p3 - It's a blog about Poland

We've moved!

2006-06-05T02:46:00.000+02:00

P3 is now here.

New beginnings

2006-06-02T09:39:00.000+02:00

It's a new month. Spring is slowly but surely turning into summer, and p3 is ready to take its next step forward.

Beginning from Monday, June 5, p3 will have a new look, at least one new contributor, and a new web address: http://polishstyle.net

The reasons vary, but my favorite two are: a)The desire for independence from the blogger format, as well as for new features, such as indexing, and b) the need for a fresh start. As anyone can see, some p3'ers are far better at contributing than others. (I myself am one of the worst sinners on this front.) We need a new gust of fresh air to put the wind back in our sails.

With the launch of the new format and address, we'll be building up next week to the equality parade, due to take place in Warsaw on Saturday, June 10, in which a few of us plan to participate. This should prove a very interesting - and bloggable - experience.

But there will be much, much more coming from p3 as well.

We'd like to thank you, our readers, for sticking with us for this long, and we hope you've enjoyed the ride so far. We think that the new format and address will make p3 even more entertaining, interesting, and fun - and will lead to more great discussion, which is what p3 is all about.

Love on Benches

2006-05-30T17:09:00.000+02:00

So I was walking around the park today and there were lots of couples on benches all entwined around each other whispering amorous thoughts of the future into each other's ears and I couldn't help but smile. In the States, love is a very sterile enterprise carried out by partners confirming their mutual interest but in Europe it's much more earthy.

Ah, Spring.

Stolen Hopes

2006-05-17T00:37:00.000+02:00

"What do you think?" she asked me, staring over her Bloody Mary.

This is what I heard tonight from a friend (well, she's a bartender at a place I frequent) about her and her boyfriend's plan to go to England for the summer. We were sitting in a restaurant that had already closed. We were allowed to stay in because her boyfriend delivers food for them.

As everyone in Europe knows, Poland is going through yet another diaspora at the moment. This time, though, it's mostly young people leaving instead of whole families. I feel so dearly for people like my bartender friend. She has no idea what to expect. Her boyfriend has a job lined up for six pounds per hour doing construction work. They are filled with hope and still plagued by anxiety. Why else would they ask an American about work conditions in England?

I told her that if there is a tourist industry in this town then she has a good chance of getting a job, however locally low the wage might be (I'm not so sure about this point since Poland has joined the EU, but I remember hearing about Poles working for ridiculously low wages a few years ago). She sounded mildly hopeful, but when her boyfriend left for a moment, she told me that she would really rather stay in Poland because she likes her job here. She would only go to England because she'd miss her boyfriend too much.

England is a shangri-la for many Polish people. It's the local version of the American dream: Work hard, earn money, be happy. Learn English for free. It's a success story for many but now, due to some tax irregularities (I bet beatroot knows more about this than I do), that dream has lost much of its gloss. There are still so many young people ready to throw caution to the wind and make that journey. I don't know whether to take this as a testament to their bravery or to the condition of the economy in Poland.

As we part ways after our Bloody Marys, I can't help but wonder what will happen to my new friends but I do know that their hopes, imparted to me in a dark room after hours, live in the hearts of thousands (maybe bordering on millions) of their peers and compatriots. I sincerely wish them all the best.

United Press International - NewsTrack - Poland censors to ban vulgarity for pope

2006-05-10T09:58:00.000+02:00

United Press International - NewsTrack - Poland censors to ban vulgarity for pope: "Special censors promoted for the occasion are to purge from television programs ads for personal hygiene products and underwear, the Italian ANSA news agency reported."

Doesn't this sound a bit pointless as all of the kiosks in Czestochowa hang copies of Fakt with girls baring all for the inquisitive camera? Why the focus on TV, which Bennie will probably not watch?

This is typical Poland for me. Someone important is coming so let's slap up a coat of paint (apply it thin because it's expensive) and as soon as our guest of honor is gone everything starts to peel. When it's convenient, Poland shows its "faith" and then, when nobody is looking, the sex shops re-open.

Of course, a big hullabaloo is happening in Warsaw. According to this page a 25 meter cross is being erected in the Old Square in Warsaw. Come on Poland, didn't anybody ever tell you that size doesn't matter?

And of course, "The frontal part of the Eucharistic table is to be embossed with the names of the Poles beatified and canonised by John Paul II."

Really, guys. Get over yourself.

Red Tape and Stamps

2006-04-28T01:14:00.000+02:00

Next week I will have been in Poland a year.

This week I finally got around to applying for my residence permit, which I need if I am intending to stay in the country for longer than 3 months... *ahem*

I actually never stayed in Poland for longer than 3 months at a time, leaving every so often for a trip abroad. Still, it was pretty obvious that the people responsible for my voluntary project here in Warsaw were never going to get round to sorting out my paperwork. I should have taken things into hand before this week when the responsibility really shifted to me with the end of my voluntary project.

There is a simple reason for my tardiness: I was scared.

I moved here from Brussels, the bustling international city that has more foreigners than locals. I experienced getting registered in a Brussels suburb. The place where they direct you to an airless shadowy basement room, to wait with other non-Belgians on a row of chairs, eyes focused on a lone door.

The door opens every so often and someone shuffles out. Names are called, and the next person enters, but you have to know the system. The system is never explained, but if you have sharp eyes (or get tired of waiting for hours) you can discover the secret.

If you've been before you have a little scrap of paper with a number and appointment time. You have to take your courage in both hands, walk up to the door and knock. Someone then opens it a couple of centimetres and you can slip through your paper. They then tell you to sit back down and it could be a matter of minutes, or hours, until your turn.

If you've just called beforehand to make an appointment or (horror of horrors) just shown up, you also have to walk up to the door and give your name. Once the information has been received, the door closes, no 'please take a seat', no 'we'll be right with you', just a closing door and a line of uncomfortable plastic chairs to choose between.

Once you make it into the room, oh that's when the real fun begins. You (well, I) will invariably have the wrong piece of paper, or not enough photos (5 if I remember correctly, just so you have to get two sets of 4 I imagine), or the wrong kind of letter explaining why you want to stay in the country.

When I went through all this I was working at an EU institution, the guardian of the freedom of movement for workers, and yet it took many visits and bits of paper before I was registered and my paperwork was in order.

Of course most people have to go back several times. Back to the basement, to sit under the low ceiling next to other unfortunate individuals waiting several minutes or several hours depending on the whims of the people behind The Door.

This is why I was scared.

I now had to go through this process in a country where you need to queue for two days and promise your first-born to a human trafficker just to post a parcel.

We decided on a first visit to suss the place out and get the list of requirements. We entered the building, close to the old town and pleasant on the outside. So far so good. We were directed up a flight of stairs (no basement holes here!) and I wearily eyed the people lining each side of a corridor. It looked like a long wait. I spotted the ticket dispenser and took an 'A' ticket, for EU citizens. Mine was A68. I turned to the display and winced in anticipation of just how many people were in front of me. A67 flashed up. What? Just one person? I'm next? At the end of the long corridor was my room. The poor souls lining the corridor were all B tickets, from outside the EU and destined for a long wait. I walked past them, to the room at the end with the EU flag. It would have been even more impressive if the flag hadn't been stuck on with messy tape.

My number came up. We were greeted by a smiling pregnant lady (yes, they do exist) who found out quickly what we needed, gave me the relevant form, told me the list of documents I would need to attach the form and advised me not to bother including the letter from my work. 'You're from England, there's no problem, we just need to know you have enough means to look after yourself, it's the EU'. I wanted to take her head in my hands and kiss her forehead. I restrained myself.

The following day I returned, sauntered up the corridor, took my place behind one other person, was seen after ten minutes, handed over my completed form, passport photocopy, insurance card copy, photos (just two), proof that the bank transfer had been made and smiled at the pregnant lady. She took out a lot of important looking stamps, stamped everything thoroughly, signed a lot of other bits and handed me a piece of paper.

'This tells you when the card will be ready. Here's our number if you'd like to check a few days before.'

That was it.

Brussels take note: Poland is well known for its inability to carry out the simplest procedure without metres and metres of red tape. If they can sort my paperwork for me in just a couple of brief visits with zero problems, you have no excuse.

What will these kids do?

2006-04-24T07:45:00.000+02:00

I was on a bus yesterday with a friend who teaches in high school here in Poznan. Well, gymnajium, actually, but the kids were 15 or so and that translates into high school age for Americans. My friend said hi to the students and they said hi to him. My friend told me that they hadn't been to school since New Year's Eve and one of the students had just told him that he hadn't been home since that time, either.

They were your typical new punk Polish young males. Shaved heads, cigarettes, baggy trousers, and hooded sweatshirts. 100% American gangsta. And so young: 15!

Where are this country's strong male role models these kids so desperately need? What kind of people are teaching in the high schools? Where are their parents?

I'm not saying that this phenomenon is limited to Poland, or to only the financially distressed, but in a country that prides itself on character and with a government that prides itself on morality, what is not being done to save these kids from a life of crime and violence drives me almost to tears. There is a lack of strong male role models and an excess of bad ones.

I don't want to see the machismo ethic undermine the social structure and national identity. I wish Chuck Norris could come to Poland and have a big workshop on "How to be a Man." Maybe then they would listen.

Happy Easter!

2006-04-16T22:45:00.000+02:00

The fruit stalls

2006-04-05T09:20:00.000+02:00

I love the fruit stalls in Poland! Did I just use the words "love" and "Poland" in the same breath?

I was walking this morning and passed idly through one of the markets. The people who run these markets are amazing. They arrive every morning around 6 or 7 and set up shop. Every day. They lug in crates and crates of oranges, bananas, grapes, lemons, plums, and (when the season is right) fresh strawberries.

Approching one of them can be a bit of a trick for the uninitiated. The people that work behind the stalls are not delicate people. Their hands are calloused. Their voices are calloused, too. They'll give you a terse greeting and wait for you to tell them what you want. If you're not sure, they'll move on to the next customer.

Usually, I just find the fruits that I want and hand them over. They're weighed and a price is quoted. A fair price. Quite cheap. Much cheaper than comparable fresh fruits in the US.

You're less lucky if you want something that only the shopkeeper can reach. Then it becomes a negotiation.

Me: I'd like some tangerines.
Her: How many?
Me: Well, I'm not sure. How about 2 zl worth? (Not even knowing how much that'll be)
Her: Prosze (she then grabs about 15 tangerines and weighs them out.
Her: That'll be 2.50.
Me: ??
Her: 2.50
Me: Well, it could be worse. (Hands over the money)

Really, it's worth it. The fruit is killer and you can shop for bootleg DVD's, new clothes, and flowers at the same time.

Choo choo boo boo

2006-03-24T01:36:00.000+01:00

Imagine seeing the first steam engine in 1804. What power! What speed! The great big iron horse coming from places unseen to take you off to new adventures. How exciting! Thoreau viewed the railroad as a turning point in human history.

When I meet the engine with its train of cars moving off with planetary motion... it seems as if the earth had got a race now worthy to inhabit it. If all were as it seems, and men made the elements their servants for noble ends!

