Kielbasa Stories

Jesteśmy w Polsce i mówimy po polsku

2012-01-22T15:55:00.002+01:00

Czy mówi Pan po angielsku? (Do you speak English, sir?)

Czy mówi Pani po angielsku? (Do you speak English, ma’am?)

Czy mogę mówić po angielsku? (May I speak English?)

How many times have I asked these questions? Maybe a hundred times or more. These are the kinds of answers I usually get:

Nie, nie mówię po angielsku. (No, I do not speak English.)

Nie, nie mówię po angielsku. Może po niemiecku? (No, I don’t speak English. Maybe German?)

Nie, niestety nie. (No, unfortunately not.)

Nie za bardzo mówię ale rozumiem. Prosze mówić po angielsku i ja po polsku. Damy radę. (Not very well, but I understand. Please speak English and I Polish. We’ll manage somehow.)

Tak. (Yes.)

Yes, a little.

Yes, of course.

Sometimes I get a nice surprise like with the insurance agent last year who inspected the Jeep. He had worked a few years in Scotland and in addition to being handsome, had a beautiful Scottish accent. Unfortunately, his cost projections for repairing the Jeep were considerably lower than our mechanics.

Or many years ago when I was in hospital in Gdynia and I met a nice sailor, well a retired sailor, in his seventies. Our conversation started when he invited me into the elevator saying in English, “Please go first. Beauty before age.” How sweet.

Or just recently the building inspector who came to check our new central heating installation at our house surprised me with her fantastic vocabulary, of course, concerning home installations – her specialty. It was a real pleasure to talk with her and ask her some questions about our home.

You see, it is a surprise and a pleasure when someone speaks my language. I don’t expect it from anyone. And why should I? This is Poland. People don’t need English in their everyday lives. These days, I try to do everything in Polish but when the issue is complicated or I am feeling especially tongue-tied, I occasionally give in to my weakness and ask if my conversational counterpart speaks English as I did this week. Now I have a new answer to add to my list. Can you guess what it is?

Nie. Jesteśmy w Polsce. Mówimy po polsku. (No. We are in Poland. We speak Polish.)

And that from someone who has authority over my children.

Bills, Bills, Bills

2012-01-11T17:51:00.001+01:00

Oh how good it is to be mortgage-free. It’s like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders. I feel so light and free…until the next mortgage ;)

My general attitude to my previous mortgage was to ignore it, especially the exchange rate. I was much happier that way. You see, my mortgage was in Euro and I earn in PLN. In the future, I plan to borrow in the currency that I earn – less stress for me.

But I have to remind myself that no mortgage does not equal no bills. Chris, remember, bills…you have to pay your bills…and they do add up.

First of all there is ZUS. That’s like Social Security and healthcare tax. Next is income tax, invoices of teachers and accountant fees. After that is car insurance and gasoline for 2 cars (leasing contract is finished – cars are mine). We move on to utilities – electric, heat, water, landline, internet, sat TV, and maintenance fees for the apartment and electric, water and gas for the house. I almost forgot property tax, water co-op fees and cell phones (2). Add to that pre-school fees for 2 kids and I think that is about it without food and repairs and clothes and shoes and doctors and medicine and entertainment (ha, what’s that?).

Actually, that is quite enough thank you very much. Perhaps I will continue to plead ignorance.

Should

2012-01-10T09:29:00.001+01:00

I should write about so many things, but just can’t find the time. I should write about how our new year started out with a bang when a guy rear-ended us on January 1st. I should write about my broken washer and the mountain of dirty clothes piled up until the new washer is delivered tomorrow. I should write about how Rosie somehow attended Religia at pre-school and informed us that “good boys and girls go to church” and “Jesus helps Mommies and Daddies”. I should write about how when you split your time between 2 domiciles, you need 2 of everything. I should write about my lack of motivation for any kind of resolutions this year.

I should, I should, I should, but I’m too busy.

I guess I am just “blessed with work” as my Grandmother always put it.

Wishing you many blessings in 2012…especially the blessing of work :)

How many hats do you wear?

2012-01-04T13:05:00.001+01:00

I play many roles in my life, as we all do and when I meet someone (officially with introductions) or in passing (the cashier at the check-out lane) I wonder about all the roles they play…for I see only one……

You could suppose that I am voyeuristic or plain nosy but actually I am just curious…in a healthy way. It doesn’t matter that I live (and have lived for more than 10 years) in a different country. I still want to learn about what makes us different and what makes us the same. Maybe that’s the reason some people read my blog too.

So please indulge your voyeuristic desires. Here are some of my roles…

Mother: No 1 most important, rewarding, time-consuming and brain-cell sucking. Becoming a mother changed my whole life. It changed how I see the world. It has made me a better person. I cannot say the same for my manicure.

Wife: You’d have to ask Misiu how he feels I’m doing in this role but I feel that when I have to cut corners of one my roles, I usually cut ‘wife’ corners before I cut ‘mother’ corners. Sad, but true. Sorry Misiu for forgetting our anniversary this year :(

Cook: I’m getting better. Nobody is starving in our household and thanks to the computer located basically in the kitchen, a new recipe is just one google away.

Housekeeper: Don’t even ask.

Friend: Ok, this is the one that actually gets cuts the most – first out of necessity/practicality- I mean I can’t seem to meet with some friends because one of us (or our children) is always ill. With “friends” (I really mean acquaintances/workmates) they are understanding and meeting once a year sometimes has to be sufficient. I am no longer the one seeking out my friends. I learned from Misiu - if someone doesn’t check if you even exist for more than a year, then what kind of friend are they anyway? We’ve each got a handful of friends that we love and trust (and who would lend us money). That’s enough for us.

Parent: Of course this should go along with mother, but I am talking about the perspective of others, for example teachers at school where I am “that parent”- the one who thinks rajstopy are not necessary on an everyday basis. The one who doesn’t allow her children to attend religion lessons. The one who sometimes doesn’t iron her children’s clothes.

From the perspective of my children, I guess I will know for sure how I am doing as a parent some 20 years from now (with a time about 10 years from now in which I will learn that I am ruining their lives). Currently, Daddy is the best and Mommy is chopped liver.

Neighbor: I think I am a good neighbor. We are clean, calm, pretty quiet, helpful. I used to be known (and maybe still am) as “that neighbor”. When there was a problem in the building one neighbor said to me “maybe you can do something about it….they already know how you are”. You mean totally cool? Of course they know how I am. Smokers in the hallway…I’ll take care of it. Stinky garbage in the hallway…done. Crazy cat lady and the funky smell coming from her apartment…double done. Dog poo every where in front of our building….still working on it.

And we were rewarded for our good neighborly relations last Halloween and the Halloween before that when our neighbors allowed our little trick-or-treaters to come to their doors.

Teacher: I have my good times and my bad. You’d have to ask my students. Wait. Better not.

Employee: Misiu is my boss per se but we have a good system.

Daughter-in-Law: Or basically anything-in-law is totally ok now. I can speak enough Polish and anything which disagrees with the expectations of how I should perform this role is blamed on the fact that I am American. That is a very convenient excuse.

Churchgoer: My performance in this role ended a long time ago and while my lack of church going is often blamed on the language barrier we all know the reasons are deeper than that.

Patient: I’m a pain in the ass patient for many doctors because I ask a lot of questions (something I learned almost too late from the time I was ill). I follow the philosophy of my former doctor…

1. “In the medical profession, I trust no one, even myself.”

2. “Chris, be careful. This town is a kurwidół (a whore pit) and we (doctors) are all kurwy (whores).” He really said that.

The practical application of these philosophies means that my approach to medicine is at best cautious leaning towards suspicious, sometimes borderline paranoid.

Confidante: I’m real good at this one. People will tell you everything at English lessons, about their upcoming divorce, insider trading, shady pasts, and the good stuff too like how much they love their kids or think skiing is the best sport ever, etc.

Writer: I decided to add this one. I mean what does this role really require – that I write something (I do write some stuff) and somebody reads it (not even sure that is required). I guess I fulfill the minimum requirements of this role :)

Sister: I do very poorly in this role, but I suppose it is because no one is particularly interested in me fulfilling it.

The role that I am struggling with the most is daughter. Maybe because I haven’t played that role in over 7 years and for the 10 years before that it was played only on a part-time basis. My parents also do not know me in the roles of mother, parent, teacher, employee, friend, patient, writer and so on. They only know one slither of me and they don’t even know that slither very well. I’m planning a visit to my parents (not soon but planning). That gives me some time to figure out how to introduce them to me, the whole me.

Christmas in the Village

2011-12-28T17:35:00.004+01:00

We spent Christmas at our village house for the first time ever. It was fantastic. Rosie kept saying “this is our prawdziwy dom”. That’s exactly what I was thinking too. We were able to spend Christmas at our house this year because we installed gas heating which was finished just a few days before Christmas. For future reference - when the gas company tells you that it only takes a month or two to do all the paperwork and install everything, please know that they are exaggerating at best or just plain lying at worst.

We had a real tree and put it up in the girls’ room. That’s when I discovered that lights for a little apartment-tree are not enough for a big house-tree. Oh well, better luck next year. I also discovered that it is hard to play Santa Claus in the room where children are sleeping, but I managed to do it somehow. The top hit this year was Baby Alive for Rosie and Lego City for Lizzie. They were also thrilled with their room and the house and spending time together. So were we.

The girls made some decorations for the tree. I love them! It’s my Christmas 2011 “favorite thing”.

I cooked the usual - kutia, herrings and this year pork roast with prunes.

Here are all the ingredients for kutia. Recipe after the pictures.

Here’s the wheat after it is cooked…

…and after all the ingredients have been added.

Mmmm…kutia.

Kutia Recipe

“kutia” wheat -whole grains

raisins

honey

nuts of your choice

poppy seeds

candied orange peel

cream at least 18%

Soak the wheat overnight. Boil in a large pot until the wheat softens. Depending on the brand of wheat, it can take from 1 hour to as long as 3. Drain and rinse the wheat.

Mix the cooked wheat, honey (to taste – I use about 6 teaspoons for one bag of wheat), raisins, chopped nuts (I use walnuts and sometimes almonds), poppy and candied orange peel (I used canned and prepared poppy seeds) and a couple of tablespoons of cream.

Kutia Przepis

pszenica na kutię – całe ziarna

rodzynki

miód

orzechy – do wyboru

mak

kandyzowana skórka z pomarańczy

śmietanka – co najmniej 18%

Mocz pszenicę w wodzie przez noc. Gotuj w dużym garnku aż zmięknie. W zależności od rodzaju ziarna może to zająć od 1 do 3 godzin. Odcedź i wypłucz pszenicę.

Wymieszaj ugotowaną pszenicę, miód (żeby był smak ja używam około 6 łyżeczek na jeden woreczek pszenicy), rodzynki, posiekane orzechy (ja używam włoskie a czasami migdały), mak i skórkę pomarańczy (używam maku gotowego z puszki) i kilka łyżek stołowych śmietanki .

I can say that after all these years in Poland, I even like herrings – as long as I prepare them myself. My favorite way to prepare herrings is with onions.

Herrings with onions

8-10 herring filets matias (as we call them “majtasy”). If they are salted they need to be rinsed or even soaked and rinsed in water or milk. Drain and pat dry. Set aside.

Slice an onion or two very thinly. Place on a plate and sprinkle with sugar. Allow the onions to sit until they start to get soft and release some juice (at least an hour). Layer the fish and onions in a bowl. Sprinkle each layer with a little white wine vinegar and drizzle with some olive oil. Allow to sit at least 12 hours. Decorate with parsley and lime.

Śledzie z cebulą

8-10 filetów śledziowych tzw. MATJASY (my mówimy na nie MAJTASY). Jeśli są posolone trzeba je wypłukać lub nawet namoczyć w wodzie lub w mleku i wypłukać. Odcedzić i wysuszyć. Odłożyć na bok.

Potnij w cienkie plasterki 1 lub 2 cebule. Połóż na talerzu i posyp cukrem. Pozostaw cebulę aż zmięknie i puści sok (co najmniej 1 godzina). Ułóż warstwami rybę i cebulę na półmisku. Pokrop każdą warstwę odrobiną octu winnego i polej odrobiną oliwy z oliwek. Pozostaw na co najmniej 12 godzin. Udekoruj natką pietruszki i limonką.

I also prepared a herring salad with potatoes, beets, onions, pickles, apples, herring (of course) and mayo but it wasn’t as good as the plain herrings with onions.

I thought that my biggest challenge would be the schab ze śliwkami but in fact it was the easiest. I was most worried about how I would make the hole in the roast for the prunes but our butcher read my mind and asked me if I needed a hole punched through the meat. Problem solved.

Before…

… and after.

Our Christmas Eve supper - pierogi and uszka courtesy of my mother-in-law

From the sofa I could admire our heater (yippee) and the Christmas decorations on our neighbor’s roof. We don’t have curtains as you can see. It makes things interesting ;)

Here’s some mistletoe from our garden that I hung in the kitchen. I stood under it for ages with no results. Maybe next time.

Some carolers came to our door but while I was looking for my wallet, they left. Impatient little carolers. I also saw my favorite neighborhood pijaki visiting the shop owner at home on Boxing Day begging him to take pity on them and open the shop just for a minute so they could buy a flaszka. The shop owner declined to open the shop. Good for him!

One more favorite thing of Christmas 2011 is the fact that we are mortgage free. We paid the last mortgage payment for our apartment (our house has been paid for awhile) and are now mortgage free. Yippee!

Shopping Madness

2011-12-17T15:00:00.002+01:00

I have experienced the shopping madness which is IKEA Saturday morning one week before Christmas. Normally, I wouldn’t even go to IKEA on a normal weekend but circumstances were such that we had to go today. What circumstances could possibly get me into a shopping mall a week before Christmas (‘cause we all know how I love to shop)?

Well, the circumstances are that our heat installer czyli plumber is finishing our central heating today and we will be able (knock on wood) to spend a warm and toasty Christmas at our dacha this year. And seeing as Christmas Eve is next Saturday and we don’t have any (well, almost any) furniture in our house and we don’t have any days off next week, well, you see why we had to go to shopping for furniture today.

Luckily, I planned ahead and thank goodness I did because it was a mad house…and we had to take the girls with us. Bless their little hearts, they were so well-behaved. First we stopped at JYSK – just as crowded as IKEA, but with only one cashier – to buy a trundle bed for the girls. Then off to IKEA for some more furniture. Chamstwo nie było. I made a list ahead of time which you can do from the catalog or better yet print out online and we shopped terminator style –locate and hit- throughout the whole store. There were plenty of helpful shop assistants. The lines at the check-out weren’t too bad. The bill was pretty high though - it was very Lisbeth of me.

Surprisingly, we didn’t see anybody we knew except for one employee of IKEA (Misiu used to teach English at IKEA). We usually see somebody we know no matter where we go – I even ran into an old school friend on the subway in NYC once. I suppose anybody I know would have more sense than to go to IKEA a week before Christmas.

Now all that is left is to clean our housek (blah), put all the furniture together (blah) and do the grocery shopping (don’t worry, I have a list). I bought the children’s presents 2 weeks ago so they only need to be wrapped (oh, wrapping paper) and put under the tree. THE TREE! That’s another thing to take care of…

Just an aside, this year my girls are pretty much getting everything on their Christmas lists. Now, just wait a minute, I am not spoiling them. They just have incredibly short Christmas lists. Why? Because they think you can only get one thing for Christmas. Finding all their gifts (well, except for one thing from each of their lists – I have to leave something for their birthdays) took some doing. And let me just say this – for name brand toys SMYK is a rip-off. Baby Alive, Rosie’s dream doll, costs 299.98 at SMYK and I got it for 148.99 at Auchan – in the same mall. The same goes for Legos. SMYK does, however, have nice “Smyk” brand toys for a reasonable price.

Of course, I spoke too soon. Misiu just called to say the heat isn’t finished (it’s almost finished) and the plumber isn’t answering his phone. It can’t be worse than our last plumber who made a huge hole in the wall and then killed himself, God rest his soul. Heat or no heat, we are blessed.

Marszu Niepodległości i Sprawiedliwości – March of Independence and Justice

2011-12-14T13:49:00.007+01:00

Yesterday, the political party PiS organized a March of Independence and Justice in Warsaw. I was thinking about the anniversary of martial law in Poland yesterday and apparently PiS was thinking about something else.

There were a lot of anti-Tusk signs and anti-Sikorski signs especially after Sikorski’s public comments that we (Europe) cannot afford Germany’s lack of action in face of the financial crisis. PiS has expressed a fear that Poland’s sovereignty is threatened by membership in the European Union. Just an FYI – Poland currently holds the Presidency of the Council of the European Union.

Here’s just a taste of what Kaczyński had to say about it. Read more here in Gazeta Wyborcza.

Chcę wam przyrzec, że PiS stanie na czele walki o Polskę suwerenną! Aby obywatele Polski mogli sami decydować o tym, co jest ważne. Stać nas na to! Gdyby nie to chore państwo, gdyby nie te interesiki, nasz naród parłby do przodu jak Chiny. Musimy zrzucić ten worek kamieni. - Jarosław Kaczyński

I want to promise you all that PiS will lead the fight for Poland's sovereignty! So that Polish citizens can decide for themselves what is important. We can do it! If it were not for this sick government, if it were not for these little deals, our nation would push forward as China has done. We must throw off this bag of stones. – Jarosław Kaczyński (translation mine). *

I cannot think of a more independent and just country than China to model our nation after.**

*If I understand correctly the “bag of stones” is the membership in the EU and the “little deals” are agreements with the EU.
**I thought we were supposed to model ourselves after Hungary? Jarosław, I can’t keep up.

Angina po polsku

2011-12-12T11:58:00.002+01:00

Little Rosie has angina. Angina!?! you say. Don’t worry. It isn’t that serious. She has angina po polsku.

I remember the first time I heard the word angina in Poland. One of my students called me to cancel her lesson because she had to pick up her child from kindergarten and take him to the doctor. She said that he probably had angina. My reaction - No leć! Go! Go to the doctor immediately, maybe even the hospital. My student, the mother of the little patient, didn’t seem to be all that concerned. I thought, maybe angina isn’t such a big deal here in Poland.

Of course I was thinking of angina in English – actually I was thinking of angina pectoris, a heart problem while my student’s child was suffering from angina in Polish which is in fact tonsillitis or acute purulent tonsillitis in Rosie’s case. She has all the telltale signs – fever, vomiting and white spots on her tonsils. She’ll be on antibiotics for the week and stay home from pre-school obviously.

Aahh, acute angina…that reminds me of a joke.

Keep yourselves well!

Santa’s Little Helpers

2011-12-11T17:52:00.002+01:00

One Lovely Blog

2011-12-11T17:50:00.002+01:00

Thank you Megi for the award. It helps brighten things up around here.

Homemade Advent Calendar

2011-12-11T17:39:00.002+01:00

Here’s a simple and creative idea for a homemade Advent calendar.

All the credit goes to the very crafty mom of my student Misia.

To make your own Advent calendar you will need:

a corkboard

empty matchboxes

decorative paper

strings

corkboard pins

paper

a metallic pen

little surprises to go in each box

amazing willpower not to look in the boxes (Misia, don’t peek!)

Here’s the finished product.

Happy Holidays!

VV

2011-12-06T10:00:00.003+01:00

The original Polish sex kitten, Violetta Villas has died at the age of 73. Violetta whose career spanned more than 50 years was just as famous for her hair as she was for her coquettish singing style.

I got to know about Violetta Villas from my father-in-law. We were looking through an old photo album where we found a post card with a picture of Violetta Villas posing in a leopard-print bikini, of course with her trademark hair. My f-i-l who is a quiet and introspective man remarked that when he was younger he thought she was just about the sexiest thing going.

So, good-bye Violetta Villas. You have taught me a few things over the years. First of all, that “nie ma miłości bez zazdrości”. Second of all that “Józek wszystko wie”. And lastly, that my father-in-law has a peculiar taste in women.

blah, blah, blah…czyli what’s up with me

2011-12-04T13:58:00.002+01:00

I know this blog is supposed to be mainly about Poland but we shall digress for a moment and talk about….me!

I am working, working, working as usual as is Misiu. We celebrated Thanksgiving last weekend (it had to be on the weekend for us, but hooray – no Black Friday!) and have started to think about Christmas. Santa Claus Day is the 6th and Lizzie and Rosie per our new tradition (because I forgot Santa Claus day last year) will leave letters to Santa under their pillows. Santa will take their letters so he knows what to bring them for Christmas and leave them something sweet . That’s how we cover the issue of Santa visiting us twice. So far our story holds water ;)

We have received the girls’ passports finally. So what that the photographer made them look like orphans from some forgotten Siberian orphanage. What’s important is that they are little American citizens.

Lizzie and Rosie have hit the pre-school social circuit and they have hit it hard. They have invitations to birthday parties practically every week and last week they even went to 2 parties on the same day. One party Lizzie described as the “best party in my whole life” – props to the mom who pulled that off. I don’t know if it means anything but my girls were the only girls invited to the last 2 parties and Lizzie is going to a party next week and she is the only girl invited. I noticed that those birthday boys like cars, dinosaurs and Spiderman just like Lizzie so I suppose it is a birds-of-a-feather thing.

We have plans to end our reign of village coolness and install central heating in our village house. Well, we have more than plans and would like to spend Christmas there without huddling in one room, but I say no more – don’t wanna jinx it.

We are also looking for a new apartment in the City. There’s nothing wrong with our current apartment, but as the kids grow the apartment seems to shrink. We thought we’d get on top of the problem and start looking now. Yesterday we went to an open house of one of the local developments. The apartments were nice if not a little to0 small for us (the biggest on offer was 72 sq.m.). The sales associate who accompanied us pulled a “ja tylko sprzątam” on us and knew almost nothing about the building, parking, garages, finish dates, etc. From our own investigation we found that this development will have no on-street parking. None. Well, there are 6 places currently at the sales booth but we alone would occupy 1/3 of that parking lot. That means garage only. Bleh, 50,000 PLN to park your car in a spot among all the other cars. Bleh.

On a brighter note, we went to the Christmas fair in the Market Square as we do every year. The kids checked out the fairytale presentations and then took a few turns on the carousel and the race track (very Christmasey, don’t ya think?) and we perused the stalls to see what’s new in Christmas trends. And what’s new in Christmas trends? Apparently trying to pass off Christmas ornaments made in China as made in Poland – that’s the only trend we saw. And thank you to the lady who gave us 3 tickets to the carousel after her child got bored. We used 2 of them and re-gifted the third. Thanks again.

Merry Christmas preparations!

For Kubala: kawaii po polsku

2011-11-27T14:39:00.002+01:00

Ok, ok, it’s not as cute as the Japanese warnings posted by Kubala but it’s the best I could find. The stork says “stop” forbidding our entrance to the bird preserve close to my village house. It’s a good thing too ‘cause we used to walk there.

