Krupnik and Spelling

It's no secret that poor translations are abound in Poland.  From menus ('Cocktail' is usually transcribed as 'coctail'; 'vanilla' is 'vanillia') to museum blurbs (I must note that the Podziema Rynku Museum has excellent translations).  Official translations such as "Feel Like at Home" (a slogan from the Euro 2012) have people doing double-takes and taking me aside and saying, "Does this sound right to you?"

Anyway, someone was very gracious enough to give me a bottle of the illustrious Krupnik, a honey-based vodka (note: it is not mead, as mead is a fermented honey 'wine').  It was very, very kind of the person, and I must admit that I was slightly embarrassed because I did not return the favor in kind.

One glance at the label made me slightly cringe:

The offending label

The text reads (verbatim):

Prepared from bees honey and various

spices and aromatic herbs according to

Polish recipes many hundred years old.

Now, here's the thing: if you're going to have some text in English that's big, prominent, and basically being the only representative text of your product/sports tournament/company slogan, you'd think you'd spend that extra amount of money to get it right.  That's the thing I don't really understand: this is the main text, essentially the only text that people (mostly Poles anyway (so why in English?)) are going to read, and they turned it into a first semester English project.  Some say, "Well, you know what it means anyway."  To that I answer, "So it's OK if I go to work and walk around in my bathrobe?  I mean, my junk is covered!  I've done the most basic amount to appear decent in public."

Well, maybe it's done on purpose to evoke authenticity of its rustic Polishness.

And, let's not forget, what matters most is the content of the bottle, not the label.

Cheers!

Corpus Christi in Łowicz

I've got to tell the truth, I'm a sucker for traditional costumes.  Lederhosen, kimonos, you name it.  Anyway, practically every Polish girl I meet gets the same question, "So, do you have a traditional Polish dress?  No?  Why not?"   And why not indeed, they are adorable.  They're bright, flashy, garish, totally impractical in today's world.  They also are expensive (around 1000zl per dress) and weigh a ton.  (NOTE:  Not every girl gets treated to that question, but I have asked it on occasion.  I just wanted some hyperbole in this thing and to add a dash of danger and mystery.)

Anyway, on Corpus Christi, there is a procession in Lowicz, a town to the west of Warsaw and about an hour away by train.  The procession in Lowicz is fairly well known, as is the beautiful cathedral that stands in the center of the town.  As soon as I was told that there'd be a 'parade' with these costumes, followed by a fair, I was like, "I'm there!"  So, I high-tailed it to Lowicz to catch the procession and take all sorts of pictures (be warned, there are many, because I just couldn't make my mind up.)

The start of the procession.

The first group of girls in costumes.

 The day was rather dreary and threatened rain, but that didn't put anyone off.  Everyone was out in force, and the procession was walking around the cathedral square.  I whipped out my trusty digital camera and joined every other person there in shooting as many pictures as I could of these wonderful clothes.  About six pictures in, my camera batteries gave out and I was left cursing myself for not preparing well.  Luckily, there was a kiosk not far away that sold batteries, and I was back making digital records of everything I saw.  Also, luckily, the procession proceeded  ploddingly, often stopping for long periods of time while prayers were said and hymns were sung and everyone watching swarmed the folks walking in the procession, taking enormous amounts of pictures.  (Seriously, half the show was watching everyone snapping away while the people in the procession posed, chatted with friends and family, or just sat.)  Halfway through, a mass was said (and I believe the celebrating priest was a Frenchman speaking as a guest.)  During these long pauses, the marchers often sat down, because, as I said before, the weight of their dresses was significant.  Most had to be helped up from their resting spot.  With weight comes good insulating ability, and just walking down the road could make one perspire in such a getup.

Both the very old and the very young were dressed up. 

When not marching, many posed and showed off their beautiful gowns.

A banner of a parish in Lowicz.

Who were these folks marching?  Well, they were mostly from Lowicz and the surrounding areas.  They were arranged in groups, each from a parish, and each carrying a banner (usually dedicated to Mary the Mother of God).  Men in spiffy outfits carried the poles to the banners, while the women and girls (and sometimes little boys) carried ribbons attached the the banner.  Sometimes a small pillow, again with the likeness of Mary on it, as well.  The pillow doubled as a seat when pauses were in effect.
There were also a group of Polish veterans, a troop of Ukrainians (invited in to dance and sing at the fair), and I guess anyone else who wanted to show off his or her fancy outfit.

