Where My Home Is

Chapter 5

My rental flat was situated on the third floor of an old pre-WWII building. Because most large cities in Poland were heavily bombed by the Germans during the war, many homes had to be rebuilt. What was actually noteworthy is that this building was built over an entire century ago. Some time in the mid 1850's. After the war, every part of the house had to be reconstructed. But the foundation and the basement of this particular home remained intact.

New Yorkers would call it - antique, old, classic! But this small four-story building had a lot more history than that. Many souls lived in it. Fascinating! And, so very fitting to the surroundings of the Old Town which had Hans Christian Andersen's tales feel to it. Especially during the winter. It made me think of the novel, "Little Match Girl".

I met Eliza and Todd. The owners of the flat. They were a young couple with two small children. Eliza was petite and chatty, with black long hair and pale skin. Curious and friendly. She just had a baby. Their other child was five years old. I thought it was funny that they named him after one of our past kings, Stefan like Stefan Batory who reigned in 1576. She asked a lot of questions. Why did I come to Poland? How long was I staying? Was I married? Did I have kids? What were my plans for the next few months? Todd, on the other hand, was a tall bookish type man, rather quiet and reserved.

We signed a six-month lease. Apparently, there was a girl who lived in the flat before me. But she moved out within six months after meeting someone special. We laughed that the flat was to carry a spell on me as well. But I wasn't looking for a Prince Charming. I just got here!

After the coffee and hotel occurrence from the day before, I was so glad that everything in the apartment was a normal size. Though it was a studio with a separate bedroom, it was roomy enough for me. The apartment had elevated, Dutch style widows and tall ceilings. Similarly designed townhomes were visible across the street. The homes were situated on original cobblestone pavement.

Finally, my own place in this magical, wintry town! I was so happy! And, my own endless supply of American coffee! My own bed. Well, almost. The extra-large bed belonged to Don and Eliza. But I didn't care! The place was fully furnished and stocked with dishes, pots, pans and, even utensils. The only thing I had to get was some sheets and towels. A quick ride to Ikea, and I was all set. That night I slept like a baby!

Ring, ring, ring! It was 6:00am in the morning! Who was ringing my bell that early? I didn't know anybody in this town. I wasn't expecting any visitors. Frankly, I was kind of scared. Half-way asleep, I crawled out of bed and walked up to the intercom.

"Who is it" I mumbled in Polish.

"Caretaker!!!!" A scratchy voice cried from downstairs.

Caretaker? To care for whom? I was dumbfounded.

"I am sorry, but I don't need one." I answered politely.

"Madame, please let me in. I need to take care of the building. I clean the hallways twice per week." Explained the coarse female voice.

I thought about it for a few seconds. Being from New York City, we do have a certain distrusting reputation. "Caretaker...hmmm...what if she was a murderer or a robber?"

Few more seconds passed. Then I pressed the buzzer. I heard footsteps. Then a sound of a broom and bucket with mop and water. It was the Caretaker. Why do they have funny names for these jobs in Poland? I guess there was nobody in the entire townhome to let her in. So, she buzzed me. Great, so now I know that people who lived in this building were never here. But, if they were never here, then where were they?

After drinking exuberant amounts of freshly brewed coffee with lots of cream. I got dressed and decided to go outside for a nice morning stroll to check out the Old Town. Most people were on their way to work. It felt funny not to have to go to the office or not to work on a weekday.

The temperatures were dropping, so I dressed warmly, and headed downstairs to exit the townhome. As I was walking down three flights of long, winding stairs, I noticed that the tenement house was eerily quiet.

I kept making my way down and noticed the mystery Caretaker. I could see her very well. She was standing far from the staircase in a dark part of the cold foyer. Slowly and unenthusiastically she was sweeping the floor. She was wearing faded blue, worn out winter jacket. Three sizes too big, circa 1980's. She had on large, fluffy grey pants with tiny elephant patterns, and black, orthopedic sneakers without laces. Her hair was jaw length, thin, grey with several bold patches. Her skin was uneven and red. She had sunken upper lip which gave me the impression that she had no teeth. If I wasn't mistaken, her left eyeball was missing. There was an unlit cigarette hanging from her thin lip. She was mumbling something under her nose. I wasn't sure, but it sounded like cursing.

She saw me and, looked the other way. I tried to say "hello" but she didn't respond.

I could feel her eyes peeled on me when I exited the hallway. As if though she couldn't wait for me to leave the building.

As I was leaving, I saw that the entry door to the basement was left ajar. Eliza told me that it had to be locked at all times and only tenants were allowed to go in there. Only they had the keys.

Did the Caretaker keep her brooms and cleaning supplies in the basement? Did she clean in there too? But why? Nobody ever went in there. It was old and dusty, impossible to clean. Eliza showed it to me when she gave me a tour of the building. It was so creepy that I told her that I didn't even want to see the entire place. It resembled an old dudgeon, a jail from the 1600's. Brrrr!

I left the house and thought: "I will never go to the basement."