(Insert Polish Words Here)

I don't think that it is an understatement to say that I love music. I truly do. It is one of my passions. I listen to it often, and when I am around Ryan Parish playing it quickly resurfaces as one of my favorite things to do. I miss Ryan Parish, by the way. If you see him, tell him.

This morning I found myself standing outside of a small, independently owned (I think, but I am strictly going off of the aesthetic feel) Cinema shaking hands with Sylwester. They are always called Cinemas here, not theaters, which I find endearing.

I was introduced to Sylwester at Mass on Sunday morning. The mother of the family I am staying with served as translator, as his English is poor and my Polish is nonexistent. He is a music teacher here at a community center, and upon hearing that I play the guitar he became quite excited to play music together.

It was arranged. Tuesday morning, 9:00am, at the Cinema. I didn't quite know what to think, but was excited about all of the potential.

So I was dropped off and was met immediately by Sylwester and his outstretched hand.

We went inside and it is pretty much what I expected: a high, ornate ceiling, a balcony (which was a bonus to my expectations), red velvet seats, and a stage. We were on the stage. Sylwester invited a friend of his along, too, who plays the electric upright bass.

One of the things that draws me to music so much (and, let me add, visual and audible art in general) is that it goes beyond language. You don't need to speak Italian to appreciate the visual art of da Vinci. Nor do I need to understand Icelandic to love what Sigor Rós does with melodies, instruments, and violin bows.

On the stage, each holding an instrument, not speaking, it was beautiful. I never thought that I would be playing music on this trip with two Polish musicians who spoke little English, but here I was, enjoying myself, my surrounding, and my company immensely.

The way that life happens intrigues me to no end. So many times on my trip thus far I have felt like a small child, staring at wonderment at a fish bowl for the first time.