Category Archives: Poland

Poles & Cossacks vs. Ottomans

From The Gates of Europe: A History of Ukraine, by Serhii Plokhy (Basic Books, 2017), Kindle pp. 127-131:

The Ukrainian Cossacks, who had begun their international career in the 1550s by serving the tsar of Muscovy, Ivan the Terrible, paid an unsolicited visit to Moscow during the first decade of the seventeenth century. Muscovy was then in turmoil because of an economic, dynastic, and political crisis known as the Time of Troubles. It began at the turn of the seventeenth century with a number of devastating famines caused in part by what we today call the Little Ice Age—a period of low temperatures that lasted half a millennium, from about 1350 to 1850, peaking around the beginning of the seventeenth century. The crisis afflicted Muscovy at a most inopportune time, when its Rurikid dynasty had died out and a number of aristocratic clans contested the legitimacy of the new rulers. The dynastic crisis came to an end in 1613 with the election to the Muscovite throne of the first Romanov tsar. But before the crisis was resolved, a number of candidates for the throne, some of them “pretenders” claiming to be surviving relatives of Ivan the Terrible, tried their political luck, opening the door to foreign intervention.

During the lengthy interregnum, the Cossacks supported the two pretenders seeking the Muscovite throne, False Dmitrii I and False Dmitrii II. Up to 10,000 Cossacks joined the army of Field Crown Hetman Stanisław Żółkiewski of Poland when he marched on Moscow in 1610. The election to the Muscovite throne three years later of Tsar Mikhail Romanov, founder of the dynasty that lasted until the Revolution of 1917, did not end Cossack involvement in Muscovite affairs. In 1618, a Ukrainian Cossack army of 20,000 joined Polish troops in their march on Moscow and took part in the siege of the capital. The Cossacks helped end the war on conditions favorable to the Kingdom of Poland. One of them was the transfer to Poland of the Chernihiv land, which the Grand Duchy of Lithuania had lost in the early sixteenth century. By the mid-seventeenth century, Chernihiv would become an important part of the Cossack world. As always, however, the Cossacks both helped and hindered the Polish kings in advancing their foreign-policy agenda. In its war with Muscovy, the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth never got the support it hoped for from the Ottoman Empire, partly because of continuing Cossack seagoing expeditions and attacks on the Ottoman littoral.

In 1606, descending the Dnieper and entering the Black Sea on their longboats, called “seagulls” (chaiky), the Cossacks stormed Varna, one of the strongest Ottoman fortresses on the western Black Sea shore. In 1614 they pillaged Trabzon on the southeastern shore, and in the following year they entered the Istanbul harbor of the Golden Horn and pillaged the suburbs, much as the Vikings had done some 750 years earlier. But whereas the Vikings had also traded with Constantinople, the Cossack expeditions were akin to pirate attacks on seashores from the Mediterranean to the Caribbean. They came to rob, take revenge, and, as Ukrainian folk songs related, liberate long-suffering slaves. In 1616, they attacked Kaffa, the main slave-trading center on the Crimean coast, and liberated all the captives.

The sultan, his court, and the foreign ambassadors who witnessed one Cossack attack after another on the mighty Ottoman Empire were stunned. The Christian rulers could now take the raiders seriously as potential allies in a war against the Ottomans. The French ambassador in Istanbul, Count Philippe de Harlay of Césy, wrote to King Louis XIII in August 1620, “Every time the Cossacks are near here on the Black Sea, they seize incredible booty despite their weak forces and have such a reputation that strokes of the cudgel are required to force the Turkish soldiers to do battle against them on several galleys that the grand seigneur [the sultan] sends there with great difficulty.”

While Count Philippe was informing his king about the inability of the Ottomans to curb the Cossack seagoing expeditions, advisers to sixteen-year-old Sultan Osman II were considering how to wage war on two fronts: against the Polish army on land and the Cossacks at sea. In the summer of 1620, the Ottoman army marched toward the Prut River in today’s Moldova against the commonwealth, whose troops included private Cossack armies of Polish and Ukrainian magnates. The campaign aimed ostensibly to punish the commonwealth for not curbing Cossack attacks on the Ottomans. In reality, the agenda was much broader. The Ottomans were trying to protect their vassals in the region from the growing influence of the commonwealth. The Polish army, numbering some 10,000 soldiers, and the Ottoman force, twice as large according to some estimates, clashed in September 1620 near the town of Ţuţora on today’s Moldovan-Romanian border. The battle went on for twenty days, ending with a crushing defeat for the commonwealth.

