The author’s uncle was a concert pianist who harboured a passion for Chopin. He extracted a deathbed promise from his nephew to ‘visit those places Chopin frequented as a young man . . . to better understand the patriotic roots of Chopin’s music’ and implored him ‘to scatter his ashes over the Mazovia plain near Chopin’s birthplace’. This was the genesis of the author’s engagement with Poland.
Accepting an assignment to a Swiss-Polish joint venture formed to ‘introduce Polish companies to “the joys of the market economy” ’, he took up residence at its training centre near Warsaw in January 1992:
It resembled an abandoned military barracks . . . . Cats fought under the radiators and dogs ate scraps of lavatory paper on the floor . . . . The corridors were decorated with curling photocopies of Polish medallions and photographs of onions and tomatoes .
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