Elderly women carrying an enormous rosary.

The procession of the banners.

Banners and marchers.

Looping around the square.

 The procession wasn't actually physically very long, 100 yards maybe, but they did move pretty slowly.  Every time the procession stopped, the men carrying the poles set them down, then turned around and faced toward the aft of the procession (I'm not sure why).

I like this getup: this poor fellow has two speakers as a backpack to project the mass.

Stopped and posing.

A Ukrainian troop marched as well as part of a Ukrainian exhibition at the fair.

Showing off her apron.

Listening to the Mass.

Little tiny bagels!  She seems to be enjoying herself.

Taking a rest from the walk.

The dresses themselves are pretty interesting.  There are many layers: petticoats, blouses, vests, skirts, and all wrapped up by a big, stiff apron.  The apron is what everyone sees and can be mistaken for a skirt.  They're big, stiff, and heavy.  They also kind of make every girl look pregnant (by the shape they take).
The men, in my opinion, kind of looked like Swiss guardsmen.  They also carried birch springs tucked into the back of their belts.  I was not able to find out the significance of the springs.

This beautiful young lass was kind enough to explain about the dress.

Lifting up her skirt so we could peek at what's beneath: her petticoats.

One method of sitting down.

Most of the girls had a standard leather boot with a small high-heel and red laces.  Others, wore stilettos (not the brightest decision, based upon their facial expressions), or simple flats.

Most of the girls wore these shin-high leather lace-ups.

Resting in a group, their backs to each other.

Standing around in those iron maidens can be tough.  It looks  kind of like they're all drunk.

The guys have their own costumes.  Also, the carried birch sprigs in their belts.

The inside of the Lowicz Cathedral.

The marching band!  (At the end of the procession.)

The Polish Way to Ask Questions

One aspect of Polish culture is its rather indirectness.  They are rarely blunt and have an irritating way of asking questions that take a few moments' thought to figure out what exactly they are asking.  It's all in an attempt to play down awkwardness, but if you aren't used to it, you will find it infuriating.

Poles will be more likely to ask if "you don't need anything."  This, typically, would be seen as rather rude in many other cultures, implying that the one asking is hoping there no immediate needs as it would be a bother to him.  It's actually implying that the inquired-about is not helpless and can manage on his own, but it also leaves open a small polite door for the petition of assistance.  Another example is "Tell me about the girl/boyfriend you don't have."  This seems like a convoluted, illogical statement (and it is), but it's Polish for "Why are you single?"  Now, a direct "Why are you single?" is probably a faux pas in many cultures, and this is just how they skirt the issue.

I have found the best way to settle these throw-you-for-a-loop questions is to tackle them head-on.  When a Pole asks a stumper, just reply with a, "Are you asking what my father does?  He's a lawyer."  (NOTE:  The author's father is not in the legal profession.)  After being confronted with evidence of their sly mind-bending inquiries, the Pole will most likely look a little sheepish and say, "Yes, I am [asking that]."

A Few Notes on Jokes

Working and living in a foreign country can be quite a challenge.  Not the least by the conformity you must undergo, and obstacles with language and culture, plus differences in work place laws (learning about Polish/EU labor laws has really been eye-opening for me.)  One of the largest gaps I find hardest to bridge is that of humor.
Now, one of the first things foreigners notice about Poles is their apparent lack of joy (the Poles will admit this themselves) and their totally cynical, depressing view on the world.  This is a pretty broad brush with which to paint the whole Polish Nation, and I don't endorse the view 100%, but it has been brought to my attention.  Humor, it may seem, is pretty hard to root out; it's hidden away in some deep, dark spot in the Polish national consciousness.
It turns out, that there is humor (I wrote about a joke or two I learned some years back.)  But the gap between American and English humor and Polish humor is wide and deep.  I don't get 99% of their jokes and they are more likely to get indignant about my jokes than anything else.  It happens quite often that a co-worker will say something witty and clever and the whole office will burst into reams of laughter, workers shaking with tears streaming down their faces, while I sit at my desk and wonder, "Was a funny just made?  Guess this one is a little over my head."  Being the odd man out is no fun.