Since the commonwealth had no standing army, the court and the entire country panicked. Everyone expected the Ottomans to continue their march on Poland. Indeed they did. In the following year, a much larger Ottoman army, estimated at 120,000 soldiers and led by the sultan himself, passed through Moldavia on its way to the commonwealth. The Ottomans met a commonwealth force approximately 40,000 strong, half of it made up of Ukrainian Cossacks, led by Petro Konashevych-Sahaidachny, hero of the Cossacks’ raid of 1616 on Kaffa and commander of their march on Moscow two years later. The battle lasted a whole month, waged on the banks of the Dniester River near the fortress of Khotyn, which the Ottomans besieged.

The Battle of Khotyn ended with no clear victory for either side, but that uncertain outcome was regarded in Warsaw as a triumph for the Kingdom of Poland. The Poles had stopped the huge Ottoman army at their borders and signed a peace treaty that involved no territorial losses. Everyone understood that this result would have been all but impossible without the Cossacks. For the first time—and a short time at that—the Cossacks became the darlings of the entire commonwealth. Books that appeared soon after the battle would lionize Petro Konashevych-Sahaidachny, whose monument stands today in the Podil district of Kyiv at the head of the street named after him, as one of the greatest Polish warriors.

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Royals vs. Nobles, 1500s

From The Gates of Europe: A History of Ukraine, by Serhii Plokhy (Basic Books, 2017), Kindle pp. 107-109:

ALL OVER EUROPE, the sixteenth century was marked by the strengthening of royal authority, centralization of the state, and regularization of political and social practices. The other side of the coin was increasing aristocratic opposition to the growth of royal power, which in the Polish-Lithuanian case came from the aristocratic houses of the grand duchy, many of them deeply rooted in the princely tradition of Kyivan Rus’ and GaliciaVolhynia. But in the mid-sixteenth century, elite opposition to increasing royal power diminished in response to the growing external threat to the grand duchy, which it could meet only with the help of Poland. The threat came from the east, where in the course of the fifteenth century a major new power had been rising: the Grand Duchy of Muscovy.

In 1476 Grand Prince Ivan III, the first Muscovite ruler to call himself tsar, declared the independence of his realm from the Horde and refused to pay tribute to the khans. He also launched a campaign of “gathering the Rus’ lands,” taking Novgorod, Tver, and Viatka and laying claim to other Rus’ lands outside the former Mongol realm, including those of today’s Ukraine. In the last decades of the fifteenth century, the newly created Tsardom of Muscovy and the Grand Duchy of Lithuania entered into a prolonged conflict over the heritage of Kyivan Rus’. Muscovy was on the offensive, and by the early sixteenth century the grand dukes had to recognize the tsar’s rule over two of their former territories, Smolensk and Chernihiv. It was the first time that Muscovy had established its rule over part of what is now Ukraine.

The westward advance of Muscovy, stopped by the grand dukes at the beginning of the sixteenth century, resumed in the second half. In 1558, Ivan the Terrible, the decisive and charismatic but also erratic, brutal, and ultimately self-destructive tsar of Muscovy, attacked Livonia, a polity bordering on the grand duchy that included parts of what are now Latvia and Estonia, starting the Livonian War (1558–1583), which would last for a quarter century and involve Sweden, Denmark, Lithuania, and eventually Poland. In 1563, Muscovite troops crossed the borders of the grand duchy, taking the city of Polatsk and raiding Vitsebsk (Vitebsk), Shkloŭ (Shklov), and Orsha (all in present-day Belarus). This defeat mobilized support for the grand duchy’s union with Poland among the lesser Lithuanian nobility.

In December 1568 Sigismund Augustus, who was both king of Poland and grand duke of Lithuania, convened two Diets in the city of Lublin—one for the kingdom, the other for the grand duchy—in the hope that their representatives would hammer out conditions for the new union. The negotiations began on a positive note, as the two sides agreed to the joint election of the king, a common Diet, or parliament, and broad autonomy for the grand duchy, but the magnates would not return the royal lands in their possession—the principal demand of the Polish nobility. The Lithuanian delegates packed their bags, assembled their retinues of noble clients, and left. This move backfired. Unexpectedly for the departing Lithuanians, the Diet of the Kingdom of Poland began to issue decrees, with the king’s blessing, transferring one province of the grand duchy after another to the jurisdiction of the Kingdom of Poland.