Check out Kubala’s blog about his stay in Japan http://nihongawakarimasen.blogspot.com/

Check out dwakoty’s blog about her life in the village in Japan http://nawsiwjaponii.blogspot.com/ I especially like her posts entitled “Cute na codzien” and “Srodowe bento”.

Giving is Good II

2011-11-21T21:50:00.002+01:00

Last Thursday evening I had the honor once again to attend PGF’s annual charity auction. The auction benefits children in cancer wards all over Poland and was held this year in the Museum of Architecture in Wroclaw. I, unfortunately, do not have photos from the event because I was simply too busy socializing with all the fantastic people there – and of course I had to take a close look at all the beautiful pictures before I could select the one that I wanted to bid on.

And here it is, a picture made by a 7-year-old little artist from the cancer ward in Kielce.

Forgive me for copying from my own post last year but…

PGF Urtica is one of the largest wholesalers and distributors of pharmaceuticals (to the hospital market) in the country. Urtica dzieciom is the charitable arm of the company which organizes cycles of artistic workshops for the patients in the children’s cancer wards. These workshops are led by a team of dedicated professional artists and art teachers throughout the whole year culminating in the annual auction where we can admire the artistic talents of those incredible little patients.

The auction started out with a welcoming speech from the President of PGF Urtica and moved swiftly into a film presentation of the workshops in the cancer wards. Then the “big auction” began. Once again, I couldn’t participate in the big auction (prices!) but was pleased to see bids reaching into the thousands. Last year’s auction was very emotional as the little star of the annual video passed away not long after filming the video. This year was all business. Big auction, break, little auction, break, musical presentation, results. The auction this year raised almost 85 thousand zloty. Let’s hope to break 100 thousand next year!

Independence Day 11.11.11

2011-11-12T15:36:00.002+01:00

Yesterday was Polish Independence Day. We celebrated in an official way….

…and in a non-official way.

It was a really lovely day spent with our children.

Poland’s borders have changed dramatically over the last thousand years. Poland has grown and shrunk and even disappeared from the map altogether. I recommend checking out this page to get the whole effect. You can see how the map of Poland changes from the 10th century up until now.

During times of expansion, Poland reached its largest size under Zygmunt Stary I (reigning 1506-1548) reaching from the Baltic Sea to the Black Sea. Poland was cut in size during the first partition of Poland which took place in 1772 with the Prussians, Russians and Austrians pushing on Poland from all sides. The 2nd partition by Prussians and Russians took place in 1793 reducing the size of Poland even more, with the 3rd partition of Poland taking place in 1795 by Russians, Prussians and again the Austrians thus removing an independent Poland from the map. Poland as an independent country did not return to the map until 1918 starting with uprisings and border changes (led, of course, by Józef Piłsudski). In 1920 the Russians attacked and the borders continued to change for the next few years until 1939 when Poland came under Russian and Nazi German rule. After WWII, the borders were re-set in 1945 (with a minor adjustment in 1951), but unfortunately leaving a proud “independent” Poland behind the iron curtain.

In 1980 Solidarity began and in 1981 martial law was declared. The iron curtain fell in 1989 with the first “free” elections in Poland (the communist party allowed free elections for 1/3 of the seats in the Sejm but free elections were allowed for the entire Senate). Poland is on its 4th president since then – Lech Wałęsa from 1990-1995, Alexsander Kwaśniewski from 1995-2005 during which Poland joined the European Union, Lech Kaczyński from 2005-2010 ending with his death in a plane crash and currently President Bronisław Komorowski who governs with Prime Minister Donald Tusk, both members of the same political party PO (Civic Platform). (Ok, ok, Poland is on its 5th President actually if we count General Wojciech Jaruzelski’s presidency in 1989-1990. He was selected by the parliament, not in the popular vote.)

Enough with the history in a nutshell. Back to us. In addition to our official and non-official celebrations, we watched the official military parade and speeches broadcast from Warsaw. I love these kinds of holidays and watching the soldiers march. Lizzie and Rosie also enjoyed a good march around Babcia and Dziadek’s apartment, I am sure to the enjoyment of the neighbors downstairs. Speaking of marching, last year marked the 65th anniversary of the end of WWII. A monumental parade was held in Red Square in Moscow in which soldiers from Russia (of course), Poland, the US, Britain and France took part. I remember the TV interviews with some of the Polish troops returning from the trip and the questions regarding marching. In my opinion Polish troops march well. They really put on a good show. The Polish troops felt that they did a good job in Moscow but stated that the Russians really know how to march. Unfortunately, the almost unanimous opinion was that the US troops marched the worst of the group and that their march “lacked heart”. :(

Official ceremony from Warsaw – President and First Lady

fot. PAP / Jacek Turczyk

fot. PAP / Radek Pietruszka

PAP/ Tomasz Gzell

(fot. Grażyna Myślińska/FORUM)

Wrocław

wp.pl Paweł Kozioł

Wrocław

wp.pl Paweł Kozioł

On a lighter note, here’s a funny map of Europe I found here.

Europe according to Americans

I live in the buffer zone between the Commies and the country of Dirty Porn. That would make me a nervous neighbor…a very nervous neighbor.

Kraków

2011-11-06T18:42:00.002+01:00

Two weeks ago, we took a little trip to Kraków. The last time we were there was….before the kids were born. We were definitely overdue for a visit. The kids were interested in 2 things only – the castle (Wawel) and the dragon (smok Wawelski). Lucky for us, the armory in Wawel is free on Mondays and the dragon’s den costs only 3 zl per adult – kids go free.

Wawel

Lizzie noticed this door and commented that it doesn’t look very “castley”.

coming out of the dragon’s den

waiting for the fire…

the fire!

Halloween 2011

2011-11-01T12:33:00.002+01:00

What a difference a year makes. Halloween has taken over Poland. More parties, more candy, more decorations and did I mention more parties? I feel so special, as if it were all just for me. Maybe I should have been Narcissus for Halloween instead of a pirate.

If you recall, I had mixed feelings about Halloween last year here in Poland. As I have stated many times, I do not desire to import Halloween to Poland. I just want to share my childhood holiday with my half-Polish/half-American children. Traditions give our lives meaning, don’t you think?

Last year, Lizzie’s class at pre-school was the only group to celebrate Halloween and the only reason they celebrated Halloween at all was because we taught a Halloween lesson as requested by the teacher. Our lesson was a big hit complete with a story book, and art project and even learning a few basic but essential Halloween phrases in English such as “boo”, “pumpkin” and “trick or treat”. It was a lot of fun, but one family didn’t think so and took their child out of the classroom for this lesson.

I wonder what those parents did this year because Lizzie’s pre-school is bursting with Halloween. The whole school is decorated and they had a big, organized party on Friday. Even the “lunch ladies” dressed up. As the sign says “Hapy Halloween” everyone!

Here is one decoration from pre-school that we particularly liked…(bravo to the teachers)…

…and here is our home version. It is an easy peasy Halloween “pillow”. You need a brown paper bag, some paint, crayons or chalk, some glue or staples and some old newspaper to stuff inside.

On the radio today they were talking about the origins of Halloween and whatnot. It seems Halloween is not so far away from Polish traditions according to the guest. They also talked about what to do if some little scary creatures show up on your doorstep this evening – trick-or-treating protocol, so to speak. Many people called in to say that they are prepared for trick-or-treaters with bowls of candy on stand-by. Other people called in to say that it is a borrowed holiday and kind of artificial to celebrate it. One guy stated that he doesn’t have anything for the kids and he will choose the trick if need be. Oh, how I was dreaming about this very guy as child. I never once encountered a house without a treat. How I dreamed about playing a trick, just once. Kids in Poland will get the chance I never had. Kids, make it a good one!

We had a party as usual and now our tradition stands 3 years long. We not only had a party at home, but we also went trick-or-treating. That is part of the Halloween celebration that I need help with and once again for the third year in a row, our neighbors rocked. Thank you neighbors for making our day.

pre trick-or-treating party

I am a very scary pirate and Rosie is a very scary dinosaur

Lizzie as a very scary skeleton

another scary friend

we begin our trick-or-treating

pause for photo op

Hey Mister, where’d you go?…to the kitchen to get the candy

Misiu as a very flamboyant pirate

refreshments for the guests – spider eggs and eyeball soup

then all the little scary creature went to sleep and we could rest

Happy Halloween!

We are lucky ducks!

2011-10-21T16:25:00.002+02:00

Look what we got! Delicious homemade Halloween cookies from Lois B. – otherwise known as the Polish Housewife. They were packed with care and sent all the way from Poznań. They arrived in perfect condition :)

Lois, our postman commented on the box with the St. Martin’s croissants pictures and told us how lucky we were to receive such a precious package.

Thank you again. I had to hide half the cookies from the kids! They have demanded your recipe.

Check out Lois’s other blogs Food is my Love Language and Lois B 365 Project.

Attention Drivers

2011-10-20T19:07:00.002+02:00

Spotted on the ground in the parking lot outside my building. Laughed my ass off. Laughed much harder than if sticker had been found on my car.

Loose translation: You have received a penalty dick for the dicky parking of your car. (Sorry, that’s the best I could come up with. It’s funnier in Polish.)

Halloween is around the corner…

2011-10-18T14:07:00.002+02:00

We are gearing up for Halloween next week – that is if gearing up means only thinking about all the things we have to do for the Halloween party without actually doing them.

Lizzie plans to be a police officer and if not that then a soldier and if not that then a race car driver. Rosie wants to be a princess or Snow White or a mermaid or Scooby-Doo or a pumpkin. It just depends on her mood when you ask her.

Last year, I was a knight and my girls have informed me that I cannot wear the same costume 2 Halloweens in a row. Two years ago I was a “tired mommy” no costume required. This year I could go as “really tired mommy” and yes, those bags under my eyes are real.

Misiu also doesn’t have any costume ideas. We don’t want to do any topical costumes because the kids won’t know who we are supposed to be – so no Bella’s or Jacob’s or Lady Gaga’s for us. Misiu supports all my costume choices (nun, nurse, Little Red Riding Hood, pirate) as long as the word “naughty” is placed in front of the costume name.

Our Halloween will start either at our apartment or at our neighbor’s downstairs. Then we go trick-or-treating only to the neighbors who have previously agreed to allow us to trick-or-treat them. We also trick-or-treat our own apartment ;) and then go inside for the party. The kids play games and eat too much candy while the adults chat and eat pumpkin pie. It’s a lot of fun.

It is in no way our intention to bring Halloween to Poland. My children (2 little American citizens) have never been to the US. I am aware that their connection to the States and to the traditions of my family rests on my shoulders. Halloween is part of me, part of my childhood, and I want to share it with them. Fortunately, my cool neighbors understand that and want to help me share this tradition with my children. Thanks “from the mountains” neighbors ;)

I couldn’t resist….

2011-10-13T17:14:00.004+02:00

Apparently our homegrown celebrities are not sufficient for the city of Katowice and for the grand opening of the Silesia City Center.

Guru of hotness and not-ness, Paris Hilton, deemed Poland worthy of her catchphrase and declared Poland officially “hot”.

Paris Hilton w Silesia City Center (fot. PAP/Andrzej Grygiel)

If only this priest knew what Ms. Hilton is so famous for.

Paris Hilton w Silesia City Center (fot. PAP/Andrzej Grygiel)

That’s hot.

So you wanna have a baby in Poland, Part 2 -No to chcesz rodzić dziecko w Polsce, Część 2

2011-10-07T22:22:00.003+02:00

I suppose in Part 2 of “So you wanna have a baby”, after we have secured funds, selected the hospital and have the doctor all settled, we can start with the getting pregnant part.

That means you should have sex, a lot of sex. Or not.

I personally used the calendar method in order to get pregnant. I know that many folks use that method in order to NOT get pregnant (which in my opinion is too risky), but it worked a charm for us in actually getting pregnant. But we still continued with the sex, you know, musialyśmy poprawić. (make corrections)

Too bad my doctor kept getting in the way. (not literally)

Firstly, after our miscarriage my doctor explained that these things happen and that it probably means nothing for our future fertility. He expressed his sympathy, declared me healthy and then hit us with his recommendations.

His suggestions after a miscarriage:

You should wait. Wait. And wait some more. From 6 months up to a year. (No explanation as to why. Just because.)

You should get full genetic testing of yourself and spouse. (In my opinion, after one early miscarriage, this kind of testing is pre-mature.)

In addition to genetic testing, checking the ovaries and fallopian tubes for defects was deemed necessary. (Quite invasive for a person with one, early miscarriage.)

I declined all his suggestions explaining that I’m no spring chicken and didn’t want to wait. I told the doctor we’d start trying again in a couple of months. I explained that if we had problems again, I would consider checking into the problem further. At that point, his suggestions became urgings, strong, almost angry urgings and that’s when I understood that my doctor was sliding down the slippery slope, the patient/customer -customer/patient slope. His business practices were interfering with my health care. We firmly declined additional procedures and went on our way.

After a few months, (yay!), we got pregnant. No drug store tests were needed for me. I was sure. We scheduled a visit with my doctor and we were rolling. That’s when I found out the whole pregnant-lady, doctor’s-office procedure.

At my doctor, it went like this:

Come to the doctor a little bit early for blood and urine tests. It was unbelievably convenient to have a lab at the doctor’s office. Then go to another doctor for a USG, checking yourself if anybody is in there and who’s next. Incredibly inconvenient for people who don’t speak Polish very well. After the USG, wait with all the other pregnant ladies for the doctor to call you for your visit. (If you are further along, you should add a visit to the basement to the KTG before returning to the waiting room)

The doctor’s visits which occur about once a month for the entire pregnancy, last anywhere from 5 to 15 minutes. Then you need to pay the doctor (hand to hand) and then pay the nurse for the blood and urine tests, the USG and also the KTG if you had one. I was unaware that the USG was not included in the price and did not start paying until I was about 7 months pregnant. Tight accounting policies ;)

Seems like a fiasco for a pregnant lady- knocking on doors, up and down stairs, waiting, waiting and more waiting. It wasn’t that bad, really, except the time they kept me waiting 3 hours for my KTG. The system is designed so the leading doctor spends the least amount of time with each patient as possible while still giving the patient a complete work up. It’s a business decision.

Everything was going fine. I was reading up about things like breast pumps and baby whispering. I tried to learn all pregnancy, birth and baby vocabulary in Polish. Really, things were great, in my opinion, until about the 5th month when my doctor asked me when I was planning to go on sick leave (L4). My eyes got big and I asked him what was wrong. He replied that nothing was wrong. I asked in panic what was wrong with the baby, with me. I thought that for sure I had misunderstand him or just missed something important that he had said in Polish. He said that nothing was wrong. So why the sick leave, I inquired. That’s when my doctor explained that it was customary for pregnant women in Poland to take sick leave for the second half of their pregnancies.* My father would offer that as proof that Poland must be a very rich country (my father has many such claims about Poland after 2 short visits). I breathed a sigh of relief and declined the L4, safe in the thought that if I needed it later, it would be available to me. Fortunately, I didn’t need it.

I felt great throughout my pregnancy and remained active. It was a really great time in my life - the anticipation of becoming a mother, of meeting my child. I gained a bit of weight which is par for the course and laughed when at +10 kilos at month 7, my doctor told me to slow down. Would a doctor in America say something like that? I’m not so sure.

*In order to avoid any nasty comments ;) – I am aware that not all Polish ladies take sick leave when they are pregnant. I am aware that some ladies need to take sick leave when they are pregnant. Having said that, I have seen many women take sick leave when they were pregnant who fully admit to not actually needing it but rather saying that they “deserve it”. I am not judging, just informing.

PS Pregnant women do not have to go to a private doctor during pregnancy. For fun, I decided to inquire at my family doctor’s office about a “pregnancy'” visit. I was given an appointment about 5 months in the future. I explained again to the receptionist that I was currently pregnant and needed an appointment now. Her reply, “Well, you should have thought about that before.” “What? Like before I was pregnant?” I asked. “Yes,” she said, “A lot of women make several appointments while trying to get pregnant and then cancel them when they are not needed.” Cool, huh?

Part 1

Przypuszczam, że w części 2 "No to chcesz rodzić dziecko", po tym jak już mamy zabezpieczone środki, wybraliśmy szpital i mamy załatwionego lekarza , możemy rozpocząć tę część, kiedy zachodzi się w ciążę.

Oznacza to, że należy uprawiać seks, dużo seksu. Lub nie.

Ja osobiście stosowałam metodę kalendarzową, w celu zajścia w ciążę. Wiem, że wielu ludzi stosuję tę metodę, żeby NIE zajść w ciążę (co moim zdaniem jest zbyt ryzykowne), ale udało się błyskawicznie zajść. Ale ciągle jeszcze uprawialiśmy seks, no wiecie, musieliśmy poprawić.

Szkoda, że mój lekarz ciągle się wtrącał. (nie dosłownie)

Po pierwsze, po naszym poronieniu lekarz wyjaśnił, że takie rzeczy się zdarzają i że prawdopodobnie to nic nie znaczy dla naszej przyszłej płodności. Wyraził współczucie, uznał, że jestem zdrowa, a następnie walnął swoimi zaleceniami.

Jego sugestie po poronieniu:

Należy poczekać. Poczekaj. I poczekaj jeszcze trochę. Od 6 miesięcy do roku. (Brak wyjaśnienia dlaczego. Po prostu, bo tak).

Powinniście wykonać pełne badania genetyczne dla siebie i małżonka. (Moim zdaniem, po jednym wczesnym poronieniu, tego rodzaju badania są przedwczesne.)

Oprócz testów genetycznych, sprawdzenie jajników i jajowodów, żeby wykryć potencjalne wady wydawało się również niezbędne. (Dość inwazyjne badanie dla osoby z jednym, wczesnym poronieniem.)

Odrzuciłam wszystkie jego sugestie i wyjaśniłam, że nie jestem już młódką i nie chcę czekać. Powiedziałam lekarzowi, że zaczniemy próbować ponownie za kilka miesięcy. I wyjaśniłam, że jeśli znowu będziemy mieć problemy, to wtedy zbadamy sprawę gruntownie. W tym momencie jego sugestie stały się naciskami, mocnymi niemalże wściekłymi naciskami i wtedy zrozumiałam, że mój lekarz zaczął zjeżdżać po równi pochyłej, po tym stoku - pacjent / klient - klient / pacjent. Jego praktyki biznesowe były ingerencją w moja opiekę zdrowotną. Zdecydowanie odrzuciliśmy możliwość dalszych dodatkowych procedur i poszliśmy w swoją stronę.

Po kilku miesiącach, (yay!), byliśmy w ciąży. Nie potrzebowałam żadnych testów z apteki. Byłam pewna. Zaplanowaliśmy wizytę u mojego lekarza i zaczęło się. Wtedy poznałam te wszystkie procedury pomiędzy kobietą w ciąży a gabinetem lekarskim.

U lekarza, poszło tak:

Przyjdź do lekarza trochę wcześniej na badania krwi i moczu. To było niesamowite udogodnienie - laboratorium w gabinecie lekarskim. Następnie udaj się do innego lekarza na USG, sama sprawdzając czy ktoś tam jest i kto jest następny. Niezwykle uciążliwe dla ludzi, którzy nie znają dobrze polskiego. Po USG, czekaj ze wszystkimi innymi paniami w ciąży do lekarza, aż wywoła ciebie. (Jeśli jesteś w bardziej zaawansowanej ciąży, należy dodać wizytę w piwnicy na KTG przed powrotem do poczekalni)

Wizyty lekarskie, które mają miejsce raz w miesiącu przez cały okres ciąży, trwają od 5 do 15 minut. Następnie trzeba zapłacić lekarzowi (z ręki do ręki), a następnie zapłacić pielęgniarce za badania krwi i moczu, USG i również KTG gdybyś miała takowe. Nie wiedziałem, że USG nie było wliczone w cenę i nie zaczęłam płacić aż do około 7 miesiąca ciąży. Surowa polityka rachunkowości;)

Wygląda to jak totalna porażką dla kobiety w ciąży, żeby tak pukać do drzwi, łazić po schodach w górę i w dół, czekać, czekać i jeszcze czekać. Nie było tak źle, naprawdę, z wyjątkiem tego razu, kiedy przytrzymali mnie 3 godziny do KTG. System jest zaprojektowany tak, żeby lekarz prowadzący spędzał jak najmniej czasu z każdą pacjentką przy jednoczesnym kompleksowym badaniu pacjentki z góry na dół. Jest to decyzja biznesowa.

Wszystko było w porządku. Czytałam nawet o takich rzeczach jak pompy do odciągania mleka z piersi i o zaklinaniu niemowlaka. Próbowałam nauczyć się całego słownictwa dotyczącego ciąży, porodu i dziecka w języku polskim. Naprawdę, wszystko układało się wspaniale, moim zdaniem, do około 5 miesiąca, kiedy mój lekarz zapytał mnie, kiedy mam zamiar iść na zwolnienie lekarskie (L4). Moje oczy zrobiły się duże i spytałam go, czy coś się stało. Odpowiedział, że nic się nie stało. Zapytałam w panice, co się stało z dzieckiem, ze mną. Myślałam, że na pewno nie zrozumiałam go albo coś ważnego umknęło mi gdy on mówił po polsku. Powiedział, że nic się nie stało. Więc dlaczego chorobowe, zapytałam. Wtedy mój lekarz wyjaśnił, że jest w zwyczaju, żeby kobiety w ciąży w Polsce brały zwolnienia chorobowe w drugiej połowie ciąży.* Mój ojciec powiedziałby, że to dowód, iż Polska musi być bardzo bogatym krajem (mój ojciec ma wiele takich uwag o Polsce po 2 krótkich wizytach). Odetchnęłam z ulgą i odmówiłam przyjęcia L4, bezpieczna w myślach, że jeśli będę go później potrzebować, to będzie dla mnie dostępne. Na szczęście, nie potrzebowałam.

Czułam się wspaniale przez całą ciążę i pozostawałam aktywna. To był naprawdę wspaniały czas w moim życiu – oczekiwanie na stanie się matką, na spotkanie mojego dziecka. Przybrałam trochę na wadze, co jest na porządku dziennym i śmiałam się, gdy po przybraniu 10 kg w 7 miesiącu, mój lekarz powiedział mi, żeby zwolnić. Czy lekarz w Ameryce powiedziałby coś takiego? Nie jestem tego taka pewna.

* W celu uniknięcia nieprzyjemnych komentarzy;) - Mam świadomość, że nie wszystkich polskie kobiety idą na zwolnienie, gdy są w ciąży. Zdaję sobie sprawę, że niektóre panie muszą iść na zwolnienie, gdy są w ciąży. Mimo tego, widziałam wiele kobiet na zwolnieniu, gdy były w ciąży, które w pełni przyznawały, że tak naprawdę nie potrzebowały tego, ale raczej mówiły, że "na to zasługują". Nie osądzam, po prostu informuję.

