A Fun Day Out?

Yesterday, I was a lazy pig.

I wrote till I was no longer feeling it, then had a nice chat with my dear friends stateside – nothing to report here because nothing is really going on, but I enjoy visiting with them and hearing of their doings.

And then spent the rest of the evening watching videos.

What a life!

I gotta admit: being a freelance writer has its perks; probably the main was is working in my jammies, safe and warm at home. Not having to brave the elements is particularly great seeing as the elements here can be brutal and turn on a dime.

Mildly ashamed of yesterday’s sluggishness, I resolved this morning to finish my Superprof article, and then shower out and go for a long walk before starting my next assignment.

The day was sunny and the sky was blue; the wind was blustery and cold... all features I could enjoy while strolling along all snugged up in my parka. 

Quick dash into the shower... and the sun is still shining when I came out!

You might be surprised that I would marvel about that. It’s not that I take extended showers, it’s just that the weather here is so unpredictable...

And I was gnawing the insides of my cheeks over the predicted five centimeters of snow we are to get tonight. How will I get to my language class tomorrow evening?

But that’s tomorrow! Today, there are blue skies...

Dressed, and the sky is still blue. Quick! Blow dry the hair and put on the face; lace up the boots and get out before...

No! First, let’s clean up this kitchen! Having done nothing yesterday, I had a bit of catching up to do.

And, as I was scrubbing my frying pan, I heard an insistent, frenetic tapping on the window behind me. Without so much as dimming the day’s light, the sky had become overcast and was furiously pelting little sleet balls!

So furiously were they being pelted that I could hardly see the building across the courtyard.

And then, the wind, not to be outdone was blowing the snow and sleet sideways! In a matter of minutes, everything was dusted in white.

I was astounded. I have witnessed all manner of severe weather, including three straight weeks of rain that put the city of Wuhan underwater. I’ve endured earthquakes, fires and winter storms, too, but usually those last longer than 20 minutes.

That is about how long this one lasted. A few menacing gusts of wind, a flock of flakes turning the world white...

And then the sun came out and the sky turned blue again!

The snow didn’t melt, though.

I felt my desire for a long walk evaporate. Actually, that’s not true: I still have a desire to walk but absolutely no desire to slip and fall on any ice.

Considering I had fallen and broken my arm in optimal weather conditions, I figured it would be just my luck to wipe out and incapacitate myself more than I already am in icy conditions.

My arm is doing much better even though I did not have the recommended surgery. Sometimes it still hurts and I cannot rotate my palm 180 degrees like an arm normally moves, but I have the use of it, if only in a limited capacity.

Besides, I had surgery on my leg when it broke nearly five years ago and still have pain and discomfort from it...

That leg and my sedentary job is why I make it a point to go walking. If I were to give up on that most basic of physical activities... I dread to think of a future as a complete invalid, which is how things would turn out.

Should I let a little bit of snow and sleet deter me from getting any exercise?

Yes! Yes you must, lest you fall again!

“Shut up, Coward!” I said to the inner me, donning my parka and gloves.

However, I did temporize: instead of walking to the mall, I would walk only to the corner grocery store. I had no dire grocery emergency but I did need a destination to walk to that would quell my inner coward’s fears.

Down the stairs; a snap – I’ve long gotten used to clomping up and down those five flights.

Onto the sidewalk and, lo and behold: it was as though no precipitation had crashed down at all!

Oh, wait... no, here’s a bit of ice and here, in this crevice...

It wasn’t until I had to cross the street that things started going badly. The asphalt was covered in glare ice, making my feet slip ever so slightly with each step but it wasn’t until I had crossed the road that I felt I would be unable to move any further. A panic attack was imminent.

Surely, there is no need for a play by play here or, should we say a step by step?

Suffice to say that it was a long argument with my inner coward; it lasted all the way to the store, in fact. Once there, I couldn’t find anything I needed or even wanted to buy but, by all the gods, I had gotten out of the house and braved the icy conditions!

Walking home... I should say stilting home because my legs were as stiff as stilts, I felt no sense of accomplishment or savage glee at having done something so innocuous as walking to the store without falling down and breaking another bone.

Rather, I spent my first few minutes back home wondering how in the world I would cope with greater, more persistent snowfalls, starting with the one predicted for later tonight.

Unbidden, the thought came that maybe Szczecin is not the place for me... 

I remember having  similar doubts in China at about the same time. Around three months in, I simply didn’t think I could hack living there and look what happened: an adventure that lasted seven years!

Now I have a whole new set of circumstances to deal with; am I going to let a bit of snow deter me?  

 

  

Continuing Observations...

Having recently discovered the website to buy train tickets in Poland, this week should have seen us exploring Gdansk. However, a spur of the moment invite from Dear Luisa put that plan on hold...

so I continue to report observations. They are not necessarily earthshattering but I find them amusing. Hopefully you will, too.

Dogs. Lots of Dogs

This city seems to be a dog loving place!

One can hardly walk anywhere without encountering members of the dog-loving population parading their pets.

Much to their credit, the animals all seem well cared for and very well behaved, trotting sedately alongside their masters: big dogs, small dogs; fluffy dogs and frisky dogs.