The Lithuanian magnates who had feared losing their provinces to Muscovy were now losing them to Poland instead. To stop a hostile takeover by their powerful Polish partner, the Lithuanians returned to Lublin to sign an agreement dictated by the Polish delegates. They were too late. In March 1569, the Podlachia palatinate on the Ukrainian-Belarusian-Polish ethnic border went to Poland. Volhynia followed in May, and on June 6, one day before the resumption of the Polish-Lithuanian talks, the Kyivan and Podolian lands were transferred to Poland as well. The Lithuanian aristocrats could only accept the new reality—they stood to lose even more if they continued to resist the union. In his magisterial depiction of the Lublin Diet, Jan Matejko, a famous nineteenth-century Polish artist, portrayed the chief opponent of the union, Mikalojus Radvilas, on his knees but with his sword drawn in front of the king.

The Union of Lublin created a new Polish-Lithuanian state with a single ruler, to be elected by the nobility of the whole realm, and a single Diet. It extended the freedoms of the Polish nobility to their counterparts in the Grand Duchy of Lithuania, which maintained its own offices, treasury, judicial system, and army. The new state, called the Commonwealth of Both Nations—Polish and Lithuanian—was a quasi-federal polity dominated by the geographically expanded and politically strengthened Kingdom of Poland. The kingdom incorporated the Ukrainian palatinates not as a group but one by one, with no guarantees but those pertaining to the use of the Ruthenian (Middle Ukrainian) language in the courts and administration and the protection of the rights of the Orthodox Church.

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Rus’ Elites Lose to Poland-Lithuania

From The Gates of Europe: A History of Ukraine, by Serhii Plokhy (Basic Books, 2017), Kindle pp. 105-107:

FROM THE VIEWPOINT of the Rus’ elites of the Grand Duchy of Lithuania, the unions with the Kingdom of Poland had caused nothing but trouble. The immediate outcome of the Union of Kreva was the loss of Rus’ influence on the grand prince, who not only moved out of the duchy but also became a Catholic, setting a precedent for his brothers, some of whom were Orthodox. The Orthodox hierarchs’ hope of establishing Byzantine rather than Latin Christianity in the last pagan realm in Europe were dashed.

But the real challenge to Rus’ political status came in 1413, when the Union of Horodło, which historiography treats as a dynastic union, enhanced the Union of Kreva, a personal union between the Kingdom of Poland and the Grand Duchy of Lithuania. Concluded between Jogaila, now king of Poland, and his cousin Vytautas, the grand duke of Lithuania, the new agreement extended many of the rights and privileges of the Polish nobility, including the right to unconditional ownership of land, to the Lithuanian nobility. Close to fifty Polish noble families offered to share their coats of arms with the same number of families from the grand duchy. But there was a catch: only Lithuanian Catholic families were invited to the party. The new rights and privileges were not accorded to the Orthodox elite. This was the first instance of discrimination against the Rus’ elites at the state level. Denied the new privileges, the Orthodox aristocrats were thus barred from holding high office in the central administration of the grand duchy. To add insult to injury, the Union of Horodło came on the heels of the curbing of Rus’ autonomy by one of the authors of the new union, Grand Duke Vytautas, who replaced the prince of Volhynia and rulers of some other lands with his own appointees.

An opportunity for the Rus’ elites to express their unhappiness with this encroachment on their status came soon after Vytautas’s death in 1430. In the succession struggle for the Lithuanian throne, which deteriorated into a civil war, the Rus’ nobles, led by the Volhynian boyars, supported their own candidate, Prince Švitrigaila. His rival, Prince Žygimantas, responded in 1434 by extending the rights and privileges guaranteed by the Union of Horodło to the Orthodox elites of the grand duchy, turning the tide of war in his favor. Although the Rus’ princes and nobles of Volhynia and the Kyiv Land remained suspicious of the intentions of Žygimantas, their support for Švitrigaila declined, allowing the grand duchy to return to a state of relative peace. With religion eliminated as a source of grievance among the Rus’ elites, the Lithuanian court had more room to maneuver in its continuing efforts to restrict the autonomy of the Rus’ lands and principalities.