I've given up telling jokes to these people.  It mostly ends up with quizzical faces, shaking heads, and a muttering in Polish I don't understand.  But, I haven't given up trying to grasp the essence of Polish humor. So, every-so-often, I ask around for a joke, or by happenstance I get to hear one that I can actually make sense of.

Here's one:  The foreman of a Polish construction site visited the site one day to see how progress was going.  To his dismay, there was very little built, but the workers were running back and forth with empty wheelbarrows, not bothering to load them up with materials.  When the foreman inquired why the workers were scurrying about without actually loading the barrows, the workers replied, "We're too busy."

I heard another, which involves Polish wordplay.  Now, everyone should know that I am a HUGE fan of puns and try to fit them into conversation whenever possible.  This does, usually, come out in the form of innuendo, which is has gotten me in trouble more than once.

Kto ma jaja w Stanach?

(Who has the eggs (balls) in the States?)

—Obama

(Obama.  Oba ma is Polish for "He has both".  The pun is on Obama's name.)

Pretty clever.

The Ł

One of the things of having a Polish professor who:  A) studied at MIT, B) speaks Polish, Russian, Slovak, and Yiddish, C) has a keen sense of history and linguistics, is that you learn a lot of interesting things about the language.  For instance, take the Polish letter Ł: it's an L with a slash through it, but pronounced like W, a sound that (I'm pretty sure, please correct me if I am wrong) no other Slavic tongue has.  The thing is, is that Ł used to be pronounced like the Russian Л (transliterated as L.  This L should be pronounced like the L in girl or Polish, not like the L in look or fabulous.)  When reading Old Polish, one should be aware of this to pronounce it correctly.  The problem arising with Ł is that it's a hard phoneme to learn, especially for children.  Gradually, Polish and Poland did away with this guttural sound and replaced it with the more fluid W sound.
Now, if you don't believe me, just ride the subway.  At Stacja Ratusz Arsenał, listen to the announcement, which pronounces it like ArsenaL.  I presume that the name is preserved for historical reasons.

How to Piss off the English

Now, an American like myself has run into quite a bit of resistance to forcing people to adopt the American way of saying things.  (I've had enough of lorry and pronouncing schedule like shed-yoo-all.)  Why not rattle their chains a little?
So, a few years back a Polish girl was pontificating about how British English was superior to American English because it sounded more royal, affluent, and historical.  It was the dialect of Shakespeare, of the Queen, of Hugh Grant.  Except…  it wasn't.  I pointed out firstly that there are many dialects and accents of British English and the best dialect outside of the US was the Irish Brogue followed by the Scottish Brogue.
More importantly, today's British English is NOT the language of Shakespeare (or so say the linguists.)  We have become accustomed to actors in movies speaking with modern British accents and actors on stages fudging with terrible British accents.  But did Shakespeare really speak with a modern British accent?  Probably not.  He probably spoke with an accent closer to the Carolinian accent (much like Stephen Colbert used to.)  The Carolinas (North and South) were colonized about 400 years ago and were buffered from many linguistic influences unlike, say New York or Boston or even Minnesota.  So, to be more historically accurate, those actors should try to emulate Lindsay Graham's way of speech Hugh Grant's.
Also, the English learned how to write from the Irish (ooooh, doesn't that just make their blood boil?!)

Happy Pi Day!

Happy Pi Day, everyone! Now go back some fucking pie!

In case you didn't know, the first three digits of Pi are 3.14. Today's date just happens to be March (3) fourteenth (14): 3.14.2010. The real Pi day happened some four-hundred years ago in 1592 (hey, 100 years after Columbus sailed the ocean blue!)

My best is the first sixteen digits: 3.141592653589793. There are others that can do it to tens of thousands of places (where do they find the time?)

Interestingly enough, they really don't have pies here in Poland, and are quite befuddled when I try to explain them.

"See, pies aren't quite like cakes. They're more like torts or tarts. You have a crust and you fill it with stuff and then you can put some more crust on top. For example, a pizza is a pie."

Then I send them off thinking that apple pie or pumpkin pie (staples of American desert cuisine) are hideous concoctions of pizza dough, sauce and said apples/pumpkins. I need to work on my explanations a bit.

