Toruń: A Special "No-Ride" Edition
Last weekend we went to the city of Toruń. The initial plan was for Kościuszko and I to retrace the 65 km (40 mile) circuit of the VeloToruń, a road race of five different circuits that happens each May. Unfortunately, we found that our hotel could not safely accommodate Kościuszko, and so my fine steed remained behind. Although there was no ride, there was no shortage of thought and feeling that emerged from the experience.
For five nights back in 1990, I intently watched Ken Burns' miniseries, The Civil War. In Part 9, "The Better Angels of Our Nature", the war had ended, the soldiers were returning home. One of the most poignant comments from that episode has stayed with me all these years. In short, most people in that time had never been more than a dozen or so miles from their homes. The idea of "country" was something of an abstraction. The soldiers that fought in that war, however, knew they had a country. It was not an abstraction. They had walked the roads, crossed the rivers, visited the towns, marched up and down the valleys, and met people from all over the country. In short, they had experienced something very real that was separate and distinct from their idea of country.
Nowadays we have air travel and can move about freely by car and train. We can see other cities and places; we travel abroad and see other countries. Yet, I still have this nagging suspicion that we don't know country (ours or others'). We don't know those places because we don't truly experience them. We drop in from a plane, not understanding the magnitude of time and distance, we drive by car, worried about a schedule, destination or traffic or when to stop and eat the next meal. Once to our destination, we go on prearranged tours, are fed selected information; we see and hear through the lens of our native language and culture or, at the least, without the knowledge of the sweep of history, language and culture that gives rise to a true understanding. There is nothing necessarily wrong with this, but it doesn't suit me.
Toruń is about 225 km (139 miles) from here. One might expect, at American cross-country speeds, that this would be a two hour (plus a little) drive. We are not in the United States, though, and any expectation of an arrival time will disrupt the experience of the journey--and it's all in the journey, at least until you get there. I did not have the distraction of being the driver, so I could experience this time in my own way and without expectation. I looked at the trees, the farms, the fields; the villages (and their sometimes peculiar names). I had a lot of questions and a lot of feelings. I felt the deep history that had swept across the North European Plain. I was moved. I could not, of course, help but notice the differences between the ultra-flat Mazovia district, where Warsaw is, and the gently (very gently) rolling terrain around Toruń. The villages and their architecture, the people, the crops and trees, all gradually morphed into something different, but not different as we headed northwest. As a result, I have become even more curious about questions of history, geography, politics, etc. of this place I now call home.
Cars still move fast, however. Two hundred twenty five kilometers go by much too quickly to absorb it all, especially compared to walking, riding on horseback or cycling. So, after a bit over four hours we arrived in Medieval (Old Town) Toruń (another UNESCO World Heritage Site). We stayed at the lovely Hotel Petite Fleur, This unique place is composed of a pair of renovated burgher houses, one Renaissance the other a much younger Neoclassical structure, situated over a Gothic cellar (where the restaurant is). What an experience!
The next day we spent our time walking, stopping and sitting in the town and down by the Vistula. We had a direction (erratically counterclockwise), but no plan and no schedule. The place is steeped in history and the buildings tell stories from the earliest days of Toruń. One interesting anecdote (from among scores of interesting histories) is that of the Leaning Tower of Toruń. In short, the tower leans because of a weak substrate under the foundation. This was not, however, the reason given to inhabitants of the time. There are two given reasons. One 'story' involves the legend of an errant Teutonic Knight who broke his vows of chastity and was ordered to build a crooked tower to remind people of his crooked ways. Guests to the city are invited to stand with back to the leaning wall and see if they can remain upright. If so, their rectitude is thereby proven and guaranteed. If not, well, we saw many people "cheating" to try and stand up against that wall. By the by, we both passed. Strong cores and lower centers of gravity, no doubt.