Some wear sweaters and some don’t; most seem well fed – a tad on the plump side, even. Once, I witnessed a woman breaking off chunks of carrot that her (pudgy) black lab was eagerly snapping up.

I wonder if those carrot treats (as opposed to biscuits) were given on the advice of a vet...

Curiously enough, I’ve found more vetrinarian offices here than human doctors.

Maybe because it is hard to mistake the word ‘vet’, combined with the fact that I wouldn’t yet know the Polish names of medical specialties well enough to recognise a human doctor’s office. Still, I can aver that pet doctors abound in this city!

Someone in our building has a dog who cries all day.

Typically, a dog will whimper and maybe howl for a few minutes after its owners’ departure and then settle in for a long nap.

This poor pooch wails... for hours!

I had occasion to meet this dog and his owner recently.

As I came down the last few stairs to the building’s foyer, a man squatted down in front of his dog, his back turned to me, stroking the animal and talking to it in gentle tones.

‘How nice!’ I thought; ‘man loves dog and dog loves man’. My thoughts about the poor pup crying all day turned a little more charitable... 

Man had misjudged how fast I might clear the stairs and make my way out. Thinking I was well on my way, he stood up... and the dog dashed around him, all bared teeth and ferocious growl.

Luckily, he was muzzled and still leashed! 

Still, it is evidently a much loved dog, as they all seem to be, here.

The Smoking Population

You would think that, after seven years in China, where people smoked everwhere, even in the hospitals!, I would hardly bat an eye at smokers.

Perhaps that would be true were it not for the fact that smoking is so very prevalent here. I find female smokers are especially remarkable, perhaps because so few females (openly) smoke in China.

There are even ultra skinny cigarettes meant for elegant women to smoke!

A telltale sign that smoking is ingrained into this culture is the public ashtrays. Remember those trash cans I reported were every 50 meters? Each one has a built-in cigarette end repository.

I’ve seldom seen one empty.

It’s an odd contrast: in the States, outside of larger cities (and even in larger cities), one can hardly spot pedestrians and woe to the one who dares light up outside of a designated smoking area!

Here, people (including me) go out walking for the fun of it – Szczecin is a very walkable city! They puff along as they stroll, carefully extinguishing their cigarettes in the provided ashtrays.

I’ve seen hardly any discarded cigarette ends on the ground. Is that because of the diligent street sweepers or conscientious smokers who only chuck their butts into the provided ashtrays?

Feeding the Pigeons

It is a rather iconic view in New York City: an old woman on a bench in Central Park, tossing birdseed for the pigeons flocking around her.

Admit it! You’ve seen that scene in more than one movie, right?

I’ve seen it too, in real-time, right here in Szczecin. What’s so odd about it is that 1. there are so many pigeons and 2. the number of people fighting to feed them.

On Bench 1: elderly lady with bag full of bird seed! Bench 2: beret-wearing gentleman smoking a cigarette, reaching into the shopping bag at his feet!

It is downright comical to see the pigeons flock from one part of the park to the other and back again as the competing feeders sprinkle ever more food.  

Perhaps it is the pigeons’ contribution to the war effort that compels elderly gents and ladies to feed these feral birds. Or maybe those people are just far more humane than my uncharitable mindset.

Because I live on the top floor of the building, pigeons like to try their luck roosting on my window sills. During the cold snap I was rather more kindly disposed toward them; why not let them absorb the heat my windows lose?

But then, they started squabbling on my window sill and streaks of droppings appeared on the windows themselves: an untenable situation!

Now, when a pigeon lands on my window sill, I throw a small bean bag at the window to startle it. Let them go roost in the park, where they get fed and cooed at daily. 

It’s YOUR Day!

Have I wished you happy New Year? If not, I apologize for the oversight. Please accept my belated greeting and best wishes!

New Year went off without a hitch but with plenty of fireworks. So many that it was hard to tell whether the haze hanging over the city was due to the explosives or the typical winter fog.

I marked the new year by buying a new wall calendar. Not exactly an earth shattering event but what I discovered was remarkable!

It seems that, in Poland, every day is dedicated to somebody. Alongside the date, my calendar features two or three given names: Alexandra, Piotr, Agnieska...

At first, I thought it was a fluke; something featured only on this expanded, elaborate calendar but, come to find out, it is actually endemic to the culture here to for each day to be dedicated to a handful of individual names.

It makes sense, when you think about it...

The Catholic religion dedicates each day to one or more saints: St. Catherine, St. Bartholomew... 

The Polish tradition originated from Catholic one – Poland is a deeply religious country, after all.

What’s curious about it is that, traditionally, Name Day is more celebrated than one’s own birthday! The phenomenon even has a name: imieniny. (pronounced ee-mee-eh-nee-neu).

I will celebrate my Name Day on February 13^th. Would you like to know when your Name Day is?

You should beware, though: some popular names have more than one day. Krystyna is celebrated no fewer than five times; poor Kasper only gets revered for one day.

Piotr takes the record: 36 times that name is celebrated! Woe to those who name their child Piotr; they would have to buy a lot of presents and cake!

I grant you, Poland in general and Szczecin in particular are not a crazy as China was but, by this accounting, there are still things to marvel over!   

