Proteins
No matter when and no matter where. There is nothing more beautiful than a trip for two with one of the most important women in my life.
I am squeezing this pleasure to the last drop, because I am slowly beginning to feel the depressing awareness that soon my almost sixteen-year-old offspring will, following in the footsteps of her older siblings, irrevocably lose interest in traveling with her father.
Białka Tatrzańska welcomed us covered in snow, with temperatures slightly above zero. Apart from the masks of the saleswomen in Biedronka, there are no traces of covid here, because although the virus is slowly receding in Poland, it probably never appeared here. And besides, the highlanders value freedom more than the ceps.
The supple landlady of our highland cottage, who, as befits a housewife, brooked no opposition, turned out to be a very nice woman. Taking advantage of the fact that her husband worked late, she invited me to her kitchen. The reward for a few minutes of work with a screwdriver and fixing the kitchen cabinets was a slops made from milk from sheep she had milked herself.
I couldn't find a terrestrial TVN signal on the TV in our highlander apartment. The highlanders, probably pissed off by Duda's veto, took matters into their own hands and took away the concession from the Americans in Małopolska. But every cloud has a silver lining. For a week I could enjoy national television and I understood how stupid I was to let myself be manipulated by this dull propaganda of a contact lens. Now I know that the pandemic and high prices are Tusk's fault, where the money for the fourteenth pension came from and why the scoundrels from the opposition need to be eavesdropped on.
We made breakfasts in our room from products brought from the nearby Biedronka, and for dinner we recognized the gastronomic offer of Bialystok and Bukowina. The highlanders do not know how to make steaks and ribs. However, they have excellent duck with cranberries, cherries and apples, as well as herring with beetroot, rocket, cherry and yogurt in the Bukowina Shelter, a fantastic hunter's soup made of wild boar in
bread at Litworowy Staw, delicious saffron milk caps in butter at Chramcowa Karczma, awesome trout at Góralski Zwyk and super crispy Italian pizza at Grande Pizza.
The driving conditions were average. A bit too little sun, too high temperature and not very fluffy snow.
But today, probably to say goodbye, all the clouds disappeared and the temperature dropped below zero. I was the first on the slope and experienced ecstasy on the morning corduroy, and then I sunbathed on a deckchair under Kotelnica, sipping bombardino alternately with mulled wine, and eating grilled sausage. I understand skis like that.