Incidentally, please spend some time, and if you value Poland and the history of Europe, check out the Teutonic Knights. They are seminal in European History and have greatly affected Poland (and the Baltic States and Prussia), in particular. Do not come to Eastern Europe without knowing something about them! Back to the Leaning Tower now. Others believed that the tower began leaning as an expression of God's displeasure at the discoveries of Mikołaj Kopernik, known to us as Nicholas Copernicus. Copernicus was an astronomer, mathematician and all-around polymath who was born in Toruń. His life there is a very, very important historical focus of this town. Copernicus, you might already know, figured out (from the retrograde motion of planets) that the Sun, and not the Earth, was at the center of the Solar System. This, of course, was heresy to the church, hence the explanation for the leaning tower.
The Leaning Tower is but one of hundreds of stories about the buildings and history of Toruń. I cannot (nor will I try) to do justice to the town or its history in one simple post. I suppose my message is that when and/or if you go to one of these places, please go prepared to immerse yourself in the time and the place and create an experience for yourself. Ultimately this experience will probably be beyond words, but you will carry it with you forever. It will not be a ticked box on a checklist of things to do and see. We will go back to Toruń, if we can. There's so much more to experience there than one weekend allows.
I started this post by mentioning the VeloToruń road race. This race is organized with the cooperation and support of Michał Kwiatkowski, who was born not far from Toruń (close enough that they consider him a native son). Kwiatkowski (nicknamed "Kwiato" or "Flowerman") is a World Cycling Champion, having won numerous international races in his young life (he's 28). Kwiato is a great all-round cyclist--the kind of cyclist I envy. This 'jack-of-all-trades' ability accounts for his success in a broad array of competitions and races. Kwiato is very popular beyond Toruń. I'd say he is a "household name" here in Poland. Beyond being a well-known cyclist, his name may also provide you with some linguistic amusement, so let's dive into that! The first part of his name, kwiat, means 'flower'. The last part, kowski, turns the first part into a man's surname. It is the first part that interests me now.
The kwiat chunk comes from an Indo-European root, *ḱwoyt or *ḱweit (depends on who you talk to and means 'bright', 'shine', 'white', or 'light'). The asterisk (*) means that it is a hypothesized form based on our best understanding of the evolution of the Indo-European family of languages. In the Slavic languages you typically find that this root manifests itself in the words for 'flower', 'light', 'color' and oddly 'world'. Part of being an historical linguist is understanding how we get from the proto-root to the modern form and meaning. Figuring out the form is often much easier than getting to the meaning!
In the Slavic languages, the sequence ḱw went through several very specific changes distinct from other language families and ultimately to get to the words for 'flower', 'world', etc. NB: ḱw is not the same as k or kw or ḱ. Specifically, in the Slavic languages, depending on the phonetic environment, you have this cluster of sounds changing to either an 's', 'ts' or 'k' sound. (That's a gross simplification.)
In the Germanic languages the changes were different than in Slavic--that's what makes them unique as a group. English, if you weren't sure, is a Germanic language. In Germanic that initial ḱw or kw weakened and became an 'h' sound, so you have that language group emerging with a new root: *hweit-. This, in turn, becomes Old English hwit, Old German hwiz, Old Saxon (you've heard of them, yes?) hwit, and Old Norse hyitr. And with a minor changes these old words emerge into the modern words in the same languages: English, white; German, weiss; Saxon is gone, but it's cousin, Frisian lives on and I think the word is wit; and Icelandic (the closest to Old Norse), hvítur. In Swedish and Norwegian, the words are vit and hvit, respectively. It shouldn't surprise you that the Old English word, hwǣte, 'wheat', is related to this same root. Could it be that 'wheat' is that "white stuff"?
If you're particularly astute (or at least interested) in matters of language, you might be asking yourself now about any English words that start with 'wh' and where they originate! Do they come from an earlier Germanic hw and before that an Indo-European *kw? A quick look at some old text, like Beowulf, might be enough to answer some of your questions about how English has changed over the centuries! Then, can you compare those same words with other languages and see "the magic"?
I don't want to leave those of you interested in the Romance languages out of this game, of course. I'm not really a Romance linguist, but I can give you a hint if you want to play and search for words yourself...but I'm giving you the hints via Latin. There are three forms of what we call 'k' in Proto-Indo-European: *ḱ, *k, and *kw. In Latin, the first two merged into a 'k' sound (spelled with the letter 'c' in Latin, if memory serves). The third manifested as a kw (spelled 'qu' in Latin), unless it was immediately preceded or followed by a [u] or [o]. Does that help?