Idiosyncracies of Polish People

Even though my social contact here is fairly limited – store transactions, language school and the odd evening out with friends, I feel relatively confident to report of some of the more idiosyncratic behavior demonstrated by the people here.

Now that I think about it, I had much more limited social contact during my first few months in China than I do here, and I was isolated on our school campus to boot.

In either case one can still exercise their powers of observation, whether there is any interaction or not. 

So, as I did in China, here, I observe behavior... some of which is quite remarkable.

Now, unremarkably, I report my findings so far.

A Pathological Fear of the Cold

Two months ago, while I was still running around in short sleeves and leggings, the locals were literally bundled to their eyelids: hats, scarves, thick jackets and gloves.

We’re not just talking about the children,  either. It was the adults, from the warmth of their packaging, eyeballing my strange attire that included none of those cold weather accoutrements.

Much like that kid on A Christmas Story who was so bundled up he couldn’t get up when he fell down, most people here wear so many layers I have to wonder how long it takes for them to get ready to go out of doors.

And, while we’ve had some cold, damp days, so far the temperature has stayed above freezing, at least during the day.

How are they going to manage when it really gets cold?  

I remain quite amused to see adorable bundles of Poles bobbing down the street.

A Pathological fear of Committing Misdeeds

The travel websites warn you and, should you have the great fortune of having a sponsor or a Luisa to caution you, you will know that jaywalking is a decided no-no that you should never engage in, even if there are no moving cars headed your way.

Littering is also frowned upon and I can certainly understand why: there are trash cans every 50 meters and on public conveyances; why would anyone throw trash anywhere but there?

It’s not like this is a police state; in fact, as opposed to China, I’ve hardly seen any CCTV cameras on the street or anywhere else.

Doesn’t mean they’re not there; just that I’ve hardly seen many.

Also unlike in China, there are plenty of emergency vehicle sirens here, but that’s a different story...

In fact, so liberal seems the climate here that one can board public transportation and theoretically get away with not paying for one’s ride – on all the trams and buses I’ve ridden, I’ve yet to be asked to show proof of fare.

Luisa could not use the ticket machine on board the tram we were riding because it was out of service.

As the train was trundling along, she could hardly exit the vehicle to find a ticket vendor, so the whole way to the next stop, she fretted and, when it stopped, she dashed off only to leap into another car, to try that machine.

 Fortunately, it was working. She paid her fare and rested easy until our stop.

You might think that Luisa is an isolated case of virtuous citizenry. Let me add that every single passenger I’ve seen either buys or validates their fare. I’ve yet to see anyone sneak a ride.

Maybe that is why I’ve not seen any ticket checkers...

Don’t get me wrong; there is debauchery here. Even during the day, there are drunks staggering around and, quite often one might see a shattered beer bottle (never wantonly discarded, always shattered; as though the owner were angry at its lack of contents).

There is also quite a bit of graffiti. We’re not talking Banksy-caliber here; this is just random vandalism with few stunning works mixed in.

Obviously, there is lawlessness here but it is far less obvious than it was in China.    

Especially with regard to traffic: here, everyone stops if you give just the appearance of wanting to cross the street – in the marked pedestrian stripes, that is.  Don’t you dare jaywalk! 

Fanatical Cleaners

I am pleased to live in a building that is well-maintained: cleaned at least every other day. Also, our courtyard is kept free of leaves by at least two people who raked them daily when leaves were falling.

Of course, there was that spell when we had high winds and the leaves kept falling as in a rain; still the leaf rakers were outside... until they gave up the task for the hopeless endeavor it was.

Everywhere I have gone, the cleanliness has been remarkable: street sweepers, custodians eternally ambulating around the mall, picking up any little smudge...

It’s not that the street sweepers in China weren’t trying but, like the leaf rakers here, it was a hopeless task!

Let me relate a conversation with the director of my language school:

“Yes, but on my day off, I have to clean my windows!”

Me: “But it gets dark outside at 3:30 in the afternoon; just close the drapes and no one will know the windows are dirty!”

Her: GASP! NO!!!

Here, things must be clean.

However, in contrast to the Chinese who would fairly levitate to avoid walking in a puddle, here, people seem to delight in splashing through them!

Which, I suppose, makes me an oddity here because I err on the side of the Chinese on this one. 

Rabid for Chocolate and Sweets

Aware of my privilege for the ability to buy any food I wish in any amount I desire – to say nothing of the fact that there is food to buy in the first place, I enjoy walking through grocery stores, just to see what is there.

Sharp images of impoverished stores in the Chinese countryside fresh in my mind, I often wonder what someone from such a desolate region would think if they saw the array and variety of foods in our city supermarkets...

I guess you could call it marking my territory; I spent the first few months here scoping out grocery stores, figuring out what stuff was and where I could buy the foods I might crave.

In every single grocery store I’ve browsed, there is at least one aisle dedicated entirely to chocolate bars, another to sweet snacks and candy and a third to baked goods: cookies and the like.

Usually, somewhere close, there are bins for bulk candy that you buy by the kilo.

China also had bulk bins but, alongside the candy, they also had seaweed and dehydrated veg; and let’s not forget the vacuum-packed chicken feet and tofu!