Granted he didn't use it much, but he recognized its importance.

I take the train at least once a week, usually twice. I've taken all kinds of trains here in Poland, from the lowly osobowy to the chic Intercity and I've discovered that no matter how much you pay for passage, we all leave our manners in third class

Case 1: The Osobowy

The osobowy train is the budget train here in Poland. This untranslatable little word means something like "the people mover." That's what it does--with brutal efficiency. If you've ever wondered what a sardine feels like when he's in the middle, then the osobowy train is for you. The benches are assumed to sit two people, but when there are four people packed in and facing each other (especially when said passengers have brought luggage), you begin to wonder whether we are getting larger as the years go by.

Under such brutal conditions, you'd expect people to work together to find solutions to our common problems. Maybe by, say, putting luggage somewhere out of the way. As in not in the aisle, which is only about a foot and a half wide, anyway. Perhaps you'd scoot yourself near to the window to indicate that the seat next to you is empty.

Of course, none of us do this. We leave our junk in the aisle and we sit ourselves right in the middle and kind of lean forward in an effort to occupy all four seats at once. We feel like we deserve it. We paid for our ticket and we demand our comfort and space.

Case 2: The Pospieszny

This train, often called "the fast train" in the tourist books, is the bread and butter of Polish transport. These little guys will zip you anywhere you want to go, stopping every 30 minutes or so. No reserved seats, just like the osobowy trains.

The adventure starts on the platform. Everyone stands about, spending their last few minutes with the boyfriends or girlfriends. The brave peek their heads out and look in both directions to see if the train is coming. The persistent peek their heads out and look in both directions to see if the train is coming--every three minutes. Some poor folks are so lost that they don't even know on which side of the platform the train will arrive, so they do the peeking ritual on both sides.

The lights!! The cars!! It's coming!! When the train first turns the corner and is coming towards the platform, everybody suddenly starts walking towards where they think the front of the train will be. That is, if the train is going from Szczecin to Warsaw, you'll suddenly find yourself in the middle of an eastward bound stampede. Why we do this, nobody knows. Why not just space out on the platform and wait til the train stops before aiming for a door? I just don't know.

Then the doors open. Large packs form at each one. The ones in the back start to push in. The poor folks on the train trying to get off have to push their way through the eager soon-to-be passengers. And yes, that little old lady DOES have six pieces of buggage and no she can't lift ANY of them and yes YOU must help her.

Once you make it through the bottleneck (I usually just wait for the end. Someone's gotta be last) it's time to find a seat. But wait!! We are human beings! When we enter the train, we do not just take the first available seat. In accordance with the electrons we are made of, we desire to be equidistant. We simply must wander up and down the aisle and look for the compartment with the fewest people. Nevermind that the compartment will be filled up anyway, we need to be first.

That is, unless we can prevent the compartment from filling up. Here's a little trick that dupes the amateur rider every time. Someone goes into an empty compartment, turns off the lights, and closes the curtains, giving the outside world an image of impenetrability. In a country where most people aren't taught to question authority, a red fabric curtain might as well be a brick wall. And when an intrusive foreigner dares open the door and ask for a free seat, he's greeted with pressed lips and quiet aggression.

The ride is decent unless you happen to share a compartment with someone's dog. Yes, it happens.

Case 3 : The rest

I lump the remaining trains into the same category. Not because they are so similar to each other, just that in comparison to cases 1 and 2, they might as well be airplanes.

There are actually three classes of trains in this category: the express, the Eurocity, and the Intercity. The express is nothing special. It's a pospieszny with seat reservations and one or two fewer stops. But sometimes the seats are a bit more comfortable and these trains are never as crowded. The Intercity train, as the name implies, goes from major city to major city, with no stops in between. It's the Benzo of the trains. I think I've been on it once. The upstart business men like to order their Intercity train ticket by name, "Yes, I'll have the Lech to Warsaw Central tomorrow morning." And those types always get a faktura VAT (fancy receipt for tax reimbursement) that takes an extra 10 minutes.

Then there's the Eurocity. It's the Eurocity across the German border. The most popular one in Poland is the Berlin-Warsaw express. I take this train once a week to Konin. Every week I'm exposed to raw human depravity.

The cars on this train don't have compartments. They've got an aisle down the middle with two seats on each side, like an airplane. You might think that this train would be well-organized. You'd be sorely mistaken. Reading the seat numbers on one side, walking from the back of the car to the front, might go something like this: 1,3,5,9,12,23,15 and so on. And no, I'm not kidding (much).

Such a non-linear numbering method doesn't help people find the right seat. And of course once we get on the train we look for our seat and find someone in it. OK. No big deal. Just find another seat. There are about 150 of them. But the second you sit down (I bet you can guess it) there's someone looking at you and trying to conspicuously look at the seat number above you. They won't say anything, they'll just insinuate. So you get up and find another seat. Repeat two or three times. Eventually, you're in a seat and the train moves on.

I'm just as guilty as anyone else. With this post I just wanted to shed some light on how little we've progressed since Thoreau saw the big iron horse carrying humanity off to the next level. Our technology has advanced, but we're stuck on the Titanic.

Poles in the UK

2006-03-22T14:52:00.000+01:00

As one of the few EU countries to open its borders to workers from the new Member States, the UK has benefitted from an influx of primarily young Poles and other central Europeans prepared to leave their homes and families and take advantage of the opportunity offered to them in the UK.

There's quite a lot of hysterical ranting from the British gutter press about the new workers 'coming over here and taking our jobs' but the UK has really benefitted from the arrangement and other countries, most recently Spain, are following their lead and inviting the new members to be a *proper* part of the EU club.

I went to London at the weekend with a couple of Poles and saw evidence not only of the new generation of Poles to have taken up residence in Britain, but met some Poles who have been in the country for 40 years.

Marek's great-Uncle was in the RAF and is now a British citizen. 'They didn't want to, but I had fought for them and they had to let me become British' he told me, with a twinkle in his eye. His late brother-in-law was a Catholic priest who came to England and built up a Polish Catholic community in Ealing. We went into the church and heard the end of a mass, in Polish. I scanned the notice board which was crammed with posters for events, a mix of English and Polish. We walked past the kitchens, serving soup and Polish dishes to a group of pensioners.

Later we went to Fawley Court, a Christopher Wren stately home in Henley-on-Thames in which Marek's other great-Uncle, the Catholic priest, had lived and worked. The house and main park had been bought in 1953 by the Congregation of Marian fathers, who started a school for Polish boys and started renovating the estate. We met a very jolly Priest who ate Polish-style dinner with us, teased me and Marek about the absense of any wedding plans, and showed us round the museum and house.

I never realised that Polish was going to be such a useful language to learn but in the four days we were in London, we met Polish tourists and Polish hotel staff and heard Polish being spoken on the streets. When we walked down the road we saw signs for Polish beer, newspaper racks for Polish papers and were told about Polish shops. Forget the Chinese, I reckon the Poles are going to be the superpower of tomorrow.

It’s about football

2006-03-19T23:15:00.000+01:00

That’s right, American football. So if you’re one of those – like so many I meet here – whose eyes glaze over in a funk of boredom at the mention of the sport, than you can safely skip this post.

Warsaw’s local American football team, the Warsaw Eagles, will be playing their first match six days from today. I know most of my p3ers out there know about this, because as a player/coach on the team, I’ve been crowing about next weekend’s tournament at the past few meetups, and one of our members will hopefully be writing about it in an upcoming local publication.

For me, coaching this team (that’s been my main role) has been one of the most rewarding expat experiences I’ve had in my near five years here. I’m the only American on the team. The ONLY one. That includes the head coach, who is British. That gives me an interesting perspective.

Growing up, I had football all around me. Autumn weekends were chock-full of college and pro American football games to watch and listen to on the radio, and my father was there to explain the basics for me. Heck, my mom was too. Players on the University of Michigan’s team or on the Detroit Lions were local heroes. In the States, it is nothing for a group of kids to have a pick-up game in somebody’s back yard after school – everybody knows how to play because everybody else knows. This is culturally-transferred knowledge.

And so it was easy for me to learn to love American football. I started at age 10.

It’s much different for the men (from 18-30ish) and kids (14-17) that I play with and coach here in Poland. These guys never had anyone to explain American football’s rules to them. There is absolutely zero American football culture here – you can hardly find a TV channel that carries the Super Bowl, much less regular season games. Getting involved in soccer is much easier, there are plenty of teams and games to watch, it’s all over, and professional football players are revered.

Still, despite no one around them understanding or even remotely interested in American football – once they find this game, they play.

What this experience has taught me is that there are elements to American football which can not be replaced by participation in any other sport. There is no logical reason for 40 guys to show up on a Sunday morning in an empty soccer field with two feet of snow on it to practice a game unknown to all of their friends and family, with no hope of monetary reward or even being respected for their abilities, except for pure love of the game. American football, for the right kind of man, is intoxicating. These men have drunk, and they know that there is no better taste than that of a tackle or a touchdown.

And that encourages me. What I said earlier about soccer notwithstanding, Poland is relatively dry of participation or interest in sports in general. Sometimes I see a big farm-fed Polish kid walking down the street and want to scream: “That boy’s a left tackle!” – because he will surely never play soccer, and probably won’t play rugby. But American football gives kids like him the chance to be valuable members of a team. American football has something to offer Poland.

American football will never be as popular here as the European sort – at least in my lifetime. But that’s ok with me. I see how in countries like Britain and especially Germany, where soccer is kin to religion, American football enjoys a significant following.

And that’s a situation that could happen here within my lifetime. I think Polish kids are absolutely starving for sports – for an American like me, the lack of emphasis on athletics is shocking and depressing. Maybe so few kids play because kicking a soccer ball just isn’t as satisfying as hitting the man across from you. Too many Polish kids these days have pent-up aggression that they take out in the wrong ways. American football can also act as a positive conduit for a young man’s rebelliousness.

So that’s one way in which this expat has found he can contribute something to this country, which has given him plenty in its own way.

As far as what I said earlier about American football becoming as popular here as it is in Germany, we’ve still got a long way to go – but next weekend’s international tournament is a start. If you want to do something a little bit different this weekend, come on out and cheer us on.

Warsaw Eagles website

Polish American Football Association website

Go Eagles!

AMERICAN FOOTBALL DAYS IN POLAND
March 25/26, 2006, WARSAW

Academy of Physical Education – Warsaw, 34 Marymoncka St., rugby field

main event of which will be the first ever in Poland International American Football Tournament

Teams taking part in the tournament: Søllerod Gold Diggers (Denmark), Pardubice Stallions (Czech Republic), 1.KFA Wielkopolska (Poland) and Warsaw Eagles (Poland)

TOURNAMENT SCHEDULE

Saturday, March 25th

9.00 – 11.00 1) Søllerod Gold Diggers - Warsaw Eagles
11.00 – 13.00 2) 1.KFA Wielkopolska - Pardubice Stallions
13.00 – 13.20 Official Opening
13.20 – 15.20 3) Pardubice Stallions - Søllerod Gold Diggers
15.20 – 17.20 4) Warsaw Eagles – 1.KFA Wielkopolska

Sunday, March 26th

9.00 - 11.00 5) Søllerod Gold Diggers - 1.KFA Wielkopolska
11.00 - 13.00 6) Warsaw Eagles - Pardubice Stallions
13.00 - 13.20 Tournament Summary

During the American Football Days in Poland a mini-tournament of Flag Football – contact-free version of American Football - will also be organised.