As an aside, I am always dissecting words. It is a form of entertainment for me. On the way to and from Toruń, for example, while trying to botanically classify trees, examine architecture and study the geography, every village name came under close scrutiny. Perhaps I'll write about those villages one day.
This post is not normal. There was no ride associated with it, but the thoughts and feelings that came up while driving to and from Toruń, as well as those while we were there, were very profound to me and not unlike what happens when I am out with Kościuszko. I had many long conversations with my wife about these thoughts and feelings and while I cannot hope to convey them to you in this forum, perhaps you have some sense of what I experienced and why I value it so. One reason that I'm writing this blog is, perhaps, to get to know the country of Poland as much as I can while I am here. To do that I travel its roads on Kościuszko, feeling and thinking, studying before and after the fact. It's truly a wonderful experience, but Kościuszko is not a necessity, as the trip to Toruń proves. While you may not ride a bike, the next time you go someplace I hope you can be the journey itself and that what comes out of that is some kind of wonderful knowing.
For five nights back in 1990, I intently watched Ken Burns' miniseries, The Civil War. In Part 9, "The Better Angels of Our Nature", the war had ended, the soldiers were returning home. One of the most poignant comments from that episode has stayed with me all these years. In short, most people in that time had never been more than a dozen or so miles from their homes. The idea of "country" was something of an abstraction. The soldiers that fought in that war, however, knew they had a country. It was not an abstraction. They had walked the roads, crossed the rivers, visited the towns, marched up and down the valleys, and met people from all over the country. In short, they had experienced something very real that was separate and distinct from their idea of country.
 |
| Leaning Tower of Toruń |
Toruń is about 225 km (139 miles) from here. One might expect, at American cross-country speeds, that this would be a two hour (plus a little) drive. We are not in the United States, though, and any expectation of an arrival time will disrupt the experience of the journey--and it's all in the journey, at least until you get there. I did not have the distraction of being the driver, so I could experience this time in my own way and without expectation. I looked at the trees, the farms, the fields; the villages (and their sometimes peculiar names). I had a lot of questions and a lot of feelings. I felt the deep history that had swept across the North European Plain. I was moved. I could not, of course, help but notice the differences between the ultra-flat Mazovia district, where Warsaw is, and the gently (very gently) rolling terrain around Toruń. The villages and their architecture, the people, the crops and trees, all gradually morphed into something different, but not different as we headed northwest. As a result, I have become even more curious about questions of history, geography, politics, etc. of this place I now call home.
 |
| Statue of N. Copernicus, Toruń. |
The next day we spent our time walking, stopping and sitting in the town and down by the Vistula. We had a direction (erratically counterclockwise), but no plan and no schedule. The place is steeped in history and the buildings tell stories from the earliest days of Toruń. One interesting anecdote (from among scores of interesting histories) is that of the Leaning Tower of Toruń. In short, the tower leans because of a weak substrate under the foundation. This was not, however, the reason given to inhabitants of the time. There are two given reasons. One 'story' involves the legend of an errant Teutonic Knight who broke his vows of chastity and was ordered to build a crooked tower to remind people of his crooked ways. Guests to the city are invited to stand with back to the leaning wall and see if they can remain upright. If so, their rectitude is thereby proven and guaranteed. If not, well, we saw many people "cheating" to try and stand up against that wall. By the by, we both passed. Strong cores and lower centers of gravity, no doubt.
Incidentally, please spend some time, and if you value Poland and the history of Europe, check out the Teutonic Knights. They are seminal in European History and have greatly affected Poland (and the Baltic States and Prussia), in particular. Do not come to Eastern Europe without knowing something about them! Back to the Leaning Tower now. Others believed that the tower began leaning as an expression of God's displeasure at the discoveries of Mikołaj Kopernik, known to us as Nicholas Copernicus. Copernicus was an astronomer, mathematician and all-around polymath who was born in Toruń. His life there is a very, very important historical focus of this town. Copernicus, you might already know, figured out (from the retrograde motion of planets) that the Sun, and not the Earth, was at the center of the Solar System. This, of course, was heresy to the church, hence the explanation for the leaning tower.
