Pole-toberfest II: Return to Pierogiville

With a proper Polish princess as a distinguished member of the wacky tacky adventure team, the opportunities for cross-cultural exploration are both frequent and fun.  Getting restless remembering our "Doin' the Dozynki" exploits of last year, we excitedly donned our butter-stained pierogi bibs and headed for  Our Lady of the Bright Mount (Southern California's premiere Polish parish) for the 2014 Los Angeles Polish Festival.

Now we know why Warsaw is the capital city.

I've said it before but it shouldn't go unstated that, as a regular attendee of our local German club, card-holder of our members-only Asian grocery store, patron of the southland's two European marketplaces, and investigator into the local Dutch club, it is clear that I am in the midst of a chronic cultural-identity crisis!  The only thing my family had that tied us in any tiny way to our Yugoslavian ancestry was "Toshka," a mac-and-cheese/mashed potato hybrid dish that my great-aunt made on special occasions (I have found zero substantiation anywhere online to verify the authenticity of the more-than-likely-midwestern foodstuffs).  With every new dip into the Polish pool, however, I feel like I'm moving in the right easterly-European direction; now an old pro on the festival circuit, I knew that my mission was to find and document the three "F's."

FOOD
The line for pierogies was so long that I could only capture the first third in the picture.
Exhausted by the wait, we soon gave up on sampling much of the Polish cuisine -
except for my preferred prune-filled Polish pastry, the paczek (it doesn't look like
 much...actually it kind of looks like turd but it is really good).

FASHION
I believe this is what is referred to as the Polish Tuxedo.
Cynthia was quickly taking style notes for next year's festival.

FOLK DANCING
Without question, my favorite Polish dances are hip-hop, the tango, and the Zorba...
Wait, those aren't indigenous to Poland?  Well, it looks like some of these dancers were
experiencing a cultural identity crisis of their own.  Seriously, there was a Polish hip-hop
number with a routine that culminated in the king of Greek dances - it was AWESOME!

As much as I enjoyed our one-day excursion to Mother Polonia, I was even more excited by the festival venue.  On the grounds of an Edwardian-era estate, I had heard whispers that the beautiful house once belonged to a Hollywood movie star.  I figured that it must've been a star of Polish descent who deeded the enormous estate to the church upon his/her death.  After doing some investigating, I learned that, rather than Pola Negri or Theda Bara, the true owner of was one of Hollywood's most infamous legends.

Fatty Arbuckle lived here (a fourth F)!!!
Clad in high-fired terra cotta block, the Vienna Secessionist-style house was completed in 1910.
Unfortunately, the only access to the interior that we were granted was the basement bathroom/library (a brilliant, if completely un-photogenic, combination).  The terraced backyard has enough remaining details to have our wacky tacky imaginations running riot thinking about the amazing parties thrown here.

This adventure was definitely a "twofer" - Polish festival and Hollywood house hunt all in one!  I was thrilled to find that the fourth "F" of our festival experience stood for Fatty; sometimes it feels good to know that you're not the only fatty waddling around.  Neither fatty, Arbuckle nor Tiny, claims any Polish lineage, but His Holiness loves us just the same.  Dziekuje, PJP II...see you next year!

Our Lady of the Bright Mount Parish

3424 W Adams Blvd

Los Angeles, CA

(323)734-5249

polskaparafiala.org

Cheers!

Mr. Tiny

Pole-toberfest: Doin' The Dozynki

It is a strange sensation wandering around a nearby community yet somehow getting the feeling that you are a complete outsider.  Going to the Orange County Dozynki (Polish Harvest Festival) at the Pope John Paul II Polish Center in Yorba Linda, CA, I felt very much like a foreigner in my own country.  Yes, it was a strange sensation indeed...but not completely unpleasant.

As guests of Cynthia, my brother's girlfriend and a first-generation American of Polish descent, we were expecting a truly-authentic experience from truly-authentic Poles (trust me, her family was there and their last name is at least eight syllables long and ends in "ski").  As much as she might try to convince us, we were pretty sure that there would NOT be inflatable dart tournaments, nor screendoor-building contests for submarines, nor any rousing games of "hide the kielbasa," nor any other Polish-perjorative hijinks.  Who does she think we are, Yugoslavians?!?!*  

A children's choir performed folk songs while a bubble containing a
mannequin family in traditional Polish garb floated above.

Recognizing it as a scene straight out of It's A Small World, I wanted to do my best to assimilate and join in on the fun as soon as possible.

"You bet your Pierogi I'm Polish!"

I would have started with gastronomically-appropriate attire but I know that 

if I wore this t-shirt, I would immediately be recognized as a complete fraud.

If we couldn't wear the food, we could certainly eat it!

Delicately draped in mosquito netting, the Paczki, prune-filled Polish donuts,
were a sweet treat that were obviously concerned with my digestive health..

Our pal, Lisa, holds a plate of potato pancakes with sour cream and applesauce.
That totally counts as a serving of fruits and vegetables, right???  There were
peirogis too but we ate them so quickly that I didn't get a photo.

Meanwhile, we thought we could have eaten all of those kielbasa but the true Polish
among us made it clear that we got served!  But don't think we gave up;
Cynthia's mom kept bringing more and more to the table and we did NOT want to be rude...

Since we were clearly getting schooled, we figured the best place to go was the Polska Szkola (Polish School).
Knowing that "Polish for Dummies" was two steps above our skill level, we were sent to the remedial class and
given coloring books and buttons that translate to "Somebody Loves Me."

Clothing, food, and school were fine but to get a true taste of Dozynki, dancing was the name of the game!

In the afternoon, we were treated to the terpsichorean stylings of Piast, Las Vegas' preeminent Polish dance troupe.

After dark, the church's multi-purpose room and the outdoor tents transformed into "diskoteks."
Mr. Tiny got seriously funky under the dance lights.

Mary was invited to dance with a fellow who, unsatisfied with just one dance partner,
recruited me and three other people into some kind of ring-around-the-rosy arrangement.
You can tell by Mary's face that she didn't want us horning in on her dancing fun..or maybe that's her "Save Me" face.

My favorite, however, was Poland's answer to Marty and Elayne; they played
everything from standard polkas, to cha-chas, to power pop for the enthusiastic couples.

The Dozynki was a hoot and gave me the opportunity to live out a childhood fantasy.  Growing up, I was so jealous of friends who spoke another language or identified with some sort of ethnic/cultural group.  Wanting the same but lacking ancestors who practiced cultural customs derived from anything more exotic than those seen on The Andy Griffith Show, I was thrilled to be, if only for one day, Polish.

Cheers!

Mr. Tiny

*Our surname is Yugoslavian; seeing as that is no longer a country, the only t-shirt I could honestly wear without feeling like a total poseur would feature the slogan, "Be Proud Of Where You're From," (from what I understand, it's okay to use a preposition at the end of a Slavic sentence) and an amorphous shape with a question mark in the middle.

p.s.  This will be the last post until we return from Japan.  We will catch you on the other side with all kinds of wacky tacky adventures!  BONZAI!!!