Furthermore, all the spectators are welcome to join numerous football workshops.

ENTRANCE - FREE!

Coincidence?

2006-03-17T11:15:00.000+01:00

I was reading a
VERY
bad poem
written by
an expat
about how
Polish shops
never have change
and was about
to chuck the book
into the trash
when I heard
the lady
behind the counter
scream "PIĘĆ GROSZY!"
with no proszę.

But really, the poem was awful. "The Cry of Nie Ma" Give me a break.

Polish blogs united!

2006-03-12T18:16:00.000+01:00

I have come across a few new blogs in English, writing about Poland.

For instance, two blogs I have found that do political/economic stories mainly, but other stuff too. Eurogoeseast is run by Piotr. His last three posts have been about the depreciation of the zloty – wondering why you’re getting less at the kantor? – a story about Law and Justice called Crying Wolf (you get the picture) and one called Polish plumber strikes back about protectionism within the EU. Well written blog by someone who seems to know what he is talking about.

Our man in Gdansk, part of the Three Monkeys Online group, is good because he reads things like the viciously satirical NIE magazine, run by the infamous Jerzy Urban. And he will even have a look at Rzeczpospolita for you, too. He has also posted on the Balcerowicz controversy and much more… He is currently obsessed with George Clooney movies.

A curio was brought to beatroot’s attention by top Polish language blogger, kurczeblader. She calls it AmericanLove. It’s Polish-English blog by the Polish wife of an American marine who has just been posted to Iraq.

Back to current affairs - another new blog, Republic of Dreams, is shaping up nicely. I think it's by a Polish-American. His last post is about how the many bomb scares in the capital last fall could have been the work of the Polish secret services, trying to influence the results of the presidential election! Good stuff.

jeszcze snieg

2006-03-06T22:34:00.000+01:00

It just keeps falling and falling and falling. Every few days I gaze out my window and think, "Now this must surely be the end of winter." But by 4pm the ground and my jacket are again covered by white, fluffy, cottony snow.

And people seem to be taking it quite well. There's been no real complaining (!) about the persistent winter. Just a shrug of the shoulders and an "oh well."

This will be a great spring, I hope. It's been a long winter.

I'm a threat to national security

2006-03-02T19:41:00.000+01:00

First I went and saw Good Night and Good Luck, Clooney's film about the McCarthy interrogations of would-be communists in post-WWII America. Then I read about Morrissey being interrogated this week by the CIA because of remarks he made about President Bush being a terrorist himself. Then, finally, tonight, while walking along Niepodlegosci, two of those tall, dark and wrapped-in-day-glo-vests police men came walking towards me with their little black books in hand. I've always wondered why they stopped innocent looking people on the street and now I got to find out the hard way.

The short cop started his spiel, and as I stared at him blankly pretending not to understand him, I listened to what he had to say to me. "By order of the former mayor and current President Kaczynski, it is our duty to check individuals throughout Warsaw for their proper papers and documents, to make sure everyone is welcome here and for the safety of the people of this great city."

I was shocked. As he continued further I interrupted and said, "Przrepraszm, nie mowie po polsku, mowie po angielsku?" And now they were shocked.

Lots of awkward expressions and grunts of English came out of the taller officer, as he was trying to explain why I needed to show my passport. I said I didn't have it with me, only a driver's license.

"Would that work?"

"Yes."

"Why do you need it?"

Lots and lots of fumbling...then he finally asked how long have I been in Poland. I said for about one year, then the other officer's eyes widened and he blurted you must know Polish then and went off on me about the rules and regulations for foreigners staying here. I had to slow them down and said, look, I'm here teaching English, my job doesn't require me to know your language. Boy were they frustrated with me, so to lighten things up, I said, "Well maybe you guys can help me out... I'm getting married this summer and am looking for wedding rings at jewelry stores along this street. The one up there was too small, any idea if there are more down this way?" ;-)

It worked, they laughed, smiled and offered that they didn't think there were any more stores to the south. The tall one was still trying so hard to tell me why I needed my passport but I was trying my best to convince them that I'm not a threat to the people of Warsaw, unless they feel that the increased use of English in their country is a dangerous thing! ;-)

The funny thing is, is that I'm illegal again.

You EUers got it made!

See you in the deportation cell!

:)

Polish ski lifts

2006-03-01T20:40:00.000+01:00

I tried to breathe deeply. Marek twisted his head towards me and asked if I was ok. 'Yes, fine! Just don't move too much' I screeched as the rope slowly pulled us up the mountainside. My ski seemed to have formed a deep attachment to Marek's and kept sliding over on top of his. I concentrated on keeping both feet facing forward and staying relaxed. Something wobbled. 'Argh! Don't!' I cried. 'I'm not doing anything' Marek stated calmly. But I was no longer relaxed, my hand gripping the bar upon which we were perched and my skis taking on lives of their own. 'I'm going to fall again!' I realised as my ski took me away from Marek and the lift's path. 'What are you doing?' He asked as I landed on my bum. I gave him a sour look and looked back down the mountain. 'Carry on, I'll meet you at the top.' I generously offered.

I still had both skis attached to my feet so got myself out of the way of oncoming skiiers and slid back down to where skiiers joined the lift. The man helping people get started tried to ignore me. I helpfully made frantic gestures in his direction. He gave in and with a lot of pointing and shouting above the noise of the machinery, communicated his wish that I go round to the special queue-avoiding gate and wait for further instructions.

As I waited by the gate, avoiding curious gazes from people in the queue, a second lift employee started unscrewing one of those huge convex mirrors from a random post. The first man shouted out his name and gestured to me. The second man glanced over at me and asked the first man something, I guess along the lines of 'why should we? it's her own silly fault'. The first guy then replied, presumably explaining how I'd fallen and proposing that I should be allowed another go free of charge. The second guy looked dubious about this proposition so when he walked towards me, still with the enormous mirror in his hands I gave him a big smile. (In my experience smiling at people helps more often than not.)

I think I may have overdone it with the smiling.

As he approached, he got this twinkle in his eye and when I asked if it would be ok to have another go, held up the mirror so I could look at my own reflection: 'Only because you are an angel' he proclaimed at the top of his voice. I eyed him nervously. 'Słucham?' I thought maybe I'd misunderstood his Polish. 'You are an angel so you can go again' he repeated. I giggled nervously, darting embarassed glances at the queue, and an eye at my dishevelled state in the mirror. 'Er, yeah ok thanks...'

He let me through the gate and stood next to me, still trying to show me my reflection and repeating my angelic status. I just sort of mumbled and blushed under my ski hat. Finally it was my turn and I grabbed the bar of the lift gratefully. I didn't look back.

It worked though, the threat of the angel man with his big scary mirror was all it took. I didn't fall off another lift again for the rest of the holiday.

Krakow, where'd you get that magic?

2006-02-22T14:40:00.000+01:00

I'm spending a week in Krakow to decompress after my stressful (sic) week in the mountains. What a city!! I've been here many times before, but never on an extended stay.

This place is amazing!! They advertized a chess tournament on the radio! There are jazz clubs! Hurrah!

Maybe I'm just jealous. Having lived in Poznan for two years now (a nice city, but not cultural), I've become very jaded about Poland itself. Visiting Warsaw, unfortunately, didn't do anything to cure that. But having been here for just a few days, I'm beginning to see a glimmer of hope in what I had seen as a terrible situation.

Watched the old men playing their music by the cloth hall today. One guy sauntered over as I reached for my wallet. He got his zloty. It was well-deserved.

See you back in Poznan.

Yeah! The Radio Maryja Wikipedia revert and edit war!

2006-02-15T00:41:00.000+01:00

We're taking volunteers now! Don't want to go to Iraq? Don't feel like actually risking your life by painting a picture of Mohammed? Well join the war of words over at Wikipedia! I kid, I kid of course. Beatroot clued me into this edit war sometime last week I think, and I went to Wikipedia and I began to try to bring the article into some sort of factually honest state. What a stupid thing to do! I have been met with stiff resistance by a fellow who labels himself as Ksenon, and who until recently had a Heil Hitler salute posted on his user page. Ksenon, against all facts and articles that prove to the contrary, says things like:

All criticisms are included in the article. [You] are trying to shift the delicate NPOV (neutral point of view) balance towards the controversial side, totally ignoring the radio's real message and focusing only on underlining the accusations as much as possible, even if they don't have to be true.

He means of course his version of the article, in which he claims RM is attacked and slandered. You ask him where the criticisms that he claims exist in his version actually are, and he'll just say they are there, even though they're not. It's like a perpetual loop, it's like arguing with a wall. This is what bothers me about Wikipedia, few individuals are going to be interested in presenting Radio Maryja in a fair light on the English version of the site, and stupid me gets sucked into this ridiculous edit war with a person who has only one agenda, to show Radio Maryja as a victim. I, in turn, have been spending way to much of my time on that site. Stupid, stupid me. So I need a reliever to come in, I'm burned out. Rdzyk's Evil Empire is so mean!

The slush

2006-02-09T23:28:00.000+01:00

I like to ponder on how nasty weather can really bring people together. The other day I was standing on the sidewalk, waiting for the light to change to cross. The first melt was underway and the ruts in the streets had collected large amounts of grey, nasty water.

Of course, each passing car brought a new chance to practice the "let's hop backwards in unison" dance move that is sure to be a hit this summer. After three or four such rehearsals, I yielded to nature and just stood there as the next car drove past.

After being duly splashed, I looked over my left shoulder at a guy who was looking back at me. We looked, shrugged our shoulders resignedly, and crossed the street. But there was more communication and commiseration in that glance than in any conversation I've ever conducted (in Polish, anyway).

Bless the rain, bless the snow, bless it all...from Mexico. :)

All in all

2006-01-29T17:30:00.000+01:00

Gustav and I tried to write everything up this morning, but his computer ate the post. Grr.

I arrived in Warsaw at two and Gustav was there to meet me. We went back to his flat and drank some coffee and ate kebabs. Really good kebabs! Much better than Poznan. You can't get a pita here to save your life.

Then, as I'd never actually visited Warsaw, we took a tram and he showed me around. We were walking down Nowe Miasto when Beetroot called up. He was at the bookstore half a block away! So we met up and walked around. They took me to the Market Square and, I must say, I was thoroughly unimpressed. In Poznan, Krakow, Wroclaw, Torun, and basically all the other cities I've visited, the Rynek is the center of life. Warsaw's Rynek was absolutely empty except for three tourists and us.

At 8:00, we went to Bierhalle, a german-themed brewpub. Not a terrible place, but not a place to chat. And we wanted to chat. So we went to a quaint but trendy place with very expensive beer. Sorry Warsaw, but 9 zl for a beer is outrageous. Still, the company was good.