In 1470, the grand duke and king of Poland, Casimir IV, abolished the last vestige of the princely era: the principality of Kyiv itself. Ten years later, the Kyivan princes conspired to kill Casimir and install one of their candidates, but their plot failed, leading to the arrest of the ringleaders and forcing the other conspirators to flee the grand duchy. With their departure came an end to the last hopes of restoring the way of life associated with the princely traditions of Kyivan Rus’. By the turn of the sixteenth century, not only Ukraine’s political map but also its institutional, social, and cultural landscape showed few traces of the period two centuries earlier when Galicia-Volhynia had striven to throw off Mongol suzerainty and become a fully independent actor in the region. While Rus’ law and language remained well established, they began to lose their previous dominance. These essentials of Rus’ culture could no longer compete with latinizing influences and the Polish language, which took pride of place in the grand duchy after the Union of Kreva.

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Defining Ukraine and Ukrainian

From The Gates of Europe: A History of Ukraine, by Serhii Plokhy (Basic Books, 2017), Kindle pp. 24-27:

Nation is an important—although not dominant—category of analysis and element of the story that, along with the ever changing idea of Europe, defines the nature of this narrative. This book tells the history of Ukraine within the borders defined by the ethnographers and mapmakers of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, which often (but not always) coincided with the borders of the present-day Ukrainian state. It follows the development of the ideas and identities linking those lands together from the times of the medieval Kyivan state, known in historiography as Kyivan Rus’, to the rise of modern nationalism and explains the origins of the modern Ukrainian state and political nation. In doing so, the book focuses on Ukrainians as the largest demographic group and, in time, the main force behind the creation of the modern nation and state. It pays attention to Ukraine’s minorities, especially Poles, Jews, and Russians, and treats the modern multiethnic and multicultural Ukrainian nation as a work in progress. Ukrainian culture always existed in a space shared with other cultures and early on involved navigating among the “others.” The ability of Ukrainian society to cross inner and outer frontiers and negotiate identities created by them constitutes the main characteristic of the history of Ukraine as presented in this book.

Politics, international and domestic, provide a convenient storyline, but in writing this book, I found geography, ecology, and culture most lasting and thus most influential in the long run. Contemporary Ukraine, as seen from the perspective of longue durée cultural trends, is a product of the interaction of two moving frontiers, one demarcated by the line between the Eurasian steppes and the eastern European parklands, the other defined by the border between Eastern and Western Christianity. The first frontier was also the one between sedentary and nomadic populations and, eventually, between Christianity and Islam. The second goes back to the division of the Roman Empire between Rome and Constantinople and marks differences in political culture between Europe’s east and west that still exist today. The movement of these frontiers over the centuries gave rise to a unique set of cultural features that formed the foundations of present-day Ukrainian identity.

One cannot tell the history of Ukraine without telling the story of its regions. The cultural and social space created by the movement of frontiers has not been homogenous. As state and imperial borders moved across the territory defined by Ukrainian ethnic boundaries, they created distinct cultural spaces that served as foundations of Ukraine’s regions—the former Hungarian-ruled Transcarpathia, historically Austrian Galicia, Polish-held Podolia and Volhynia, the Cossack Left Bank of the Dnieper with the lower reaches of that river, Sloboda Ukraine, and finally the Black Sea coast and the Donets basin, colonized in imperial Russian times. Unlike most of my predecessors, I try to avoid treating the history of various regions (such as the Russian- and Austrian-ruled parts of Ukraine) in separate sections of the book but rather look at them together, providing a comparative perspective on their development within a given period.

In conclusion, a few words about terminology. The ancestors of modern Ukrainians lived in dozens of premodern and modern principalities, kingdoms, and empires, and in the course of time they took on various names and identities. The two key terms that they used to define their land were “Rus’” and “Ukraine.” (In the Cyrillic alphabet, Rus’ is spelled Pycь: the last character is a soft sign indicating palatalized pronunciation of the preceding consonant.) The term “Rus’,” brought to the region by the Vikings in the ninth and tenth centuries, was adopted by the inhabitants of Kyivan Rus’, who took the Viking princes and warriors into their fold and Slavicized them. The ancestors of today’s Ukrainians, Russians, and Belarusians adopted the name “Rus’” in forms that varied from the Scandinavian/Slavic “Rus’” to the Hellenized “Rossiia.” In the eighteenth century, Muscovy adopted the latter form as the official name of its state and empire.