Also, Pi is pronounced "pee" here, much to my eternal humor.

Vulgarities, Vulgarities

Cipcia, a slang word equivalent to "pussy" (in the anatomical sense, not in the cowardly or weakness sense), seems to be the staple of some Poles' vocabulary (that plus the more-famous dupa and kurwa.) I must admit that I actually am not totally well-versed in Polish slang as I'd hope, and when I inquired about cipcia, a friend of mine explained the definition then she started saying,

"…but when I was young, my babcia used to call me and my girl cousins 'cipcia', but not in that sense. I guess it meant… I mean it was probably… well, she was from the country."

That seems to be a common excuse are here (especially in Warsaw) for anyone who does something that might be perceived as old-fashioned, backwards, or just plain odd. The country folk are stereotypically simple, unsophisticated, and a tidbit hickish. That great-uncle that used to leer at young girls and stand on the balcony in an open bathroom with his dooda out for all to see? It was because "he was from the country."

Words I Love

Polish is awash with words that are playful, and—to me, since I'm an English speaker—sound rather silly.

Dziki (Wild): I swear I can say this all day every day. I sometimes repeat it end on end until someone tells me to hush.

Spalony (Burnt): Rhymes with baloney. Any word that rhymes with baloney is sure to be a hit with me.

Akuku (Peek-a-boo): Even though it's childish and something to say to babies and little kids, it's still a joy to yell.

Ponimayo/Ponyatno (I understand/Obviously): Actually, this is Russian (a language that I've only recently admitted to being more beautiful than Polish.) I heard it from Cheburashka, and the way he says it just kills me.

Pan Twardowski (Mr. Strong): It only took me four years to say, but I finally got it down pat.

Dzwon (Ring (as in a bell)): Mostly because it's in "Hej Sokoly."

As my vocabulary grows, I'm sure I'll discover new words that I can randomly place in sentences for the hell of it (plus say without need or reason.)

Stereotypes Are a Real Time Saver

Hey, why not use stereotypes?

Let's just admit it, we all carry around stereotypes. The Jews are all rich, the Americans are all fat, and the Poles are all stupid thieves. (I only say stupid because of the plethora of Polish jokes in the US. Here's one: How do you sink a Polish submarine? —Knock on the door.)

The Poles are known throughout Europe, Germany in particular, to be thieves. The German retailing giant, MediaMarkt, even released a commercial about it for the 2006 World Cup (one of many, most playing off stereotypes of nationalities.) It's actually pretty funny.

The basic gist of it, is three Poles thank the three German salesmen, saying that they have products for once in the world, "The prices are deep, like the Polish soul." After the hugs, the salesmen remark how decent Poles are, only to realize their pants are missing.

It's funny, but many Poles got really pissed off at this; they don't like jokes taken at their expense.

Is drinking the national sport of Poland? No, but it is the national sport of Russia (something like 48% of all adult Russian men die alcohol-related deaths.) The birthplace of vodka, which Poland defends more vehemently than its own borders, doesn't have shit on typical anglo-american college students (I'm not saying that with pride either.)

The Polish defense of vodka is actually quite interesting. They claim that Cîroc isn't really vodka since it's made from grapes, and they're making a big stink about this. Now that Poland is in the EU, and the EU is notorious for it's bureaucracy, they want clear definitions!

It's pretty much the consensus amongst the younger women here, that New York City is the definitive America and that all women who live there live lives exactly like Sex and the City. Many have professed dreams of moving to Manhattan for a year to do just that. I tried to tell them about how expensive it is to live in Manhattan and that the lives that the crew of SAC live are actually not very viable, but I was hushed, and told how that since it's on TV, it's not only possible, but common.

Formalities

Polish, like many languages, has a formal and informal way of addressing people. For speakers like me, it's a real bitch. It's not just the added conjugations that you have to worry about, it's to whom you're talking. OK, so people your age and lower you can address informally (ty), and those older or of higher position you use the formal (pan.) But in my internship I noticed that the professors would address the students using the formal sense, which kind of confounded me. But what is more, is what if I wanted to talk to an elderly person whom I know quite well (let's say, for sake of an example, a mother-in-law)? Would I use the formal or informal? I know it seems silly to those who are used to it, and it's perfectly normal ("Just use the formal with strangers." they say) but I think it's just a bunch of bunk.