America has a fairly substantial selection of sweets too, and of the same variety: candy, chocolate and cookies but that country’s selection pales in comparison to the veritable wealth of sweets one is treated to here.

One more curious observation about grocery stores here: shortages – but not the kind others around the world must endure.

Shopping here is sometimes a ‘now you see it, now you don’t’ proposition.

Those delectable bacon chicken wraps I previously wrote about... now cannot be found. Ditto with stew beef, some brands of toilet paper and ***GASP!*** one of my favorite desserts. In fact, it seems the later in the day one shops, the barer the shelves.

I’ve even found gaping holes in the chocolate bar supply!

Such shortages are likely more a case of stock replenishment guidelines to prevent food waste rather than an actual food deficiency; but I don’t know enough about how such policies are formulated and implemented here to make any comment about it. 

I do know that shopping early is a good idea though... so is ending this article.

There is plenty more to comment on, that gives you another observational essay to look forward to!

Poland, Three Months In

Today marks my three month anniversary in Szczecin: time to take stock of where I am and how things are going.

On the good side:

Made nice friends, have a fine apartment in a nice neighborhood, close and convenient to everything.

On the iffy side:

Maybe I’ll get to stay here, maybe my stupid arm will start working better and maybe the sun will shine again.

It shone today in a slice of blue sky, but by the time I got up to stare out the window, it (and the slice of blue) retreated behind the seemingly perennial cloud cover.

That’s the quick version; now for the extended play.

People

Indeed, I keep on meeting nice people, Luisa and Ewelina being prime examples of such.

I should tell you that, when Luisa informed me, a while back, that Polish people tend to be rather abrupt, I didn’t quite believe her, exactly because everyone had been so nice.

Now I know better.

When my recently broken arm and I were on the bus and a rather large woman sat down next to me, I tried to communicate to her that my arm was in a cast and could she please not jostle it as she had been doing.

Not on purpose, of course. She kept fiddling with her purse and shopping bag. 

I didn’t know how to say please; all I did was show her the cast with a look of supplication on my face. I didn’t understand her words but her gestures were clear: I should just move to another seat... even though I had been sitting there before she came along!

Since then, I’ve had other rude interactions: with the gate guard at the post office and with a man who refused to get out of the way so I could get off a tram. By that time, I knew how to say ‘excuse me’ but he still wouldn’t move!

In the case of the gate guard, I didn’t understand anything he said but, like the woman on the bus, his tone and body language came through crystal clear.    

Obviously, learning the language will be a priority, if only so that I can stand up for myself when I get barked at.

Language lessons

For all of the languages I can speak, I have never taken a language lesson outside of high school – and I already knew the languages they were teaching!

So taking language lessons is a first for me.

I have trained as a language teacher and taught language lessons, so I have a rough idea how such things should go... but then, not every teacher has the same methodology.

I like my language teacher: she is smart, funny, pretty and personable. I don’t particularly care for her teaching style, though.

I will admit that I am perhaps not the easiest student to teach: always full of questions, trying to find connections – root words, conjugation, declensions...

Granted, we’ve had only 3 lessons and last session was the first time she assigned homework. As we’ve done no review of material studied in the previous lessons so far – just jumped right in to new material, I hope there will be at least some review from now on.

And pronunciation! A very difficult aspect of this language, but we’ve done no role play (the conversations in the textbooks) and no drills. Mostly, I end up repeating after the CD that came with the book... I could just do that at home, by myself!

Food

There are, ahem... some er... slurp gulp... tasty things to eat here; for one, the sheer variety of breads.

I have only tried a few breads and dishes.

By no means am I an expert on Polish cuisine, but there have been forays that I delight in telling you about.

The most popular side dish is a tangy pickled cabbage that so far, has been served with every meal out that I’ve sampled. Whether it features with every meal... according to my two friends, yes, it does.

The favorite snack food is called pasztecik, a deep-fried yeast-dough snack filled with either meat or veg and served with a side of clear borscht that I have yet to sample... so much food, so little stomach!

The second-fav seems to be the Doner kebap, which I’ve sampled plenty of.

Pizza here does not seem to have the punch I am used to: crispy crust, lots of cheese... I have only sampled 2 pizzas since I’ve been here and, while the occasions were memorable, the pizza seemed a little on the frugal side compared to past pizzas I have devoured.

I’ve mostly been cooking at home, to tell the truth. With my left arm incapacitated (and being a left-hander), I really didn’t want to embarrass myself by dribbling food down my front in every restaurant across Szczecin.

Also, I am trying to stick to a German diet: big meal at lunch, light breakfast and dinner.

Here, there is a large variety of sausages – including Polska kielbasa, in case you’re interested. Recently, I discovered these amazing bacon chicken wraps...

In short, no problems with food.

And if there were, I could always head to BK, Subway, McD or KFC! NOT!!!

Bureaucracy

I find officialdom in Poland to be at least as convoluted as in China, if not more so.

I’ve already told you all about the demands for documentation at the office of foreign affairs; now I share the other ones.

My first brush with bureaucracy involved the post office; their sending me a registered letter to inform me I had to pay customs duty on the meds I had ordered.

Once that was paid, a second letter informed me that the Lidocane shipped to me through the mail was a controlled substance that needed special permission for receipt.

