But yesterday, the last day of April, I was riding my bike along my usual route and on one street there was bumper-to-bumper traffic for three blocks. I got to the front of the line expecting to see an accident, construction, or a red light. But instead I saw a nun trying to parallel park, with three other nuns standing all around the car directing her.
Also yesterday, while bicycling home around sunset and in a hurry, I was catching my breath on the final stretch and a bug flew into my mouth. I swallowed.
By the time the sun had just disappeared over the horizon, I was sitting on a cliff overlooking a deep lake which was inside an old quarry. An oasis in the middle of the city. Along the cliffs people were drinking, listening to music, and grilling.
By nightfall we were in a valley surrounded by trees and the cliffs beyond which lies the lake. The air was much colder. We all gathered wood and I was somehow responsible for starting the fire. We found a spot with several huge logs on which we could all sit. By midnight there were 15 of us, and everyone except me and two Belgians was non-stop singing old Polish hymns, patriotic songs, childhood (Polish) campfire songs, and the occasional song in English. I roasted two kielbasa sausages and ate them on soft bread with mustard. I longed for marshmallows. But at least there were no mosquitoes.
