Firsts...

The weather in Poland has been glorious lately.  Not too hot (which it can be), with a slight breeze, few clouds or haze, lots of sunlight, and a bright-shininess that can make even crumbling 70s socialist architecture seem beautiful.  It being Easter weekend, we decided we would take the kids and do something.  We weren't sure what, and we are not always very decisive, or very informed.  But there is Google, and Ola came upon a list of things for kids.  One thought was to rent a car and go out into the country.  Unfortunately, most of the rental cars in Poznan had already been rented for Easter, and the ones that were left were far too big and the rent rate correspondingly expensive.

We eventually decided to go to the New Zoo, to which neither Ola nor I had ever been.  It isn't really that new, but there is still an Old Zoo, so the names have stuck.  The Old Zoo, which now has very few animals and is mostly what in America is a called a petting zoo or a farm-animal zoo, is in a grotty part of town, and falling apart.  Crumbling concrete, rusty steel.  All very sad.  Both Ola and I feared the New Zoo might be more of the same -- but it was not.

One way to get to the New Zoo -- easily the best way, especially if you are a child -- is to take the miniature railway from beside Lake Malta, which follows the edge of the lake, then tucks into some woods before coming to the zoo's entrance gates.  Lake Malta, a man-made lake that is devoted to rowing, kayaking, canoeing, and small-scale sailing, is not terribly far from where we live -- and easily accessed by tram.

The usual chaos of life with small children helped to slow us down -- for example, Christopher poohed and needed to be changed just as we were ready to leave.  As a result we got there later and had less time at the zoo than we would have liked, but it was enough for a first visit.  The ride on the miniature railway was very exciting for Chris, and it was just the beginning.

In fact, even before the ride on the train, Chris had a first of sorts.  I have bought him ice cream before, but he wouldn't eat it.  I think it was too cold.  This time I bought him a single scoop of strawberry from the vendor next to the train's waiting area.  To my amazement, he tucked in like an old pro.  The weather was warm enough that I had to help out now and again -- lest he become smeared in sticky pink glop -- but mostly he ate it himself and had a good time doing so.  We don't give Chris many sweets (Meggie is still wholly on mother's milk), so I didn't feel guilty for introducing him to ice cream, knowing he would be allowed the stuff all that often.

The New Zoo is expansive, thoughtfully designed, and calmly lovely.  For some reason it was almost deserted.  We went first to the elephant park, which is enormous, but because one views it by looking down into it from above, everything is visible.  There are both Indian and African elephants, which seem to treat each other as equals and friends.  One of Chris's favourite books is Elmer, the story a colourful elephant who wants to fit in with the herd and so finds a way to dye himself grey.  The herd, with some helpful rain, succeed in persuading him that there's nothing wrong with being a colourful elephant.  Indeed, every herd should have one.  I certainly hope Chris never wants to be grey -- I hope he never feels life would be better that way.  I went through much of my adulthood wanting to be grey (from midway through Yale until I left lawyering in 1989); I am determined that my children will not choose that route unless they really want to and it works for them.  I does for some people -- my mother, for instance.  But by definition, it's a rather grey life.  In any case, Chris was fascinated by the elephants, standing at the rail of the observation deck and watching them for several minutes without making a noise or moving.

We also saw some Bactrians (two-humped camels), which look exactly as though they'd been dreamt up by Dr Seuss.  They are possibly the most ungainly and unattractive furry beasts I've ever seen.  Unfortunately, I didn't take a picture.

I've often wondered at the practice of signage in Poland.  It seems wildly inconsistent, to the point of irrational.  You do sometimes get the feeling that they are having a laugh at the visitors' expense.  It's as though a huge team put it all together without any member of the team consulting any of the other members.  The New Zoo's map is like that.  The map is carefully colour-coded, and every exhibit is precisely numbered.  But the colour coding and numbering don't related to the way the exhibits are actually laid out.  Furthermore the bus-stops within the New Zoo (which is so vast that one moves from one general area to another by bus, a practice I remember from the San Diego Zoo, which I visited when I was about 8) were not where the map suggested we would find them.  It didn't matter -- we weren't in a hurry.  The weather was great.  Chris was finding it all wonderful, and Meggie was sleeping.

The last exhibit we saw was the Tiger House.  Though it was very good, and as humanely designed as an enclosure for very dangerous animals can be -- it was terribly sad to see these awesome animals pacing about with nothing to do and no where to go.  Fortunately, I could not read the Polish announcements of how few of these creatures still live in the wild, and how fast their habitats are disappearing.  That really would have depressed me.  There are times when not knowing the language is a blessing.

The world is changing so fast.  That is something of which a parent of young children becomes acutely aware.  There is almost certainly less difference between my visit to the San Diego Zoo 49 years ago and Chris's visit to the New Zoo of Poznan yesterday than there will be between yesterday and whenever he has young children and wants to show them wild animals.  For one thing, if the so-called developed nations (and the undeveloped ones that want to become developed) don't manage to rein our greedy selves in fast, many of the wild animals won't exist, even in zoos.

It's frightening how much we know about the damage our profligacy is doing -- and the pain and privation we are inflicting on our own children and grandchildren as a result -- and how little we are prepared to give up to slow the pace of that damage.  I know very decent people who drive very indecent cars.  I know very skillful designers and architects who think that being required to consider things like energy-use when they design a house or office building is just left-wing cultural fascism.  The oil and coal and natural gas industry people amaze me.  They see to think we ought to use up everything we have and then get serious about finding better ways of doing things.  What about the few remaining wilderness areas that will be forever ruined, the animals that will become extinct, the beauty and quietude destroyed, in the process?  The idea that there is pollution on Mount Everest is very frightening to me.  But I know people who think it is none of their affair because they will never see Mount Everest.  As long as they can get from point A to point B without having to share their precious personal space with members of "the general public" it's OK by them.  They pay their taxes, Goddamn it.

I hope Chris and Meggie both climb the great mountains of the world.  And I want them to breath pure area when they do.  And not only from a pressurised bottle.  I owe them clean air and water, wild animals, and genuinely quiet places.

There is one consolation in all this -- though consolation is certainly an ironic term for it.  As the world's population increases, the likelihood of mass "culls" also increases.  Influenza killed about 50 million people between 1915 and 1920.  The next mass pandemic will kill two to five times that many, I have read.  I hope Chris and Meggie (and Ola and I) are not amongst those killed, but if we are it will serve us right for having done nothing to prevent it.  And by prevent I don't mean develop and distribute better drugs -- the Bill Gates method.  I mean slow down.  A lot.  As soon as possible.  I mean grow enough food for six billion, and then not go any higher than six billion.