As the first half of my time here in Poland began nearing its end, I
became aware of several important things. First, Poland is a very cold
place with cold wind and cold water and cold, cold, cold. With this in
mind, the impending holiday season came as no surprise as it happens
to do when I'm in Florida. I remember so vividly the fact that I was
always taken somewhat aback at the end of fall term and the arrival of
the holiday season. Perhaps it was the capricious weather so common to
Florida, being unable to really tell the passage of time at all.
Regardless, at the end of last fall term, I was in the process of
realizing that Hanukkah and Christmas were both at hand and I was
nearing the end of my life, as I knew it.

Last year, Hanukkah began four days before term ended and I was left
with a sense of loneliness of the few days that remained between the
life I was living and the one I was going back to. It wasn't really
all that different from previous years, there's just some strange
feeling you get as everything you've established as routine for the
past few months has suddenly yet graciously ended, and there you are
with a few weeks of being totally in limbo with no firm goals in
place. As it happened, I spent Hanukkah with the Goldberg and Simmens
families, eating good food and having a merry time. Christmas was no
different. I went home, having been away for some time, and finding
myself comfortably back in an old routine that seems so foreign when
you're away. I knew that this year would be no different, though
perhaps a bit harder being 6000 miles away instead of 600. (I might
add, that Christmas in Dixie this year was more beautiful than any
other.)

The Christmas season comes with its usual flourish, even here in
Poland. A gripping cold seemed to dominate but did not deter the
festivities in the slightest. The Tuesday after Thanksgiving I braved
with wind and snow to bring myself into the Rynek to see that the
Christmas market was being set up in the square. Feeling a bit like a
snowman with perfect powder dusting my hat, coat, and gloves, I was
feeling warm despite the bitter cold. I was quite interested in what
kinds of things I might see or experience in this city so full of
life. There was a lot of what I semi-expected: decorated trees, red
and green bows, Christmas lights donning the narrow cobble streets,
but what struck me as most odd and most interesting was this obscure
(only to me of course) event called Szopka. On the first Thursday of
December every year, there is a competition to see who can make the
best cradle/crib in Krakow. I found that to be such a unique but
amazing way to remember this holiday. Krakow, it seemed, would not be
in short of interesting holiday activities. There were hand carved
Santas, Śwęty Mikołaj or Holy Nicholas in Polish, there were hand
blown glass ornaments in the Christmas market and even Tesco
proclaimed in lights Wesołych Świąt, Happy Holidays. There was cheer
everywhere.

Yet, down at Dajwor 18, at the Galicia Jewish Museum, other
preparations were being made. Hanukkah was upon us and there was so
much to be done. A few weeks before it was decided that we would try
to do Hanukkah workshops for some schools, teaching about the holiday,
etc. With the first confirmation being the British School of Krakow,
Karolina went busily to work hunting activities for the kids to do,
and she did an absolutely brilliant job. It was finally decided that
we would do the Hanukkah story, play dreidel, and do some artwork with
the kids, and possibly make latkes for everyone. This never seemed a
firm plan. This is also how I found myself making 40 latkes 3 hours
before 36 children were to arrive at the museum.

With three bags of potatoes, some eggs, and a lot of oil, I found
myself in the kitchen of my flat madly trying to rush prepare a dish I
had never made. Recipe in hand, Jaime and I embraced it and went on. I
made a comment to Karolina at the museum on the fact that I didn't
have a potato peeler, she commented, "you're in Poland, use a knife."
Fair enough, but thinking back on the sweet potato incident of 2003, I
wasn't sure if that was wise. I didn't want to have to ask Jaime as I
asked Angela, "how deep should a cut be before you need stitches."
Deciding that I would not injure myself, I set to work. One should
never make such promises to oneself. After successfully peeling what
felt like 3 tons of potatoes, my next task was to grate. I had Jaime
on onions, as he sniffled and wept his way through the infamously
strong Polish onion, and I set to work with the cheese grater and
potatoes. I really thought, foolishly I now know, that the danger had
passed.