Lidocane? I didn’t order any Lidocane!

Come to find out, it was about my thyroid meds again; they just wrote Lidocane on the letter.

This time they were requiring a special dispensation letter from the postmaster general in Warsaw, permitting me to receive my meds through the mail.

How was I supposed to get that???

And why did they charge me 288 Zloty customs duty before assuring themselves that I had the postmaster’s blessing to receive my meds?

No, they didn’t refund the customs fee.     

My next brush with bureaucracy was at the hospital, in consultation over my broken arm.

Indeed, it needs surgery. However, because I did not yet have insurance, I would have had to pay for the operation in full, out of pocket, before even being considered for surgery.

Money was not so much the issue as getting it here is; I can only withdraw so much from my stateside bank each day.

And insurance wasn’t going to help at this point; they all have a pre-existing condition clause that wouldn’t cover my arm.

Nevertheless, armed with insurance, I went back to the hospital two weeks later, on my appointed day. They told me I had to prepay for the appointment because I had no insurance.

They charged me 80 Zloty to tell me I needed surgery and I should really make arrangements... nothing else; not so much as removing the cast or taking a new X-ray.

The arm still works but it is now deformed. I am doing therapy on it by myself. It seems to be getting better, little by little.

How is Szczecin Working Out?

I have a (heated) place to live and food to eat. I have a bit of social contact and all of the solitude I need to get my writing done.

There is no bike riding yet. For one, my busted wing needs to heal better and for two, it is a bit cold and wet.

Walking is going better now that the vertigo has subsided. It helps that I have Nordic walking poles; they lend a bit of stability.      

There are plenty of buses to ride yet, but I’ve pretty much covered historic Old Town on foot – Szczecin is not a megalopolis.

Now I just have to find the castles and a few other landmarks!

I am hungry to travel; to board a train and go exploring but, with the uncertainty of my permanent stay here, I am reluctant to spend frivolously lest I have to relocate in a few months, should my visa not be approved.

I’ll admit I am not filled with wide-eyed wonder at the prospect of uncovering this country’s every secret like I was in China but I am privileged to live here... however long the stay may be.

All in all, I quite like it!

It’s Christmas in Poland!

This title is a rip off of John Prine’s song Christmas in Prison, a melancholic tale of a man who, through his wrongdoings, has ended up at the Big House and is describing the scene:

It was Christmas in prison and the food was real good!

We had turkey and pistols, carved out of wood...

He goes on to describe how much he loves and misses his lady and dreams of her every night.

I never did get how Dolly Parton’s Hard Candy Christmas, a song that has nothing to do with Christmas, has become a Christmas carol simply because of the word Christmas in the title, whereas John Prine’s tender, remorseful ballad, which is all about the myriad of emotions one tends to feel at Christmas gets virtually no airplay anytime of the year but especially not during Christmas.

Maybe she just had better representation...

But maybe... since, these days in America, radio stations start playing Christmas carols on Thanksgiving, they could squeeze that John Prine ditty in?

In any case...

It’s Christmas in Poland and the food is real good... 

That’s the topic for today.

I’ve not been here long enough or had much social interaction through which to learn Christmas traditions in Poland, so I will mostly have to resort to cultural anecdotes I’ve read to tell you all about Christmas doings here.

Entertainment

In the States, there are staple Christmas movies, from the classics – Wonderful Life/Miracle/Christmas Story, to the new-fangleds: Elf, the Santa Clause franchise and, of course, The Grinch!

And then, you have the Christmas Miracle Romance fodder...

In Poland, Home Alone is THE Christmas movie tradition.

One year, the TV stations planned on airing a different film for the holiday and met with such resistance from the general public that nobody ever tried to change it again.

Curiously enough, it appears that all foreign media, television shows as well as movies, are voiced over    by a single person with a deep, baritone voice.

He reads every character’s lines, both male and female, with no inflection. I find it a bit disturbing.

Furthermore, the original soundtrack is not muted so, even through his prattling, one can still hear the original characters shouting, sobbing or laughing.

No, he doesn’t laugh, either. I find that a bit disturbing too.

Singing

I’ve not heard anyone going about, singing any Christmas carols. I don’t even know if Poland has their own Christmas carols but, when I was out shopping for Luisa and Ewelina’s gifts, I heard George Michael’s Last Christmas over and over.

Just like in China, where Jingle Bells became the song of their season and blared from November till Lunar New Year...

Which is really ironic because Jingle Bells was never meant to be a Christmas carol; it was originally written in celebration of Thanksgiving!

House shoes

Here as in other countries I’ve lived in, the urbane host will offer any visitors house shoes with the intent that 1. the guests should feel at home, and 2. the guests will not soil the carpet with their (muddy, dirty or wet) shoes. 

A favorite gag gift in Poland is giving someone a pair of house shoes as a gift. I have no idea why.

Discovering that tidbit made me cringe because I had just gifted Ewelina a very cozy pair of house shoes during our gift exchange last week! At the time, I did not know this culture means them facetiously when gift wrapped.

Fortunately, I gifted Luisa candles. Those are not considered gag gifts anywhere in the world, I think.