The fun lasted well into the night. Gustav, Becca, and Beetroot had the unique opportunity to place things on a hairy American and photograph him in all his vulnerability. Vultures!

What do you call a piece of wood that lives in Warsaw and is fond of large, white, aquatic birds?

..

..

..

Think about it.

..

..

..

A goose stave.

Sorry. Had to do that.

WARNING

2006-01-29T13:00:00.000+01:00

Too much p3-ing is bad for your health.

You'd better hurry.

2006-01-27T11:01:00.000+01:00

This is what my barman friend told me when I offered to burn him a CD. "Why do I need to hurry? It's only Jimmy Buffett!"

"I have to go to the Army on February 1."

I was shocked. Here's this young man in front of me, perfectly content to serve drinks and listen to reggae music and he's been conscripted!

Now I don't want to get too involved with Polish politics. It's too comical to be taken seriously. But I just can't see the logic in this. He'll have to serve for nine months. Only nine months. That doesn't seem very economical to me. All the resources necessary to train, house, and feed this man and they'll only get nine months out of him.

Of course, they'll get only the bare minimum out of him because he's a conscript.

I'm not saying that he should have to serve longer. I firmly believe that conscription is one of the most foolish ideas in human history.

I'm not good at political analysis, so I'll just bring this back to my level (a quite low one, indeed). Here I am sitting at a bar with a young guy who's going to have to leave his family and friends for nine months for no discernible cause. And I have no words with which to comfort him.

Highly paid Poles invade the Isles

2006-01-25T23:50:00.000+01:00

Just a few years ago the only recognizable Polish footballer, and the only Polish National Team member, playing in the British Premiership was Jerzy Dudek. After Poland's entry into the EU, all of that has changed. The winter transfer window has been uncommonly busy with Poles getting transferred or linked to the Isles left and right. No less then eight Polish National Team members currently play in leagues across the UK: Maciej Zurawski (Celtic), Artur Boruc (Celtic), Jerzy Dudek (Liverpool), Tomasz Frankowski (Wolves), Kamil Kosowski (Southampton Saints), Tomasz Hajto (Southampton Saints), Grzegorz Rasiak (Hotspur) and Emmanuel Olisadebe (Pompey). Other leading Polish NT players are being linked with possible moves, Jacek Krzynowek from Bayer Leverkusen to Pompey, Marcin Baszczynski from Wisla Krakow to West Ham United, and Radoslaw Sobolewski from Wisla Krakow to Southampton. It looks like the majority of Polands starters playing in the World Cup this summer will be from the leagues across the UK. With other up and coming Poles also being snatched up: Bartosz Tarachulski (Dunfermline Athletic), Ziggy Malkowski (Hibernian FC), Bartosz Bialkowski (Southampton Saints), and Tomasz Kuszczak (West Brom), it appears that unlike the Polish plumber, no one fears the Polish footballers. It is quite a stunning turnaround.

The reason behind this sudden influx is Poland’s accession into the EU, before joining the EU a Polish player would have to fulfill certain work permit criteria - that is he would have to play in 75 per cent of Poland’s internationals to play in the Premiership. Now, any up and coming Pole has a shot of being signed, even "The Sausage" Grzegorz Piechna was linked with a move to Birmingham this winter. Just as Polish masons and plumbers have benefited from being able to work freely in Britain; Polish footballers are finding the UK to their liking. Interestingly enough Poles haven't been snatched up in any greater numbers by French, Spanish, German (though Germany has always had a larger proportion of Polish players) or Italian teams.

A new jersey in town

2006-01-23T21:05:00.000+01:00

A new Polish jersey! I don't mean Jerzy, as in Jerzy Dudek, I mean jersey as in soccer (or football for the British blokes) jersey. The Polish NT unveiled new jerseys just in time for World Cup 2006 today, and unlike the plain traditional jersey's featuring the red and white colors of the Polish flag, Puma decided to emblazon a background image on these puppies. Although some people inaccurately assume the image to be of the Polish Eagle, it is actually the famed Polish Hussar. Poland's winged horsemen are etched into every Poles psyche, and indeed every Pole knows that King Sobieski, with the Hussar's playing the prominent role, was able to defeat the mighty Ottoman Empire at the Battle of Vienna on September 12, 1683. So now every Polish player will be able to play with spirit of 1683.

Still, is it a good move to use military symbols on a team jersey? I mean, what if the US decided to put an image of the M4 Sherman on its jersey? Okay, so no one remembers being overrun by a Polish Hussar, and the same cannot be said of the Sherman. Still, I think I should ask the Turkish NT whether they still feel any stigma over 1683, I'll let you know if they respond.

Sub zero Warsaw

2006-01-19T23:55:00.000+01:00

Just got back from a walk with the dog in the park, 11 O’clock at night, temperature - 14.

The dog, Chagall, loved it. For over a week now the paths in the park have been glassy with ice, and he has been tottering around the place like a woman on 10 centimeter high heels. But now fresh snow has fallen, my tricolor collie has been running around like a supersonic Findus Frozen Fish Finger.

The thing about this type of extreme cold weather is that it takes about half an hour to get ready to go out. You have to plan things like you were preparing for a polar expedition. Long johns? Check. Two pairs of socks? Check. Two pairs of trousers, three jumpers, two coats? Check. Thermos flask, compass, map, sleigh and huskies? Check. Willie warmer? Er…check.

I had so many clothes on that I was warm as toast. I was also wearing one of those rather fetching fur hats with the two bits hanging down over the ears, so I looked as canine as my dog. Alsatians tried to mount me! Even poodles showed an interest.

The only part of my anatomy that was exposed to the elements was my nose. After ten minutes the snot had frozen solid. I’m serious! After fifteen minutes my nose had turned to a block of ice. If I put my head downwards then it looked like a stalactite hanging from the roof of a cave.

It’s going to be this cold over the weekend, and on Monday it will get below minus 20 degrees - which is similar to what they are having in Moscow at the moment - so wrap up warm.

Miss World 2006

2006-01-19T12:08:00.000+01:00

I’m confused. But then I find many things in this country confusing. Maybe you could help me.

Someone please explain to me how the recent comments by the other Kaczynski in favour of moral censorship are consistent with the decision to host Miss World 2006.

I didn’t think traditional Catholic values supported girls in bikinis.

Let’s talk about sex

2006-01-14T13:52:00.000+01:00

No, I’m not gonna be takin’ dirty. I just want to ask you a personal question. If you don’t mind.

When was the first time anyone talked to you about sex?

Was it with your friends at school, behind the bike shed? Was it when she said “I’ll show you mine, if you show me yours’? (Nobody ever asked me to show them mine…and this at a time when the whole playground seemed to be showing each other various parts of their anatomy in an orgy of infantile exhibitionism. After a couple of years on the sidelines, I got a bit of a complex about it).

Was it your parents? Did your mum and dad sit you down one day after tea and, red faced and uncomfortable, try and tell you that, well, ‘You know, son, er, well, those noises you occasionally here on a Sunday morning when mummy and daddy are having a lie-in are not fighting – like you thought – it was, er, um, you know…’ And all the time you just wanted to get back to playing with your Scalextric (this was back in the pre-history, Jurassic days before Playstation).

Or was it when the teacher finally, and after much playground pre-publicity (‘he’s gonna be talking about Doing It’ snigger, snigger) strode into biology class with a couple of rabbits, and tried to persuade you that, on the night of your honeymoon, you and your wife will indeed be acting like rabbits, fortified with champagne, carrots and lettuce leaves.

Sex education in Poland

Yes, I have finally got the point of this post. According to the annual, international survey by Durex (adobe), the average age Poles hear about the ‘birds and the bees’ is when they are 13 years old (‘birds and bees’ is a rather strange euphemism, when you think about it – male birds and bees don’t even have dicks, and most bees never actually ‘do it’ at all – never: they are as celibate as a priest on bromide. Bee communities have special ‘gigolo’ bees, whose main purpose in life is to service the Queen – a bit like the UK’s Prince Phillip, in fact, but let’s not go there).

Thirteen years old. If they waited that late in London, these days, then kids would be hearing about the ‘facts of life’ about two years after they had first indulged in them – if, that is, they can find enough time for it, in-between binge drinking, breaking into the next door neighbor’s, and scoring the latest joint, or maybe something stronger. Modern day, twenty-first century kids are truly the devil incarnate.

But if they did first talk about sex at 13, then who talked to them about it? It certainly wasn’t their teacher at school.

Four years ago, during the election campaign, politicians could talk about nothing else but sex, sex and more sex. Should sex education be put on the syllabus, Polish moral guardians asked themselves over and over? In the election last year, the subject had disappeared. Perhaps they were too busy talking about gays – the new Polish Satin in satin pants.

Four years ago, however, sex was at the top of the list for politicians seeking to get elected, alongside inflation, unemployment, corruption, the usual…

The ex-communist SLD, which won the election in 2001, came to office armed with proposals for compulsory sex education in schools. .

In 2005, when they got unceremoniously kicked out of office, compulsory sex education was still not on the school curricular.

The problem was: what should be taught in schools? Should we teach kids ‘natural methods’ of ‘family planning’? (crossing your fingers and hoping for the best!); should we teach that sex should only be indulged between married couples? And what about sexual diseases? And so on…

For arch-Catholics, textbooks by well-known sexologists such as Zbigniew Lew-Starowicz – which are much like the old Masters and Johnson, ‘Joy of Sex’ books – are full of dangerous western liberal ideas and moral and sexual promiscuity. Catholics would much prefer books by people like Teresa Krol, with its lecturers on the dangers of sex, and the ‘sin’ of abortion.

The sex education debate is part of the Polish ‘culture wars’.

So, due to the politicization of sex education, politicians have found themselves at an impasse, and sex education has been left to those embarrassed parents.

Unfortunately, as we all know, the red faced parent is the last person who wants to tackle this thorny subject. A poll by CBOS found that though 57% of kids said they could confide in their mothers, only 20% said dad was as approachable.

“The level of knowledge about sexuality is embarrassingly low in Poland,” Wanda Nowacka of the Women and Family Planning NGO, told Trybuna. She presented the newspaper with a series of letters she had received from Polish teenagers. One said: “Is it possible to get pregnant in ways other than sex?” Or another wrote: “I have the symptoms of being pregnant, but I have never had sex.”

But kids are still having sex, even though some of them might not actually know that they are. Another poll in 2002 found that the average age of ‘loosing your cherry’ in Poland was 18 years and four months. This is relatively late by British standards (I lost my ‘cherry’ years when I was 16 years and three months! It was a major disappointment, but I can’t blame my rabbit assisted biology teacher for that, alas) but more and more kids are starting earlier here. Nineteen percent of 15-16 year old kids have already had sex in Poland.

Sex education is taught in some schools, usually at 7 a.m. before the main school day starts. But most kids are left to find out stuff for themselves, from embarrassed parents, or back behind the bike shed.

And with the new PiS government, with its arch-catholic political support, sex education will not be appearing on the formal school curriculum anytime soon.

But isn’t it time – the 21st century, no less - that kids got the facts? Until they do Polish youth will simply be fumbling in the dark.

Another slice of life, PROSZE!