PS Kobiety w ciąży nie muszą iść do prywatnego lekarza w czasie ciąży. Dla zabawy, postanowiłam dowiedzieć się w gabinecie mojego lekarza rodzinnego o wizytę w ciąży. Dostałam termin za około 5 miesięcy w przyszłości. Wyjaśniłam ponownie recepcjonistce, że jestem w ciąży teraz i potrzebuję wizytę teraz. Jej odpowiedź: "Cóż, trzeba było pomyśleć o tym wcześniej." "Co? Jeszcze zanim byłam w ciąży? " zapytałam. "Tak", powiedziała: "Wiele kobiet umawia się na kilka spotkań, podczas gdy próbuje zajść w ciążę, a następnie odwołuje je, kiedy nie są potrzebne."

Fajnie, co?

Część 1

Coincidence?

2011-10-07T13:32:00.002+02:00

This morning my most jaded student ever told me that I looked beautiful. Hmm, my new “Russian Red” lipstick from MAC is really powerful stuff.

Then he informed me that he had not done his homework.

Coincidence? I think not.

The Truth

2011-09-27T14:18:00.002+02:00

“The truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth”

You’ve heard that one, right?

My students often ask why in English we say the truth but a lie? I always explain that there is one truth but many possible lies. My students always disagree.

Their explanation – Yes, there is the truth, but there is also the gospel truth and let’s not forget the “shit” truth which is the Polish translation of bullshit.

prawda –the truth

święta prawda – the gospel truth

gówno prawda – bullshit

Speaking of the truth or something like that…

I have a fresh Duży Format all for me. And so begins my DF weekly ritual. First, I scan the front page headlines. Then I flip through the pages making a mental note of what I want to read first. I glance through the felietony (columns) and then take a peek at the last page zdarzyło się dzisiaj (it happened this day). If I have time to start reading, I do. If not, I hide the paper from Rosie who likes to cut (or cut–ać as she says) every newspaper, magazine, electric bill in sight, until I have more time to concentrate on what I am reading. Then I start with Kajet konesara, the column of Krzysztof Varga. This week’s column is entitled “Cała prawda o prawdzie” (The whole truth about the truth) and discusses how we desire truth and are sometimes so blinded by this desire that we believe everything, even quite obvious falsehoods. Varga gives the example of a “documentary” or shall we say “mockumentary” made by Joaquin Phoenix. The film “I’m Still Here” appeared to show the downfall of Phoenix mentally, physically and in his career, except it was fake. A commentary on television/filmmaking today? On our naiveté? On both? Perhaps.

Vargas says, “Phoenix i Affleck dokonali rzeczy zupełnie zwykłej, ale nie wiedzieć czemu coraz rzadziej podnoszonej – udowodnili, że za pomocą filmu i telewizji można oszukać dokładnie każdego, nawet robiąc tak masywnymi nićmi szyte oszustwo.” DF 22 Wreśnia 2001

Translation mine ;) "Phoenix and Affleck have pulled off something quite ordinary, but who knows why so seldom attempted – They have proven that through film and television it is possible to fool just about anyone, even weaving such deceit with the thickest thread."

Varga’s column made me think of another documentary I watched this week. “Game of Death”, a French documentary in which people participated in a fake pilot game show where they agreed to administer electric shocks to the other “contestant”. Luckily, the other contestant was only an actor and the “shocks” were not real. It was surprising to me and to the researchers conducting the experiment how many participants were willing to see the “show” through. The contestants believed that they were helping to fine tune a new game show and were aware that they would not actually win anything. So why did they go on? Obedience and authority?

posłuszeństwo – obedience

I am as obedient as the next guy. Ok, I live in Poland so maybe we should say I am more obedient than the next guy, but come on, at one point in the show the “contestant/actor” begged for mercy and the contestants kept going. 80% of the contestants kept going in fact.

Disobedience isn’t my middle name and I’m no Lisbeth Salander but how could the people continue and how could the audience sit without protesting? Obedience of authority plus the power of TV?

We’ve already started to teach our children to be obedient (well, obedient-ish), but at the same time to question authority. It means that I get a bit more back-talk than other moms, but so be it, at least it is smart back-talk. It all started when I was watching the news with Lizzie about 2 years ago after she had just started pre-school. They were showing footage captured from a camera inside a Polish pre-school. The footage showed the principal of the school walking down the hall holding 2 kids by the hand. One kid did not want to walk for some reason, but the principal continued on and dragged the child down the hall. Lizzie was in shock. I was less in shock having performed a similar act with Lizzie dragging her from couch to bathtub during her favorite bajka. This footage opened up a dialogue between us and we were able to discuss (at age 3 1/2) that it was wrong for the principal to do that, that she should have tried another way and that teachers, principals, moms, dads and adults aren’t always right and don’t always tell the truth.

It is good even for us adults to remind ourselves that authority, television, journalists, our doctor, our boss, our parents, other adults are not always right and do not always tell the truth. I recently read an article about FOX News watchers. A large percent of the audience of FOX News believe that President Obama is not a US citizen. These are the same people who believe President Bush found weapons of mass destruction in Iraq. That frightens me.

Last week there was a nice documentary about Władysław Bartoszewski on Planete. He talks about his life story but also about the paralyzing power of fear. He also discusses obedience and disobedience -at one point commenting that when everyone was saying ‘someone should do something’ he thought to himself ‘why not me?’ Exactly, why not me?

We try to follow the ‘why not me’ philosophy too, although we have never been challenged in the way Mr. Bartoszewski and his generation were challenged. I remember when we witnessed some guys breaking into a car. Misiu took off after them and I called the police. Nothing had been stolen yet, but the passenger-side window had been smashed. The police asked if it was my car to which I replied that it wasn’t. The police asked if I was hurt in any way to which I replied that I wasn’t. Then the police asked what I wanted them to do. I replied that I wanted them to come and secure the car and find the owners. I heard an exasperated sigh and an “ok, we’ll send somebody”. Once Misiu even tried to help a lady who was being accosted on the train, but it turned out that she didn’t want any help. The man accosting her was her husband. He was trying to give her money which she didn’t want to take so he was trying to slip the money into her bra. What a ruckus she was making!

I don’t have any pithy ending to my post about the truth, so I will leave you with a quote supporting my students’ assertion that there are many truths.

Say not, 'I have found the truth,' but rather, 'I have found a truth.'

Khalil Gibran

Exposed Beams and other stuff

2011-09-25T15:14:00.002+02:00

Here are some pictures for Olivia who is a fan of exposed beams. She and her family are also planning a move from Texas to Poland next year. Olivia, these beams are for you :)

Sorry about the crookedness. I was lounging on the coach just right and couldn’t be bothered to adjust ;)

We’ve kept the original doors so far, neither stripped nor re-painted. The pine beams are not stained. We only cleaned them and sprayed them with some anti-insect treatment.

This picture is upstairs where I was thrilled to find recently that the beams have numbers etched into them from when the house was built. Misiu noticed those etchings about 5 years ago. I’m very observant.

Everything is painted white until we figure out what we want to do with this house.

A little attic at the very top.

Our still empty bedroom.

Current view from our still empty bedroom. Yeah, that’s our land. Respect!

No beams, just bathtub. Crazy-expensive bathtub. Crazy-expensive, heavy, heat-sucking bathtub that I insisted on.

A view to the barn. Did I mention that it is hard to find sober workers in the Village?

Our glorious barn.

We have a door in the fence between our house and our neighbor’s. Isn’t that quaint? We hardly ever use the door because the last time we did, the neighbor’s dog bit Misiu and now the kids are afraid to even go near the door.

It also might have something to do with the neighbor’s annual baby scarecrow hanging. Here is this year’s presentation.

Here’s our house. Just stop at the local shop and ask where “Lucy” lives.

A pit-stop on the way from Babcia’s to our place.

We’ve picked the last apples from the tree. Time to prepare an apple crisp. Autumn is here.

As Seen In Poland…a bit of my city

2011-09-24T08:02:00.004+02:00

on my walk to work

Lizzie on a hot day

new stadium

on the new road

with the new bridge

Sky Tower is following me - the roof of Monopol…

…aka ‘relaks’ with the ladies from work

In the past

2011-09-14T23:25:00.002+02:00

It’s such an odd sensation to see a building I walk past almost every day on the History Channel – a building on a street that for me has no other importance than not being able to find a parking place. It’s so strange to see that building on the History Channel without cars parked in every available spot and even parked in a few places that aren’t parking spots. It’s quite peculiar to see people walking in front of that building wearing clothes that are obviously their everyday wear but to me seem elegant and refined. How curious it feels to see the big red banners hanging at the entrance with the unmistakable swastika on them.

police headquarters sans banners

Not that I am dull and unaware of my city’s past. I have read plenty of books about my city and seen countless pictures of the city from the past - (most recently a fantastic exhibition of city photos from the 1960’s displayed in the Market Square). It was just unsettling to put the kids to bed, make a cup of tea, switch on the television and the first view I saw was something like THAT.

ul. Podwale

Świebodzki

the main station

Parade

Hotel Monopol

These pictures come from www.wroclaw.hydral.com.pl. I have been addicted to this site for about 2 years. Now you know one of my dirty, little secrets.

9/11

2011-09-12T11:14:00.002+02:00

It’s 10 years since the 9/11 terrorist attack on the US.

10 years ago on September 11th, I was in the Village, at my in-laws’ to be more specific. It was a workday but Misiu and I were, at the time, apartment hunting and we needed some paperwork from “home” for the bank. I was eating in front of the TV when Tomasz Kammel came on to describe a scenario which sounded like a teaser for tonight’s movie of the week. Then he added the words –ladies and gentlemen, this is for real.

We watched in shock at the gaping, smoking hole in the side of the World Trade Center. It was early and we still had a sliver of hope that it was some kind of tragic pilot error. We went to the other room and turned on BBC. On BBC we learned that it was probably not an accident. Then we saw as the second plane hit and we knew it was not an accident.

My gut reaction was shock, of course, and I wanted to vomit. The reporters speculated about other planes and other attacks. I waited for them to announce tragedies in London, Paris, Berlin, perhaps. It couldn’t be an attack just on the US, could it? And by whom? The reporters continued to speculate.

Dinner was abandoned, needless to say, as we sat glued to the television. We learned of another plane at the Pentagon and another in Pennsylvania perhaps headed to the White House. I was worried that the plane was heading to the nuclear power plant (Three Mile Island) in PA, aware that the fallout would hit my hometown and my family. Not that I was happy that the plane crashed in a field killing all on board, but I was relieved that it didn’t reach its destination, White House or nuclear power plant or whatever it was.

My phone had been ringing and beeping for a while now, but I ignored it. We watched as the towers started to crumble. The ringing and beeping of my phone stopped. It started up again an hour or two later and continued into the next day. The missed calls, voicemail and text messages were from friends and students. One of the first text messages I opened read, “Kryśka, turn on the TV”. Another read, “Finish your lesson and turn on the TV!” The messages later in the afternoon and the next day were all of sympathy and support for America and for me. Why for me? At my in-laws’, I was probably the safest American on the planet, but for many people I was the only American person that they knew. I really appreciated those messages and I still do today.

When there were no new attacks, the reporters continued their speculation. The international phone lines were not working so I couldn’t talk to my parents. It also meant that my (Polish) brother-in-law and his son who were in NYC couldn’t reach us either. Fortunately, they were alright and managed to find their way home. We drove home and wondered what the next day would bring.

Zygmunt Bauman today!

2011-09-08T15:26:00.002+02:00

The European Culture Congress starts today. The live feed starts at 5:00 pm with Zygmunt Bauman’s inaugural lecture at 5:30 pm. For those who cannot catch it live, check out TVP Kultura at 9:00 pm tonight.

http://www.culturecongress.eu/english/home

Immigration 101

2011-08-16T15:11:00.003+02:00

How to be a successful immigrant

1. Study up about your country. Pay attention to things like history, geography, current events, unemployment rates, average income. The more you know ahead of time, the better you will feel.

Note: When I first investigated Poland (my new home), I found some figures indicating minimum wage and average salary and all that. I assured myself that there must be an error in the data. The numbers couldn’t be that low. I learned that I was in error and discovered that my one-year public school teaching salary did not even cover my plane fare from America to Poland.

2. Learn the language…as much as you can…no matter how impossible it may seem. If you are planning to live somewhere longer than a year (or perhaps forever), you have to make an effort to learn the language to at least an intermediate level of proficiency. Believe me, the quality of your life will vastly improve when you are able to everyday things by yourself. You should be able to do the shopping, go to the bank, visit the doctor, chat up your neighbor in the local language. Also, you will feel safer and be able to assess possible dangerous situations much quicker.

Note: My Polish brother-in-law comes from a big family with a huge age range, meaning you could have a cousin older than your father or be an uncle at age 8. When my b-i-l went to family reunions, the older relatives just said to him, “Call me uncle”. In Polish that is “Mów mi wujek” and besides “szafa” and “dupa” is one of the first phrases I learned in Polish. I was always afraid that I would have some kind of accident and all I would be able to say at the ER in Polish was “mów mi wujek, szafa, dupa”. Good motivation for learning more.

3. Make friends…even if it kills you. Perhaps like me you were 5 years old the last time you had to “make friends” and now you find yourself back in that uncomfortable situation. Fight the urge to bury your nose in a book or your laptop and talk to people even if your cheeks are flushing with embarrassment. I literally made homework for myself that I had to find a friend (for example in 4 weeks) that is in no way connected to my husband. Not only did I get a needed sense of independence, but also I got a new perspective on my new culture.

4. Venture outside your comfort zone regularly and you will soon see your zone expand. My first expeditions outside my comfort zone involved such (now) simple things like shopping, buying a newspaper or travelling on the tram. It seems funny now but it was a really big deal to me then. I set myself tasks for homework, prepared the vocabulary I might need and headed out. Try it. You may not always be successful but sometimes you will!

Note: One unsuccessful trip was when my friend ventured out to buy an onion (jedna cebula) and came back with Prince Polo (a chocolate bar).

5. Travel. See what your new country has to offer. Start from getting to know your neighborhood, then your city, then your state and so on. Apart from visiting interesting places, travel will make you more familiar with your surroundings and make you feel more “at home”.

6. Read. Buy the local newspaper and magazines. Try to read them. If you are not able to read them, find someone who is willing to read the main stories with you and discuss the currents events of your new country with you. It is worthwhile…even if you have to pay someone to discuss with you.

7. Recognize the good and the bad in your old home and your new home. Allow yourself to openly prefer some aspects of your old home as well as your new home. And keep in mind that different doesn’t necessarily mean bad or wrong.

8. Develop a thick skin. Be prepared to hear a lot of negative things about your home country and its citizens (including YOU). The person talking with you is probably not aware that this is the thousandth time someone has made such a comment to you, so if the comments are not discriminatory or racist, cut them some slack.

Note: I did not start the war in Iraq nor am I responsible for the debt ceiling issues. I am certainly not responsible for the potato bug and I am so sorry to disappoint, but I am neither fat nor stupid! (Just a little venting)

9. Keep what is important from your culture and incorporate something from your new culture. It will help you feel acclimated into your new home without feeling swallowed up.

Note: In our case, we celebrate Halloween, Thanksgiving and “American-style” Christmas morning. These traditions from my family are very important to me and I am proud to pass them on to my children.

10. Make your decision and stick with it. At some point you will have to decide where you are going to live. Make that decision and don’t look back. If it makes you feel more comfortable, make a decision to stay in your new home for some number of years and then re-visit the decision later. The worst thing you can do is live with no decision, visit your home country too often and try to live in two places at the same time. You’ll just drive yourself crazy and will never feel at home anywhere.

Good luck in your new home!

You probably thought I was on vacay

2011-07-31T13:54:00.002+02:00

No such luck. Actually, I’ve been very busy. I may be one of the few English teachers who has a busy summer season. Summer for ESL teachers in Poland usually equals starvation- school kids are on holiday, business people are on holiday. Just about everyone is taking a vacation. Except me. (dramatic pause to dry a tear)

Summer can equal starvation unless, like me, you take all “your” teachers’ lessons and all your friends’ lessons plus all your own lessons. Then you don’t have time to scratch your arse…or check your blog.

Oh, sweet September. I am waiting for you.

Liquid modernity and wyrwa enroiczna

2011-07-14T18:21:00.002+02:00

“Kiedy przestaję już ogarniać współczesność, kiedy świat mnie otoczający stawia bariery, który nie jestem w stania sforsować umysłem, gdy zdumienie nad zmieniającą się kulturą masową i obyczajowością przyjmuje już formę graniczną – wtedy sięgam po książki Zygmunta Baumana i w nich szukam wyjaśnień, szukam, mówiąc krótko, ratunku.”

Krzysztof Varga 14 LIPCA 2011 Duży Format GW

Whoa. This is the first line of Krzysztof Varga’s column entitled Lost in the Supermarket czyli ja wszystkożerca in Gazeta Wyborcza’s weekly supplement Duży Format. After that first line I not only wanted to immediately pick up a book, any book, by Zygmunt Bauman, but I also wanted to read Varga’s column beginning to end, which I have done - a few times actually. It was difficult for me. C’mon, liquid modernity is a difficult subject in any language, let alone a “foreign” one. Lucky for me, Bauman who was a Professor of sociology at the University of Leeds, published his many works in English. Oh empik, please, please, please be able to get me some of his books.

Wandering down the page, I decided to read the column by Wojciech Orliński entitled Wyrwa enroiczna. Yeah, I didn’t know what it meant either…but now I do. Thank you Mr. Orliński. You may have experienced wyrwa enroiczna (phrase coined by Anna Bednarczyk) if you have done translation of any kind.

For example, your client asks you for better price terms in the contract for the upcoming year asking, “We are interested in increasing our discount in the contract for next year.”

You reply, “Niestety nie jesteśmy w stanie panstwu przyznać wiekszy rabat w tym roku na takim poziomie zamówień.” (Unfortunately, we are not in a position to offer a larger discount at such a volume of orders.)

Your translator translates your statement as, “No discount.”

Get it?

Wyrwa enroiczna is the gap in meaning or eloquence from the original text to the translated text. It can be the fault of the translator (as in my example above) or just a product of the differences in languages. Orliński describes this phenomenon giving examples from the works of Stanisław Lem, famous Polish science fiction writer, from the book “Lem i tłumacze” a collaborative effort under the editorship of Elżbieta Skibińska and Jacek Rzeszotnik.

The phenomenon is not exactly “lost in translation” but at least “diminished in translation” – the assumption being that the translated text gets the short end of the stick. And that is every translator’s dilemma. For the translated version to be just that, a translated version, not a better version, not a worse version. I recently completed my first large translation (Polish to English, of course) completely on my own. It was a challenge for me, but the text was well-written without too many hearts or flowers if you get my drift. I feel that the English version is very loyal to the Polish version. My success!

To be a good translator, it is not enough to know the 2 languages. Some degree of creativity and imagination is necessary especially in works of literature. It is said that Stanisław Lem was a great poet. I have read his books in English and it never crossed my mind even once to describe his work as poetic, but Orliński has given me something to consider.

Take this line from Solaris (given as an example in Duży Format) of “Bezwzględna cisza wypełniała całą Stację” translated as “Nie słyszałem żadnych dźwięków”. I can see why we hold different opinions on Lem as poet. Orliński read the original book and I read another book entirely, a book free of poetic turns of phrase.

So how should we translate this line from Solaris?

Should it be…?

“The absolute silence filled the Station.”

or maybe…?

“The ruthless silence filled the Station.”

or…?

“The merciless silence filled the Station.”

or even…?

“The Station was filled with a cruel silence.”

or maybe as it was very dryly translated…?

“I couldn’t hear a sound.”

It’s not so easy.

I think we could coin another phrase here…let’s call it reverse wyrwa enroiczna meaning when the the translated text is shinier and more beautiful than the original. First of all, let me say that I like to listen to eloquent speakers just as much as the next guy, but I also appreciate the simple eloquence of plain talkers, for example Lech Wałęsa. However, my first contact with Wałęsa was during his visit to the U.S. and his address to the U.S. Congress. So eloquent was his speech that even the hardened, jaded U.S. congressmen and women were drawn to tears…as was I. Fast-forward to today…I know Polish…kind of…and while I enjoy the straightforward manner of Lech Wałęsa (in Polish), I now know that his moving speech in the U.S. was the combination of good speechwriting and reverse wyrwa enroicza – the translation being a polished version of the original.

Now, I gotta go. The match is on.

Or maybe it should be…

Teraz muszę się z wami pożegnać. Mecz jest transmitowany w telewizji.

or maybe…

Idę teraz. Mecz grają w telewizji.

or even…

Na ra. Spadam. Mecz jest.

Wiejski Dzień – A Village Day

2011-07-10T11:10:00.004+02:00

What a wonderful day we had yesterday. Clear skies, a light breeze, wonderful. Today is a different story. We are considering building that ark.

We entertained ourselves with various forms of doing nothing. Well, at least I did. There’s a spade somewhere there in the grass under the apple tree. I believe it was even used by someone, but that some one wasn’t me. I am the one practicing the art of “relaks” in my plastic chair. I’m quite good at it after all these years of practice.

/p>

We invented a new game to while the time away. Rotten apple badminton. The only problem being when the apple gets stuck in the strings of your racket.

I almost forget, we harvested our various crops.

nasze plony

Most of the wild strawberries (poziomki) didn’t make it to the plate. Our poziomki logistic chain is quite a short one involving wild strawberry bushes, little fingers and hungry mouths. The cherries were declared “słodziutkie” (sweet) by Lizzie and “kaśny” (kwaśny-sour) by Rosie. And the mint is necessary for mojito, the traditional drink of Polish villages. No? Ok, the traditional drink of Chris’s “relaks”.

PS My take on plastic chairs

Plastic garden chairs or as I like to call them “Cultures of the World Unite” chairs are the international common denominator. Pick any seemingly incongruous samples of culture and you will find the one uniting element among them – plastic chairs. American girl enjoying a day in her Polish garden? What is she resting her bottom and her feet on? Plastic chairs. KKK rally? What are the hillbilly rednecks sitting on? Plastic chairs. Bin Laden taped terror message? What was O.B.L. sitting on? A plastic chair.

The best use of a plastic chair I have ever seen was on CNN a few years ago. It took place somewhere in the Middle East, but forgive me I cannot remember exactly where. The journalist was interviewing a man on the street (standing) in front of a group of other men some standing and some sitting (on plastic chairs). They all were holding some impressive firearms.

During the interview the men in the background were vying for position, wanting to be in the shot too. They were standing up and sitting down, arranging their weapons and their faces in the most dangerous looking of poses possible. Until one moment, the moment when one young man stood up, intending only to straighten his robes and return to his seat. Unaware to him, his chair had been removed. As he stumbled, his bottom searching for the seat of the chair, all the men broke role just for a moment and started to laugh. Ok, dangerous poses were not overturned in favor of knee-slapping and tear wiping, but it was clear that the mood had changed. Then, suddenly, they remembered that they were on air and quickly composed themselves into a band of dangerous street-fighters again. Laughter. Another common denominator.

What all the hubbub, Bub?

