final chance to enjoy pierogi in Poland! Nothing quite like home-made pierogi, and those from the bar were just like my Babcia used to make them!

We stopped at a grocery store to pick up a few items and then Stanley headed home, leaving Ula to give me a tour of Ząbkowice before walking back to the house. It's a small town so the tour didn't take long, but there are some beautiful areas.

The usual impressive town hall, or "rat house" as they like to call it.

Ząbkowice has a leaning tower, but the exact date of its construction is not known, neither is the purpose for which it was originally built. It is also unclear why the tower began leaning, although I was told it was caused by an earthquake. I found a note online stating that the tower is thirty-four metres high and the deviation from its vertical position has now reached over two metres at the top (for comparison, the top of the Leaning Tower of Pisa is almost four metres from where it should be).

Poland's take on the leaning tower.

Ruins of a castle in Ząbkowice.

Ruins of a castle in Ząbkowice.

This evening Mariusz brought his girlfriend, daughters, and Ludmila for a visit and so I had a final chance to say goodbye. It was great to see them again and I called my family on Skype so they could meet each other. Jonathan held our dog up to the webcam because I had told everyone how we named our dog Suka, which is the Polish word for female dog, and they got a good laugh out of seeing our fluffy little mutt (yes, we named our dog "Bitch", but most people don't know that's what her name means... although now all of you know...). My dad came on the webcam and used some of the Polish words he could remember, much to everyone's delight.

When they met me, my relatives in Poland were quite horrified that I neither speak Polish nor drink vodka (Ula gasped in mock horror, "What kind of Polish girl are you?"). My favourite quote from Ula was when she was explaining Polish pronunciation and she finally said matter-of-factly, "Polish is very easy after a bottle of vodka." (The tongue needs to be really loose.) I studied Spanish about ten years ago and having experience with the vowel shapes and rolled "r" sound definitely helped when attempting Polish. I was happy that whenever Ula asked me to try saying Polish words I would say the word and she would look surprised for a split second before shrugging and saying, "Ah, she's Polish," as though I were born to speak the language so it shouldn't be surprising that I could pronounce the words decently on the first try. She found it really amusing that I would rattle off a whole bunch of English and then say a word like "babcia" or "pierogi" with Polish pronunciation without a second thought because I grew up using the words.

I did learn a few Polish words during my stay and my favourite was "Smacznego!" (pronounced smatch-NEH-go) which has the same meaning as the French phrase, "Bon appétit!". When sitting down for a meal we would all say, "Smacznego!" to each other. It's a fun word, both in sound and meaning.

The plan was for me to go to Wrocław tonight, stay overnight at Ela's apartment (she had to go back last night and work today), and then she would take me to the airport by bus in the morning to save the long drive first thing in the morning. I asked Ula if I would be catching the bus to Wrocław and she replied incredulously, "No, no, no! You are princess Amanda! You are too little to take the bus! Of course we will drive you." I couldn't argue with an explanation like that.