I was grating, grating like I had never grated before. First one
potato, then the next, and the next, I was making good time, but about
6 potatoes in, I suffered an injury. Grating without care, I
accidentally grated the skin off the knuckle of my thumb, and it hurt
like the dickens. Drawing my hand back before the onslaught of blood
flow began, I cursed, hopped, and cradled the bloodied nub to my body.
I was out; I had to call in a replacement. Whilst Jaime finished
grating and straining the potatoes, I set about prep work: eggs,
baking soda, flour, baking powder. Oil, check, skillets, check. Once
everything had been properly mixed, I fired up The Inferno and set to
work. Somehow, we had managed to cook near 50 latkes in about an hour,
and that right there, I personally feel was the miracle of Hanukkah.

Arriving at the museum in time to begin the workshop, we had a brief
moment of relaxation before the stampede of little ones. It was going
to be fun. I was to tell the Hanukkah story, but being me, I decided
it needed some kick, some participation by the audience. So, we
divided the kids into three groups: the Maccabees, the army, and the
Jews, and of course, one sole little boy to play Antiochus. I had it
all worked out, whenever the kids would hear their group's name
(Maccabees, etc.) they had key phrase that they had to yell. I had the
Maccabees chanting 'who you gonna call?' in Ghostbuster style, which
tickled the teachers to no end. The army were to stamp their feet and
sing 'we are the members of the Greek army' from A League of Their
Own, and finally, the Jews would say 'oy vey, what shall we do?' And
of course, who could forget little Antiochus who would say, 'I'm
grumpy and it's your fault!' It was quite fun. I think I had as much
fun as the kids did as the storyteller. We explained the significance
of the menorah, its lights, and other symbols, before letting one of
the children light the menorah. With latkes in the belly, the Hanukkah
story under their belt, and the Hanukkiah glowing, we played dreidel
but ran out of time for crafts. We did manage however to teach them
four Hebrew letters, which I thought was quite the success.

We repeated this again at the American school, where in the heat of
the moment, I accidentally added in that Alexander the Great died as
an old man. One little boy corrected me by saying, 'didn't Alexander
die at age 34 by drinking too much?' I told him I didn't know but I
would be sure to look into it. At any rate, they were incredibly good
fun to be with. Songs, candy, latkes, and menorahs, it was a truly
fantastic time.

At the museum, the Hanukkah candles were lit diligently each evening
and on the first night, there was a wonderful celebration with food,
songs, and dancing. Aside from the traditional latke, we also had
fried bananas, an Indian (from India) dish that is traditional amongst
Indian Jews. Looking around at all the faces, Poles, Americans, Brits,
Israelis, Jews, and non-Jews, it was a beautiful moment. For a brief
time, there was no argument or disagreements about religion or
politics or pasts and presents, it was just peace. Smiling faces
beamed out over the menorah lit so wonderfully. Warm and at ease in
the museum, the world and its problems could be kept at bay for just a
little while.

Each night would not be as this one, but there was a certain beauty
and calm that seemed to be present when the amber glow of the candles
met out against that cold, dark Polish night. Was it strange to
celebrate Hanukkah in Krakow? Not really, it filled a void. Some
people say that there is this hole in the heart of Poland, that you
just know that something is missing, but for 8 nights, that hole
seemed to be a little smaller, even if it was just on Dajwor 18, at
the Galicia Jewish Museum.

Happy New Year! Hope to hear from you all soon.

Counting up:
Candles lit: around 25
Latkes made: somewhere near 100, but felt more like 1000
Injuries: 2

Links:
The Hanukkah Story
http://www.torahtots.com/holidays/chanuka/chanstr.htm

Polish Christmas Traditions
http://acweb.colum.edu/users/agunkel/homepage/polxmas.html

Online Dreidel
http://www.jewfaq.org/dreidel/