2011-07-05T11:43:00.002+02:00

Poland’s educational system is undergoing a reform. According to the new regulations, the age for starting compulsory education will be lowered from age 7 to age 6 for first-graders.

The result is that 5-year-olds will begin their education in zerówka, so-called zero class (like kindergarten in the US) and 6 year-olds will start 1st grade. The 3-year reform will, in September, be in its second year. So this September, parents still have a choice to send their 6-year-old to 1st grade or wait until next September and send their 7-year-old. After that, all 6-year-olds will compulsorily enter the 1st grade.

So what’s all the hubbub, Bub?

Parents against the reform want to return to the pre-reform status concerning the age of kids starting school and also the curriculum for teaching them. They feel that the new program is too ambitious for this age group and that the children are unprepared. Those parents feel that their freedom of choice has been taken away from them in the issue most important to them – their children. Those supporting the campaign “Ratuj Maluchy” (Save the little ones) have delivered their petition signed by more than 330,000 parents to the government.

Let’s get down to it…

Your child being ready for school and the school being ready for your child are two different things. I think many of the parents who claim that their kids are not ready actually mean that the kids are not ready for 1st grade as it existed before the reform and many fear that the schools haven’t made the necessary changes to accommodate these youngest pupils.

I understand that. Nobody wants their kid to be a guinea pig, me either, but I also don’t want my 19-year-old to still be in high school.

As I listened to my talk radio on this subject yesterday almost every caller’s complaint boiled down to this -the Polish inferiority complex and fear of change (sorry, but normal people rarely call in). Reform? No way! No how! For sure the government will screw it up somehow. My kid? Go to school early? No way! No how! The government is stealing our children’s childhood. We cannot allow it! The government just wants money for books and able-bodied workers (one year earlier) working for their retirement. I went to first grade when I was 7 and my kid will too!!!!!

A little faith people.

By the same token, I can claim that I went to school at 6 (even at 5, actually) and everything worked out well for me. The difference being, I went to school in the US where every year five- and six-year-old kids started the 1st grade. The schools were ready for us. In addition, American schools have the same number of lessons for all grades each day. We all started at the same time and finished at the same time. There was no świetlica (after-school program) where we sat after only 2 or 3 lessons for the day. Maybe that is also a concern for the parents.

Roman Giertych, a Polish politician, claims to know the real reason behind the reform…to get parents to spend money on new textbooks. He calls the whole reform “idiotic”. This from the man who a few years ago spearheaded the school uniform campaign causing cost and confusing throughout the entire country.

From onet:

Cała ta reforma jest po to, by powstały nowe podręczniki, a rodzice musieli je kupić - mówił na antenie TVN 24 w programie "Fakty po Faktach" Roman Giertych. - Cofnąłbym całą reformę, bo jest idiotyczna - dodał.

What do the experts and the ministry of education say? I get the impression that they are surprised by the backlash. The Ministry reminds us that practically every civilized country operates on such an educational system. Opponents argue that 2 wrongs don’t make a right. The Ministry also points out that the children are under that same care as before, just housed in a different location (and sometimes in the same location). Opponents argue that primary schools are not able to take care of such little kids and protect them from the older kids. As far as the program goes, the Ministry and other experts claim that the new program is not too ambitious, but rather that the old program was not ambitious enough. Opponents disagree, but I think they’ve got a point there.

My first grade experience was a very pleasant one. It was quite similar to my kindergarten. We learned a bit more of course, but we had plenty of time to play and draw and run…and pray…it was a Catholic school. Misiu also remembers his first grade as a pleasant experience with a lot of playing and drawing and fun. The difference being, he was almost 8, the oldest in his class, and could already read and write. He was a real bookworm and insisted that his parents teach him (just like our Lizzie). Reading and writing were not skills that all his classmates had acquired at home. At that age, I was in the 3rd grade and already deep into my passion for books about Ramona Quimby…my favorite entitled, “Ramona Quimby, Age 8”. By the way, that’s exactly how I looked at age 8.

The worst, in my opinion, are the moms standing with kids in front of the TV camera, pleading “A moje dziecko nie da rady….” Thanks for the vote of confidence, Mom.

So what can I do? Nothing, my 6-year-old child will go to the 1st grade compulsorily in one year. I will send her and hope for the best. Unfortunately, my 6-year-old will enter 1st grade in the final year of the reform…meaning all the kids who were not sent this year will go next year by law. The classes will be packed. Through their whole educational life and future job search, this group of kids will struggle. Well, not my kid, she’s a superstar.

Know-How

2011-07-04T16:52:00.005+02:00

We know how to park.

We sometimes know how to spell. (Wysoki Standart!)

We know how to entertain.

We know how to make something from nothing.

We know how to take pleasure in finding something we thought we had lost (our favorite nie-kapek almost lost in Grycan).

We know how to insult all office personnel with our offensive office “art” (ok, not we but gross boss).

We know how to disappoint (closed toy store).

We know how to have fun (but not how to snap a photo).

We know how to enjoy the moment…

before it slips away.

That’s So Polish: Exact Change and Nie Wydam

2011-07-01T16:26:00.002+02:00

I am not the first foreign person to notice this or even the first to write about it on their blog, but I will add my 2 cents anyhow ;)

Exact Change

Polish shop assistants have, in my opinion, an abnormal fixation on receiving the exact change meaning that you give them the exact amount of your total complete with all the coins and everything. The next best thing for the shop assistant is to receive an amount of change which allows them to give you back better change, meaning they can give you back, for example, a 20 instead of a 10 and some coins. What’s the reasoning behind this? I suppose, it is to hedge against all the yuppies who clean out the cash register with their fresh bank-o-mat hundreds, but I have often been shaken clean of all my change from a cashier whose cash register was overflowing with coins.

What can ya do?

This habit used to really bug me because even after all these years, I still have to look at the face of the smaller coins to recognize the amount. I usually do the dump-out-all-my-change-in-my-hand thing, turn all the coins over so the numbers are up, and then figure out what combination of these coins will please the shop assistant most. Now, I am much more easy-going and if I have the coins, I hand them over (of course, leaving my precious reserve for parking) sometimes without being asked.

Nie Wydam!

Ok, so the exact change thing I can deal with, but what gets my goat is “nie wydam” (I cannot make change). First of all, let me state that I worked in a clothing store at the mall while at uni, so I know what it means when your first customer of the day cleans out your register. Our store was new so after it happened a couple of times, we decided to increase the starting amount in each register from 200 to 300 dollars. In addition, we had another 300 in the safe in the back consisting of 1’s, 5’s, 10’s and coins. If for some reason that wasn’t enough, we made a trip to the neighboring shops and even to the bank if necessary. It never happened, but we had such a procedure just in case.

So, after the third time the lady at Reserved Kids (something like Gap Kids) told me that she couldn’t make change (a 50 zloty banknote on a 40 zloty purchase) and asked if I could pay by card, I decided that I had had enough of Reserved and Reserved Kids. I left my purchases at the register and walked out of the store. It was a painful decision but I decided to boycott Reserved Kids….for 3 whole months. That’s as long as I made it ‘cause I really love that store. When I returned from my boycott (which I am sure hit them hard), I waited for what the sales assistant would say as I handed over my cash. Unsurprisingly, she couldn’t make change. I asked why in Reserved Kids they never have change and in (regular) Reserved they more often than not have the same problem. She replied, “Store policy.” Hmm, interesting store policy, to never have change for your customers and piss them off at every visit. Excellent store policy.

This week, however, I met my match.

The lady from RUCH.

The Polish readers probably already know why.

If you are not in the know, RUCH is a newsagent which operated during communist times and continues to do business today. What you may not know is that you cannot win with the lady from RUCH. She is always right and you can go f@*# yourself.

I often go to the RUCH in question and my complaint is exclusive to this particular location. It is conveniently located for me near one of my clients. This particular RUCH is not a little kiosk, but more like a shop. It is always clean and well-organized and the shop lady is always nicely dressed and groomed. That being said, if there was a dirty, ugly place next door with a smelly but pleasant salesperson working, I would probably choose the smelly guy over this lady.

So a few days ago, I parked in front of RUCH, got out of my car and headed to the door…where I met my favorite lady backing her way out of the door with keys in hand.

Zamknięte. –she said. [We’re closed]

A Pani wróci ? – I asked. [You’re coming back?]

Tak. – she answered. [Yes]

No to czekam. – I said. [I’m waiting.]

She was surprised that I wanted to wait, but I was early for my lesson so I thought –what the hey- I will wait. I don’t know where the lady, went but she missed out on 2 customers during her absence. She didn’t even hang the “zaraz wracam” sign. [Be right back]

Finally, she was back so I went in after her along with another guy. I know what I wanted, I had had time to figure it out while I waited and I plunked down my meager purchases on the counter while the other customer perused the press. I handed over a 50 to which I heard a mumbled response.

Proszę. Nie słyszałam. – I said [Pardon. I didn’t hear.]

Proszę Pani. Ja nie wydam! – The RUCH lady shouted peering at me from over the top of her glasses which rested at the end of her nose. [Ma’am, I will not make change.]

Hmm. Za ile musze kupić żeby Pani mogła mi wydać? – I asked. [Hmm. How much do I have to spend in order for you to be able to make change?]

No, no, no, proszę Pani, ja nie wiem za ile Pani musi kupić żeby wydać – she answered throwing her hands up in exasperation. [Well, well, well, Ma’am, I don’t know how much you have to spend for me to make change.]

My reply – A kto wie jeżeli Pani nie wie? [Who knows if you don’t know?]

She wasn’t happy with that comment.

Wszyscy ludzie tutaj przychodzą prosto z bankomatu i mam same pięćdziesiątki i stówki i nie wydam Pani. [Everybody comes in here straight from the ATM with 50’s and 100’s and I won’t make you change.]

Chyba Pani musi. – I answered, meaning that she has to make change in order to serve her clients…she understood it a little differently. [I think you have to.]

Ja jako sprzedawca nie mam obowiązku wydać resztę tylko klient ma obowiązek zapłacić daną kwotę. – she explained. [As a merchant, I am not required to make change. It is the customers’ responsibility to pay the right amount.]

Ale w taki sposób Pani nic nie sprzeda. – I countered. [But that way, you won’t sell anything.]

At that moment, the guy behind shouted – Pani nie wyda z 50tki? [You can’t change a 50?]

Nie. [No.]

As if I had planted this customer to prove my point, he put his purchases back on the shelf and left. I took back my 50 and did the same.

Do widzenia – I said. [Good bye]

Do widzenia, Pani. [Good bye, Ma’am]

And 30 minutes of work for this lady, from locking the door in front of me to my leaving the shop, resulted in 4 potential customers who spent 0 zloty. Excellent policy, excellent.

Homeland By Choice

2011-06-29T19:31:00.002+02:00

Here’s a little project just recently started by a small group of us.

Inspired by Stardust.

http://homelandbychoice.blogspot.com/

Join us!

Pustelnik and Pawlikowska

2011-06-22T19:57:00.002+02:00

Because of my cool job working with cool people, I get invited to cool events where I can meet even more cool people. Such was the case last night. I was invited to hear 2 very cool guest speakers: Piotr Pustelnik and Beata Pawlikowska.

[I will take a moment here to mention that the hostess of the evening was one of the coolest of all. She was really witty and clever and made the whole evening flow smoothly with a big dose of intelligent humor. Ms. Agata, thank you for the invitation.]

Piotr Pustelnik is a Polish alpine and high-altitude climber. He holds the Himalayan and Karakoram Crown otherwise known as the Eight-thousander. That means that he has reached the summit of all 14 mountains that reach an altitude of more than 8000 meters. This feat took Mr. Pustelnik 20 years starting in 1990 until 2010 when he reached the final summit at the age of 58. That has to be the definition of cool.

He talked about his many expeditions, the mountains that “like him” and the ones that don’t. He described some of his achievements and failures throughout the years and his motivations for continuing his climbing career. When I asked what pushed him to go on, from his first expedition to the second and from the second to the third and so on, Mr Pustelnik explained that “the first time is like no time” and with each time, we need to prove to ourselves that we can actually do it.

Beata Pawlikowska, as she describes herself on her business card, is a traveler, a journalist and a hunter. As she explained she is a hunter of experiences. And what many interesting experiences she has had! I don’t even know how to describe her career in just a few sentences because it seems she has done it all. Radio, television, journalism, publishing and of course traveling around the world, especially to her beloved jungle. The world according to this Blondynka is a very exciting place. (Blondyka is used in many of her book titles)

Ms. Pawlikowska talked a bit about her career and how she saved up for her first big trip abroad. She talked about the practicalities (or rather the impracticalities) of life in the jungle, at the same time one of the most beautiful and inhospitable places on the planet. She shared with us some of the dangerous, humorous, and rewarding experiences she has had through her travels and the conclusions she has drawn in her life.

I got the sense that Ms. Pawlikowska has got travel is in her blood and that podróż (travel) is her life. It seems that the challenges and isolation of the jungle have allowed Ms. Pawlikowska to get an insight into herself and our world that we, stuck in the daily grind, are unable to achieve. She describes the jungle as one place on our planet where we one can be truly oneself, where truth exists. This is in contrast to the lives we are used to where pozory (appearances) are such an important part of how we relate to each other, so much so that we may not really know or understand who we actually are. This collision of cultures and the subsequent culture shock that she describes works both ways – first when entering the jungle and then when returning to Poland, to civilization.

While it would be nice if we could all experience reaching the highest mountain summits or surviving months at a time in the jungle, we all know that it is just not going to happen. For some of us, that may be disappointing, but I look at it another way. I am on my podróż all the time, every minute of every day of my life is a wielka wyprawa (big expedition). I am climbing my mountain, facing new challenges, succeeding, failing and moving on, I hope, a bit wiser. My life is my podróż and at the moment, Poland is my jungle.

Where’s your jungle?

Capital of Culture - Stolica Kultury

2011-06-17T12:45:00.002+02:00

Sitting at a particularly long traffic light (90 seconds red, 45 seconds green and another 90 seconds red before I could go), I switched over from my usual talk radio station to the other station, the station I don’t often listen to. My talk radio station was turning over the same topic that they have been turning over for a while now – Why do we have enough money for a new fountain and stadium, but we don’t have enough money for preschools? In this city, that’s the eternal question. It hits pretty close to home, and I am sick of hearing about it actually because the fountain is built, the stadium is under construction and my Rosie will not go to preschool next year.

But anyhow, where was I?

Oh, the radio station.

On the radio station that I usually don’t listen to, they are going through their usual banter, putting stars and politicians in their place. I stick to this station until the number of fat, fart, sex and stupid blond jokes reaches a saturation point and then I switch back to my talk radio station. All the while, I’ve got my eye on the traffic lights and on the 2 young boys who are trying to persuade the drivers trapped at the light to have their windows washed for the small price of some spare change.

The boys are very polite.

Ma’am, may I wash your window please? Just for some spare change? Or even for a nice smile?

I decline just as nicely – I have no spare change and I am all smiled out - and this time they move on to the next car with no arguments.

Sir, may I wash your window please? For some spare change or maybe a cigarette?

The gentleman agrees and pays in tobacco. He even offers the boy a light.

How very civilized.

A commercial comes on my talk radio station. The City is a candidate to be the European Capital of Culture (2016) –Europejska Stolica Kultury.

Cool.

As the boys walk back to the front of the line of cars, I overhear from one of them…

Tak, kurwa, słyszałeś co powiedziała? Ja pierdolę, następny raz dostanie w łeb. (Fuck, did you hear what she said? Holy shit, next time she gets it in the head.)

How very cultured we can be when we want to be.

No worries

2011-06-14T20:31:00.002+02:00

Rosie did not get into pre-school in Stage 2 of the recruitment process. I think that the principal and I have a different understanding of the phrase nie martw się (don’t worry).

When I asked about my Rosie in Stage 1 of recruitment, the principal replied nie martw się. I understood nie martw się as Rosie will get in - her sister attends the school already for heaven’s sake. The principal understood nie martw się as go away and leave me alone, you stupid parents.

When I asked about Rosie in Stage 2 of recruitment, the principal replied nie martw się. I understood nie martw się as Rosie will get in - there are 2 spots open for heaven’s sake and the principal has the final say. The principal understood nie martw się as bugger off, you stupid parents.

When the principal asked, one day before the class outing, if any parents could please, please, please come along as a chaperone (because they had one too few), I said nie martw się. I understood nie martw się as Don’t worry. We’ll take care of it. The principal understood nie martw się as Don’t worry. They’ll take care of it. And we did. Misiu showed up the next day bright and early and took the place of the absent teacher.

Hmm.

Pre-school, we have a problem.

Now that we are on the reserve list waiting for somebody to drop out from this pre-school and hoping that Rosie will be selected for that (so far non-existent) spot, I am really starting to worry.

Much to do

2011-06-13T18:39:00.002+02:00

I have a large translation to do. I’ve already done a lot, but there is still a lot more. I work on it everyday, but even though I keep chugging along, it seems to never end. At least it is interesting.

Translating is very bad for your waistline, at least the way I do it with an iced coffee with straw parked in front of me (no hands required). I make the iced coffee myself (coffee, ice, milk, vanilla sugar, whipped cream). I suppose I could make a lower calorie version, but it wouldn’t be as good and I am quite sure the quality of my translations would suffer. Of that I am sure.

I will finish, though, eventually. In anticipation of all the free time I will have ;) I have hit empik to stock up on books. Thanks empik and your 20% off of all books in English (until Wednesday). It even includes cookbooks :)

Back to work…

Pijana, ciężarna i za kierownicą

2011-06-10T14:23:00.003+02:00

Drunk, pregnant and behind the wheel

This is quite possibly the worst headline I have ever heard.

I heard it on the radio as I was making my way through the traffic today - more traffic than usual because some big whigs are in town and the cavalcade gets first priority.

I decided to google the story to find out more details. You can do the same if you’d like. You will find a story dated from today. You will find another story from last month. You will find a story from last spring and so and so on. The locations change as do the promile (the blood/alcohol content), but sadly the story repeats itself.

So just for clarification:

Do not drink alcohol and drive.

Do not drink alcohol when you are pregnant.

Do not drink alcohol while pregnant and drive.

Drive carefully!

Polish Graffiti

2011-06-08T17:07:00.002+02:00

Polish Graffiti is hardcore!

Killer Cucumbers ;)

2011-06-07T11:27:00.002+02:00

Carrefour has assured me that the cucumbers we’ve bought originate from a greenhouse in Poland. I certainly hope so. I hope they don’t originate from a dumpster in Germany transported to Poland by some entrepreneurial cucumber sellers.

You can wash cucumbers with soap, right?

I mean, it’s too late. I’ve already washed them and made mizeria*. I used pomegranate dishwashing liquid. Better than E.coli, I suppose.

Smacznego!

*Mizeria is a cucumber salad. It is basically cucumber slices in a sauce. My mother-in-law makes her mizeria with sour cream, sugar, and a splash of vinegar. Some people use yogurt or mayo instead of sour cream. Some people add onions or dill. Here’s a tip – Don’t salt the sauce/salad until right before serving (if at all). The salt draws the water out of the cucumbers and makes the sauce all watery.

Week in Review – Conjunctivitis, Dzień Dziecka and Pokaz

2011-06-04T12:26:00.002+02:00

We’ve had quite an active week.

The week started with a return of conjunctivitis (zapalenie spojówek) for me. It keeps coming back which has me worried, despite the fact that I followed my treatment exactly as ordered and threw out all my cosmetics (3 times already). I visited a specialist and am now back on the antibiotic drops. Goodbye new MAC eye-shadows. How I will miss you.

I visited an eye clinic for a private visit. With a serious case of conjunctivitis, my only choice was to go the ER for free (and listen to them berate me for coming to the ER for a non-emergency) or pay for an immediate visit. As I am quite fond of my eyesight, I chose to shell out the 100 zloty. What I liked about this clinic is that the nurses took charge. There was no asking among the patients who was next and all that. When it was your turn, the doctor called you by name. I was a bit worried to see the doctor. It seemed she was shouting at everybody for no apparent reason. That’s when Misiu pointed out that all the other patients were elderly and probably hard of hearing. Shouting was a necessity. The doctor did not shout at me.

Next, it was June 1st, Children’s Day (Dzień Dziecka) in Poland. Here’s how we handled it in our home.

First of all, our children receive presents almost exclusively on holidays. Lizzie informed me recently that some kids get presents bez okazji (without any special occasion). She honestly thought that I was unaware of this possibility. Sweet.

A week before Children’s Day we visited Smyk, a popular toy/clothing store for children. We examined the selection carefully and the girls picked out some things that they wanted to receive. Later, I bought them the Ken dolls that they had picked out and hid them until Children’s Day (in the secret hiding place on top of the wardrobe). The dolls were waiting for the girls Wednesday morning when they woke up. Despite having chosen the Kens that they wanted, the girls immediately switched dolls.

For all those procrastinators who went to Smyk Wednesday, I sympathize with you (total chaos!!!) and implore you to think ahead next year.

On Friday, Lizzie’s class had a show (pokaz) for Mother’s Day and Father’s Day. It was a lovely, little show in which different fairytale characters explained why Mom and Dad are so important to their children. Lizzie as Snow White, known for her parental conflicts, reminded us all that life without parents is just not the same. (Lizzie is on the right in the yellow skirt)

Jestem Śnieżka z bajki królewna

Przeżyłam ciężki czas

Bo zła macocha mnie wypędziła

Więc poszłam sobie w las

Tam krasnoludki domek otwarły

Dały mi jeść i pić,

Listkiem koniczyny łzy mi otarły

Kazały z sobą być.

Czary minęły, jestem na scenie

Mamusiom i tatusiom uśmiech ślę

Bo wiem jak wszystkim dzieciom na świecie

Jest bez rodziców żle*

The best part of the show, in my opinion, besides Lizzie’s performance was when the whole class sang a song in English!! The whole class! And they don’t all attend English lessons. It was awesome and brought a tear to my eye. Actually, the whole show made me a little teary. These kids are 4 and 5 years old and they song 4 songs (one in English) and delivered lines that seemed quite long and difficult for kids this age. I almost forgot about the dancing. They had partner dance steps to perform as well.

A big kiss, a big hug, a pink flower, the blue sky

A big kiss, a big hug, a pink flower, the blue sky

For you, for you, for you, for you

Mommy, Mommy

You’re like the sun

Mommy, Mommy

I love you Mom

Mommy, Mommy

You’re like the sun

Mommy, Mommy

I love you Mom

I am happy to report that the kids ate all the banana nut muffins that I brought.

Since we were at school anyway, we delivered our paper application for Rosie for pre-school. When a child is not accepted in the first stage of recruitment, parents can provide a paper application for the second stage in case a spot opens up. You should put the child’s personal data and your justifications of why your child should attend that school. We put the obvious that Lizzie already goes there, Rosie is ready to go and asks us everyday about it, etc. I couldn’t resist including as my last point that Rosie is super cute and very open and friendly to kids and teachers alike. I couldn’t help it. I had to write it. And anyhow, it’s true.