Polish Prose

To further my study of Polish, I took an independent study, the materials of which was "Opowiesci Mojej Zony", or "Tales Told by My Wife." It's a collection of short stories (most are around six pages or so) and is meant to be used as a reader for intermediate to advanced students (trust me, I am on the low side of that spectrum.) The stories are quite interesting and very sweet. There is, however, something quite infuriating. Many of the sentences of these stories are many lines long (think half a paragraph easily.) One starts out talking about a father in the hospital, shifts to talking about that he'll come home with a lot of good things, and ends with a short discussion about the Russian and Austrian soldiers that are sometimes quartered in their house. A range of topics indeed.

James Joyce is known for his rambling on, his multitude of adjectives stacked upon each other; Ernest Hemingway knew how to work a sentence for building pace and tension; but these lines in these are simply run-on sentences. It's the Polish language and its plethora of cases that allow this to happen. I've seen it cross over from Polish into English. While correcting translations for Al, I was always irked by how the sentences never seemed to come to an end, as if she loved the thought so much that she couldn't bear to add a period, instead she'd tack on another clause (without a semi-colon!)

The Importance of Learning Polish

When I first started learning Polish, it was on a whim.  I didn't really expect big things from it, but it has become the single most important thing that I've learned.  While in Germany, I was  able to get out a few mangled sentences to the Poles there and their hearts melted.

Now, years later, I still struggle with Polish but everyday I am more and more thankful that I picked it up.

Here is an article, which I found immensely entertaining, about some fellows in Ireland (the Police) who ought to have had a few Polish lessons themselves.

Lessons in Humility

As a student of Polish and a teacher of English, I am faced very often with dealing with the issue of getting over one's own shyness while speaking a language.  At the beginning of every semester of classes, I give my opening spiel about how the students ought to get over any sense of shyness and just be comfortable speaking.

I usually say something akin to:

"Look, please don't hold back while speaking, just make an effort.  I swear I won't laugh at you or judge you; I'm just here to help you.  Don't worry about making mistakes.  Native speakers of English make mistakes all the time!  Shakespeare: the greatest English writer and the greatest writer of English, couldn't even spell his own name consistently.  So please, do your best and try your hardest."

It sounds noble but I rarely actually follow it myself.  I don't mean that I laugh at the students and call them morons—at least I don't do it to their faces. (JOKE!!!)  I mean that I am very shy about speaking Polish, especially with a Polish person.

It's been said that one learns a language best while drunk, because it takes away inhibitions and makes one not afraid to make mistakes.  I personally find this to be true, but I have trouble remembering what mistakes I made and what I actually said in general.

Now, here's a story:

When asking someone how to say something, I usually don't remember it very well.  So, if asking, "How do you say 'girl'?" and someone replied "dziewczyna", I would have trouble remembering "dziewczyna."

I was in Germany and had some tsuika (Romanian moonshine made from plums.)  I was getting 'festive' and asked a Pole next to me how one should say cheers.  She said, "na zdrowie."  To which I meant to reply, "I'll ask you again." (in Polish)  but instead said, "Zapamietam Cie zawsze."  She laughed and said, "Do you know what you just said?"  I looked sheepish and said, "What?"

"You just said 'I'll remember you forever!'"  We had a laugh and I quickly said, "Uh, I meant: Zapytam Cie znowu."

Again and again I am faced with a language barrier that seems to insurmountable for me.  I'm not one of those people who can conquer a language easily and confidently (I got straight Cs in Polish, and I did actually try.)  There are plenty of times I end up looking foolish when a person asks me a simple question and I do something totally unrelated to it.  (Once, a security guard asked me to write down my last name and I wrote, "Hey, it's me!  Come on down!"  He gave me the queerest look and repeated the question several times.)

I'm not exactly confident in my abilities (there are uncountable episodes, in which I have embarrassed myself trying to speak/understand Polish) and I'm not very comfortable carrying on a conversation.  Flaws I'd like to work on.

No matter how well you think you know a language (even your native one) someone or something is going to come along and show you something you'll never understand.  Why people enjoy James Joyce is that thing for me.

And so, even though I get paid to coax people along and to be comfortable with the Mother Tongue, I understand where they are coming from, and have been there too many friggan times myself.