Sharing the Christmas Wafer

Food is an integral part of the holiday celebration here, much as it is elsewhere in the world. However, after a day of cooking, just as the first stars are visible (or thought to be there, behind the cloud cover), the nuclear family gathers ‘round and, prior to gorging on the 12 dishes the table is groaning under, they share The Wafer.

Whilst partaking of it, all family members wish each other rains of blessings.

Why 12 dishes?

One for each apostle. Poland is a very religious country so they weave their beliefs into their holiday meals and celebrations.

Christmas eve will see the devout heading to church for Midnight Mass... after which more food is consumed.

The holiday lasts 3 days: one for nuclear family, one for extended family and one for distant relatives and friends so well thought of they may as well be family.

For me, it is quite an adjustment, coming from China, where nothing (stores, banks or post offices) closes, not even for their high holiday, to being here, where not so much as a convenience store will do any business for these three days.

Perhaps in bigger cities, but not something I found here: a Christmas market.

European Christmas markets are a sight to behold: food and goodies, music and cheer; artisan-crafted gifts for anyone you might not have found the right trinket for and glasses of warm mulled wine can be had for just a few coins.

Although the streets have pretty lighting; snowflakes and trees, there doesn’t seem to be an overabundance of decoration or expression of Christmas. And no Christmas market.

Dang, I was really looking forward to visiting the Christmas market, too!

Decorating the Tree

I read, on some trivia website not directly about Poland that Polish people decorate their Christmas trees with spiders: supposedly, they bring good luck.

However, this matter is in debate.

None of my few Polish contacts have affirmed that this is in fact the case, nor have I seen any spider decorations in any of the shop windows or ornament arrays for sale. Furthermore, all of the cultural information websites I haunt have said anything about it.

However, there is a Legend of the Christmas Spider, which quite niftily explains the origins of tinsel!

It’s Christmas in Poland and Christmas in many parts of the world.

Now you know a little bit about celebrations over here, and you have my best wishes for happiness, health and peace, to you and yours, this Christmas season.

Oh, and don’t forget to have a listen to that John Prine song!

   

Luisa and Ewelina

Well aware that I’ve been peppering my writings with these names – and not much else about them, I conclude it is high time to assure you that they are very real people; not figments of my imagination or fictional characters in this ongoing narrative.

Setting the Stage

For some people, it’s a new car: while waiting for loan approval, they buy all sorts of automobile accessories – seat covers, floor mats; maybe a vanity license plate or even fuzzy dice.

Does anyone even buy fuzzy dice anymore?

For others, a new home is the cause of their spending spree: new curtains, linens, dishes...

In either case, their major purchase occupies their every waking thought.

For me, it’s new adventures.

In the year leading up to my relocation, I dreamed, planned and educated myself on living in Poland, scouring websites for every bit of information I could find:

·         Careers in Poland is a treasure trove of information about living and working in Poland

·         Numbeo permits a cost of living estimate for just about any city you could think of

◦  This site also provides a by-city quality of life index and crime statistics!

·         Rent Flat Poland provides real estate listings in select cities

·         Poland unraveled presents socio-cultural aspects of life in this country

·         Of course, Superprof has Polish tutors to help your language learning get off on the right foot!

When I first started speculating on Szczecin (among other reasons, because Numbeo indicated the cost of living was so low!), naturally, an apartment search was the first order of the day.

Rent Flat turned out some pretty cute and very affordable apartments.

Good! Check that off the list!

Just like new car buyers who cruise past the car lot while waiting for financing arrangements or new homeowners returning again and again to their prospective neighborhood prior to their closing date, in idle moments, I kept loading that apartment page, checking what was available for rent and picturing myself there.

And then, one day, there were no listings for Szczecin! Other cities, sure... just not the one I was planning to live in.

The great part of this type of lifestyle is flexibility. If there is no place to live in the city of my choice, then I should simply choose another city, right?

Except for the fact that I have a direct flight into Szczecin...

OK, plan B: search for apartments specifically in Szczecin – and that’s how I ran across . Everbest Realty

With just days left stateside and not quite believing my luck, I emailed ‘them’ my arrival date and what I was looking for.

‘They’ answered!

Admittedly, the response was rather abrupt, but then, I had read somewhere that Polish business culture is rather brusque.

I answered Ewelina’s questions in my reply, and then boarded the plane to Poland.

By then I could replace ‘they’ with an actual name because she had accidently sent me an email (in Polish) meant for another client. She urged me to pay no attention to it... as though I could have understood it!

She also urged me not to come to Poland until she’d found me suitable quarters... too late; here I am!

First Meeting

On my first morning here, making use of the hotel’s WIFI, I located a T-Mobile store (purely brand familiarity at play, I assure you!), and then searched for the realty office.

I was pleasantly surprised to find them both with walking distance of my temporary quarters.

I was not pleasantly surprised to not find the T-Mobile store but I did get to meet the very nice Alina, a representative of Orange telecommunications mentioned in a previous blog.  

I was also not happy to have located Everbest only to find the door locked and the lights off. But then, that gave me a chance to eat one of the best Doner Kebaps ever!

For those not in the know: a Doner is shaved meat (beef, chicken or, traditionally, lamb) tucked inside a  crusty pita type of flatbread, topped with lettuce and minced onions and a savory yogurt sauce.