The Ukrainians had different appellations depending on the period and region in which they lived: Rusyns in Poland, Ruthenians in the Habsburg Empire, and Little Russians in the Russian Empire. In the course of the nineteenth century, Ukrainian nation builders decided to end the confusion by renouncing the name “Rus’” and clearly distinguishing themselves from the rest of the East Slavic world, especially from the Russians, by adopting “Ukraine” and “Ukrainian” to define their land and ethnic group, both in the Russian Empire and in Austria-Hungary. The name “Ukraine” had medieval origins and in the early modern era denoted the Cossack state in Dnieper Ukraine. In the collective mind of the nineteenth-century activists, the Cossacks, most of whom were of local origin, were the quintessential Ukrainians. To link the Rus’ past and the Ukrainian future, Mykhailo Hrushevsky called his ten-volume magnum opus History of Ukraine-Rus’. Indeed, anyone writing about the Ukrainian past today must use two or even more terms to define the ancestors of modern Ukrainians.

In this book, I use “Rus’” predominantly but not exclusively with reference to the medieval period. “Ruthenians” to denote Ukrainians of the early modern era, and “Ukrainians” when I write about modern times. Since the independent Ukrainian state’s creation in 1991, its citizens have all come to be known as “Ukrainians,” whatever their ethnic background. This usage reflects the current conventions of academic historiography, and although it makes for some complexity, I hope that it does not lead to confusion.

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Polish Realia: Samurai Armor

From Czas Samurajów exhibit, Muzeum Narodowe w Lublinie, Lublin:

zbroja (yoroi) ‘armor

hełm (kabuto) ‘helmet’
ozdoba hełmu (maedate) ‘front crest’
nakarczek (shikoro) ‘neckguard’
maska (menpou) ‘mask’
osłona gardła i szyi (tare) ‘throat [and neck] protector’
naramienniki (sode) ‘shoulder guards’
naręczaki (kote) ‘arm protector’
kirys (dou) ‘cuirass’
osłona bioder (kusazuri) ‘hip guards’
nabiodrki (haidate) ‘thigh guards’
nagolenniki (suneate) ‘greave’ [shin guards]

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Polish Realia: Japanese Sword Parts

From Czas Samurajów exhibit, Muzeum Narodowe w Lublinie, Lublin:

Blade parts:
sztych (kissaki) ‘point of blade’
długość główni (nagasa) ‘length of a blade’
krzywizna główni (sori) ‘curvature of a blade’
tylec (mune) ‘back of a blade’
ość (sinogi) ‘ridge’
trzpień główni (nakago) ‘tang of the blade’ [inside the handle]
otwór na kołek (mekugi-ana) ‘peg hole’ [to hold the blade in the handle]
sygnatura (mei) ‘signature’ [inside the handle]
krawędź ostrza (ha) ‘cutting edge’ [lit. ‘tooth’?]
wzór po skuwaniu (hada) ‘pattern after forging’ [lit. ‘skin’?]
linia hartowania ostrza (hamon) ‘tempering line of the blade’
linia hartowania sztychu (boshi) ‘tempering line of the kissaki

Scabbard parts:
pochwa (saya) ‘scabbard’
zakończenie pochwy (kojiri) ‘end of a scabbard’
sznur (sageo) ‘cord’
uszko do sznura (kurigata) ‘cord knob’
jelec (tsuba) ‘swordguard’ [or ‘handguard’]
kołnierz rękojeści (fuchi) ‘hilt collar’
rękojeść (tsuka) ‘hilt’
oplot rękojeści (tsuka-maki) ‘handle wrapping’
ozdoba rękojeści (menuki) ‘hilt ornament’
kołek (mekugi) ‘peg’
skóra płaszczki (samegawa) ‘ray skin’ [or ‘sharkskin’]
nasadka (kashira) ‘hilt pommel’