2006-01-12T10:36:00.000+01:00

I sensed the need to input some fresh material. So now another "slice of life" Aaron post.

I love milk bars. I love milk bars for the same reason I love blues music: they're both forgiving. No matter what you've done, no matter what crime you may have committed, the blues is there for you. No matter in what station of life you find yourself, no matter how much money you have, the milk bar is there for you. They both provide nourishment.

I wish every visitor to Poland could go to a milk bar. Best food in the country for insanely low prices. The experience is something like this:

You walk in. You see a long line (it feels good to say line knowing that most of the people reading this will cringe) of people from all walks of life but mostly students and the homeless. They are all gazing at the big sign with the prices. These places are--I believe--partially subsidized by the government, so the prices are weird. Tomato soup, for example, wil set you back exactly 1.07 zl.

Once you get to the cashier, you feel a bit put off. She may not even look at you. She spends most of her time looking at her register. She just gives you a "prosze" or, if she's in a bad mood, a "słucham". You then mumble out your order in the best Polish you can. For me, it's like this:

Ja, uhhh, prosze, uhhh, poprosze pee-err-OH-gee, prosze, i ZOO-paa po-me-door-OH-ve.

She then furiously taps out your order on the cash register and tells you an obscure number (yesterday it was 5.63). You give her the money and she yells for the next person in line to come up.

You step aside and look confused. When is the food coming? You see other food, but none of it is yours. You grap a plastic fork and knife and a piece of flimsy wax paper, er napkin that is and wait.

She reaches through a small hole in the wall and extracts a plate with two rolled-up pancakes. But you didn't order pancakes. You are confused even more. She lathers them with whipped cream and pours some red gelatinous substance over them. Then the yell.

NALESNIKIWISNIOWEIOWOCEPROSZE!!!

What? What was that? Before you know it, some balding, stinky old man with hair coming out of his nose edges his way past you and takes the pancakes, moving very slowly to make sure he doesn't drop them, as he has done on many past occcasions.

You understand. She takes the food from the kitchen, places it on the counter, and announces its presence to the entire bar. OK. You get it. You wait a bit.

Three minutes later, your food comes out. Or part of it. Maybe you get the soup first, maybe you don't.

But it's all worth it once you sit down to eat. The food is amazing. When people think about authentic food, you realize, they are talking about this. Your soul warms up. Your glasses steam up. You are content.

So here's a proverbial toast to milk bars!

New Year in Zakopane

2006-01-03T10:45:00.000+01:00

I visited Zakopane before, last year in the Autumn, when there was plenty of drizzle around and fog obscured the mountains. This time though, the snow was piled high and we got stunning views.

When I told people we were going to Zakopane for New Year they either got all dreamy eyed and started waxing lyrical about the beautiful scenery, or they wrinkled their nose in distaste, declaring it was far too touristy for them.

The town itself does indeed have a few too many neon signs and burger bars, but it has its charm. You can buy thick wool mountain socks and rubbery sheep's cheese that squeaks on your teeth from ruddy faced stallholders. You can sip warm beer in wooden restaurants while a small band of musicians plays traditional mountain tunes. And you always have those amazing snow-covered mountains in the background.

2006 was seen in in true Polish style, with lots to eat all through the night, plenty of vodka to wash it down with and a total lack of appreciation for firework safety. Happy New Year everyone!

p3 on the BBC

2005-12-27T21:26:00.000+01:00

Barely has this little blog taken its first, faltering steps into the world – it still needs to be burped regularly – and already worldwide fame has been thrust upon it. Well, kind of…

I was sitting at work on Friday, picking my nose - I’d finished writing my remarkably average and slightly underwhelming Business Week program early, and idle hands make the devil’s work – when an email came in from Peter van Dyke at the BBC World Service.

He had been wondering what to do in the final 15 minutes of his program, World Have Your Say, on Friday night. He came across our blog, saw my carp post and got the idea of doing something about different Christmas traditions around the world. He asked me if I wanted to be a guest on the program and talk about our mud-eating, slightly evil looking, fishy Christmas companions.

I stopped picking my nose. Great! A good way to get a mention for our blogs! And it means that I am now officially the BBC’s Correspondant for Polish Mud-Eating, Slightly Evil Looking, Fishy Christmas Companions. They said I could have my own desk! And a secretary!

Come 7.40 in the evening the phone rings and it’s the most silky smooth, BBC-like voice that you have ever had on the other end of the line - ever. They put you on ‘hold’ as you listen to the programme until your time comes.

Millions and millions are listening to the BBC WS – in all sorts of countries. They make the listening figures of Radio Polonia look like a local community radio station.

Finally it was my turn, and I did the bit about the carp in the bath, etc. They seemed to like the idea of a carp swimming moodily around the bathtub, as a poor, slightly inebriated Polish guy hovers outside in the hall with a hammer.

Then Anna, a Pole living in London, came on the line and we had a little chat. Then a Muslim living in Hungary turns up and starts on about the main dish on Christmas Day in Budapest – fish soup. And then there was someone from Nigeria…and so on.

Near the end of the programme the guy asked me if I wrote about food often. I didn’t know how to answer that, so I launched into a plug about p3, how it’s a collective blog and how we are going to take over the world just as soon as we can be bothered to get around it.

It just goes to show that producers don’t only get their ideas from mainstream media anymore – they go fishing for blogs as well. It also goes to show that when we post something on blogs, someone, somewhere reads them. Just occasionally it might be the BBC.

Winter WonderPoland

2005-12-26T16:11:00.000+01:00

I'm writing to you now from a small internet cafe in Krynica, Poland. We're in the south, just a few miles (sorry, euro-friends) from the Slovakian border. When we stepped off the train we both had the same impression: This is a fairy-tale.

It's mostly a resort town boasting loads of pensions and health resorts. Right now, there are about 18 inches of snow on the ground and the air is brisk. So very refreshing and relaxing. The natural springs flow abundantly so the water is cheap. And I guess if you drink enough of it you get healthy. I feel better after a few days of drinking the stuff.

We went to the top of the mountains in a gondola today. We were, of course, surrounded by skiiers, but nevertheless it was a touching moment. Nothing but tree-covered mountains anywhere you look. The trees up there look like they've been dipped in sugar--so white and crisp.

I inadvertently booked us into a health spa generally aimed at the geriatric set. We're the youngest people in the hotel by at least 30 years. But it's cheap, comes with food, and is nicely located (set on a hill with a good view from the windows). Meals are served in what used to be a majestic ballroom, but now shows signs of age.

Time's up! More later!

Would a Turkey vote for Christmas?

2005-12-22T16:52:00.000+01:00

Well, in Poland, turkeys vote ‘Yes’ for Christmas by a landslide.

This is because Christmas dinner tables around these parts do not groan under the weight of a 10-kilogramme bird stuffed with horse chestnuts and sage. Christmas tables in Poland groan under the weight of (traditionally) twelve different dishes, the centrepiece of which is a carp.

They eat the Christmas carp in many different ways. You can bake it, steam it, fry it. You can stew it in beer and raisons, have it accompanied with a sweet and sour source, stuff it with almonds, or even have it (yum, yum!) jellied in aspic.

Not really my cup of tea, but most Poles just love the Christmas carp. Total production of farmed carp in Poland amounts to around 22,000 tons annually, most of which is consumed at this time of the year.

The best way to buy your carp (say fishy aficionados) is alive and kicking and swimming around a small tank at your local grocers. The fish is then taken home, and, quite often, kept in the bath until it has to be cooked.

The problem then comes, of course, when you have to kill the wriggling, slimy little beast. The best method, I am assured, is by a quick and accurate whack over the head with a small hammer.

But not everyone can face this most brutal of tasks. It’s the man’s job, traditionally. But not all men are man enough to get hold of a fish that is as determined to see what’s in its Christmas stocking as the rest of us, haul it out of its watery Death Row, and put an end to its misery.

So many try to find novel ways of doing the deed. Getting drunk before you have to is, understandably, one of the favourites. Another way is to not drink the vodka yourself, but give a bottle of it to the fish – that way at least the poor thing will die with a smile on its face.

I have even heard of one traumatised carp killer who decided that he was not going to bash it over the head after all, but electrocute it. This bought him more than he bargained for when. After putting a steam iron plugged into the shaving socket into the bath with the carp, the whole of the block of flats where he was living plunged into darkness.

Carp Liberation Front

But concern is growing among ecologists and fishy freedom fighters about the treatment of carp during the Christmas period. An organisation called Gaja has been organising marches in Poland in protest at, what they say, is the cruel and barbaric conditions in which the carp are reared, transported and killed. Gaja (known to their friends, possibly, as the Carp Liberation Front) have been buying up lots of these fish from supermarkets and then liberating them back into rivers.

But a carp in the bath can have positive consequences. A British man I know lives in Warsaw with his Polish wife. A few years ago they were staying with their Polish in-laws for the Christmas holiday. It was the morning of Christmas Eve when they decided to stay in bed and have a bit of yuletide rumpy-pumpy. Being a good catholic girl she used the so-called ‘natural method’ of contraception – which involves, among other things, the wife getting up after they had finished and going to wash in the bathroom to have a bit of a wash. Of course, when she got to the bathroom she was confronted by the carp swimming away merrily in the bath. But what to do? She couldn’t get in the bath with the carp – modesty forbid! So she just returned to her husband in bed, unwashed.

Nine months later a little baby girl was born.

So, as I go into the grocery stores on the run up to Christmastime I’m always looking into the large vats they have full of carp swimming around waiting for there own little private Year Zeros and I think of that little girl.

But I swear that one carp caught my eye in the shop this morning. It was trying to tell me something. It was saying that it was not looking forward to Christmas in Poland, would not have voted for it if it had been asked, and wished, just wished, that it were a turkey.

Merry Christmas to everyone at p3 and beyond.

I met a very old man today

2005-12-21T00:46:00.000+01:00

I just bumped into him on the sidewalk, right outside my apartment building as I was stepping out this morning.

He had been in Auschwitz.

I learned this because he was looking for a particular address on my street, and his search was somehow connected to his status as concentration-camp survivor. Someone from this address had contacted him and wanted to give him a package - or so I gathered, as an old man's garbled speech can be especially tough for the non-native to decipher.

But this was unmistakeable: Ja byłem w Oświęcim.

It's hard to know how to respond to such statements. I helped him find his address and went on my way, but later on this struck me as an especially Polish experience.

Since living here I have come to know people who were imprisoned in concentration camps during the Second World War, and who have told me the stories first hand.

This is especially relevant in light of what the president of Iran has been saying lately.

In Poland, living contradictions of that evil tripe are walking down the street.

The old man's cataract-scarred eyes reminded me though that those of us who have heard the stories bear a special responsibility to future generations.

The attempts at historical revision we're hearing today are just the beginning.

We won't be bumping into the truth on the sidewalk forever.

Potholes in a cul-de-sac

2005-12-17T13:59:00.000+01:00

There have been a few emails flying around of late by p3 members about the ‘future direction’ of the blog, etc. So I thought I would put my response, and start the debate, right here on the p3 blog, where it should be.