As a teenager in Berlin, a Donerr was my favorite treat!

Here, they taste slightly different but this particular one was sublime – and large I could hardly finish it.

Groaning with a full gut, I went back to Everbest and, lo and behold: someone was there!

When I entered the office, a  brown-eyed pixie with lustruous long hair peered over the loft railing at me. I introduced myself and recalled our email conversation.

Now beaming, her full mouth smiling wide, she came downstairs, ushered me in and introduced me to Luisa – truly a woman to be in awe of.

Where Ewelina is gamin-cute and bubbly – but a total professional, Luisa is drop-dead gorgeous: slim, relatively tall, with long hair and eyes that eat up her face; eyes outlined by mile-long, flawless lashes.

Me: large, bumbling, awkward... these two beauties could have made me feel uncomfortable but, through their charm and grace, I immediately felt a part of them. Indeed, it wasn’t long before we were laughing together.   

Here they are, blowing kisses...

 

Building a Friendship

I admit to a touch of unintentional arrogance at showing up in their office with the imperative of finding an apartment in the five days I had temporary lodgings already paid for. After all, I had no idea what formalities apartment rental in Poland entailed.

Turns out that realtors for both parties must be in agreement to lease but, before agreement could be finalized, there must be a prospective renter screening and checking with landlords to verify that the renter is suitable.

Without considering my fault at all, Luisa and Ewelina jumped through hoops: combing their listings, calling landlords and even other agents to see if they might have a suitable property available.

Through their efforts, in short order, I was settled in my pok, eaten up with remorse.

I had no idea whether such quick leasing was the norm or due to my gentle yet firm pressuring but I thought some sort of recompense was due.

A thank you text was sent; it included an offer for dinner. Whether I would cook it or we would meet out – or even if there would be such an event would be their choice.

And so, a friendship was born.

Getting to Know You...

Our first outing was to a pizza joint, and we were minus Ewelina – because she leads a busy life; not because she didn’t want to be there.

Luisa and I talked for hours: about men and relationships, traveling and life in general. I was shocked to discover she is the same age as my daughter! In appearance, attitude and demeanor, she seems 10 years younger.

Ewelina joined us on the next outing. She is not as confident as she could be with regard to her English skills so Luisa sat between us, interpreting.

I got to pick the next restaurant where we spent our third evening together again chattering and laughing. I was pleased to note that Little Ewelina, as I think of her, is growing more confident in her language skills.

She is ‘Little’ because she is the youngest of our group and also the smallest, not because of any immaturity or lack of intellectual development.

In fact, I am quite impressed to know that Luisa holds a Masters’ degree in Economics and Ewelina trained as a lawyer: clearly, these two are not fluffy, flighty women!  

And they are so warmhearted and generous, with their knowledge and with their time!

Through them, I was able to get health insurance and find a clinic to address any health concerns I may have.

When the foreign affairs office plagued me with their demands for documentation, they helped me secure it.

And, on our last outing, they were sure to remind me to buy extra food because all stores would be closed for three days for Christmas.

We also exchanged Christmas gifts! Below you can see one of my fav pics of us on the coffee mug they gifted me.  

It has been and continues to be my pleasure to get to know Dear Luisa and Little Ewelina (‘dear’ is capitalized in the same sense that ‘little’ is).

In spite of the broken arm that continues to trouble me and deep concern for my dear ones stateside who have their own health battles, Ewelina and Luisa continue to enrich this living adventure.

How lucky I am to know them!

We’re Off to Waly Chrobrego!

This title should be sung to the tune of We’re Off to See the Wizard!, and for pretty much the same reason.

In the classic Oz tale, The Wizard purportedly grants every heart’s desire and Dorothy’s wish to go home.

I am looking for a place to call home and, in today’s culture of nationalistic fervor, am finding it an exercise in frustration to unravel all of the red tape surrounding the protocol for obtaining permission to live here beyond the 90-day visa free stay that any American passport holder is entitled to.

For one, the website detailing how a foreigner goes about legitimizing his/her stay here was exceedingly hard to find.

And then, once it was found, it emphasized that all documents must be filled out in Polish – and here, I was once again confronted with the fact that translation software has a way to go before being completely accurate.

I am very fortunate in that I have someone to advocate for me and would strongly advise anyone seeking residence in Poland to do the same.

The first time we went to the office of foreign affairs, located on Wały Chrobrego, we were dismayed to discover that 1. one must take a number to wait one’s turn and 2. all of the numbers for that day had already been given out. 

We were there at 8AM; you can imagine how early one must show up in order to get a number and surely must realize that, once a number had been secured, the possibility of a day-long wait was not out of the question.

Suddenly, the vending machines in the lobby made a lot of sense.

Disappointed to have gotten up and out so early for nothing, we nevertheless inquired what would be required of us on the day that we would secure one of those coveted numbers. We were told a properly filled out application and all supporting documentation should ensure success at having one’s application accepted for review.

We note here that no one is granted a visa on the spot; candidates are conditionally approved pending a criminal background check from Interpol and verification of all support documentation.