*I am Snow White from the fairytale. I have survived hard times because my Evil Stepmother exiled me. So I went on my way to the forest. There, the dwarves opened their home and gave me something to eat and drink. They wiped my tears with a clover leaf and told me to stay with them. The spell wore off and I’m here on the stage. I am sending a smile to Mommy and Daddy because I know, like all kids know, that without parents it is bad.

No to chcesz rodzić dziecko w Polsce.

2011-06-03T22:16:00.002+02:00

Tlumaczenie So you wanna have a baby in Poland

No to chcesz rodzić dziecko w Polsce.

Powinnaś zacząć od wyboru szpitala.

Jak już wybierzesz szpital, powinnaś wybrać ginekologa/położnika związanego z tym szpitalem. Twój ginekolog wykona zestaw badań, da ci trochę witaminek i będzie życzyć dużo szczęścia w zajściu w ciążę. Twój ginekolog nie przyjdzie jednak do szpitala kiedy rodzisz, ale przynajmniej możesz się łudzić, że tysiące złotych, które zapłaciłaś spowodują, że on poczuje się moralnie odpowiedzialny w pewien sposób.

Właściwie nie mam racji. Nie powinnaś zaczynać od szpitala lub ginekologa. Powinnaś bowiem zacząć od sprawdzenia, czy masz na koncie wystarczające środki.

Przypuszczam, że to dobry pomysł wszędzie, nie tylko w Polsce.

W moim przypadku (środki zapewnione), wybrałam porodówkę w szpitalu, w którym niestety spędziłam trochę czasu na strasznej internie parę lat wstecz. Wydawało się, że jedynym słusznym wyborem będzie ordynator (brzmi nieźle – jak Terminator) jako mój prywatny lekarz. Wykonałam przedciążową wizytę no i się zaczęło.

Zaczęliśmy jednakże falstartem, co sprawiło, że wylądowałam w szpitalu. Wiedziałam, że sytuacja nie wygląda dobrze, ale mimo to byłam w szoku, kiedy lekarz od USG poinformował mnie „Nie jest już pani w ciąży.” Szkoda, że taka wiadomość została mi podana, kiedy to następna pacjentka wchodziła do pokoju pytając „Można?” Szybko zakryłam zakrwawione nogi zawstydzona. Nie miałam nawet czasu dla siebie, żeby pomyśleć o tym, co mi powiedziano. Musiałam się pośpieszyć, bo kolejka rosła. Ubrałam się tak szybko jak rozebrałam, cała we krwi, przed dwoma ultrasonogramowcami podczas gdy pacjentki już zaglądały do pokoju, żeby sprawdzić czy to ich kolej. Jest kampania RODZIĆ PO LUDZKU, może powinno być też RONIĆ PO LUDZKU.

Zostałam przyjęta, następnego dnia wykonano standardowy zabieg i wysłano mnie do domu na trzeci dzień, co akurat jest ważne bo NFZ nie płaci szpitalowi za pobyt poniżej 3 dni. Lepsze jest 5 dni.

Umieszczono mnie w sali z 5 innymi kobietami, z których to 4 były po zabiegu usunięcia macicy, a ostatnia na ten zabieg czekała. Jeśli nie byliście nigdy w szpitalu w Polsce, powinniście wiedzieć , że pacjenci uwielbiają rozmawiać o swoich chorobach i operacjach – im bardziej makabrycznie tym lepiej. Panie w sali były trochę poirytowane, że ja nie chciałam podtrzymywać rozmowy, a po 2 godzinach pobytu w sali poszłam do pielęgniarek i poprosiłam o przeniesienie do innego pokoju.

Lekarz zgodził się od razu (korzyść z tego, że chodziłam do niego prywatnie). Nie chciał umieścić mnie w pobliżu noworodków i pomyślał pewnie, że nic nie będę rozumieć z tego trajkotania bab. Umieszczono mnie zatem w sali dwuosobowej razem ze studentką uniwersytetu, która czekała na usuniecie cysty na nodze (a jakże, pokazała mi swoją cystę). Mało ginekologiczne moim zdaniem, ale ona była bardzo szczęśliwa po tym jak już trzeci raz przekładano jej zabieg. Nie mogła uczestniczyć w sesji egzaminacyjnej na uniwerku. I chyba o to chodziło. Co za mierny sposób, żeby wykręcić się od egzaminów.

W każdym razie, nie wolno mi było ani jeść ani pić przed zabiegiem – ale o akurat nie był problem, biorąc pod uwagę jak okropne jest szpitalne jedzenie. Następnego dnia bardzo miła lekarka zaprowadziła mnie do gabinetu zabiegowego – później była ona lekarzem podczas mojego pierwszego porodu. Zaskoczyło mnie to, że w gabinecie było oprócz mnie jeszcze 5 osób. Za dużo według mnie jak na zabieg, który miał być rutynowy. Anestezjolog zaczął wypełniać formularze. Nazwisko, adres, data urodzenia, PESEL ... Wszystko dobrze, aż do pytania: „Czy pani jest na czczo?”

Nigdy przedtem nie słyszałam zwrotu NA CZCZO i nawet nie mogłam spytać lekarza co to znaczy. Powiedziałam mu więc, że nie rozumiem i poprosiłam, żeby spytał w inny sposób. On zapytał: „Czy pani jest na czczo?” No cóż, nie wydało mi się, żeby spytał w inny sposób – było chyba tak samo jak wcześniej. Powtórzyłam, że nie zrozumiałam i czy mógłby spytać w inny sposób czyli INACZEJ. Spytał głośniej. Potem spytał wolniej. Potem spytał głośniej i wolniej. A ja ciągle, że nie rozumiem. Odwrócił się do drugiego lekarza i spytał czy się nie uderzyłam w głowę (naprawdę). To akurat zrozumiałam i powiedziałam mu, że nie jestem Polką. Przecież wpisał moje bardzo nie-polskie nazwisko w formularzu. W każdym razie, ta druga lekarka Dr. Miła spytała czy coś jadłam i piłam (czyli czy byłam na czczo) przed zabiegiem, na co odpowiedziałam, że nie. No i potoczyło się dalej.

Wskoczyłam na stół, a jakiś mężczyzna usiadł przede mną i bez żadnego powitania (przepraszam) rozłożył mi nogi. Natychmiast usiadłam i spytałam, kim on jest i co robi. (Też pomyślał, że uderzyłam się w głowę). Ciągle patrzył się na mnie bez żadnych wyjaśnień, kiedy to spytałam tak przy okazji kim jest te 5 osób w gabinecie i do czego są potrzebni. Ciężko westchnął i wyjaśnił, że Dr. Na Czczo będzie anestezjologiem, Dr. Miła będzie asystentką tak jak i dwie pielęgniarki, które otwierały sterylny zestaw instrumentów, który zawierał – o zgrozo- piłę (nie żartuję). Skinęłam głową i spytałam: „ A pan?”, na co on odparł poirytowany: „Ja jestem lekarzem!”. Wyciągnęłam dłoń tak jak do przedstawienia się i powiedziałam: „Ja jestem pacjentką, najważniejszą w tym pokoju.” Nie zrobiło to na nim wrażenia.

Wtedy to Dr. Zblazowany poprosił mnie, żebym się położyła a Dr. Na Czczo zaczął znieczulać. Po założeniu maski Dr. Na Czczo (którego inteligencja już była pod znakiem zapytania) zapytał (jak znieczula) kto był pierwszym królem Polski. Odpowiedziałam, że „jakiś Bolesław ale że pierwszym prezydentem był Waszyngton”. Następnie poprosił, żebym policzyła wstecz od 50. Powiedziałam, że mogę policzyć wstecz od 10, 5 razy, a on, żebym zaczynała. Zasnęłam zanim doszłam do 4. Przypuszczam, że odetchnęli z ulgą.

Obudziłam się jakiś czas później w mojej sali. Dr. Miła powiedziała „smacznie pani spała” i że mogę iść do domu następnego dnia. Poszłam pod prysznic, żeby się umyć. Pod prysznicem kolejna kobieta intensywnie mnie obserwowała (co tak przy okazji nie jest fajne w jakiejkolwiek sytuacji spotkania obcej osoby pod prysznicem, a zwłaszcza nie jest fajne w szpitalu).

“No” – powiedziała, kiedy ja z trudem próbowałam zachować prywatność – „a pani tu z czym?”

“Byłam w ciąży”- odparłam.

Zachichotała – “No cóż, taka cała zakrwawiona, myślę, że już pani nie jest.”

Polskie szpitale, musisz je uwielbiać.

Wróciłam do pokoju, gdzie usadowiłam się, żeby oglądać seriale z moją współlokatorką i czekałam na następny dzień, żeby pójść do domu.

Tusk, Tusk, Tusk

2011-06-02T14:18:00.002+02:00

Tuesday, Prime Minister Donald Tusk had some interesting things to say about buttons and about summer. Too bad the female journalist was trying to ask him about politics.

Here’s what went down. A journalist from Polskie Radi0 questioned Prime Minister Tusk about the Polish presidency of the European Union asking if everything was “buttoned to the last button” which is an idiom in Polish meaning that everything is all prepared –something like dotting your i’s and crossing your t’s in English.

Tusk replied (translation mine), “ The buttons are all buttoned up for sure... I'm a little bit ... I am looking at your summer dress, Ms. Editor, and that’s why I don’t associate buttons to this…buttoning up to the last button. It's not a rebuke, on the contrary. I really like ... summer.

Here’s the original quote: Guziki wszystkie zapięte na pewno... Trochę taki jestem... Patrzę na letni strój pani redaktor i dlatego nie kojarzy mi się z tym... z dopięciem wszystkiego na ostatni guzik. To nie przygana, wręcz przeciwnie. Bardzo lubię... lato.

Tusk, Tusk, Tusk…I mean tsk, tsk, tsk.

That’s So Polish: The Killer Draft

2011-05-31T21:17:00.002+02:00

While many of us have heard (or may believe) that drafts can cause colds, it is only in Poland that I learned drafts can kill.

I would laugh it off as an individual’s idiosyncrasy except that I have heard it many times from many different people. The stories are usually about my friend’s sister’s neighbor’s cousin’s uncle’s baby who died because of a draft. While horrible as that story may be (and I don’t recommend putting babies to sleep under open windows), a draft alone will not do you in.

I decided to investigate the situation and according to Google, the source of all my health information, long-term and repeated exposure to drafts can make you more susceptible to illness, but the draft in and of itself does not make you sick.

I also think we should clarify what we mean by draft. A draft in my opinion is a cold, unpleasant blow of air usually from an open window or door or in an old house. A draft “po polsku” seems to be any movement of air when you have 2 or more windows open in your home. Draft is przeciąg in Polish not to be confused with pociąg which is something else entirely.

So drafts do not cause colds. There is no medical reason why I cannot open windows in all the rooms of my home simultaneously. In my opinion, stuffy is not better than drafty and so far (knock on wood or unpainted wood as it is in Polish), no one in our family has been the victim of a deadly draft. Scratch that. My mother-in-law’s window slammed shut and broke after an unfortunate draft incident. Don’t ask, it was all Dziadek’s fault.

On a side note, depending on who you talk to you shouldn’t eat ice cream or drink cold drinks when the weather is too cold or…..too hot for that matter. Yes, I have heard it both ways.

And apparently, if you eat a lot of rich foods your liver will hurt.

And a cure for bladder and kidney ailments is warm underwear (not antibiotics).

And vodka kills germs (this one is probably true).

Na zdrowie!

So you wanna have a baby in Poland…

2011-05-28T23:17:00.002+02:00

So, you wanna have a baby in Poland.

You should start from choosing your hospital.

After you have chosen your hospital, you should choose an OB/GYN associated with that hospital. Your OB/GYN will perform some tests, give you some vitamins and wish you luck in getting pregnant. Your OB/GYN will not actually come to the hospital for your child’s birth, but at least you can allude yourself that the thousands of zloty you have paid your OB/GYN will make him/her feel morally obliged in some way.

Actually, I’m wrong. You shouldn’t start from the hospital or the OB/GYN. You should start from checking your bank account for sufficient funds.

I suppose that is a good place to start anywhere, not only in Poland.

In my case (funds secured), I chose the “baby” hospital where I had unfortunately spent some time in the scary “interna” section a few years back. It only made sense to then choose the boss of the hospital, the Ordinator (sounds cool, like The Terminator), as my private doctor. I made a pre-pregnancy visit and we were rolling.

We, however, suffered a false start which landed me in the hospital. I knew the situation didn’t look good but was still taken aback when the sonogram technician informed me that “You, ma’am, are no longer pregnant”. Too bad for me that the bad news was delivered just as another patient opened the door, asking “Można?”. I quickly covered my bloody legs in shame. I didn’t even have a moment to myself to think about what I had just been told. I had to hurry up as a line was forming. I quickly dressed as I had undressed, blood and all, in front of 2 technicians while patients peeked their heads in to check if it was their turn yet. They have the “rodzić po ludzku” campaign, maybe they should have “miscarry po ludzku” too.

I was admitted, the next day given the “standard procedure” and sent home on the 3rd day. My papers indicated I had occupied a bed for 3 days which is important because the hospital doesn’t get paid for stays under 3 days. 5 days is better.

I was placed in a room with 5 other women, 4 of whom were recovering from hysterectomies and one other who was waiting for hers. In case you have never been hospitalized in Poland, you should know that patients love to talk about their illnesses and operations, the more gruesome the better. The ladies in the room were a bit annoyed that I wasn’t holding up my end of the conversation and by the second hour in that room, I went to the nurses station and asked to be moved to another room.

My doctor immediately agreed (benefit of going to his private practice). He had not wanted to place me anywhere near the baby ward and he thought I wouldn’t understand what the ladies were jabbering on about. I was placed in a double room with a university student who was waiting to get a cyst removed from her leg (and yes, she showed me the cyst). Not very gynecological in my opinion, but she seemed happy even after they had re-scheduled her operation for the third time. She was missing her exam session at uni. I think that was the point. What an wasteful way to get out of your exams.

Anyhow, I was not allowed to eat or drink prior to my procedure which was not a problem considering how bad hospital food is. The next day, I was led to the procedure room by a very nice doctor who later was the doctor at my first birth. I was surprised to see 5 people in the room besides myself. That seemed like a lot for something they assured me was routine. The anesthesiologist began to fill out the forms with me. Name, address, date of birth, PESEL…All was well until - “Czy pani jest na czczo?”

I had never heard na czczo before and couldn’t even ask the doctor what it meant. I told him in Polish that I didn’t understand and asked him to ask me another way. He asked, “Czy pani jest na czczo?” Hmm, that didn’t seem to be another way but just the same way as before. I repeated that I didn’t understand and could he ask me in another way (czyli innaczej). He asked me louder. Then, he asked me slower. After that he asked me louder and slower. I still replied that I didn’t understand. He turned to the other doctor and asked if I had bumped my head (really). That I did understand and I reminded him that I’m not Polish. C’mon, duh, he filled in my very-not-Polish name on the form. Anyhow, the other doctor, Dr. Nice, asked me if I had had anything to eat or drink (czyli na czczo) to which I replied no, and we were rolling.

I hopped on the table and a man sat down in front of me and with no greeting (excuse me) spread my legs. I immediately sat up and asked who he was and what he was doing. (He thought I had bumped my head as well). He was still looking at me with no explanation when I asked by the way who the 5 people in the room were and what they were needed for. With a heavy sigh, he explained that Dr. Na Czczo was going to administer the anesthesia, Dr. Nice was to assist as were the two nurses who were opening a sterile kit which included, gulp, a saw (I am not kidding). I nodded and asked “A pan?” to which I got an exasperated reply, “I am the doctor!” I stuck out my hand as if to introduce myself and said “Ja jestem pacjentką, najważniejsza w tym pokoju”. He was not impressed.

Then Dr. Zblazowany asked me to sit back so Dr. Na Czczo could begin knocking me out. As the mask went on, Dr Na Czczo (whose intelligence was already in question) asked me (as is practice in administering gas) who the first king of Poland was. I answered “jakiś Bolesław ale pierwszy prezydent USA był Waszynton”. Next, he asked me to count backwards from 50. I told him that I could count back from 10, 5 times and he said to begin. I was out before cztery. I suppose they were relieved.

I woke up some time later in my room. Dr. Nice told me that “smacznie pani spała” and that I could go home the next day. I went to the shower room to get washed up. In the shower room, I met another lady who was intently observing me (which is BTW not cool in any shower/stranger situation but especially not cool in a hospital).

“Well,” she said as I struggled to somehow maintain my privacy, “what’re you in for?'”

“I was pregnant,” I replied.

She cackled, “Well with all that blood, I guess you aren’t anymore”.

Polish hospitals, gotta love ‘em.

I returned to my room where I set in to watch the soaps with roommate and waited till the next day to go home.

Communist Bastards

2011-05-27T20:28:00.002+02:00

What a nice Mother’s Day I had. I received adorable wishes, cards and flowers from my girls (which was great) and information that Rosie did not pass through the first stage of pre-school recruitment (not so great).

We will take part in stage 2 of recruitment which means we put Rosie on the waiting list and hope that somebody drops out. Rosie, along with more than a thousand other 3-year-olds, didn’t get in so her chances of getting in are pretty slim.

I am not angry that I will have to pay for a nanny. I am not angry that I will have to enroll Rosie in a private pre-school which is well below the standard of Lizzie’s public pre-school. I am not angry that I will have to drop off my children to 2 completely different locations each morning and pick them up the same in the afternoon. No, I am angry at the educational opportunity for Rosie which is lost. I am angry that I will have to explain to Rosie why she cannot go to pre-school with her sister, why she cannot play in the playground with her sister, why she cannot go to the same lessons that her sister attends. That makes me furious.

Thank you commie bastards and your super duper polityka prorodzinna.

Lizzie says…

2011-05-24T13:40:00.002+02:00

Lizzie says it is better to be a girl than to be a boy. This is from the girl who was mistaken for a boy twice today. I suppose it is partly because of her manner of dress (a dinosaur t-shirt and khaki shorts) and partly her behavior (climbing to the top of the jungle gym and jumping off the top). A girl she definitely is, just not a typical one I guess. She’s her own person – unique. That’s pretty darn cool.

For the latest school play, Lizzie will play Snow White. We already reserved the dress from the costume shop because unlike many of the little girls in her class, we don’t have a ready supply of princess costumes at home…and the stores are all out until Halloween/Carnival time next school year. If only they needed a Spiderman for the play, we’d be all set. I am glad that the teacher chose her for a princess role though. Lizzie never would have chosen that role for herself. It’s good for her to try something new.

For the Christmas play, Lizzie was a sheep with a group of other girls…or as we like to call them “disco sheep” because in the middle of a very somber play about the birth of baby Jesus, the group of sheep burst out in song and danced a little disco number. They have totally cool teachers.

Lizzie, however, was not very excited about being a sheep, disco or otherwise. There was one role that she wanted very badly, so badly she learned all the lines just in case the other child unexpectedly fell ill. She practiced every evening and took her job as understudy seriously even though the teachers hadn’t asked her to do it. And what was that coveted role, you ask? Joseph, of course. He had a very cool stick. Even this weekend, as Lizzie stood on stage in a restaurant we visited, she recited Joseph’s lines and then took a bow…maybe next year sweetheart.

cool restaurant for kids

I almost forgot…Lizzie says it is better to be a girl than to be a boy because you get to do more stuff and wear more kinds of clothes when you are a girl. You can play “boys” and “girls” games and wear “boys” and “girls” clothes, but boys kind of have to stick to the “boys” stuff or kids make fun of them.

An insightful little creature, isn’t she?

Women of Wroclaw, rejoice…

2011-05-20T16:43:00.002+02:00

…for you have joined the civilized world.

Anesthesia during childbirth is now available to the women of Wroclaw.

And this time, they really mean it.

As Seen In Poland…

2011-05-17T13:24:00.002+02:00

On our visit to the park with our kids, we could see a lot of cool gnomes and one not so cool bottle of wódka żołądkowa gorzka in the bushes. Booooo!

I guess this krasnal had to quickly ditch the bottle when he saw us coming. It’s always the ones you least expect ;)

As Seen in Poland…

2011-05-16T15:44:00.002+02:00

A morning distraction on my commute to work is Antonio Banderas -the latest installment in a bank ad campaign which features internationally famous faces.

Apparently “Poles know what’s best” and what is best is cash loans from 5.99% interest (it is also best if you don’t read the fine print).

¡Olé!

My first Polish jokes - Painters at PZU

2011-05-14T20:02:00.003+02:00

For some reason when I first came to Poland, people liked telling me jokes especially the joke (maybe you know it) with the punch line “piłka…do metalu” (complete with arm motions showing a ball and then a saw). The problem with that joke is that it is only funny in Polish. Translated to English it doesn’t make any sense. And even if you can figure it out, nothing kills a joke more than a long, drawn out explanation. So after about the 10th time hearing this joke, I just smiled and laughed at the appropriate time thus allowing at least the joke-teller some enjoyment.

So while living at PZU (if you don’t know, check out some old posts), I had an opportunity to hear this joke again – from the painters.

It was definitely unfortunate for me that PZU decided to paint their premises during the year of my stay. I got to know about it when I came home to my Archives and found my door wide open and all my belongings gone, excluding the contents of the wardrobe which were still there (but the door to the room was open and unlocked). I immediately went to the caretaker to politely inquire as to what was going on (translate – to ask her what the f*#$ was going on). She informed me that the building was being painted and that I had been moved to another room. Strangely enough, they wanted to leave my wardrobe in its original place but they moved the fridge from the kitchen to another room for me. Weird.

After many a morning of running into the painters on my way to or from the bathroom, one painter decided to be brave and talk to me. He started with a joke. I politely waited for the punch line and after seeing the hand movements indicating “a ball for sawing” I laughed accordingly. My newfound painter friend, spurred on by my laugher, decided to tell me another joke unfamiliar to me. As I didn’t understand a word, I didn’t laugh at the appropriate moment and after an awkward silence I said goodbye and continued back to my room. About 15 minutes later a friend came to visit me. She had also brought a message with her from the painters. They asked her to apologize to me for their “off-color” joke. Apparently, the second joke was a bit risqué and they thought that was why I hadn’t laughed.

All turned out well as the painters later invited me for a shot of vodka in my (and all of PZU’s) kitchen. When I stammered out one of the few clumsy yet useful phrases I knew in Polish “Bez popitki?”(without chaser?), the vodka-pouring painter laughed whole-heartedly and called for all the other painters to join us. A little bit later, well exactly 4 shots later, I had to excuse myself to go to one extra-curricular hour of English at the vocational school. When I arrived, my students, judging by the redness of my cheeks, decided that the weather must have turned colder since the morning ;) Yeah, yeah, I know, I know, totally unprofessional and unethical behavior I exhibited at the start of my career.

PS More recently I had a group of business people every Monday and Friday morning. The deal was that Mondays were mine, I could teach whatever “business crap” (as they put it) I wanted and Fridays were theirs to talk about whatever subjects they wanted – usually cars and cars and cars.

