SAM is the name of a cafe that was recommended to me near the University library. It is very Euro-chic -- wooden tables, including a long communal table in the middle, some couches, stools and chairs, big blackboard with menu, wi-fi, of course. The food was fresh and interesting, and small dishes were not expensive -- I had a panini'd baguette with camembert, rocket, and avocado, and Steve had Tunisian fish soup. Great coffee and nice loose leaf tea -- as I keep saying with most places I'm finding, we'll be back.
The cafe's name is evocative. On the one hand, it could be a person's name. Or, in all-caps, it looks like an abbreviation for something -- haven't thought of what yet. But it could also be the Polish word "sam," as in "myself" or "himself." (Or "alone.")
Some years ago I was told that Alexander Men, the evangelical Russian Orthodox priest who was murdered in 1990 outside his home, in his final moments in response to two women who offered him help as he stumbled, bleeding, toward the gate of his yard, said: "Ne nado, ia sam," no need, I can do it myself.
"Ia sam." I can do it myself. Those are the same words spoken by the psychologically damaged artist-brother in Vladimir Makanin's novel Underground, or a Hero of our Time, when he is headed back to the mental asylum after his 24-hour furlough. Trying to maintain a semblance of autonomy in the face of his inability to cope with the outside world, he insists "I'll go in myself," don't help me.
Finally, in the film Chapaev (1934), when Vasily Ivanych has been wounded and is trying to swim across the Ural river anyway to escape the enemy forces, he also says "ia sam"; don't try to help me swim, I can do it myself.
Of course, he drowns. He couldn't manage by himself.
But that isn't the point.
The point is independence -- in the face of physical or psychological injury, while taking those last steps or last strokes before death, incarceration, or the loony bin, these individuals, both real and fictional, choose autonomy, demonstrate their own mind, their own choice, their own mobility.
None of us wants to take those last steps alone. But we also don't really want a hand. In the face of emptiness, independence, autonomy, is vital.
These are grim thoughts to associate with a fabulous latte and a fresh panini on scrumptious bread. But as I continue on my Warsaw foodie trek, I want to celebrate the opportunity to choose where to spend my time (and zloty), and I also want to celebrate the independent-thinking people out there who are creating such enclaves across the city -- clean, tasty, cozy.
Especially in the face of Marks & Spencer, TKMaxx, and Coffee Heaven, chains that are spreading all over the city, these independent shopkeepers and cafe owners who want to create something, make a profit, and make a difference in the lives of their fellow Warsawians (not to mention foreigners like us who wander in) feel like the real Poland: resisting globalization and celebrating the new opportunities of post-Communist Poland.
Except, of course, being part of the EU means globalization has a slightly different meaning. One can resist KFC and Starbucks while also benefitting from the experience of other European countries.
For example, "The Cookie" is a new cafe that has opened up not far from us, on ul. Gagarina, near Lazienki Park. A sweet place, also very chic, run by a couple who have worked on and off in food service near London in the summers while they were completing their undergraduate degrees in Poland. This is their very own venture, and they plan to run it by themselves. Autonomy *and* capitalism. European-style.
But does the maxim of "ia sam" really fit? When we popped into "The Cookie" the other day, probably a week after it opened, there were no cookies in sight.
I offered to translate into grams my "Angela's Best Cookie" recipe and bring it over.
A little help from a friend, or a stranger. While you're doing it yourself. That can be even better. That's the proper way to explore the globalizing world.
Recipe TK, as my mom would say.
The cafe's name is evocative. On the one hand, it could be a person's name. Or, in all-caps, it looks like an abbreviation for something -- haven't thought of what yet. But it could also be the Polish word "sam," as in "myself" or "himself." (Or "alone.")
Some years ago I was told that Alexander Men, the evangelical Russian Orthodox priest who was murdered in 1990 outside his home, in his final moments in response to two women who offered him help as he stumbled, bleeding, toward the gate of his yard, said: "Ne nado, ia sam," no need, I can do it myself.
"Ia sam." I can do it myself. Those are the same words spoken by the psychologically damaged artist-brother in Vladimir Makanin's novel Underground, or a Hero of our Time, when he is headed back to the mental asylum after his 24-hour furlough. Trying to maintain a semblance of autonomy in the face of his inability to cope with the outside world, he insists "I'll go in myself," don't help me.
Finally, in the film Chapaev (1934), when Vasily Ivanych has been wounded and is trying to swim across the Ural river anyway to escape the enemy forces, he also says "ia sam"; don't try to help me swim, I can do it myself.
Of course, he drowns. He couldn't manage by himself.
But that isn't the point.
The point is independence -- in the face of physical or psychological injury, while taking those last steps or last strokes before death, incarceration, or the loony bin, these individuals, both real and fictional, choose autonomy, demonstrate their own mind, their own choice, their own mobility.
None of us wants to take those last steps alone. But we also don't really want a hand. In the face of emptiness, independence, autonomy, is vital.
These are grim thoughts to associate with a fabulous latte and a fresh panini on scrumptious bread. But as I continue on my Warsaw foodie trek, I want to celebrate the opportunity to choose where to spend my time (and zloty), and I also want to celebrate the independent-thinking people out there who are creating such enclaves across the city -- clean, tasty, cozy.
For example, "The Cookie" is a new cafe that has opened up not far from us, on ul. Gagarina, near Lazienki Park. A sweet place, also very chic, run by a couple who have worked on and off in food service near London in the summers while they were completing their undergraduate degrees in Poland. This is their very own venture, and they plan to run it by themselves. Autonomy *and* capitalism. European-style.
But does the maxim of "ia sam" really fit? When we popped into "The Cookie" the other day, probably a week after it opened, there were no cookies in sight.
I offered to translate into grams my "Angela's Best Cookie" recipe and bring it over.
A little help from a friend, or a stranger. While you're doing it yourself. That can be even better. That's the proper way to explore the globalizing world.
Recipe TK, as my mom would say.
Comments
Post a Comment