{"id":11160,"date":"2026-08-22T14:52:44","date_gmt":"2026-08-22T21:52:44","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/chiccompass.com\/?p=11160"},"modified":"2026-08-30T16:38:43","modified_gmt":"2026-08-30T23:38:43","slug":"pierogi-trains-chopin-repeat","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/chiccompass.com\/wordpress\/pierogi-trains-chopin-repeat\/","title":{"rendered":"Pierogi, Trains, Chopin, Repeat"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"Chic<\/span><\/div><\/div>

Advertisement<\/center><\/p>\n

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\"The<\/span><\/div><\/div>

The Main Square in Krak\u00f3w<\/em><\/p>\n<\/div>

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Pierogi, Trains, Chopin, Repeat<\/h1>\n

By Nate Jones<\/p>\n<\/div>

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I arrived in Poland on Dec. 13, 1993, barely 19 years old, armed with a suitcase full of white shirts and ties, my new black name tag and a two-month crash course in Polish that somehow qualified me to serve as a missionary for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.<\/p>\n

My first impression was cold, dark and gray. During the winter months, the sun disappeared before dinner and didn\u2019t bother coming back until after breakfast.<\/p>\n

The country was finding its way after the fall of communism just a few years earlier. And I absolutely fell in love with it.<\/p>\n

More than 30 years later, I finally returned, this time with my wife, Deng, and our daughters, Roxy and Skai. Roxy is 19 now, almost exactly the age I was when Poland first became part of my life.<\/p>\n<\/div>

\"Nate,<\/span><\/div><\/div>

Nate, Roxy, Skai and Deng in Krak\u00f3w<\/em><\/p>\n<\/div>

We traveled by train through Krak\u00f3w, Katowice, Chorz\u00f3w, Wroc\u0142aw and Warsaw. We hunted for dozens of Wroc\u0142aw\u2019s little bronze gnomes, ate an irresponsible number of pierogi and discovered that despite my efforts to teach my daughters Polish, the only word they reliably remembered was \"lody.\"<\/p>\n

Ice cream. Priorities.<\/p>\n<\/div>

\"Lody\"<\/span><\/div><\/div>

Lody<\/em><\/p>\n<\/div>

What surprised me was how quickly Poland came back to me.<\/p>\n

Walking up Wolno\u015bci Street in Chorz\u00f3w, Skai asked how much I actually remembered.<\/p>\n

\u201cIf we turn left at the next corner, there should be a bakery. We bought fresh bread there every other day.\u201d<\/p>\n

We turned left. Before I saw it, I smelled it. The bakery was still there. We bought chleb, Polish bread, and with one bite, I was 19 again.<\/p>\n<\/div>

\"Pierogi\"<\/span><\/div><\/div>

Pierogi<\/em><\/p>\n<\/div>

Maybe memories don\u2019t live only in our heads. Sometimes they\u2019re waiting in a loaf of bread.<\/p>\n

Poland has changed. Warsaw has a dramatic new skyline. Krak\u00f3w bustles with picturesque caf\u00e9s and tourists from all over the world. The country feels brighter, cleaner and more prosperous. But the Poland I loved was still there, especially in its people.<\/p>\n

We had dinner with my dear friend Witold, a man whose personality has always been considerably taller than he is, his beautiful wife, Ola, and their sons, Artur and Iwo. Ola\u2019s mother, whom we affectionately called Mama, fed my mission companion and me every Sunday for the nine and a half months that I lived in Chorz\u00f3w. Mama has passed, but memories of her table haven\u2019t. Some people quietly become part of who we are.<\/p>\n<\/div>

\"Visiting<\/span><\/div><\/div>

Visiting Jagiellonian University in Krak\u00f3w<\/em><\/p>\n<\/div>

Poland even gave us a new friend. In Warsaw, we met Gra\u017cyna, the mother of a Polish friend back home. By the end of a day spent showing us her city, we had adopted her as our Polish babcia. She invited us into her home, where her hospitality apparently included letting me try on her son\u2019s old winter coat from the communist era. The photographic evidence is unfortunate.<\/p>\n

I especially wanted Roxy, a pianist who loves Chopin, to experience his homeland. I planned two Chopin concerts and a visit to his birthplace at \u017belazowa Wola. She loved it all so much she requested a third concert. She and I went together.<\/p>\n<\/div>

\"Skai<\/span><\/div><\/div>

Skai finding bronze gnomes in Wroc\u0142aw<\/em><\/p>\n<\/div>

That concert, in a small neoclassical salon in Warsaw illuminated only by candlelight, became our favorite. As we listened to Maciej Poliszewski play Chopin, everything about our visit to Poland seemed to come together. That evening, I told Roxy how happy I was that we\u2019d come.<\/p>\n

\u201cI loved this trip more than you did, Dad. Thank you.\u201d<\/p>\n

For 30 years, I never really could explain to my family how much Poland had become a part of me when I was 19. Maybe I shouldn\u2019t be surprised that it took another 19-year-old to understand.<\/p>\n

It turns out I just needed to bring my family back so Poland could become part of them, too.<\/p>\n<\/div>

\"Bronze<\/span><\/div><\/div>

Bronze gnomes in Wroc\u0142aw<\/em><\/p>\n<\/div><\/div><\/div>

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More than three decades after Poland first captured his heart as a 19-year-old missionary, Nate Jones returns with his wife and daughters to rediscover the places, people and flavors that shaped him. From familiar streets and fresh Polish bread to pierogi, new friendships and candlelit Chopin concerts, the journey becomes more than a nostalgic homecoming\u2014it\u2019s a chance to share a beloved part of himself with his family.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":11167,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"nf_dc_page":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[2360,4519,4518],"tags":[3612,4016,4512,3182],"class_list":["post-11160","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-blog","category-dining","category-travel","tag-adventures-in-travel-dining","tag-nate-jones","tag-poland","tag-travel"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/chiccompass.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/11160","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/chiccompass.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/chiccompass.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/chiccompass.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/chiccompass.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=11160"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/chiccompass.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/11160\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":11258,"href":"https:\/\/chiccompass.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/11160\/revisions\/11258"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/chiccompass.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/11167"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/chiccompass.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=11160"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/chiccompass.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=11160"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/chiccompass.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=11160"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}