Every Friday morning started out with the “Peter Show” a 5-minute joke-telling set by the Vice-President of the Board of Directors aka Peter. His jokes were definitely off-color which I enjoy (who doesn’t?) and his comedic timing perfect. What he was lacking, due to all that “business crap” I was teaching them, was the proper vocabulary needed to tell such variety of jokes. So every lesson began with a pre-lesson vocabulary check with me. You know, nobody wants to “burn” a good joke. However, when you as teacher are asked practically all the vocabulary needed for a joke, you’ve pretty much got the joke figured out. But no worries, my fake but sincere-sounding laughing skills are just about perfected after all these years of teaching adults (just kidding). To give you an idea of how my Friday mornings usually started, here’s a taste…(attention - it's gonna be vulgar)

Peter: Chris, Chris! I have a really funny joke to start the lesson today. I just need one word.

Me: Cool. What’s the word?

Peter: How do you say “pizda” in English?

I knew that lesson was going to be a doozey.

I love my job!

Something's up

2011-05-14T09:26:00.004+02:00

Something's up with blogger so all comments and posts from the last few days have vanished. Let's see what happens to this short post.

Feel free to comment about any topic just to check if it works.

Pakistan….

2011-05-07T10:20:00.002+02:00

…you got some ‘splainin’ to do!

The Aqua Park: the place where I go to cure all my complexes

2011-05-03T12:13:00.002+02:00

Over the long May weekend (May 1st is Labor Day and May 3rd is Constitution Day), we decided to pack up the kids and take them to the Aqua Park. Unfortunately, half of the City had the same idea.

The park opened at 9 a.m. and we arrived about 10 minutes before and waited in a short line. A few minutes after 9 we were at the cashier and 93 zloty later we were in the changing room with a family pass for the whole day.

Our girls wanted to hit the kiddy pool first which is a nice, shallow pool with a slide for the younger kids. It is also hot, something like bathwater, but it is a good place to start the morning because after an hour or two it is always packed with new moms and dads and their little babies.

After a bit, the kids got braver and braver and with Mommy and Daddy and their favorite Ciocia* explored the wave pool, the salt water pool outside, the Lazy River (which also travels outside), the big slide and the indoor playground. I personally spent at least 2 hours in the Lazy River with Lizzie and let me tell you, it is not that lazy. To keep yourself and your child afloat without crashing into other swimmers is pretty difficult. Misiu even came away from the Lazy River with a cut on his hand to which the swimming pool medic slapped on a non-waterproof band-aid. Witaj w Polsce!

After 5 hours, the kids absolutely did not want to go home. And they didn’t really have to. The Aqua Park has a restaurant and a place to rest. I even saw some of the little kids having a nap in the playpens provided by the park.

The best part for me besides having fun with the kids is checking out the other swimmers. That’s how I cure my complexes and boost my self-esteem.

There were the people who wanted to keep covered up at all costs. I understand those folks a bit because I don’t like to hang out everywhere either and I definitely don’t want to see what someone else has hanging out. That’s why I chose a swimming suit which, umm, well, keeps everything contained.

In the baby pool, you can really feel good about yourself in comparison because let’s face it, new moms are usually packing a few extra pounds. I remember that was me with 6-month-old Rosie (and an extra 10 pounds) on my hip a few years ago.

I don’t even check out the dads. It’s just an array of flat stomachs, fat stomachs, back hair (better to ignore) and speedo style swimming trunks (eeewww). The new dads have usually got a video camera in hand.

There were a lot of figure flaws on display, but also a lot of physically fit folks - our favorite Ciocia included. I also noticed that tattoos are becoming more and more popular but it seems that experienced tattoo artists must be in short supply judging from some of the amateurish creations I saw. That also brings me to a point of unscientific research I have been working on – Can one, in polite society, openly stare at a stranger’s tattoo? I would venture a guess as to “yes”. I mean, why else would you get a 15 centimeter tattoo on your back and then take your shirt off? Surely, you want this masterpiece to be appreciated by others. My in-field research has shown that 15 seconds is the border between appreciative admiring and shameless gapienie.

I admit to some shameless gapienie. I couldn’t help myself. I had to check how long before the very attractive young women (in permanent make-up) realized that her white swimming suit was completely transparent when wet. It took her quite a while actually. She spent the rest of her visit either under water or covered in a towel and t-shirt.

I also kept another lady in my radar. She was probably my age or less with a beautiful figure, lovely swimming suit, impossible orange tan, perfect hair (also orange), full make-up and a permanently pissed-off look on her face. She came to the pool with her husband and son and somehow expected not to get wet. Every splash of water in her direction (in the wave pool!) was met with an even more pissed off look (if possible) and an angry reprimand of her husband who apparently is to blame for all the world’s wrongdoings. We got wet from head to toe, ran into a friend with his son, spent a wonderful time and somehow did not fall asleep in the car on the way home. It was a good day.

*Our favorite Ciocia is every kids dream. She loves to sing and dance, play games, go to the playground and go to the pool. I think she also loves Lizzie and Rosie. A few weeks ago, Lizzie asked me if I know why Ciocia is so great. I had a few suggestions such as Ciocia likes to read stories or sing songs. Lizzie agreed but those were not the best thing about Ciocia. The best thing about Ciocia according to Lizzie is that you can sit on her. Yes, you can sit her. Poor Ciocia.

PS What a fantastic May weekend. It has started to SNOW! Do you think it is a bad idea to learn how to ride a bike without training wheels inside our apartment?

Breżniew is always right

2011-05-02T15:16:00.002+02:00

Misiu, a kid at heart, loves to play games with our girls. That works out well because the kids love to play with him too. Misiu’s latest favorite game in entitled “Breżniew is always right”.

Would you like to play?

Misiu: We are playing “Breżniew is always right” and I am Breżniew.

Lizzie: (always agreeable) OK.

Misiu as Breżniew: Pick a number.

Lizzie: 5

Misiu: 6. I win! Pick a number.

Lizzie: 8

Misiu: 9. I win! Pick a number.

Lizzie: (thinking intently the highest number she knows) 17!

Misiu: 18! I win. Breżniew is always right.

Lizzie then tried out the game on me.

Lizzie: Mommy, I am Breżniew. (not a sentence I thought I would ever hear from my daughter)

Me: OK.

Lizzie: (nothing)

Me: Pick a number.

Lizzie: 11

Me: 12! I win!

Lizzie: But Mommy, I am Breżniew and Breżniew is always right.

Misiu to Lizzie: Tell Mommy to be careful. She doesn’t want to find out what happens to people who outsmart Breżniew.

:)

JP2

2011-04-30T09:42:00.003+02:00

I know that everyone is very interested in the royal wedding but over here in Poland we’ve got bigger fish to fry. Bigger than a royal wedding? Yes! The beatification of the late Pope John Paul the Second.

Top that!

Here’s an excellent article from the NY Times by Maureen Dowd entitled Hold the Halo outlining an argument against the “fast-tracked” sainthood.

I would like to recommend another article in Polish from Gazeta Wyborcza’s magazine Duży Format entitled Sekrety pokolenia JP2. The article consists of interviews of people from the “John Paul II Generation” as it is called. I was a bit surprised by the piety of some of the young people interviewed and at the same time the hypocrisy some of them reveal in their answers –but back to that in a moment.

I barely remember when John Paul II became pope, but I do remember it. I shed a tear when he died.I have mixed feelings about JP2, but I do admire him for 2 things. I admire him for his unwavering stance on the beliefs of the Catholic church - saying something to the effect that the beliefs of the Catholic church are not like a buffet table to pick or choose from - a kind of ‘take it or leave it’ attitude. I also listened intently to his opinion on physical suffering and our duty to endure it. As a person who suffered from an illness whose main symptom was pain, I identified with that opinion, admired his strength in his suffering and tried to take some strength for myself from it.

Some folks condemn the late Pope for the same unwavering stance that I admire especially regarding such issues as birth control, homosexuality, women’s rights in the church, etc. I do not regard myself as a member of the church any longer so those issues don’t bother me. My mixed feelings stem not from these issues but from the late Pope’s lack of definitive action regarding child abuse in the church.

In case you haven’t heard, the late Pope John Paul II is due to be sainted - this Sunday to be exact. That seems like a pretty hot topic for folks here in Poland (Pope John Paul II was Polish), but just try to discuss it with some of them. And I mean really discuss it…not just say how great it is. It’s quite a difficult feat.

OK, I don’t want to exaggerate, a few people will discuss it with you in a rational way – turning over such topics as is the sainthood deserved, why it is so fast (compared to previous granting of sainthood), what it means for Poland and for the church, etc. Some other people, suffering from the JP2 media- blitz overkill, don’t want to discuss it anymore. They’ve just had enough. And then there are those who are unable to discuss it at all. They can certainly talk about it, talk in circles actually, but discuss it, no. Every question (intended with a sincere desire to discuss and in no way to mock the church) is answered with some form of the same answer…that it is a wonderful and magical event for Poland (why only for Poland?), that our pope deserves it (with no concrete reasons why), that those who wish to discuss it are only jealous of the faith of others, and so on.

On the radio, I heard a bit of a cabaret that was, well, practically identical to the real conversations you can have with some people about the beatification. In the end of the cabaret, the man who had extolled the virtues of JP2 was asked if he could cite at least one quotation of Pope John Paul II. After thinking for a moment, he shouted proudly, “We used to go there for kremówki!” Pope John Paul II’s famous quote while visiting his hometown of Wadowice where he pointed out for all the bakery where he and his friends used to go for a cake called kremówka. It’s actually delicious and you can buy the package mix from Gellwe for authentic papal kremówka.

Here’s the original quote: A tam była cukiernia. Po maturze chodziliśmy na kremówki. Że myśmy to wszystko wytrzymali, te kremówki po maturze.

Now back to the DF article . Here’s a quick summary in English.

The first interview is of Marzena, age 25, mother and wife, whose husband is a religion teacher. She states that what she liked best about JP2 was his openness and his humanity citing the example that JP2 went to confession too. She admits that she doesn’t agree with all the beliefs of the church, but that she does not use contraceptives and even her husband the religion teacher laughs at her for this. She expresses surprise when she explains how many of her Catholic friends are unaware that the church forbids contraceptives. She also admits that she and her husband, though they tried not to, did engage in pre-marital sex. Regarding the end of the world, she is sure it will happen in her lifetime. She was considering a career in the police force, but as her husband disapproves she says that she will probably give up that idea.

The next is Justyna, aged 27, mother and wife. She is a bit fed up with all the media coverage of JP2 and also doesn’t like that some people already pray to the late Pope. She and her husband did not engage in pre-marital sex and had a “real wedding night”. Now they dream of creating a close family for their son. She does feel that in the family the man has the last word because in her opinion and in the writings of the Bible, the man has a greater responsibility to the family than the woman.

My favorite is next, Andrzej a 26-year-old hairdresser who suffers from a painful illness of the spine. His attitude to the church is to suffer with dignity and try to help others (I can’t argue with that). He believes that faith is a personal thing separate from priests, the church, prayer and whatnot. He feels that his homosexuality is not a sin and that he lives in a committed and normal relationship, and although he would like to have the option of filing taxes jointly with his partner he would never agree to homosexual couples adopting children. He feels that children should not be exposed to such unnaturalness as homosexuality. The local priest did visit their apartment and although the priest did not wish to bless their apartment, he did take the envelope (with a donation) quite easily. Andrzej’s biggest fear is that he will die alone.

Next comes Aleksandra, a 22-year-old biology student. In Aleksandra’s interview I learned a new word in Polish świętokradztwa which is sacrilege in English but sounds a whole lot better in Polish (“holy stealing”). As a kid she felt uncomfortable confessing all her sins and held back some, hence the sacrilege until the guilt finally caught up with her and she asked her religion teacher to give her confession to clear her conscience. Aleksandra has interesting views on in vitro, homosexuality, AIDS and condom use in Africa that can only be chalked up to ignorance. Aleksandra does feel close to JP2 and even with her family had an opportunity to meet the late Pope. She, however, cannot agree with the stance that JP2 was infallible and that some hold him in higher regard (or as high regard) as God. Now, her greatest achievement is to overcome her fear of confession and stand bravely in the confession line.

Waldek is 31 years old, single and lives with his parents and younger sister. His biggest issue with his faith seems to be sex and that apparently he likes to have a lot of it with many different women. Lucky for him, he heard on Radio Józef that if something such as sex or masturbation became an addiction they no longer qualify as sins, so he is not worried.

Michał is 28 years old, married with a child and smiling throughout the whole interview. He takes from the teachings of JP2 the model of dealing with your problems head on, not trying to get out of them. He also liked that the late Pope set the bar high for youth and encouraged young people to do better and be better. My favorite part is when he says that he has personal contact with JP2 not from guessing what JP2 thought but from reading his teachings.

Last but not least is Edyta, age 29, music and cat lover. Edyta has one failed marriage behind her. What that failed marriage and unsuccessful stay abroad have given her, she says, is a greater tolerance and a knowledge that all things don’t depend solely on us.

Enjoy the beatification. Amen.

E.T. vs Czterej pancerni i pies

2011-04-25T12:00:00.002+02:00

What says Easter more than a good re-showing of E.T.? Our kids are enjoying Easter Monday chilling out, playing play-dough and watching E.T.

Misiu who is watching too, admires the naiveté of the story – that a teen, a kid and a kindergartener can outsmart the government authorities and help E.T. get home. Why not? Didn’t Gajos, his crew and his dog Szarik (which I always thought was Szalik ‘cause he’s wearing a scarf) from the TV show Czterej pancerni i pies outsmart the whole German army AND the whole Russian army. That’s 4 tanks plus a dog and some token female character vs the Nazi’s and the Russians.

Totally believable, right?

Easter and The Resurrection

2011-04-25T11:19:00.002+02:00

So, how do folks in Poland celebrate Easter and the resurrection of Jesus Christ? Here goes from beginning to end…

Most people start out with a good clean of the house especially windows as mentioned in previous posts. Next, comes shopping and decorating and then cooking. Some people go to church on Good Friday. Most people go to church on Saturday for a short service (taking place about every 30 minutes) in which the priest blesses your Easter basket. We did it one year and my basket was disappointingly under-decorated for the event. Here’s an example of a decorated basket for church. You can see why kids love this part.

Some people observe a fast for Friday and Saturday ending with Easter breakfast in which you share the blessed egg from the basket and give each other wishes (something like with the blessed wafer on Christmas Eve). Some folks go to the Resurrection Mass at 6 a.m. on Sunday and others go to ‘normal’ Easter mass later on. After that, the fast is off and most people really eat in earnest – sausages including white sausage, soup with white sausage and hard-boiled eggs, horse-radish sauce, meat, bread, cakes, chocolate bunnies ;) etc. The rest of Sunday is spent resting and visiting family and friends and if the weather permits going for a stroll.

Easter Monday begins as Śmigus-dyngus or lany poniedziałek. That’s where kids squirt parents with water or parents squirt kids with water and teens roam the street squirting or even pouring water on friends and passersby. Some say it is a spring ritual to wash away winter’s dirt. Others say it is a kind of popularity contest for the best girl in the village. I suppose that means the most popular girl will get splashed the most? Easter Monday is a national holiday in Poland and many folks go to church which with the teens and their buckets of water can be a risky proposition.

On Tuesday everything returns to normal (except for our waistlines).

As you can see some people spend their holiday practicing their religion, honoring their traditions and spending time with family and friends. As my sister-in-law who works in odwyk (drug & alcohol re-hab) can tell you, some other people, however, spend their Easter in quite a different way. Just check the drunk-driving statistics for this weekend. More than 1000 drunk drivers were caught by the police. No comment.

Our Easter was (and still is) totally cool. We did the shopping Wednesday and cleaned Friday sans windows. We decorated the house and eggs on Saturday and cooked all our delicious dishes. On Sunday the girls received a few Easter gifts and then we visited family and went to the playground. Now, on Monday we are relaxing at home. It was a nice holiday.

A few pictures…

pickled eggs and ćwikła

Easter cake for the kids

Pisanki

wooden eggs

real egg – blown out

real eggs – hard-boiled and decorated by a friend

our eggs

Happy Easter!

Easter Preparations

2011-04-20T11:41:00.002+02:00

My mother called me yesterday. She wanted to ask if we received the Easter package that she sent. We got it, in record time, less than a week. I planned to hide the box until Easter, but since the kids were home when it was delivered, there was no chance of that happening. The box was full of fantastic things-swimming suits, clothes, books in English and a lot of Spiderman (Lizzie) and Dora (Rosie) things. Thanks Mom!

My mother also wanted to remind me that it is time to do my pickled eggs if I want them to be good by Sunday. I am one step ahead of her because I’ve already bought all the ingredients. I guess tonight after work, I’ll be spending some quality time in the kitchen instead of vegged out in front of the TV watching “The Biggest Loser” which I, in fact, count as my exercise time ;)

My mother’s pickled egg recipe can be found here.

I know it may be cliché (here in Poland anyway), but I really feel the pressure to clean my windows before Easter. I mean, not enough to actually clean them, but just enough to say loudly for all to hear that our windows are due for a cleanin’, sigh. Then another sigh, louder than the first. Then a third sigh and wait to see if it has had any effect. Nope, the windows are still dirty. Remember, I don’t bow down to the pressures of Polish society ;)

More on Easter window cleaning here. Gawd, that clip art really does look like me, all smile and teeth.

Happy Easter Preparations!

Happy Birthday, Dear Lizzie

2011-04-17T12:01:00.003+02:00

Lizzie is 5 years old. I can’t believe it. It seems like just yesterday that we were bringing her home from the hospital and she’s already 5.

Her party was a big success. She invited her “ekipa” (crew) from pre-school consisting of all boys and one girl (her besty). The party was super-hero themed with Spiderman decorations and a Batman cake (that I made myself…fishing for compliments…).

I wore a Super Mom t-shirt, well, because I AM a super mom. Lizzie’s besty’s parents even wore masks and capes. What an entrance they made.

There were a lot balloons, games, play dough, mess and tears from the guests when they had to go home. I guess that’s the sign of a good party. One kid threw a badminton racket out the window. Crazy…and that was without Piccolo (“champagne” for kids which we hate). Luckily, it got stuck on the roof and we were able to get it back in. Those pre-schoolers really know how to party.

Now, if I can just make it through Easter.

Happy Birthday, Dear Rosie

2011-04-10T20:23:00.003+02:00

April is a month of birthdays for us. Last week was Rosie’s 3rd birthday. This week is my father-in-law’s 70th and next week is Lizzie’s 5th. With a niece’s and nephew’s birthday this month, that adds up to a lot of cake ;)

Rosie’s party went off without a hitch. Well, maybe one small hitch…she didn’t understand that the presents were for her. After the guests had gone, she asked why they hadn’t taken the toys with them. Sweet.

I am proud of the cake I made. It’s a ladybug, in case you are not sure. There are 3 layers of chocolate inside. Pycha!

Lizzie’s English group at Pre-school (yes, we send her to English lessons, it’s only 20 złoty a month) also celebrated some birthdays and the kids learned to sing “Happy Birthday”. Lizzie, however, had one small problem with “Happy Birthday” and quickly informed her teacher.

She said, “Teacher, it isn’t Misiu-day. It’s Birthday.”

Do you get it? I didn’t at first.

For those of you who don’t get it…

In Polish there isn’t the “th” sound like in the word “birth”. For people who have trouble with this sound, they replace it with “f” or “t” or sometimes “s” as one of my students famous for his “sank you”. In this case, Lizzie’s teacher replaces “th” with “s” making birthday into birsday which sounds like bearsday. Bear is misiu in Polish, hence my daughter’s conclusion that the teacher was talking about Misiu-day.

If you have an April birthday, Happy Misiu-day to you!

April 1st : Elevators and Me, Part Two

2011-03-31T19:32:00.002+02:00

When we moved into our 1st apartment in the City, our dirty, stinky 1970’s apartment building without a 90 degree angle in sight, I was excited to find that we had an elevator,well, 2 elevators exactly. In my world, elevators are cool and our building had 2 stairways and 2 elevators and 2 sets of intercoms. Wow! Ameryka!

“Our” elevator exited right outside our apartment door. It was smaller than the other elevator. The other elevator (down the hall from us) was large and had one large door, you opened and closed by hand. There was no sliding automatic door. “Our” elevator was considerably smaller and had a series of doors. You opened the first door by hand, stepped in, the first door slamming behind you. Next, you had to close another set of double doors and press your floor and …usually nothing happened…because the interior doors almost never closed right. You usually had to hold them shut with your hands. Not that there was any danger that they would open and you would fall out, but if they were not closed properly you wouldn’t go anywhere.

My traveling on the lift usually looked like this. I got through the first door, then closed the second doors behind me and held them shut. I pressed the button for my floor and….nothing. I opened and closed the doors again, pressed the button and nothing and so on and so on in some compulsive-obsessive ritual until I finally gave up and walked to the 7th floor. Finally, I just gave up on the lift altogether and walked to the 7th floor (which had its own perils as our apartment building was a popular haven for the homeless…another post, another time).

Early one morning, I decided to pop to the store downstairs to buy something for Misiu and me for breakfast. On my way back, full of morning optimism, I decided to take the lift (or maybe I was just afraid the homeless people I stepped over on the way down the stairs wouldn’t appreciate me stepping over them again on the way back up). The same procedure as always, doors closed, hold shut with hand, press button and miracle of miracles, I’m going up, up I tell you! And then the lift stops…but not at my floor, well, almost at my floor, actually between the 6th and the 7th floors. I ritually open and close the doors, hold them with my hands and press some buttons. Then the lights go out and I cannot see what buttons I’m pressing. I pressed them all, one after another, until I located the alarm bell, which is just that, a little bell inside the lift which serves to do nothing more than to notify you, the person already stuck in the lift, that you are in fact stuck in the lift. The bell was pretty loud though and our apartment was not far away so I decided to ring and ring and ring. Nothing. I wasn’t going to be saved by the bell this time. I began pressing each button and manipulating the doors. Finally, after what seemed like forever, the elevator starting moving again and deposited me back where I had started on the ground floor.

As I walked back up to the 7th floor even the homeless people catching the look on my face got out of my way. I walked into our kitchen and slammed my shopping onto the kitchen table to which hungry Misiu asked, “What took you so long?” I growled back at him, that I had been stuck in the lift. He laughed, “All this time. Yeah, right.” I implored, “I really was. Didn’t you hear me ringing?” “That was you?” he asked disbelievingly. “I wondered what that ringing was.” “That was me,” I said defeated. “Really?” he asked again. “Yes,” I answered exasperated. “What did you think I was doing?” “Well,” he started, “it is April Fool’s Day. I thought maybe it was a joke.”

Happy April Fool’s Day

Here’s Part One of the elevator saga – Elevators and Me – Windy i Ja

Too shy, shy

2011-03-27T12:48:00.002+02:00

Last night I spent my evening blowing my nose like crazy and coughing enough to hack up a lung – pre-school virus. I hope you all spent your Saturday night in a much more entertaining way.