The Leaning Tower is but one of hundreds of stories about the buildings and history of Toruń. I cannot (nor will I try) to do justice to the town or its history in one simple post. I suppose my message is that when and/or if you go to one of these places, please go prepared to immerse yourself in the time and the place and create an experience for yourself. Ultimately this experience will probably be beyond words, but you will carry it with you forever. It will not be a ticked box on a checklist of things to do and see. We will go back to Toruń, if we can. There's so much more to experience there than one weekend allows.
 |
| Kwiatek |
The kwiat chunk comes from an Indo-European root, *ḱwoyt or *ḱweit (depends on who you talk to and means 'bright', 'shine', 'white', or 'light'). The asterisk (*) means that it is a hypothesized form based on our best understanding of the evolution of the Indo-European family of languages. In the Slavic languages you typically find that this root manifests itself in the words for 'flower', 'light', 'color' and oddly 'world'. Part of being an historical linguist is understanding how we get from the proto-root to the modern form and meaning. Figuring out the form is often much easier than getting to the meaning!
In the Slavic languages, the sequence ḱw went through several very specific changes distinct from other language families and ultimately to get to the words for 'flower', 'world', etc. NB: ḱw is not the same as k or kw or ḱ. Specifically, in the Slavic languages, depending on the phonetic environment, you have this cluster of sounds changing to either an 's', 'ts' or 'k' sound. (That's a gross simplification.)
In the Germanic languages the changes were different than in Slavic--that's what makes them unique as a group. English, if you weren't sure, is a Germanic language. In Germanic that initial ḱw or kw weakened and became an 'h' sound, so you have that language group emerging with a new root: *hweit-. This, in turn, becomes Old English hwit, Old German hwiz, Old Saxon (you've heard of them, yes?) hwit, and Old Norse hyitr. And with a minor changes these old words emerge into the modern words in the same languages: English, white; German, weiss; Saxon is gone, but it's cousin, Frisian lives on and I think the word is wit; and Icelandic (the closest to Old Norse), hvítur. In Swedish and Norwegian, the words are vit and hvit, respectively. It shouldn't surprise you that the Old English word, hwǣte, 'wheat', is related to this same root. Could it be that 'wheat' is that "white stuff"?
If you're particularly astute (or at least interested) in matters of language, you might be asking yourself now about any English words that start with 'wh' and where they originate! Do they come from an earlier Germanic hw and before that an Indo-European *kw? A quick look at some old text, like Beowulf, might be enough to answer some of your questions about how English has changed over the centuries! Then, can you compare those same words with other languages and see "the magic"?
I don't want to leave those of you interested in the Romance languages out of this game, of course. I'm not really a Romance linguist, but I can give you a hint if you want to play and search for words yourself...but I'm giving you the hints via Latin. There are three forms of what we call 'k' in Proto-Indo-European: *ḱ, *k, and *kw. In Latin, the first two merged into a 'k' sound (spelled with the letter 'c' in Latin, if memory serves). The third manifested as a kw (spelled 'qu' in Latin), unless it was immediately preceded or followed by a [u] or [o]. Does that help?
As an aside, I am always dissecting words. It is a form of entertainment for me. On the way to and from Toruń, for example, while trying to botanically classify trees, examine architecture and study the geography, every village name came under close scrutiny. Perhaps I'll write about those villages one day.
This post is not normal. There was no ride associated with it, but the thoughts and feelings that came up while driving to and from Toruń, as well as those while we were there, were very profound to me and not unlike what happens when I am out with Kościuszko. I had many long conversations with my wife about these thoughts and feelings and while I cannot hope to convey them to you in this forum, perhaps you have some sense of what I experienced and why I value it so. One reason that I'm writing this blog is, perhaps, to get to know the country of Poland as much as I can while I am here. To do that I travel its roads on Kościuszko, feeling and thinking, studying before and after the fact. It's truly a wonderful experience, but Kościuszko is not a necessity, as the trip to Toruń proves. While you may not ride a bike, the next time you go someplace I hope you can be the journey itself and that what comes out of that is some kind of wonderful knowing.
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