For instance there has been a suggestion that we blog about “identifying common areas of concern among ideologically diverse people. For example, even if a straight Pole has a moral issue with gay Poles -- well, they both have to use the same roads, bridges, parks, administrative services, trams, etc,” This is, apparently, an attempt at forming a ‘pothole politics’ and “identifying common areas of concern among ideologically diverse people.”

Excluding the bit about e-democracy – whatever that means – this sounds a bit like the manifesto of my dear friend Lech Kaczynski when he was running for mayor of Warsaw. Perhaps we should rename p3, PiS3?

I’m sorry, but I am just not interested in making common cause with bigots, nationalists and religious cranks. In a country where gays don’t even have the same rights as skinheads to march in protest down the same potholed streets of Warsaw, Poznan, Krakow, winging about the state of the roads seems rather petty to me.

I can tell you from first hand experience of being on these marches that when you are having eggs, bottles and rocks thrown at you by these trogs, the last thing on your mind is the lamentable state of Polish highways.

If you are bothered about the state of the roads in Poland then I highly recommend that you engage politically with real and basic human rights struggles in Poland. And I promise that if you do, then you won’t even notice the potholes under your feet, or the colour of the rubbish bins that the skins are throwing at you.

But it is true that all the good blogs have a quite narrow and well defined area. And I am into making that area on p3 more clearly defined.

But I must remind everyone where this blog is coming from. The story of how p3 was born has been dealt with by Kinuk and Gus elsewhere. I’ll just say that the idea came over a few drinks after Gus and I met the first time, when we were talking about our common passion of blogging. So the meeting of the bloggers came before the idea of the blog. P3, therefore, is really just a continuation of the conversations that we have at these gatherings.

At the moment p3 is about whatever the members want it to be about. If you would like to make the thing more focused then I would like to be part of that discussion.

But as far as ‘pohole politics’ is concerned, you can count me out.

ps. Big respect to Dezso for nominating p3 in the “New Blogs’ category in the Fistful of Euros ‘Satin Pajamas’ blog awards.

Christmas markets

2005-12-16T14:58:00.000+01:00

I love these little things! We have one in Chicago, but it doesn't have the same feel as the markets in Poland and (I assume) the rest of Europe.

I spent 6 zloties on 300 grams of bigos and a big piece of thick bread then stood in the snow (read slush) falling all around me--seeking out my feet to soak and freeze them--while I ate it. Had there been grzaniec, I totally would have had some. That's mulled wine and it can be super yummy. Soul warming.

Kraków has a nice Christmas market. How about Warsaw?

Polish Christmas

2005-12-16T09:52:00.000+01:00

I've been asking my students lately about Polish Christmas traditions and all they can come up with are things connected with a) food and b) church.

Agh! I've just used the dreaded "connected with" construction.

Anyway, Christmas here is just the same as Christmas all over the world, really. Except for the carp. They eat carp here.

I heard a story once from an American about his first Christmas in Poland. He went to the bathroom to do his duty and found a live carp merrily swimming laps in the bathtub. Needless to say, he switched bathrooms. I think he felt guilty when he ate the carp later that night.

Carp notwithstanding, everything else is basically the same. Families get together. People cuddle on couches. One uniquely Polish element of Christmas (as far as I know) is opłatek. This is a small wafer (like a communion wafer) that you share with everyone else. It's a long, drawn-out affair that involves lots of cheek kissing. Not quite my style.

Any more thoughts on Christmas in Poland?

Lebkuchen

2005-12-16T08:53:00.000+01:00

I have a recipe for German Christmas biscuits in English and Polish that you just have to use. They are easy to make, taste damn good and can be used as Christmas tree decorations if you've broken all your baubles...

200g butter 200g maslo
200g honey 200g miód
100g sugar 100g cukier
1 egg jajko
450g flour 450g mąka
50g cocoa 50g kakao
1 level teaspoon cinnamon płaska łyżeczka cynamonu
1 level tsp. cloves płaska łyżeczka goździki
1 level tsp. cardamom płaska łyżeczka kardamonu
1 level tsp. baking powder płaska łyżeczka proszku do pieczenia

Put butter, honey and sugar into a saucepan and let it melt on a low heat, stirring all the time.

Włożyć masło, miód i cukier do małego garnka i podgrzewać na małym ogniu ciągle mieszając.

When melted bring it to the boil once then pour into a large mixing bowl and let it cool completely.

Po wymieszaniu się składników doprwoadzić do zagotowania i przelać do miski, gdzie zostawiamy wszystko do ostygnięcia.

Mix the egg with the cold butter mixture.

Do wystudzonej masy, dodajemy całe jajko.

Sift the flour, spices and baking powder together and add to the butter mixture little by little.

Przesiać mąkę, przyprawy i proszek do pieczenia i dodać do masy.

Kneed well.

Dobrze wyrobić.

Roll out to ½ cm thickness and cut out shapes. Make holes for string with a cocktail stick. Line baking sheets with greaseproof paper and bake at 200ºC for 10-12 minutes.

Rozwałkować na placki o grubości ½ cm i wyciąć dowolne kształty. Wykałaczką zrobić dziurki do zawieszenia na choinkę. Piec na papierze do pieczenia w temperaturze 200ºC przez 10-12 minut.

Decorate when cold and hang on the tree, if they don't all get eaten first...

Whistleblower project to expose Polish corruption

2005-12-15T09:21:00.000+01:00

We all hear about the "c" word in Poland and have probably heard about the latest Transparency International Report on corruption in Polska. PolBlog interviewed an official from the local TI office last month, and both Warsaw Station and the Beatroot had something to say about it.

In response, PolBlog introduces "Whistleblower 24/7." Whistleblower is an e-Democracy project to shift the balance of power from rulers to those ruled. By allowing citizens (in Poland) to anonymously post instances of corruption (in Gov't or Business) on an open forum for all to see, those who engage in shady behavior will be exposed more conveniently and to more people.

Any citizen in Poland, at any time of the day/night can register an instance of corruption in this "Whistleblower" forum. This makes the whole process incredibly easy as it avoids phone calls, lines in administrative offices, and bureaucracy that make filing corruption complaints unpleasant, time-consuming, and rare.

Whistleblower is not the end of the process, but rather the beginning...once a complaint is posted (with an optional survey), we will notify the appropriate officials, directing them to the site to read the post.

To go to the forum, click HERE

A similiar initiative was launched in Estonia (or, E-stonia as it is called in cyber circles), and it is quite popular.

Electronic English Petition Project Begins

2005-12-13T02:34:00.000+01:00

ee-Petition Project

Upon returning from an invigorating conference in London on e-Democracy and Blogging, we thought an experiment was in order. While not the first project of its kind (starting in Scotland and Germany), e-petitioning is just what English-speakers in Poland need! We did some research, and did in fact find a Polish-language E-petition project already up and running. Amazing! We will be cooperating with the Polish site by cross-posting any successful e-petitions on PolBlog to their site -- so PolBlog's ee-Petition Project will be the first cut, the proverbial editor's chopblock.

To vote on a proposed Electronic English Petition, or to comment about one in the forum, or just to simply (but importantly) vote on a petition, you need to go to the ee-Petition forum. To vote on a petition, you must register (so we can verify that you live in Poland). But other than that the forum is open and anyone can propose a petition (although we reserve the right to remove any bullshit).

The petition must be addressed to local or regional politicans and have something to do with the economic, ecologic, educational, religious, civil, health, atheletic, etc., state of Poland.

Our first ee-Petition requests that the Warsaw government re-paint the city's ailing recycling bins while running a public education campaign about recycling. Make your voice heard!

Eco-eyesores!

Help! We need some Paint!

Links:

1)Polish Sejm Site

Take-away – po polsku

2005-12-11T19:04:00.000+01:00

Wherever we go these days we are confronted with similar options for a take-away. But this na wynos globalization has its local varieties. In Poland, these varieties can be quite bizarre.

For instance, when I came here the first time in 1995, the streets around Plac Konstitucji in Warsaw were lined with hamburgery and hot dogi stands, selling nasty stuff that emerged steaming, damp and limp from microwave ovens.

But what could be good were the ‘bar orientalny’, selling what they claimed was ‘Vietnamese food’.

To this day, Poles must think that a typical family in Saigon sit down to Sunday lunch and tuck into sweet and sour prawn balls, five spice beef and spring rolls. Maybe they do. Strange, then, that the food they call take-away Vietnamese in Poland is remarkably similar to what in Britain we call take-away Chinese.

But take-away Chinese food in London has nothing much in common with Chinese food in China. Someone from Shangri probably never heard of Chop Suey or Chow Mien. That’s because these dishes were invented in the Chinatowns of America, and designed for American taste buds.

The Vietnamese in Poland have designed their take-ways for the Poles. The first time I had one of these dinners in plastic pots they served up the chicken and cashew nuts and rice with a large dollop of sauerkraut on the side. I was shocked. But it went down quite well. I became hooked.

Other variations and culinary ad libs are not so successful.

What must bring tears to the eyes of an Italian boy in Warsaw, and make him miss his mama back home very much, is what they do to pizzas in this country. Why, oh why, do they smother their margarita in tomato ketchup? This culinary abomination has become institutionalized by the telepizzas of Poland when they ask you if you want ‘sauce’ with your hawaiian.

Things have got so bad that many Italian restaurants – such as the great Nonsolopizza in Ochota – have signs on the tables advising that the tomato sauce is already on the pizza – it's that red stuff under the mozzarella – and not in a bottle on the table.

My theory is that this nasty habit started in the late 1980’s with the first Polish street food, zapiekanka.Basically just a bread pizza with cheese and mushrooms, it cried out for ketchup. And ketchup is what it got. Lots of it.

If the sticky goo doesn't dribble down your chin then it goes straight down the sleeves of your shirt. Nasty.

And have you ever wondered why kebabs just don’t taste like they do at home? The first time I ordered a szysz they asked me if I wanted ‘thin or fat bread’? I said I wanted neither – pitta bread would nicely, thank you. But a kebab will never taste right in Poland because it is made, not with lamb, but with beef. Making a kebab from beef is like trying to cook up galonka using chickens feet.

It’s just wrong, wrong, wrong.

So I think it’s time we got our own back on take-away po polsku. I am going to open a little kiosk - take-away po angielsku - selling bigos made from fermented newspapers, and pierogi stuffed with politicians' toenail clippings.

I'll buy that for a Złoty!

2005-12-09T10:40:00.000+01:00

Last Wednesday night, I was visited by a resurfacing arch enemy, the toothache. Mind you, I don't have your average set of teeth. Nearly every dentist says I can thank my birth parents and their kin for my set of choppers. As my mom recently wrote, "Your teeth have always been rotten." Thanks for the support, mom!

This ache wasn't your run of the mill tooth pain. This was an old mercury crown from I'm not sure how many decades ago, and either it, or what was left of the tooth below it, was loose. For the last year this tooth would ache for a few days then go away. Only once before while climbing in the French Alps did the pain get bad enough to take some killers. Wednesday was different.