I also had a run through all the channels to check what was on and settled in on MTV’s One Hit Wonders from the '80’s. As I remember the '80’s from the first time around, a lot of memories of childhood came flooding back as I listened to those old hits. I also like to watch those kinds of programs with Misiu and hear his memories of the 80’s. We have a lot of similar memories and excluding one crucial potassium iodide incident, you’d hardly suppose we’d been brought up on different continents. Oh, the uniting influence of pop music.

My favorite video from last night’s line-up was Kajagoogoo’s hit “Too Shy”. Who could forget that song? (Who could figure out what they were actually singing?) And who could forget Limahl’s hair?

Misiu has a memory connected to this characteristic hairstyle…and no, he did not wear this style himself, but an older boy from the village did. Can you imagine what an influence music has that young boys in England, in the US, in Poland and all around the world were sporting the same crazy hair-do after one hit video. So it was not Misiu who was sporting this do but rather his friend Tadek. Misiu to this day is convinced that Tadek, armed with his Limahl hair, was able to single-handedly score all the chicks from DDR (Eastern Germany) who were in Poland on kolonia (camp).

Who could resist?

PS Do you know Shakin’ Steven’s song “Kła czas tu lulbe”? No? You’ve never heard Misiu’s friend Danka’s version? The actual title is…..??? Anybody venture a guess?

I guess Polish really is hard, even for the Poles ;)

2011-03-20T21:56:00.002+01:00

In case you haven’t heard, Poland has suffered a serious spelling gaffe, by our President none the less.

Here’s what happened. President Bronisław Komorowski and wife wrote an entry in the book of condolences at the Japanese Embassy. He wanted to write that Poland connects with Japan in pain and in hope which should be “w bólu i nadziei” but instead he wrote “w bulu i nadzieji”.

What can I say? Even I know how to spell these words in Polish. President Komorowski responded in the only way he could. He apologized and has corrected his entry. He did also add a little dig at Kaczyński (opposing party) claiming that Kaczyński writes “obiad” (dinner) as “obiat”, but overall his apology was genuine.

Here’s my question: Why do Poles even have spelling problems? Excluding a few letters which have interchangeable pronunciation “u,ó” for example, Polish is completely phonetic. Sorry Polish people, I have to explain this to our English speaking friends who have suffered through years and years of spelling tests and spelling bees trying to figure out if it should be “so” or “sow” or “roofs” or “rooves”. Listen to me English folks…in Polish if you know how to say a word properly, you should be able to write it properly as well, with little to no interpretation. No homophones. Can you imagine that? English speaking people should make spelling mistakes. Our language is completely messed up.

Now back to the President’s mistake. Just how big of a mistake was it? You know, after 8 years of George W. I have a pretty high threshold for presidential gaffes but for those of you who do not know Polish, I will try to explain the extent of the humiliation. It is like if in one official letter, the President wrote, umm, I don’t know “definately” (instead of “definitely”) and, umm, I don’t know, “ejucation” (instead of “education”). Ok, the “ejucation” example is maybe a little harsh, but it is taken from reality**.

parody of the President from Szymon Majewski Show

Spelling mistakes really get on my nerves (of course when made by others). I was interested in looking at some terraced houses being built close to our place until I saw the price :) and the billboard advertising “wysoki standart” (high standard) instead of “wysoki standard”. With an ad like that you are just shooting yourself in the foot from the get go.

One of my students who is infamously unpleasant to all (to me as well) writes “ktury” instead of “który”. It was my pure pleasure to point it out to him. Normally I wouldn’t have said anything but it was right after he very strongly criticized my Polish skills. Revenge is sweet.

** This is taken from a real life example of a classmate of mine from university. We were asked to exchange compositions in English Literature class before handing them in. My classmate’s paper was entitled, “The American Ejucation System” or something like that. It was in no way his attempt at irony, believe me. I told him to take a look at “ejucation” and he slapped his forehead and said “Of course” to which he promptly changed it to “Ejucational”. Problem solved.

PS Here’s a link to an old post of mine about the Polish language – Polish is hard. Enjoy.

Women’s Day – Dzień Kobiet

2011-03-08T23:30:00.002+01:00

So, I received my obligatory Women’s Day carnation from one of my student’s, the President of one of the companies where I teach.

He decided to drop it “old school” and with a large group of gentlemen traveled around the company delivering carnations, good wishes and the triple Polish cheek kiss to all ladies of the company. I wasn’t complaining.

This is the same man who last week on Fat Thursday ate 3 doughnuts during the lesson and told the secretaries that I had eaten them. He’s a charmer :)

Here are some old thoughts on Women’s Day and Fat Thursday.

Dzień Kobiet

No więc otrzymałam obowiązkowe goździki na Dzień Kobiet od jednego z moich uczniów, prezesa jednej z firm, gdzie uczę.

Postanowił zrobić to OLD-SCHOOLOWO i wraz z wielką grupą dżentelmenów krążył po firmie wręczając goździki, życzenia wszystkiego najlepszego i potrójny polski pocałunek w policzki wszystkich pań w firmie. Ja nie narzekałam.

To ten sam facet, który w zeszłym tygodniu w Tłusty Czwartek zjadł 3 pączki podczas lekcji i powiedział sekretarce, że ja je zjadłam. On jest czarujący :)

Oto kilka starych myśli na Dzień Kobiet i Tłusty Czwartek.

This Is My Year - To Jest Mój Rok

2011-03-05T17:39:00.002+01:00

2011 is going to be “The Year of Chris”.

My resolutions are going very well, thank you very much. In fact they are going better and better each day. Ok, it is March already, but I psyched myself out this year by starting my resolutions in November. The plan was that by January I would either have 2 months of success behind me and hit the ground running in 2011 or that I would have 2 months of failure behind me and I could start anew in 2011. Thank goodness the former (and not the latter) is true. It has also helped that this year I have made resolutions of things I am going to do more of (rather than things I want to stop doing). I am feeling optimistic.

I have made some plans for the whole year – not too restrictive but not too loosey-goosey either. I used to have a student who made a 1-year plan, a 3-year plan, a 5-year plan, etc. and I thought she was crazy. Now, I feel that some kind of goal identification and planning really helps prevent bumbling through life. I don’t want to be a bumbler.

My children are growing and learning everyday. They are happy, healthy and optimistic little girls. 2011 is going to be a great year for them. Last month, they attended a fantastic birthday party of Lizzie’s best friend. They had so much fun and it was a pleasure to watch the children play together. Soon, they will be celebrating their own birthdays and then Easter. We have wonderful plans for planting some flowers and vegetables in our garden in the springtime. Rosie will start pre-school in September. My parents might visit us – fingers crossed. So much is going on.

Some companies have contacted me about working with them and I have a lot of new contacts to get working on. Something good has to come out of it. Anyhow, somebody contacted me about working and not the other way around. That hasn’t happened in about 3 years. Was it the crisis? Who knows, but I have high hopes that things are turning around.

All in all, things are looking up.

It’s my year.

PS And to Misiu! I think it is going to be your year too.

To Jest Mój Rok

2011 będzie "Rokiem Chris ".

Moje postanowienia noworoczne idą bardzo dobrze, dziękuję bardzo. Tak naprawdę codziennie jest coraz lepiej. Ok, jest już marzec, ale psychicznie tak się nastawiłam, że zaczęłam moje postanowienia już w listopadzie. Plan był taki, że w styczniu będą już za mną 2 miesiące sukcesu kiedy wejdę z hukiem w nowy rok 2011 albo też będą za mną 2 nieudane miesiące i będę mogła zacząć od nowa w 2011 roku. Dzięki Bogu, że sprawdziło się to pierwsze (a nie to drugie). Pomogło również to, że w tym roku postanowiłam sobie zrobić czegoś więcej (aniżeli przestać coś robić). Czuję się optymistyczne.

Zrobiłam pewne plany na cały rok - niezbyt restrykcyjne, ale też nie za luzackie. Miałam kiedyś uczennicę, która miała plan roczny, plan 3-letni, plan 5-letni itd., a ja myślałam, że jest szalona. Teraz czuję, że pewnego rodzaju identyfikacja celu i planowanie naprawdę pomagają zapobiegać przebimbaniu całego życia. Nie chcę być życiową niedorajdą.

Moje dzieci rosną i uczą się każdego dnia. Są szczęśliwymi, zdrowymi i optymistycznymi dziewczynkami. 2011 będzie świetnym rokiem dla nich. W zeszłym miesiącu wzięły udział w fantastycznej imprezie urodzinowej najlepszej przyjaciółki Lizzie. Było naprawdę dużo fajnej zabawy i to była sama przyjemność oglądać jak dzieci bawią się razem. Wkrótce będą świętować swoje urodziny, a później Wielkanoc. Mamy wspaniałe plany, żeby posadzić w ogrodzie kwiaty i warzywa na wiosnę. Rosie rozpocznie przedszkole we wrześniu. Być może odwiedzą nas moi rodzice – trzymam kciuki. Tak wiele się dzieje.

Niektóre firmy skontaktowały się ze mną w sprawie współpracy z nimi i mam dużo nowych kontaktów, nad którymi muszę popracować. Coś dobrego musi z tego wyniknąć. Tak czy inaczej, ktoś kontaktuje się ze mną, a nie odwrotnie. Tak się nie działo od około 3 lat. Czy był to kryzys? Kto wie, ale mam nadzieję, że wszystko się odwraca.

W sumie wszystko wygląda pozytywnie.

To jest mój rok.

PS A Misiu! Myślę, że to będzie też twój rok.

Integration: A teachers’ trip to the mountains Integracja: wycieczka nauczycieli w góry

2011-02-26T00:22:00.003+01:00

Integration – the combining of parts to make a whole.

If you have never worked in Poland, then you remain blissfully unaware of what integration means to the Polish workforce.

It usually means a trip to some location near or far to be forcibly integrated with your work colleagues (sounds painful) in hopes of breaking down barriers and creating a stronger, more productive team. Some variations of the integration meeting include activities such as survival tasks, bungee jumping and in one very unfortunate Moulin Rouge-themed meeting, painting the almost naked bodies of dancers hired to do the can-can and entertain the guests.

In the Village (10 years ago), it meant a teachers’ trip to the mountains.

[Refresher – We are talking about autumn ages ago when I first came to Poland and started work at a high school teaching English. I just happened to meet my Misiu there.]

How could I say no?

I wasn’t exactly jumping for joy at the prospect of travelling to the mountains (where ever they were) with a bus full of my colleagues, but at least Misiu would be going along. I signed up, paid my money and promptly bought a sleeping bag as I was told it was necessary for the trip.

On the day of the trip, I showed up at school, sleeping bag in tow. I checked out all the teachers who were going along and could not find even one simpatico in the bunch. This was going to be a long weekend.

Finally, Misiu showed up wearing a new jacket. It was really nice and I complimented him on it to which I received a harsh bark of , “Aren’t the sleeves too short?”.

“Ummm, no,” I muttered. Apparently someone in Misiu’s life thought his sleeves were too short. This was going to be a really long weekend.

After all these years, I don’t remember most of the trip. I do remember a visit to a castle (which was lovely) and a question from the geography teacher about castles in America.

I remember that I wasn’t too excited about the mountains as I am from a pretty mountainous area in the US, but was enticed to walk to the top by the promise of beer there.

I remember the feeling of dread as the Principal of our school pulled out his guitar and song books on our first night in the hotel.

I remember the hotel owners whom I will politely call Jack Sprat (with suspicious sexuality) and his wife (who could eat no lean) who would not turn on the heat or unlock the bathroom doors and who called the police on us.

I remember the police arriving (apparently our guitar-playing and folk-song singing was disturbing the other guests…oh wait, there weren’t any other guests) and lining us up to check our passports. When they got to me, one officer said in a serious voice, “Gentlemen, there is a foreigner among us.”

I also remember that the teachers treated me like a child, the Principal even once chiding me to sit up straight on the bus.

I remember that I got to spend some time with Misiu, but it did not go without comment by the other teachers.

Finally, I remember being very glad to be back in my archives room throwing my sleeping bag in the corner where it remained the rest of my stay.

Happy integrating to all!

Integracja – wycieczka nauczycieli w góry

Integracja – łączenie części, ażeby stworzyć całość

Jeśli nigdy nie pracowaliście w Polsce, pozostajecie błogo nieświadomi tego, co oznacza integracja dla polskich pracowników.

Zwykle oznacza to wycieczkę w jakieś bliskie lub dalekie miejsce, żeby tam na siłę zintegrować się z waszymi kolegami z pracy (brzmi boleśnie) w nadziei przełamania barier i stworzenia silniejszego, bardziej wydajnego zespołu. Niektóre odmiany spotkań integracyjnych mogą polegać na zadaniach survivalowych, skokach bunjee, a na jednym nieszczęsnym spotkaniu - powiązanym tematycznie z Moulin Rouge - na malowaniu prawie nagich ciał tancerek wynajętych, żeby wykonać kankana i rozbawić gości.

W miasteczku (10 lat temu) oznaczało to wycieczkę nauczycieli w góry.

[Odświeżacz – Mówimy o jesieni wieki temu, kiedy pierwszy raz przyjechałam do Polski i zaczęłam pracę w szkole średniej ucząc angielskiego. Tam właśnie zdarzyło mi się poznać Misia.]

Jak mogłam powiedzieć nie?

Nie skakałam z radości mając w perspektywie podróż w góry (gdziekolwiek one były) autobusem pełnym moich kolegów, ale przynajmniej wiedziałam, że będzie jechał Misiu. Zapisałam się, wpłaciłam kasę i szybko zakupiłam śpiwór, bo powiedziano mi, że będzie konieczny na wycieczce.

W dzień wycieczki pojawiłam się w szkole ze śpiworem w zanadrzu. Sprawdziłam wszystkich nauczycieli, którzy mieli jechać i nie mogłam znaleźć nawet jednego „simpatico” w całej bandzie. Zapowiadał się długi weekend.

Wreszcie zjawił się Misiu w nowej kurtce. Była bardzo fajna i ją nawet pochwaliłam, na co on ostro odszczeknął „Rękawy nie za krótkie?”

“Ee, nie”, bąknęłam. Najwyraźniej ktoś w życiu Misia myślał, że rękawy są za krótkie. Zapowiadał się naprawdę długi weekend.

Po tylu latach nie pamiętam większości tej wycieczki. Pamiętam wizytę na zamku (który był śliczny) i pytanie od nauczyciela geografii o zamki w Ameryce.

Pamiętam, że nie byłam zbyt podekscytowana górami, bo sama pochodzę z dość górzystych terenów w Stanach, ale zostałam zwabiona do wejścia na sam szczyt góry obietnicą piwa tamże.

Pamiętam poczucie grozy, kiedy dyrektor szkoły wyciągnął gitarę i śpiewnik podczas naszej pierwszej nocy w hotelu.

Pamiętam właścicieli hotelu, których ładnie nazwałam imionami z wierszyka dla dzieci Jack Sprat (podejrzana seksualność) i jego żonę (nie jadła nic chudego), którzy nie włączyli dla nas ogrzewania, ani nie otworzyli drzwi do łazienki i którzy wezwali na nas policję.

Pamiętam jak przyjechała policja (widocznie nasze granie na gitarze i folkowe śpiewanie przeszkadzało innym gościom ... o, chwila, nie było tam żadnych innych gości) i ustawianie nas w rządku, żeby sprawdzić dowody tożsamości. Kiedy doszli do mnie, jeden z oficerów powiedział poważnym głosem „Panowie, jest wśród nas cudzoziemiec.”

Pamiętam również, że nauczyciele traktowali mnie jak dziecko, dyrektor nawet raz zbeształ mnie i kazał prosto siedzieć w autobusie.

Pamiętam, że spędziłam trochę czasu z Misiem, ale nie obyło się to bez komentarzy innych nauczycieli.

Wreszcie, pamiętam jak zadowolona byłam po powrocie do mojego ARCHIWUM rzucając śpiwór w kąt, gdzie pozostał już do końca mojego pobytu.

Wesołego integrowania dla wszystkich!

Bangs! - Grzywka!

2011-02-19T14:13:00.002+01:00

I cannot write anything because I am too distracted by my new bangs. Really, I do not know what to think. I am having an identity crisis. My hair is giving a definite “Chicago” vibe – the musical of course, not the city.

The general consensus of my female students is that my hair looks good and more “done”. The jury is still out for the male students, but I heard a lot of “nice”, “interesting”, “different” and one “what did you do to your hair”?

Oh well, it’ll grow back.

Nie mogę nic napisać, bo jestem zbyt rozkojarzona przez moją nową grzywkę. Naprawdę, nie wiem co o tym myśleć. Mam kryzys tożsamości. Moje włosy dają trochę klimatu "Chicago" –oczywiście musicalu – nie miasta.

Ogólny konsensus moich studentek jest taki, że moje włosy wyglądają dobrze i są bardziej "zrobione". Wśród studentów płci męskiej jeszcze nie zdecydowano, ale słyszałam dużo "ładne", "ciekawe", "inne" i jedno "co zrobiłaś z włosami"?

No i co, odrosną.

My Next Car

2011-02-11T15:04:00.003+01:00

I wonder how much it costs?

Ciekawam ile kosztuje taki samochód?

Don’t Worry…

2011-02-10T17:06:00.002+01:00

…Be Happy.

Something Odd?

2011-02-02T19:44:00.005+01:00

Should I be concerned that recently a large percentage of referring URLs and referring sites are coming from a site that is definitely "for adults only"? I find that odd. Any thoughts?

Blog of the Year 2010 Blog Roku 2010

2011-01-29T16:29:00.005+01:00

I would like to thank everyone who voted for Kielbasa Stories.

While I did not crack the top 10, I did make it to about #100 in the rankings (out of more than 1000 blogs in my category). It was great fun and I thank you for your support.

Good luck to those still in the running.

Chciałabym podziękować wszystkim, którzy głosowali na Kielbasa Stories.

Choć nie przebiłam się do pierwszej 10, udało się przebić do około # 100 w rankingu (z ponad 1000 blogów w mojej kategorii). To była super zabawa i dziękuję za wsparcie.

Powodzenia dla tych, którzy są ciągle w konkursie.

Public Transportation Review - Komunikacja publiczna - przegląd

2011-01-29T16:29:00.004+01:00

After my week of using the local public transportation, I have come to a few conclusions.

Some places can be reached by bus and/or tram with minimal transfers.

Some places can only be reached by bus.

Some places can only be reached by bus which comes once and hour or even worse once every 90 minutes (and has always departed 2 minutes prior to my arrival at the bus stop).

Some places can only be reached by bus and then a considerable hike on foot.

Some places cannot be reached at all.

Guess which of these applies to most of my clients.

All in all, my week of public transportation was not that bad really. I got a lot of exercise that is for sure and had to adjust my footwear to more pedestrian-friendly fare. I was on the look out for black clouds and carried an umbrella with me at all times.

I was never late anywhere, but that is more thanks to my abilities to “kombinować” (and leaving home extra, extra early) than the efficiency of our public transportation system. I didn’t have to worry about finding a parking spot or dealing with other drivers. Only once did the tram driver close the door in my face.

I mainly bought tickets good for a period of time, for example, for 24 hours, so I could change lines without worrying about my ticket and the additional cost. Often, it was cheaper than parking in the city.

Overall, I can say that public transportation is cool. If I worked in one location all day long, I would definitely abandon my car and use public transportation everyday.

BTW, that reminds me….Do you remember “Co mi zrobisz jak mnie złapiesz?” by Bareja…Ja to mam bardzo dobre połączenie…

Komunikacja publiczna - przegląd

Po tygodniu korzystania z komunikacji publicznej doszłam do kilku wniosków.

Do niektórych miejsc można dojechać autobusem i/lub tramwajem z minimalnymi przesiadkami.

W niektóre miejsca można dojechać tylko autobusem.

W niektóre miejsca można dojechać tylko autobusem, który kursuje raz na godzinę albo - co gorsza - raz na 90 minut (zawsze odjeżdża 2 minuty przed moim przybyciem na przystanek).

Do niektórych miejsc można dotrzeć autobusem, a potem znaczną pieszą wędrówką.

W niektóre miejsca nie można dotrzeć w ogóle.

Zgadnijcie, które z powyższych opcji najbardziej dotyczą moich klientów.

W sumie cały mój tydzień z komunikacjią publiczną nie był taki zły. Z pewnością zaliczyłam dużo aktywności fizycznej i musiałam też dopasować obuwie na bardziej przyjazne dla pieszego. Uważałam też na czarne chmury i zawsze miałam z sobą parasolkę.

Nigdzie się nie spóźniłam, ale to raczej dzięki moim umiejętnościom KOMBINOWANIA (wcześniejsze wychodzenie z domu, dużo wcześniejsze) niż efektywności transportu publicznego. Nie musiałam martwić sie o miejsce parkingowe, ani użerać sie z innymi kierowcami. Tylko raz motorniczy zamknął mi drzwi tramwaju na twarzy.

Kupowałam głównie bilety okresowe, na przykład na 24 godziny, mogłam więc zmieniać linie i nie martwić się o kolejny bilet i dodatkowy koszt. Często było to tańsze niż parkowanie w mieście.

Ogólnie mogę powiedzieć, że komunikacja miejska jest COOL. Gdybym pracowała w jednym miejscu cały dzień, zdecydowanie porzuciłabym samochód i korzystała z komunikacji miejskiej codziennie.

A tak a propos, coś mi się przypomina… Pamiętacie „Co mi zrobisz jak mnie złapiesz” Barei? Ja to mam bardzo dobre połączenie…

Samochód się zrypał – My Car Died

2011-01-18T21:58:00.002+01:00

Samochód się zrypał. Nie, nie nasz Jeep. Nasz Jeep jest u mechanika i czeka na następną wizytę agenta z firmy ubezpieczeniowej. Nie, tym razem nasz mały samochód się zrypał i czeka na lawetę do mechanika. A Chris zaraz będzie mieć bliskie spotkanie z miejską komunikacją. Boże, proszę żeby tylko nie padał śnieg.

My car died. No, not the Jeep. The Jeep is at the mechanic waiting for the insurance agent to come again for the next visit. No, the “little” car died and is waiting to be towed to the mechanic. Chris is about to get up close and personal with the City’s public transportation system. Gawd, I hope it doesn’t snow.

It’s time to vote! Czas na głosowanie!

2011-01-11T15:42:00.003+01:00

If you’d like to vote for Kielbasa Stories in the Blog of the Year 2010 competition, please send a text message of A00320 to the number 7122 (til January 20th).

The cost of the text message is 1.23 PLN and will go to a charity supporting rehabilitation efforts for people with disabilities.

Thank you very much for your support and keep your fingers crossed for me.

Jeśli chcesz oddać głos na Kielbasa Stories w Blog Roku 2010 wyślij SMS o treści A00320 na numer 7122 (do 20 Stycznia).

