Travel with Ryszard Kapuśćinski – an elegy.

A few nights ago a 74 year old man died in Poland. I met him once in a bookstore in Kraków’s Stalinist model town Nowa Huta. He was introduced to me by a pretty blonde teacher with a walking stick. I immediately understood his language, which was so rewarding after only a year of study. His name was Ryszard and he took me to the airport. We went to India, China and, of course, Africa. Surprisingly, and almost contemporaneously, he also showed me the ancient Mediterranean – while I took him to Bavaria, Edinburgh, and Moscow.

Podróże z Herodotem (Travel with Herodotus) was a revelation. It showed me poignant, elegant and contemporary Polish, while telling me of travels in the same world Herodotus described some 2500 years prior. The intricate weaving patterns of Kapuśćinski's tales, of history and diary, contrasted yet harmonized with the lucid thread of his language. The book goes beyond the realms of travel-writing or journalistic autobiography. This is global narrative! I decided that as soon as I would get back, or rather to the back of the book, I would contact Ryszard and ask him personally about his craft and mastery. Selfishly, perhaps, I thought he could be my Brodsky, my Pasternak and like a few lucky senior colleagues, I, too, would get to study the works of a great contemporary writer. I was so curious to hear what his next plans were, whether he would combine his journalistic prose with his poetry, what he thought of the rise of travel literature and translation theories.

But Ryszard was a traveler and before I got to ask him where he would go next, he left. I miss(ed) him.