Said documentation posed a problem because nowhere is it indicated exactly which documents are required – or, more specifically, which ones will inch you closer to approval.

And the application packet, all 38 pages of it, also raised issues.

Being self-employed and honest as the day is long, to the question Foreigners Means of Subsistence While in Poland I responded (in my best Google Translate) that I am self-employed.

As for my marital status... as a longtime divorcee, I reasoned I could label myself as single – again, I was wrong!

Both of those issues came to light when we returned to that magnificent building and actually managed to snag a number!

The clerk reviewing my application packet averred that my chances for approval would be so much better if I billed myself as a student and enrolled in a language school (and included a copy of my school contract to substantiate that claim).

She further advised that I need to include my most recent bank statement and photocopy every single page in my passport that held any kind of travel stamp.

She also chastised me for omitting the time I came through Warsaw airport, in transit, on my way to Germany on my application – yes, there is a line where supplicants must write in the exact dates they have previously visited Poland.

I’ve never visited Poland; I only changed airplanes here!

Wait a minute; I’m getting ahead of myself: there is the issue of the money order to talk about.

On our second visit to the foreign affairs office – we’d yet to see or speak with anyone official, we intended to pay the application fee first thing, because the application demanded attachment of that remittal.

So, we queued up at the cashier’s window, where we were informed that they don’t accept those payments. The cashier directed us to the nearest post office, instructing us to buy a money order from them. 

Now the quandary: should I pay the higher price for a visa plus work permit or pay the lower price for the residence visa without a work permit?

We had intended to ask the cashier, thinking s/he surely must know bur now, that’s not an option!

I reasoned: err on the side of caution and pay the higher price. After all, I am working, even if I am self-employed.

My representative filled everything out and, by this time fairly fed up with things, we opted to mail the application packet in.

That turned out to be the wrong choice.

An hour after leaving the post office I was urged to return there and retrieve the registered letter we had just consigned to their care.

Apparently, the same standards do not apply here as they do in the states: there are no laws here regarding the sanctity of the mail – once you give the USPS your letter they will see it delivered. Here, you can ‘buy’ your mail back from the post office for a small fee!   

A small fee that I gladly paid because, as my advocate explained, she had contacted the foreign affairs office and managed to arrange a preliminary interview, scheduled for next week!

Naturally, we wanted everything to be perfect so we met over the weekend, to go over the application and supporting documentation.

That is how we managed, on this third trip to that office, to walk in with confidence: we KNEW everything would be in order!

That is when the officer recommended I sign up for language lessons, provide bank statements, photocopy every single stamped page in my passport, get a refund on the more expensive money order and buy one for the lower visa fee... 

And she’ll see us again the following week.

At the outset of this venture, I had bought a printer. Although there is a print shop right around the corner from my pok, I have neither the language skills nor the patience to continuously run there every time I need something printed or scanned.

I have printed out that 38-page application four times, along with my Polish bank statement, American bank statement, Paypal statement (to show how much money I had coming in this month) and even my Thrift Savings Plan statement... they wanted to know about my financial situation, right?

I also scanned and printed 15 pages of my passport including the data page, my birth certificate, my rental agreement and my health insurance contract.

Could you imagine handing all of that to your local Kinko’s clerk for him/her to print out?

Once again, on a chilly Monday morning, heading to Wały Chrobrego, and again the depletion of my now very thick file.

All of my carefully collected and painstakingly curated documents, scattered on her desk. As she chats with my advocate in Polish, pointing out problem areas – still!, she starts entering my particulars into her computer.

Soon, the fingerprint scanner lights up, indicating I should present my index fingers for imaging.

Now she is gluing one of the four required passport photos to the first page of my application.

I had included my parents’ last names on the form; it should only have been their first names. She scribbles through my error and requests I initial those marks. A couple more mistakes get the same treatment and I legitimize those corrections with my initials.

The whole time, she is talking and talking, typing and typing.

And then, she gets up, unlocks a massive cabinet and returns to her desk with the largest stamper I have ever seen. It makes quite a noise as, centered over a blank page in my passport, its printhead guarantees my legal status here, pending the Interpol green light.

Finally getting that stamp should have been a cause for celebration but we’re putting that off until the foreign affairs office is finally satisfied that I’ve met my burden of proof in establishing my authenticity.

Among the new requirements: proof that my landlady actually owns the apartment I am renting, official confirmation of my account from the bank and a copy of the bank draft indicating I have actually paid for the first month of language lessons.

I cannot imagine how anyone makes it through this system unaided, whether they speak Polish or not.

Remember: I have an advocate who is Polish and still, it took us several tries to get things right.

What strikes me about those onerous requirements is that most of them should, by all rights, fall to the government official who will eventually certify my application.

After all, how is any random citizen, let alone a foreigner, to navigate bureaucracy in order to verify their landlord’s property ownership? What if I were renting from a management company???

My advocate explained: so poorly compensated are government workers that they tend to quit in droves, leaving those offices chronically understaffed – meaning that they cannot run all of the required checks. That leaves us hapless supplicants to bear that almost impossible to meet burden.

I was very fortunate to be able to meet mine because I had a lot of help. Now i’ve got to wait 5-6 months for the disposition of my case... but for now, I am legal in Poland!