Handguard parts:
krawędź
(mimi) ‘rim’
otwór na trzpień główni (nakago ana) ‘[main blade] tang hole’
otwór bocny na nożyk kozuka 
(kozuka hitsu ana) ‘side hole for a kozuka knife’
otwór bocny na szpilę kougai (kougai-hitsu-ana) ‘side hole for a kougai hairpin’
powierzchnia (hiraji) ‘surface’
wkładki dopasowujące (sekigane) ‘metal inserts’

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Polish Realia: Longest City Name

Najdłuższa nazwa miasta w Polsce
The longest city name in Poland

To miasto ma najdłuższą nazwę w Polsce! Znajdziecie je w Świętokrzyskiem
This city has the longest name in Poland! You can find it in the Świętokrzyskie Voivodeship. via Radio Eska [SK] by Agnieszka Jędrasik

Jaka jest najdłuższa nazwa miasta w województwie świętokrzyskim? Liczy się każda literka, a tych najwięcej ma Ostrowiec Świętokrzyski. I tu ciekawostka … miasto to zajmuje także pierwsze miejsce w Polsce, jeśli chodzi o długość jego nazwy. O innych ciekawostkach dotyczących długości nazwy miast i miasteczek w regionie świętokrzyskim przeczytacie w naszym artykule.
What is the longest city name in the Świętokrzyskie Voivodeship? Every letter counts, and Ostrowiec Świętokrzyski has the most. And here’s an interesting fact… this city also ranks first in Poland when it comes to the length of its name. You can read about other interesting facts about the length of names of cities and towns in the Świętokrzyskie region in our article.

Najdłuższa nazwa miasta w Polsce liczy sobie 22 litery. To Ostrowiec Świętokrzyski.
The longest city name in Poland has 22 letters. It’s Ostrowiec Świętokrzyski.

Ostrowiec Świętokrzyski jest drugim co do wielkości miastem województwa świętokrzyskiego. Mieszka w nim ponad 67 tys. osób. Obecnie jest siedzibą powiatu, prawa miejskie uzyskał zaś w 1613 r. Będąc jednym z głównych ośrodków Staropolskiego Okręgu Przemysłowego, odziedziczył tradycje hutnicze, których wizytówką jest kombinat metalurgiczny Huta Ostrowiec. Miasto położone jest nad rzeką Kamienną. Niedaleko od niego rozpościerają się cenione turystycznie Góry Świętokrzyskie. Nazwa Ostrowiec Świętokrzyski funkcjonuje od 1937 r. Wcześniej nazywane było Ostrowcem Kieleckim lub Ostrowcem nad Kamienną. 
Ostrowiec Świętokrzyski
 is the second largest city in the Świętokrzyskie Voivodeship, with a population of over 67,000. Currently the county seat, it received city rights in 1613. As one of the main centers of the Old Polish Industrial Region, it inherited a tradition of metallurgy, epitomized by the Ostrowiec Steelworks. The city is situated on the Kamienna River, with the tourist-friendly Świętokrzyskie Mountains nearby. The name Ostrowiec Świętokrzyski has been in use since 1937. Previously, it was known as Ostrowiec Kielecki or Ostrowiec nad Kamienna. 

Najdłuższe nazwy miast w Polsce: lista długich nazw miejscowości
The longest city names in Poland: a list of long place names.

Ostrowiec Świętokrzyski – 22 letters.
Kalwaria Zebrzydowska – 20 letters.
Grodzisk Wielkopolski – 20 letters.
Czechowice-Dziedzice – 20 letters.
Baranów Sandomierski – 19 letters.
Aleksandrów Kujawski – 19 letters.

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Polish Realia: Japan’s Golden Week

From Moja Japonia, by Anna Golisz (Petrus, 2010), p. 218 (with Google Translations into English):

Showa day – 29 kwietnia – dzień urodzin cesarza Showa. Przed 2007 roku, tego dnia był obchodzony Zielony Dzień, który teraz obchodzony jest 4 maja. Ten dzień jest częścią długiego majowego weekendu (Golden Week)
Showa Day – 29 April – Emperor Showa’s birthday. Before 2007, this day was celebrated as Green Day, which is now celebrated on May 4. This day is part of the long May weekend (Golden Week)