Koszt SMS to 1,23 zł. Dochód SMSów zostanie przekazany na turnusy rehabilitacyjne dla osób niepełnosprawnych.

Dziękuję bardzo za wsparcie i trzymajcie kciuki za mnie.

Look what I’ve got - Zobacz co mam

2011-01-09T16:20:00.002+01:00

Marek Krajewski in English!

I cannot wait to get started.

Thank you Misiu!

Marek Krajewski po angielsku!

Nie mogę doczekać się, aby zacząć.

Dzięki Misiu!

2 Ways To Drink Chardonnay – 2 Sposoby Picia Chardonnay

2011-01-05T19:31:00.002+01:00

My job isn’t usually very exciting. It’s interesting enough, but not exactly exciting. It’s a lot of -you should use borrow here not lend – or - don’t use will after if in the 1st conditional - and the like.

It also involves a lot of nodding in agreement when employees say what an idiot their boss is and when bosses say what idiots their employees are. (Note: There usually is an idiot in every office. The idiot is quite easy to spot. He/she is the one calling everyone else an idiot.)

But on that rare occasion, I get a treat – usually in the form of chocolate (yum, from Harrod’s) or homemade sushi (yuck) and twice in my teaching career in the form of chardonnay.

How to drink chardonnay during your English lesson

by Chris

Way #1

Your student asks you if you are a big chardonnay drinker. You reply that no,you are not but you’d like to try it. Said student (who likes to educate all around him – but not in a bad way) takes the opportunity to explain the proper way to drink chardonnay – in a chardonnay glass held in your hands to warm it up to the proper temperature. There’s also a lot of swishing and smelling going on…and of course a lot of glass refilling. The chardonnay was delicious although I felt a little ridiculous warming the glass with my hands, swirling the chardonnay around in the glass, repeatedly smelling and exclaiming “what a marvelous bouquet”. That did not prevent me, however, from drinking 2 (who am I kidding, 4) glasses.

Way #2

You arrive to a late afternoon/evening lesson (it’s after 6 pm, you be the judge) only to find the secretaries are gone and half the board is sitting (a bit tipsy) in the conference room congratulating each other profusely and patting each other on the back a little too hard. I think I even saw a tear or two. The conference room, strewn with bottles of champagne and a few bottles of chardonnay, is a disaster area. When you ask what’s up you get to know that the company has finally finished contract negotiations and has been purchased by a foreign company for a pretty hefty sum, hence the celebratory atmosphere.

Ok, chances for a lesson are out the window, so I suggest we re-schedule, but my student has other plans. Maybe some chardonnay, he offers. Yes of course, I reply - but there are no clean chardonnay glasses…nor are there any clean champagne glasses. My student returns triumphant from the kitchen after quite a considerable absence – I think it was his first time in there- with a coffee cup (clean) with the company logo. As my cup was filled to the brim, I noted to myself that this wasn’t a very classy way to drink a very good (and certainly expensive) chardonnay, but what the hell. Problems started later because (in the mouth of my good friend as she said to her mother) the cup of chardonnay doesn’t count as only one cup, if you keep filling it up. After one cup my head was a little buzzy and after two my Polish got really good. After three, I thought I could fly and after that I called Misiu to come and pick me up.

Bottoms up!

2 sposoby picia chardonnay

Moja praca nie jest zwykle bardzo ekscytująca. Jest ciekawa, ale niezupełnie ekscytująca. Dużo jest – powinieneś użyć tutaj BORROW a nie LEND, lub nie używaj WILL po IF w zdaniach warunkowych 1 typu – i temu podobnych.

Trzeba też dużo przytakiwać, kiedy pracownicy mówią jakim to idiotą jest ich szef i kiedy szefowie mówią jakimi idiotami są ich pracownicy. (Uwaga: Zwykle jest idiota/idiotka w każdym biurze. Idiotę bardzo łatwo zauważyć. Otóż to ta osoba, która nazywa idiotami wszystkich innych.)

Ale rzadko – otrzymuję jakiś smakołyk – zwykle w formie czekolady (pychota, z Harrod’sa) lub domowej roboty sushi (ohyda) a dwa razy w trakcie mojej nauczycielskiej kariery w formie chardonnay.

Jak pić chardonnay podczas lekcji angielskiego wg Chris

Sposób 1

Twoi uczniowie pytają cię, czy jesteś miłośnikiem chardonnay. Odpowiadasz, że nie, ale chętnie spróbujesz. Wspomniany uczeń (który lubi dokształcać wszystkich wokół siebie – ale nie w złym sensie) korzysta z okazji i wyjaśnia właściwy sposób picia chardonnay – w kieliszku do chardonnay trzymanym w dłoniach, ażeby go zagrzać do odpowiedniej temperatury. Jest przy tym dużo szeleszczenia i wąchania … i oczywiście ponownego napełniania szkła. Chardonnay było wyśmienite chociaż czułam się trochę śmiesznie ogrzewając kieliszek w dłoniach, mieszając wino lekko wirując szkłem, cały czas wachając i wykrzykując “co za wyśmienity bukiet”. To mnie nie powstrzymało jednakże od wypicia 2 (żarty na bok - 4) kieliszków.

Sposób 2

Przyjeżdżasz na późnopopołudniową/wieczorną lekcję (jest po 18.00, sami osądźcie) po to tylko, żeby zobaczyć, że sekretarki już poszły, a pół zarządu siedzi (lekko wypita) w sali konferencyjnej obficie składając sobie nawzajem gratulacje i poklepując po plecach trochę zbyt mocno. Myślę, że zauważyłam też łzę lub nawet dwie. Sala konferencyjna, zasypana butelkami po szampanie i kilkoma chardonnay, wygląda jak miejsce katastrofy. Kiedy pytasz, co sie dzieje, dowiadujesz się, że firma udanie zakończyła negocjacje w sprawie przejęcia i została zakupiona przez zagranicznego inwestora za sporą sumę, i stąd też atmosfera świętowania.

No dobrze, szanse na lekcje są marne, więc proponuję przełożenie na inny termin, ale mój uczeń ma inne plany. Może trochę chardonnay, oferuje – ale nie ma czystych kieliszków do wina, ani do szampana. Mój uczeń wraca triumfalnie z kuchni po dość znacznej nieobecności – myślę, że był tam pierwszy raz, z kubkiem do kawy (czystym) z logo firmy. Jak już mój kubek został napełniony po brzegi, pomyślałam w duchu, że nie będę pić z klasą tego bardzo dobrego (i z pewnością drogiego) chardonnay, ale co tam! Problemy zaczęły się później ponieważ (to z ust mojej koleżanki, która tak powiedziała swojej matce) kubek chardonnay nie liczy się jako tylko jeden kubek jeśli cały czas go napełniasz. Po jednym kubku zaczęło mi szumieć w głowie, a po dwóch moja znajomość języka polskiego naprawdę się poprawiła. Po trzech poczułam, że odlatuję po czym zadzwoniłam po Misia, żeby po mnie przyjechał.

Do dna!

Elevators and Me – Windy i Ja

2011-01-02T19:57:00.002+01:00

I come from a small town in which an elevator was something hard to come by. I love to go in elevators or lifts if you prefer.

When one company where I had lessons built a big beautiful new office building, I was very excited that I’d be able to go in the glass lift which looked out onto the square. I was even more excited because I knew it would be at night and the view would be fantastic. Imagine my disappointment when I showed up the first time to the new office only to be escorted by the security guard to the back elevator, let’s say the secret elevator, for the big fish upstairs. Blahhh!

But once, fantastically, one evening the back elevator broke down and I got my chance to ride the fancy glass elevator with everybody else. Well, with nobody else because it was evening. It was just me and the security guard because we had to go up to the last floor this lift traveled to and then to a locked stairwell and on foot the rest of the way to my student’s office. Of course, I could not go unescorted. I don’t know if they were afraid I’d steal something or if I’d get lost. Probably a little of each. So we got on the elevator, the security guard and I, and as the doors closed I couldn’t contain my excitement as I exclaimed, “This is my first time on this lift!” The security guard gave me a smile, you know the kind of smile you reserve for that distant cousin of yours who is a little slow and likes to tell stories about his adventures in space, and then he said slowly, “Taaaaaaak,” not as a question, but as a kind of verbal pat on the head.

Another fascinating lift is in the bank where I got locked in one day. It is a paternoster lift which is one of those lifts which operates on a loop, that has no doors, doesn’t stop and is frankly quite scary the first time you use it. While I am perfectly capable of walking and chewing gum at the same time, I am unable to carry on a conversation while using this kind of lift. First, I must concentrate to step on the empty moving compartment going in the direction I would like to go (up or down). Then if going up, I have to concentrate on getting off at the right floor, I mean, its not like it stops on the floor you want. Getting off requires concentration and some bravery at first, and I always hesitate like a young girl waiting to jump into a game of double-dutch. Sometimes, I had to go one floor up and walk down the stairs.

Missing your floor going down was a bit more risky. There was a notice that you had to get off on the ground floor. If you didn’t you’d end up coming back around on the other side. I was very careful to get off on the ground floor because #1 I did not want to see what happened if I didn’t. I imagined I’d travel through time and space or perhaps catch a glimpse of the dungeon in the bank’s basement where they imprisoned debtors or something or perhaps there’d be a big sign like “You were supposed to get off, STOOOOPID!”. Reason #2 was that when you came around the other side, the up side, and got off on the ground floor, anyone who was waiting to go up would know what you had done.

And one more very important thing you should know…DO NOT press the red button. If you cannot remember that, don’t worry, there is a big sign that says, “Do not press the red button, stooopid”. Ok, there’s no stupid part but I think it is understood. Anyhow, the red button stops the whole lift and should be used only in emergencies. You don’t need to stop the lift to get on or off because it travels at a snail’s pace and is only intimidating the first time you use it. (same goes for traffic circles)

You probably suppose that I know about the red button because I pressed the red button. Sorry to disappoint you, but it wasn’t me. Misiuuuu? Would you like to tell them who pressed the red button? No? Could it be the same person who was talking on his cell phone and forgot to get off on the ground floor and had to wait to come up the other side?

I thought so ;)

Windy i ja

Pochodzę z małego miasteczka, w którym winda to coś, co trudno spotkać. Uwielbiam jeździć windą czyli elevator lub jak kto woli lift.

Kiedy firma, w której miałam lekcje wybudowała duży piękny, nowy biurowiec, byłam bardzo podekscytowana, że będę mogła jeździć w szklanej windzie z widokiem na ulicę. I byłam jeszcze bardziej podekscytowana, bo wiedziałam, że będzie to w nocy, i widok będzie fantastyczny. Jakież było moje rozczarowanie, kiedy pojawiłam się po raz pierwszy w nowym biurze i zostałam eskortowana przez ochroniarza do windy z tyłu budynku, powiedzmy, że to była tajna winda tylko dla VIP-ów z samej góry. Ble!!!

Ale pewnego wieczoru – fantastycznie - tylna winda zepsuła się i dostałam szansę przejechać się przeszkloną windą dla wszystkich. Cóż, nikogo nie było, bo było to wieczorem. Tylko ja i ochroniarz, bo musieliśmy jechać aż na ostatnie piętro kursowania tej windy, a następnie przejść przez zamkniętą klatkę schodową i resztę drogi na pieszo do biura mojego studenta. Oczywiście, nie mogłam przejść bez eskorty. I nie wiem, czy bali się, czy coś ukradnę czy się zgubię. Pewnie i to i to. Wchodzimy więc do windy, strażnik i ja, i kiedy zamykają się drzwi nie mogę powstrzymać mojego podniecenia i krzyczę: "To jest mój pierwszy raz w tej windzie!" Strażnik uśmiechnął się - coś w rodzaju uśmiechu, który masz zarezerwowany dla dalekiego kuzyna, który jest trochę powolny i lubi opowiadać o swoich przygodach w kosmosie - a potem powiedział powoli, "Taaaaaaak", ale nie jako pytanie, tylko rodzaj słownego poklepania po główce.

Kolejna fascynująca winda jest w banku, gdzie kiedyś zostałam zamknięta w środku. Jest to taka winda, która porusza się w kółko, nie ma drzwi, nie zatrzymuje się i – szczerze - jest dość przerażająca, kiedy używasz jej po raz pierwszy. Chociaż doskonale umiem chodzić i jednocześnie żuć gumę, nie jestem w stanie prowadzić rozmowy podczas korzystania z tego rodzaju windy. Po pierwsze muszę skoncentrować się na krok w pusty przedział jadącej windy w kierunku, w którym chciałabym jechać (w górę lub w dół). Następnie, jeśli jadę w górę, muszę skoncentrować się na wyskoku na właściwym piętrze - chodzi o to, że winda nie zatrzymuje się na danym piętrze. Wysiadanie wymaga po pierwsze koncentracji i trochę odwagi, a ja zawsze waham się jak młoda dziewczyna czekająca na skok na podwójnej skakance. Czasem musiałam zajechać o jedno piętro wyżej i schodzić po schodach.

Ominięcie właściwego piętra jadąc w dół było nieco bardziej ryzykowne. Był tam znak, że trzeba wysiąść na parterze. Jeśli nie udało ci się - lądowałaś po drugiej stronie jadąc z powrotem w górę. Byłam bardzo uważna, żeby wysiąść na parterze, ponieważ – po pierwsze - nie chciałam zobaczyć, co by się stanie, gdy mi się nie uda. Wyobrażałam sobie, że będę podróżować w czasie i przestrzeni, a może nawet dostrzegę loch w podziemiach banku, gdzie więzieni są dłużnicy czy coś w tym rodzaju, a może będzie tam wielki znak "Miałeś wysiąść, GŁUPKU!". Powód nr 2 był taki, że kiedy pojawiasz się po drugiej stronie jadąc w górę, i wysiadasz na parterze, każdy kto tam czeka na windę dowie się co zrobiłaś.

I jeszcze jedna bardzo ważna rzecz, o której należy wiedzieć ... nie naciskać czerwonego przycisku. Jeśli nie możesz zapamiętać, nie martw się, jest wielki znak, na którym jest napisane: "Nie należy naciskać czerwonego przycisku, głupku". Ok, nie ma tego ”głupku”, ale myślę, że to jest zrozumiałe. Tak czy inaczej, czerwony przycisk zatrzymuje cała windę i powinien być wykorzystany tylko w sytuacjach awaryjnych. Nie trzeba zatrzymywać windy, aby wejść lub wyjść, ponieważ porusza się ona w ślimaczym tempie, a strach jest tylko wtedy, kiedy używasz jej pierwszy raz. (To samo dotyczy jazdy na rondzie).

Prawdopodobnie przypuszczacie, że wiem o czerwonym przycisku, bo go nacisnęłam. Przepraszam, ale muszę was rozczarować, ale to nie ja. Misiuuuu? Czy chciałbyś opowiedzieć, kto nacisnął czerwony przycisk? Nie? Czy to ta sama osoba, która rozmawiała przez komórkę i zapomniała wysiąść na parterze i musiała poczekać aż wyjedzie z drugiej strony?

Tak myślałam;)

Some people have Jesus - Niektórzy mają Jezusa

2010-12-31T12:24:00.003+01:00

We have Uszatek.

Lizzie’s pre-school class had Wigilia (Christmas Eve) last week. Jasełka (Christmas play) will be in January. As you can see in the picture, it was a full house.

salt dough painting time - malowanie masy solnej

one of the holiday bulletin boards with Santa and Frosty jedna z tablic z Mikołajem i Frostym

The children had prepared some poems and songs for us. We also made an arts and crafts project of salt dough angels. There was food too, of course. I am happy to report that my banana nut muffins disappeared like magic.

another holiday bulletin board featuring a snowy story and a baby Jesus story - kolejna tablica przedstawiająca śnieżną historyjkę oraz historyjkę o Jezusie

the view onto the playground from Lizzie’s classroom widok za okno z klasy Lizzie

Then the story of the birth of baby Jesus was read paragraph by paragraph by parents. Some parents declined to read. I’m not sure why. I declined to read because my paragraph was very long and in Polish and had the word “moon” in Polish in it which is impossible to say.

Lizzie having fun - Lizzie dobrze się bawi free time to play with friends - czas wolny na zabawę z kolegami

So, that evening Lizzie asked me about Jesus. We’ve talked about it a few times already, but this is the first time she was really interested in talking about it. I was planning to bring it up before the Christmas play anyhow.

I told her that some people believe that Jesus is the son of God. I explained that Christmas is not only when Santa visits us, but it is also a celebration of the birth of Jesus. Lizzie, of course, wanted to know what’s so special about Jesus as if being the son of God is not enough. I told her that there are a lot of stories about Jesus and that these stories teach us how to be a good person.

“Like Uszatek?” asked Lizzie.

“Yes!” I exclaimed, “Like Uszatek.”

In her own way, I think she is starting to understand.

Uszatek

PS I have to make a “baran” (ram) costume for the Christmas play. Help!

Niektórzy mają Jezusa

My mamy Uszatka.

Grupa przedszkolna Lizzie miała Wigilię w zeszłym tygodniu. W styczniu zaś będą Jasełka. Jak widać na zdjęciu, była pełna chata.

Dzieci przygotowały dla nas wierszyki i piosenki. Mieliśmy też zajęcia artystyczne i zrobiliśmy aniołki z masy solnej. Oczywiście było też jedzenie. Jestem szczęśliwa, iż mogę zakomunikować, że moje mufinki bananowe zniknęły w czarodziejski sposób.

Następnie historia o Jezusie została przeczytana przez rodziców akapit po akapicie. Niektórzy rodzice odmówili czytania. Nie jestem pewna dlaczego. Ja odmówiłam ponieważ mój akapit był bardzo długi i zawierał słowo KSIĘŻYC, które jest niemożliwe do wymówienia.

No i wieczorem Lizzie spytała mnie o Jezusa. Rozmawialiśmy już o tym wcześniej parę razy, ale tym razem to ona była zainteresowana rozmową na ten temat. I tak miałam zamiar podjąć ten temat przed Jasełkami.

Powiedziałam jej, że niektórzy ludzie wierzą, że Jezus jest synem Boga. Wyjaśniłam, że Święta Bożego Narodzenia to nie tylko wizyta Mikołaja ale też świętowanie narodzin Jezusa. Lizzie chciała oczywiście wiedzieć co jest takiego szczególnego jeśli chodzi o Jezusa – jak gdyby samo bycie synem Boga nie wystarczało. Powiedziałam jej, że jest dużo historii z życia Jezusa i historie te uczą nas jak być dobrym.

-Jak Uszatek? spytała Lizzie.

-Tak! wykrzyknęłam, Jak Uszatek!

Myślę, że – na swój spossób - zaczyna to rozumieć.

PS Muszę zrobić kostium BARANA na przedstawienie. Pomóżcie!

Santa speaks English!?! Święty Mikołaj mówi po angielsku!?!

2010-12-29T10:01:00.003+01:00

Lizzie really couldn’t wait for Santa to visit us this year. Immediately after our Christmas Eve supper, she declared that it was time to take a bath and go to bed…without reading books or watching “Frosty the Snowman” (who strangely enough speaks Polish but still sings in English).

Last year, Lizzie was very interested in how Santa would get into our home. She couldn’t believe that he had entered so quietly (we had hung bells on our door) and without even a “ho, ho, ho”. I told her that it was simply magic but then she started to freak out that some bad guys could “magic” their way into our house. So that’s when I told her that I had let Santa in.

“You saw Santa?” Lizzie asked in amazement and disbelief.

“Yes,” I replied. “I let him in".”

“You talked to him?” she asked in greater amazement.

“Yes, I did,” I answered quickly.

“Santa speaks ENGLISH?!?” Lizzie shouted in the greatest amazement.

“Yes, he does.” I laughed at her amazement.

I don’t really like to draw out the whole Santa Claus thing because I know some day that she’ll find out the truth. I hope she doesn’t react as one of my student’s daughters reacted…

I have a student who is a very firm family man at least that is how he identifies himself. I’m not sure what that means exactly but I do remember that his wife breastfed their kids a really long time…until one child was 4 and the other was 6.

So at about age 8 when most kids start to work out that Santa is really Mom and Dad, this little girl learned from a friend at school that there was no Santa. She freaked out. She came home in hysterics. Her whole world was shattered. Not because there was no Santa Claus but because her parents had lied to her. She decided that everything her parents had ever told her was a lie too. This little girl stopped going to church, stopped eating her vegetables, stopped doing her homework, etc. In the end they had to take her to a psychologist…all because of Santa Claus.

Can you believe it?

Lizzie naprawdę nie mogła się doczekać Mikołaja w tym roku. Natychmiast po kolacji wigilijnej zadeklarowała, że już czas na kąpiel i spanie … bez czytania książek albo oglądania Frosty the Snowman (który jakoś tak dziwnie mówi po polsku ale śpiewa po angielsku).

W zeszłym roku Lizzie zainteresowało to jak Święty Mikołaj dostał się do naszego domu. Nie mogła uwierzyć, że wszedł tak cicho (powiesiliśmy dzwonki na drzwiach) i bez swojego HO! HO! HO! Powiedziałam jej, że to po prostu czary, ale wtedy ona się przestraszyła, że jacyś źli ludzie też mogą wejść w czarodziejski sposób do naszego domu. Wtedy więc powiedziałam jej, że to ja wpuściłam Mikołaja.

-Widziałaś Mikołaja? Lizzie spytała wielce zadziwiona.
-Tak- odparłam. – Wpuściłam go.
-Rozmawiałaś z nim?- spytała jeszcze bardziej zadziwiona.
-Tak – odpowiedziałam szybko.
-Mikołaj mówi po angielsku!?- Lizzie krzyknęła w największym zadziwieniu.
-Tak, mówi. – zaśmiałam się z tego jej zadziwienia.

Nie chcę tak naprawdę przerysowywać tego całego wizerunku Świętego Mikołaja, bo wiem, że kiedyś odkryje całą prawdę. Mam nadzieję, że nie zareaguje tak jak córka jednego z moich uczniów…

Mam studenta, który jest bardzo rodzinny- tak przynajmniej sie opisuje. Nie jestem pewna, co to dokładnie oznacza, ale pamiętam, że jego żona karmiła dzieci piersią naprawdę długo … do czasu aż jedno miało 4 a drugie 6 lat.

No więc w wieku około 8 lat kiedy większość dzieci rozpracowuje to, że Mikołaj to tak naprawdę mama i tata, ona dowiedziała się w szkole, że nie ma Mikołaja. Przeraziła się. Wróciła do domu rozhisteryzowana. Cały jej świat rozsypal się na kawałki. Nie dlatego, że nie ma Mikołaja, ale dlatego, że jej rodzice kłamali. Postanowiła, że wszystko co rodzice jej wcześniej powiedzieli to też były kłamstwa. Dziewczynka przestała chodzić do kościoła, przestała jeść warzywa, przestała odrabiać lekcje itd… W końcu musieli zabrać ją do psychologa… a wszystko przez Świętego Mikołaja.

Możecie w to uwierzyć?