As the night progressed, the pain worsened and stretched from my lower jaw to my neck, middle of the back of my head and then continued down my spine. Did I also mention a fever? This little loose tooth came on with a vicious infection that sent me spiraling towards a black hole of misery. I was freezing and sweating, my hearing was amplified so any noise was supersonic, my loose tooth had to come out, so out came the pliers...but to no avail. Back to bed, still freezing with a half meter of covers on me. I was so cold that my teeth, as sore as they were, were chattering uncontrollably. I even used a sock. Jill slept through all this, by the way...

5:30 a.m. she wakes to my convulsions and moans and takes my temp: 103.7 F (39.8 C). Not good. We (she) scrambled and started making calls for emergency dentists that would hopefully speak English. My condition was surreal, much like when I was experiencing high altitude mountain sickness after summiting Denali (Mt. McKinley) in 2003, I could move and make decisions, but my motions and thoughts were slower than a snail. Jill thought I was going to drown myself in the bathtub as I couldn't physically quite get to the tap to shut it off.

Dentist #1 was a lovely Polish lady who hung up on her. #2 spoke just enough English to say the doc wasn't in. #3 repeat of #1. #4 was Lux Med and they said come in ASAP. Small vicotories.

Even in my state, I was still fearful of what this Polish medical experience would be like. The hospitals here haven't had any good press here for nearly a century. At the clinic, my stomach didn't agree with the mixture of sterile hospital smell and the cigarettes being smoked in the entry way, three times, so at least they knew I wasn't kidding about being sick. From then on the clinic did a marvelous job of providing someone who could translate for us and take care of this bastard child in my mouth.

I was smart enough to bring my dental records and x-rays from the states. I thought the Polish dentist would just want to yank it, but he actually wanted to save it. Turns out it was the last tooth on that side that hadn't had a root canal yet! So I ended up getting the old crown pried off and got the fastest root canal I've ever had in my life. The implements (files) were similar, but not as coarse, and he didn't take the time to continually widen the hole, but he did keep dropping in the toxin they use to kill off the rest of the living tissue. The work was complete in 10 minutes. No gloves, no assistant, no sucking thingy hanging off my lip, no soft rock/classical music. But unlike the states, where it'd be a thorough scouring for hours and a temp put on the same session, he left my new hole in my tooth wide open, refused to give me any antibiotics and told me to come in the next 2 days for a 'rinsing' of the hole. If things were bad, then he'd issue the antibiotics. Oh, and I had to eat with a wad of cotton covering that side of my teeth. For comic relief, try it sometime when you're trying to impress someone like the in-laws.

The next three daily visits (an extra was required, apparently) were all with different dentists at the same clinic, and all had various forms of poor English. Since it was just a 'rinsing' no translator was really necessary. The last woman dentist (2 male, 2 female, btw) put in the temporary fill after re-poisoning the tissues again and sent me on my way to schedule the next appointment, where we'll prep for a crown. My pain and misery reduced relatively quickly, but it took several days to recover from the high fever, as I was still weak on Tuesday (6 days).

And the cost for all this suffering and modern Polish dental medicine and procedures at a private clinic, where they didn't even bother asking if I had insurance (was it that obvious?!)?

50 Złoty! ($15)

Hopefully it's not a 'you get what you pay for' experience, but so far so good (no infection, yet!).

Perhaps I'll invest in a new set of Polish choppers while I'm abroad!

Bring on the novocaine!

:-)

Amazing Barmen

2005-12-05T23:13:00.000+01:00

Not quite sure how or why, but every bartender I've met in Poznan (and I'm assuming the same would hold true for Warsaw) speaks English amazingly well. I know one guy who used to teach English and is now tending bar.

And this isn't your usual "What can I get you" or "Large beer" English. These folks can really carry on. Most have spent upwards of one year in the UK. Doesn't really motivate me to learn Polish.

Observations from two weeks in Poland

2005-11-28T22:23:00.000+01:00

I was in Poland for two weeks, my first trip to Poland since the summer of 2004, I noticed and found out a few things

The scoring leader of the Polish Orange Ekstraklasa, Grzegorz Piechna, makes 30,000 Euros a year.

Video screens in bars and pubs are in. During the 2002 WC qualifiers I couldn't find places in Poland to watch games, now they are a dime a dozen.

Polish beer is going into the shitter, did you know that Tyskie is being made in Poznan and not Tychy? Bullshit if you ask me. Other "imports" are all brewed in Poland, I guess they do it in order to avoid tariffs and compete with the Polish brews, clearly these beers are not as good as the originals.

I bought a bottle of Sobieski vodka in Poland to take to the US, I get to the US and look at the label only to find "imported by" some company in California. So the guy I bought the booze for will think I bought it in the States instead of dragging it with me from Poland.

I still don't get some of the Polish crappers, what is that little shelf for? I was told that they no longer make crappers with the shelf.
UPDATE: I was alerted to a nice article by the Banterist about the poo shelf.

People still use wood burning stoves, but they often don't use wood. I saw yellow or red colors in the smoke coming from chimneys, really thick with rancid smells.

The Polish hip-hop section at Media-Markt is about half the size of the entire Polish music section.

Media-Markt has no computers powered by AMD, weird.

Poland is expensive. Some crappy Pierre Cardin suits made outside of Opole were being sold for 1500 PLN, that's almost $500, and let me reiterate that these suits were crap, go to Vistula, cheaper and better quality.

Polish roads still scare me.

It's culture, eh?

2005-11-27T11:16:00.000+01:00

Last night, N and I went to the Filharmonia Narodowa to listen to the Concerto for Orchestra and 'Cello by Prokofiev and a Tchaikovski symphonia. We've been to the Opera Narodowa plenty last year to watch ballet, but it was our first time at the Filharmonia. I found the building small and the seating limited, but it was really beautiful inside. A mixture of socialist pseudo-grandeur and a nostalgia for the original building, it has not aged well in certain areas. However, the marble stairs and the high ceilings were wonderful, as were the comfortable seats.

Our tickets cost us 25zl each. I am always amazed at the affordability (is there such a word?) of cultural events in Warsaw. True, our seats weren't amazing (2nd row on the extreme left), but we came to hear music not to watch it being played. Twenty-five zlotych is about 5 pounds and I cannot imagine being able to go and see a classical music concert for that sum of money in London. Unless you're a student and don't mind standing in the back behind some support column.

I realise that such low ticket prices come at a cost, the orchestras and symphonias are very poorly paid (but that's no different to those playing in professional orchestras in London) and the buildings sometimes need a bit more care. But it does allow people, all kinds of people, to come and listen and watch.

Not that they do, really. Last night's audience was seriously geriatric. But, still, the possibility is there.

Happy Thanksgiving!

2005-11-24T11:14:00.000+01:00

Just a quick note to all the Americans reading this, Happy Thanksgiving!

Thanksgiving is a great holiday, really. It's like Christmas without the stress. So remember to take this time to remember all the good things in life while filling your bellies with some delicious birdies.

Museum of the Warsaw Uprising

2005-11-22T09:50:00.000+01:00

When it gets to Sunday morning and I'm lying in bed avoiding getting up, I usually think back over the weekend so far. Generally there have been a couple of interesting nights out but a wasted day, or a Saturday filled with boring necessities like cleaning and supermarkets.

Well, this weekend we decided to do something with our Sunday that would justify its (and our) existence. We trotted off to the newish Museum of the Warsaw Uprising (which their website actually calls the 'Warsaw Rising Museum' but that conjures a different image in my mind) and were impressed.

The museum is pretty new and modern in its approach. There are no long display cabinets under harsh lighting, but interesting and interactive displays using film, photography, newspaper extracts, models, mock-ups of rooms and bunkers, and plenty of bits of paper to collect.

The museum revolves around a central pillar, which pulsates, as if with a heartbeat. If you go up close, you discover speakers hidden all over with sounds of the uprising broadcast from it, but the beating sound follows you throughout the tour.

Its an awfully tragic story, and you can't but feel indignant and ashamed that the allies abandoned the Poles to defend their city alone, but the Polish sense of pride permeates the museum, and the heroic efforts of the unequal fight are honoured.

The information was well presented and clear (although they really should have got a native-speaker to check the English translations) and I especially liked the old photos and description of the Scout-run postal service that they set up around the city.

It's a museum that takes a good couple of hours to get round, and on Sunday it was packed, but towards the end they have thoughtfully placed a Blickle cafe where you can have a coffee and a piece of cake to see you through the rest of the displays.

If you haven't already been, go and see it!

saturday night

2005-11-20T21:54:00.000+01:00

Well, I was going to round up our saturday night p3 executive board meeting... but it's already been taken care of over here. Cheers!

Winter

2005-11-20T15:48:00.000+01:00

Winter has offically begun in Poland. Well, at least it's snowing. And, if I remember correctly, we're getting snow MUCH earlier this year than last.

And this early snow is a shame, really. Poland is best in autumn. It has an autumnal landscape--meditative, still, drooping, withering.

But now as I look out my window I see only a blank canvas that will have to wait six months until it is again painted by nature's brush. Til then: slush and icicles.

P3

2005-11-18T18:47:00.000+01:00

The next p3 will take place tomorrow, at Tortilla Factory from 8pm onwards.

You're all expected (except Gus who's excused) - bloggers and non-bloggers alike.

As you may have gathered it's an incredibly formal event, with more beer to drink than notes to take.

Do jutra!

Nightmares on asfalt

2005-11-17T20:04:00.000+01:00

I normally don't have nightmares, or at least don't remember them, but this morning was different. I was having a driving dream, a Polish driving experience (PDE) dream. And I woke up very scared.

Let me try to explain what driving is like here first...

If you're on the interstate, any semblance of rules are thrown out the window, along with your cigarette (Poles love their country, but seem to love littering, too). Vehicles go what ever speed and fill any empty space that is possible with their rolling death bullet, whether it's into the opposing lane of traffic, on the shoulder, on the sidewalk, around the back side of bus stops, over bus stops (this has happened) and I've even seen cars not only drive at 160+ kph into oncoming traffic, I've seen them pass those same cars on THEIR side's shoulder!!!!

Gulp.

In the city, things are the same, except the drivers seem to aim for pedestrians (perhaps this is some left over Russian anti-Pole incentive program, where each driver who takes out a Pole gets an extra loaf of bread or slab of meat. Double if they were Catholic. Triple if in the Solidarity movement). Another oddity is the 'yield' law. Yes, we have yield signs and yes in America we yield to the right if everyone comes to an intersection at the same time (tricky with 4!), but in Poland you have to yield to the right.

Always.

No matter how wide the road you're driving on, and how narrow or dirty the road they're driving on (to your right), you must yield. I now know 3 expats who've gotten in accidents in these situations. 1)Expat 1 was in the intersection long before the car to the right (CTTR) came in. He got smashed in the rear, spun around and a hefty ticket, two days before leaving the country-for good. 2)Expat 2 is at a T-intersection, inching very, very slowly into the top of the T, and turning right. There were parked cars blocking her view. Once out, fully into the lane she saw a minvan barreling at her, with the driver's head down (likely dialing or sms-ing on her mobile). In my book, a head-on collision occurred, but since she was turning right, and regardless the person in CTTR wasn't watching the road, and was speeding (60k in a residential area), Expat 2 got a hefty ticket, and the bill for a shitload of auto damage. 3) Expat 3, ditto of Expat 1, even in the same frickin' intersection. Ticket to Expat 3. Fortunately, no one was hurt in these accidents. Just pissed. (American pissed, not British-otherwise there'd be some DUI action going on!)