Dzień Konstytucji – kenpo kinenbi – 3 maja
Constitution Day – 憲法記念日 – 3 May

Zielony Dzień – midori no hi -4 maja, do 2006 roku obchodzono 29 kwietnia, gdyż były to urodziny cesarza Showa, który lubił rośliny i przyrodę
Green Day – みどりの日 – 4 May. Until 2006, April 29 was celebrated, as it was the birthday of Emperor Showa, who liked plants and nature

Dzień Dziecka – kodomo no hi – 5 May, przede wszytkim dzień chłopców
Children’s Day – 子供の日 – 5 May, originally Boys’ Day

Until 1948, Children’s Day on May 5 was known as Boys’ Day, which featured displays of samurai dolls, while March 3 was Girls’ Day, Hinamatsuri, which featured displays of princess dolls. (I was born in 1949, first arrived in Japan in 1950, and had 3 brothers born in Japan, but didn’t have a sister until 1956, when we were on furlough in the U.S.)

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Majówka: Poland’s Golden Week

The Outliers spent a beautiful spring weekend visiting Toruń and Malbork. It reminded us of Japan’s Golden Week holidays. This week’s Culture.pl explains:

Majówka – the long weekend of 1–3 May – is one of those moments when Poland seems to collectively exhale. Anchored by Labour Day (1 May) and Constitution Day (3 May), with Flag Day (2 May) stuffed in the middle, it marks the first real opening of the year: grills reappear, trains fill up, and cities quietly empty out. Even in years like 2026, when the calendar doesn’t quite align into a seamless long weekend, the impulse remains the same – a brief, almost instinctive shift towards rest, travel, and being outdoors after the long winter months.

There is also something distinctly Polish in how this time is spent. Majówka is rarely about spectacle; it is about proximity – to nature, to family, to a slower pace. People head to lakes in Masuria, hike in the Tatra Mountains, or retreat to działki – small garden plots that have long served as modest escapes from urban life. The tradition of the działka itself dates back to the late 19th century and expanded under socialism, when access to private leisure space was limited; today, it remains a quietly cherished part of everyday culture. Even something as simple as lighting a grill becomes ritualised – a shared, almost symbolic act of stepping into the warmer season.

At the same time, majówka carries a subtle historical layering. The proximity of its dates is not accidental: 1 May, once defined by state parades, now sits alongside 3 May, commemorating the Constitution of 3 May 1791 – a symbol of political aspiration and national identity. Between them, a space has opened up that is neither entirely official nor entirely private. Perhaps this is why majówka feels so particular: it is leisure, but also continuity – a few days when history, season, and everyday life briefly align, and when doing very little becomes, in its own way, meaningful.

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Polish Guide for Hebrew Gravemarkers

In an old Jewish shop in the Village Museum of Kielce (Muzeum Wsi Kieleckiej), I came across a very interesting poster to help Polish Jews inscribe gravestones in Hebrew.

Przykładowe Symbole Zawodu Zmarłego
Example Symbols of the Profession of the Deceased

Gęsie pióro – symbol skryby przepisującego Torę lub pisarza i literata
Goose feather – symbol of a scribe copying the Torah or a writer and intellectual

Wąż eskulapa – symbol lekarzy
Snake of Aesclepius (Caduceus) – symbol of a medical doctor

Możdzierz – symbol aptekarzy
Mortar – symbol of an apothecarist/pharmacist

Ekierka i cyrkiel – symbol inżynierów i architektów
Square and compass – symbol of engineers and architects

Lira lub harfa – symbol muzyków
Lyre or harp – symbol of musicians

Zegar – symbol zegarmistrzów
Clock – symbol of watchmakers

Napisy Nagrobne na Macewach
Tombstone Inscriptions on Matzevah
(with two columns, Hebrew column omitted here)

Tu pochowany (po nikbar) Here is buried
Ojciec father
Matka mother
Admor (nasz nauczyciel, pan i mistrz) rebbe (our teacher, lord, and master)
Cadyk (błogosławowionej pamięci) tzadik (of blessed memory)
Syn son
Córka daughter
Mężczyzna man
Kobieta woman
Kobieta (niezamężna) woman (unmarried)
Kobieta (zamężna) woman (married)
Moja żona my wife
Kohen (członek rodu kapłańskiego) Cohen (member of a priestly family)
Zmarł died

Miesiące
Months
(listing Hebrew month names with roughly overlapping Polish months)

image here

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