Back to the yield. The above applies always, unless there's this stupid yellow and white diamond sign, one that is beyond normal graphical comprehension.

And lastly, here's a few notes from Wikitravel: Estimate double time used and double tiredness comparing to driving in countries like Germany or France.
Poles drive aggressively and with little or no regard to speed limits. Scenes seen on the Polish roads are sometimes described as shocking by the foreigners not accustomed to the way locals handle their machines. Drunk driving is also a big problem, despite heavy penalties. Overall, Poland has a higher index of deaths on the roads than many European countries.

Good times. Good times.

Well, lets add some spice to the mix and make it even crazier!

Over the last few years there have been a string of startling events in the news, regarding ambulance drivers in Lodz purposefully letting their patients die, or even adding lethal injections, in order to cash in on a little mortuary scam. Anyone ready for a Polish car accident yet?

So, finally, my dream:

I was driving our car along Warsaw's streets, on a moist day, almost reminiscient of a Seattle (insert any day of week here). I was driving on the wide Sluzew loop road that links Wilanow with Ursynow. The dream was of my view while driving and as the future events unfolded, the view changed from behind and above the car.

I'm doing about 60-70KPH, as are the cars around me. Jackass #1 comes barreling in on my left at twice the speed and cuts in front of me, just as Jackass #2 is pulling in from the road on the right (see above). Needless to say, it was suddenly a Hollywood style scene, with my car and yours truly rocketing up and spinning through the air, already a mangled piece of metal.

I awoke upon the next impact with one of the cars and I must have been in obvious freakout mode, as our little Polish cat, Dudek, came rushing to my rescue to soothe my nerves.

Was I looking forward to driving my girlfriend's mother to the airport in 2 hours during rush hour traffic after all this. On the same road?

I think not.

But this time I survived to tell the tale.

Poland’s peculiarities

2005-11-17T17:16:00.000+01:00

I think we’ve pretty much agreed that Poland is a country that provokes extreme opinions. But why?

I’ve noticed loads of little things that I haven’t come across before in the UK, Germany or Belgium. My theory is that if we start a list of random observations and gather them all together, those people outside of Poland reading this will have a better idea of what we’re dealing with.

These are in no particular order, good bad and ugly all mixed up together:

People fall over themselves to give up their tram or bus seat to other people, especially the elderly.
Despite the strong Catholicism and high church attendance, the busiest places on a Sunday are the shopping malls, which are everywhere.
If you walk around the streets of Warsaw with a black person, people openly stare. With their mouths gaping.
Polish men have manners. Doors are opened, coats are helped on and I know I should be outraged, but it’s kind of sweet.
Polish food is a mix of mouth-wateringly delicious dishes, soup and too much offal.
If you try and watch an English-language (or other foreign language) film on Polish television, you will have to put up with a monotonous Polish man translating everything over the original with little or no emotion.

There are more… somebody help me out.

The Great Morski Oko Park Dog Poisoner Mystery

2005-11-16T16:39:00.001+01:00

A rumour is spreading among pet owners who walk their dogs in a Mokotow park that someone is trying to murder our furry friends.

Dog owners in Mokotow - including myself - are living in fear. The rumour says that four mutts have been poisoned while going for walkies in Morski Oko Park, which lies between ul Marszalkowska and Belwederska.

The dogs are being poisoned, the gossip goes, by a man who is lacing salmon, or other raw fish, with rat poison, and then leaving it in the park, waiting for an unsuspecting pooch to gobble it up.

And it’s the last meal they ever have.

I have been able to ascertain through my investigations (this is a true story!) that at least one dog has died this way. One dog owner told us that she was out with her two pets in Morski Oko Park a few weeks ago. All was well until they got home. Then, both dogs started being violently sick. Some hours later one of them died.

So just who is doing this? Is there a dog-hating psychopath on the loose in the park? And what of the other three dogs? Is this true, or just a version of Chinese whispers?

My theory is that this is, in actual fact, more like Japanese whispers. Raw salmon – when it is wrapped up in seaweed and rice – is otherwise known as Sushi! For a long while I have been certain that nobody actually likes sushi – they just pretend to because it’s trendy. In reality, most do what I do when I put one of those nasty fishy things in my mouth: they want to spit it back out again immediately.

So what I think is happening is this. Business people are going to sushi restaurants and are not eating the fish, but are putting it discreetly in bags (doggy bags?) and then taking it outside and dumping the horrid stuff in the street.

Or, in the park!

Dogs are then coming upon the stuff and eating it.

The result is that they are sick as a dog, and what waits them is a long, slow death at the hands of sushi.

This is a true story, and if you have heard anything similar, then please let us dog walkers of Morski Oko know. It’s a matter of life and death!!!

This is the back of my college diploma

2005-11-16T12:39:00.000+01:00

The front side is just as wrinkled, creased, and crinkled.

As long as we're discussing Poland's less fine points, please allow me a cathardic howl over what recently befell this poor, innocent document, which understandably has a great amount of symbolic value for me.

As you may or may not know, arranging to live and work in Poland is a long, hard, nervewracking slog. To get a residence permit you need a work permit, but to get a work permit you need a residence permit. Each requires a significant sum of cash and hours of inconvenient line-waiting in drab offices packed with people crowding onto too-small benches. They also require piles of documents, pictures, stamps, signatures, notices, statements, permissions and so forth. What is required varies significantly from year to year, but there is always more, and whatever it is, it's harder to get.

As of November 1, 2005 one of these additional requirements came into effect. According to the regulation, what had previously been enough to satisfy the Ministry of Immigrant Affairs that you were educated - a signed, notarized translation of your diploma - was no longer enough. Now, it is required that each foreigner present his actual document - along with the signed, notarized translation - and a transcript from the school. These documents are then transferred to the Ministry of Education (which has nowhere near the capacity to handle such a job), where they will be evaluated and "adjusted" to the equivalent Polish degrees. Thus, a "Master's" degree in the States would most likely be adjusted to "Magister" in Poland.

My application for the renewal of my residence permit was due on November 4 - I got roped into this rule by three days.

So. Mom has to send the diploma from home, right?

No problem. Mom is a very dependable woman. She got the document in the mail virtually the next day (so as not to risk losing any more time), and even sent it priority with "Do not bend" stamped all over the bloody thing.

This is what I found in my mailbox last Monday:

There are shoe prints on the other side of the envelope you see above.

Of course, it wasn't laid out all flat like that - my mailbox is half that size. Instead it was folded - and I don't mean "gently rolled" folded, I mean creased and bent flat right down the middle. (It really is, though it's difficult to see in the first picture.)

This vandalism did not happen in the US, or in transit. It happened in that Polish mailman's hands. He could have brought this large envelope up to our door (we're on the fourth floor - there's an elevator) and at least attempted to deliver it in person. If he had, he would have found my girlfriend waiting there to receive it. She had a day off and was in the apartment when the mail was deliviered.

Instead, he pretended that he didn't understand "Do Not Bend" stamped five times on the envelope ("Do Not Bend" is global mail speak), and that whatever this was in this special priority envelope was surely not important enough to be kept flat that he must trudge all the way over to the elevator a meter away, travel up to the fourth floor, and knock on the door.

And hence, last Monday, I found my creased and crinkled diploma - a document I had studied four years to attain, a document which probably represents my life's greatest achievement so far (*sigh*), a document which most people have framed and hung on their office walls - smashed into my mailbox like a candy wrapper into an overfull garbage pail.

I will never be able to replace it, really. I could ask my college to send me another, but it certainly wouldn't be the same - the man who was President of my college and signed my diploma has moved onto another school. I don't know what the dating policy would be either. And to be honest, I'm not sure my college would even allow me to replace it.

I know. It's just a piece of paper. But damn it, that piece of paper represents my life in a way, and they trampled on it, crushed it and ruined it.

And all I was trying to do was follow the rules.

I'm the yo-yo at the end of Poland's string

2005-11-15T18:59:00.000+01:00

I was born in Poland, but it does annoy me at times. I read Aaron's post (below) and I laughed in agreement: the customs, the salesclerks, the unbending rules, the post office, etc... all serve to annoy me. But I keep coming back.

I was born here, lived here for the first 12 years of my life. Then, at the age of 25, I came back for two years. I loved it, I hated it and then I loved it some more. After three years in the UK, I came back (this time with my new British husband) to love and hate some more. I cannot help it: it keeps calling me back.

I truly am the yo-yo at the end of Poland's string.

The first question

2005-11-15T08:22:00.000+01:00

Whenever I meet a new Polish person, I'm always asked the same question: "So, what do you think about Poland?"

Without fail. Every time.

And I never feel totally comfortable when asked this question. It seems that they either want me to bury the country in compliments or to reinforce some American stereotype by saying that I don't like everything here. What's a man to do!? I'm either a total dope or I'm "just not willing to integrate."

I normally just shrug the question off with a reference to nice beer and unfriendly sales clerks. That's usually enough to placate my interlocutor. But those with the sixth sense have the ability to see through my veneer of indifference into my true thoughts.

I'll be honest. Poland drives me nuts.

The politics, the people, the customs...they all drive me to distraction. I'll expound on this later. But I do like Poland at times. Mostly from 9:00 PM until 5:00 AM. During these 8 hours, Poland is hard to beat.

In true P3 style, this post was written after bending the elbows at a local pub. Polish beer--whew--is always good.

Pijemy Po Polsku - About

2005-11-13T13:10:00.000+01:00

(pee-YEH-muh po POL-skoo) "We drink in the Polish style"

This blog was founded by an enlightened group of intellectuals - mostly expatriate-immigrants to the wondrous, fascinating, and blood-boilingly infuriating country of Poland: The beatroot, Becca, Filip and Agnes (a native), and Gustav, though we hope others will join.

As the election season in Poland heated up in the autumn of 2005, an interesting thing began to happen. Expat bloggers in Poland who had never come into blog-contact before began discovering each other's existence. Heady days, those were. A flurry of blog-activity ensued. It wasn't long before Poland bloggers in Warsaw began contacting each other and decided to meet over - what else - but a few delicious Polish beers (piwa). At the first meeting the beatroot and Gustav got together, and got along so well that we met again the next week, when Becca joined in. Filip and Agnes were soon to follow, as they were sitting nearby, heard us debating, and were eager to participate. A tradition was born. We named our movement "Pijemy Po Polsku" - We drink in the Polish style.

Our aim? What's in an aim? We have no aim - except perhaps to give our perspective, for what it's worth. Not everybody is an expatriate in Poland, so we think we might have an interesting point of view to offer. We would also like to generate discussion. We have learned what an effective conduit for creating, discussing and challenging ideas blogging is through our own personal blogs, and believe that a collective effort could be especially effective in doing so. We believe creating, discussing and challenging ideas exercises our minds and enriches us.

So here we go! Na zdrowie!