On this day we were jealous. You have Monarchy, we have chaos.
I was so pleased with how positive it all was. All the people on the streets were just nice, calm, happy. I think something very important about the people here was shown – the warm, sunny side. I love that part of you.
I think I need to go to Japan and master this Diplomacy level:
‘How is / was the cultural shock? What are the main differences with your home country?
The culture shock of living in Japan can be quite severe at times and it can be especially stressful if you are the only foreigner in your countryside town. I have coped fairly well it during my time here but I found the first year quite difficult at times. I suppose the main difference that becomes apparent is that Japanese people are not very direct or confrontational. This means you need to find a new way to communicate with colleagues and friends and that can become quite frustrating. It’s important to be patient and control your temper as you’ll just look like an ignorant fool if you don’t. Also, whilst Japanese people are not openly racist, they can be mildly xenophobic at times. A lot of the people here see the world as merely Japanese versus foreigners (called gaijin). It can become tiring and insulting when you are constantly made out to be different or are dismissed and not taken seriously in some matters.’
I was listening to the BBC two days ago, there was an interview with a comedian. He said that if you go to the North people are so proud of not laughing at jokes that every single comedian ‘dies’. They even throw beer mats at them.
So yes – you go on the internet and if you are fluent in English you can read all about how Poles are Anti-Semitic, racist, staring at you, etc – however, all those slurs are in English and describe what is happening in England. It just gets pushed down on Poland. I know all this because I live in England and can see for myself.
If I were black I would probably develop a strong insecurity about this but I only came to England AFTER learning from the English sources that Poles are racist. Wow, I thought, that must mean that all is rosy and mellow in England. But then I really came here and saw with my eyes. I can vouch for one thing – nobody lies better than the English.
I would probably still develop a strong complex, if I didn’t see how poor all those people are. It’s actually natural that working class in rural England has never seen a foreigner before, are a little afraid of us, still believe that sushi is raw fish and other such rural pleasantries. So I don’t really mind them much – except that Rugby is 90% full of underclass lords and ladies who know better what things are.
And they are not racist! Never! In fact when they talk to me they immediately turn to telling me that they don’t mind Poles, because Poles are working. How considerate. I bet that must be something like in a small post-PGR village in Poland, only of course England is better and has no PGRs (but plenty of allotments). The question is then – if England is rich and has no PGRs, where do all the English peasants come out of?
The other parasol in under attack these days.
I used to have two parasols, but now I only have one – the other one miraculously fell over in such a way that it broke in half. It must be that the wind had the key to the backyard. Either the wind or D.’s used his double bin to bang really hard against the parasol. I won’t know.
D doesn’t like me lately. I’ve been trying to put his bin out of my backyard, but I’ve foolishly let him keep it there a year ago, so I’m done in. I’ve changed my mind last summer when the neighbor mentioned the flies and smell from all the organic rubbish in D’s bin – after which of course I’ve started to notice and it started bothering me. So what I’ve done was to roll it out and leave by his place, hoping the hint will be enough. WRONG! He came by with WRATH in his voice. Actually shouted at me for keeping his bin out of my backyard. What can you do? I didn’t really know, so I kept all the nerve I could muster. Yes, it smells, yes, the guy upstairs mentioned it, yes, I rolled it out. Didn’t help. The bin is still in my yard, and my parasol is broken. And I’m called ‘spiteful’.
I don’t think I like the guy either, not since last summer when his wife was pregnant. He used to come over here and say ‘Anna, come on, I’ll buy you a drink, my wife is not feeling well’. Hard to comment on that – the woman was out of order, apparently, and I’m expected to cheat, apparently, what’s the big deal anyway?
Oh, and I don’t find it remotely funny when D with pupils so wide I could perform brain surgery through the iris lets me know that he put a leftover roll of paper in the loo for me to pick out. Not funny.
If not his singling me out for those pastimes, I would be sorry for him – people fight at his place and he’s fed up with them. I understand why he’s curious about Poles ‘here’ too (though a little insensitive for a Jamaican). He’s a nice guy. If I was a guy, I’d be his friend.
BUT – something needs to be done about the bin.
All I needed to see to understand the English was an American cartoon.
Have you seen Rango already? The part that spoke to me was all the little aminals strugling against their hardships, looking for something to believe in, not having a clue what to do, but ready to fight for something. An I thought about the facial expressions as well – how all those little animals are made after the faces in everyday popular newspapers, with their guitless, uncertain, misunderstanding, challenging vulnerability.
I think they were captured perfectly, all those everymen, the Baldricks, and that the kindness in this capturing was the most important feature. I think that kindness towards those Baldricks is the key to England, explaining the enclaves, benefit systems, teenage pregnancies and little traditional cafes. And I think that the misunderstanding of it, or misappropriation, is the reason why there is a split society. The new people, cool kids, no longer understand their obligation towards the Baldricks, they strive to receive the kindness themselves rather than give it. An on top of it all there come swaths of really foreign foreigners and make this unresolved conflict unsoluable, or at least more awkward than it already was.
And I thought that the dislike was political.
That was a real eye opener. I’ve never before met that kind of people – this whole ex-pat business is way less entertaining and more educating that I had hoped for.
I met Tomek who doesn’t really speak the language so he works for other Poles only. His wife communicates in writing only, even if she goes to the doctor’s.
I met Sławek who’s doing an NVQ even though he has a Bachelor’s in IT, because his English is so weak that he’s not even applying for an IT job.
I met Magda who signed up for a New Look store card and did not read the documentation. Now she’s got an unpaid annual charge set against her credit history, a source of much distress. She want’s to call New Look and explain herself somehow.
All those people have their long stories to tell me. All those stories are about how they were hurt by life. Black, bleak, poor and sad stories.
They are in some aspects similar to your English poor people – for example they don’t want to keep or give privacy, instead they try to familiarise themselves with anyone - as hard as if they were fighting for independence. I hate that trait in the English and now I’ve found it in the Polish as well. Not pleased.
Time for some brooding.
polkaontheisland.
RP article
Cursed Soldiers on wiki
I’m glad that this is being remembered, in spite of what various leftist twats might puke out of their systems – soldiers and partisans who were still fighting in 1963 must be honoured and remembered. Fifteen years on into the system like in Philip Dick’s worst nightmare, Polish partisans were still fighting on. Way to go! And the guy who personally purged the forests out of the AK, was the young heir Jaruzelski in his black shades – after he came back from the Soviet land much changed.
another pearl brought to me by my admin counter.
What a complicated thing! I imagine most of the times that I could be liked for me, obviously, or appreciated etc. Then again one doesn’t want to be prideful.
If somebody is looking for a generalisation like ( ‘liking Italians for their shoes’ etc… if it makes your life easier, I think the good qualities of us Poles are those:
-we look in the eyes
-we like to try (even if we fail)
-we like to have a group of pals, so there’s definitely room for YOU in some group or other
-we try to be very very specific when talking (although most times end up jumping around the topic to secure the facts)
-most are modest (gotta be, or have no friends at all)
Why would we be disliked?
-the digressing part is so big that we just blather
-a lot of us would rather not come to a meeting than displease somebody by telling straight away they don’t want to come
-the groups are a good hideout for people who don’t feel courageous at the moment, so we clutch to them too much
-most of us don’t know when the party is over
I was told once that a Greek guy named Schola invented school. But anyway, Jagiello’s wife, Hedvig, opened the University in Krakow called Jagiellonian. It’s very old, traditional and boring – just what the geeks and nerds love best.
The story is here: Akademia
As Luke observes, the family behaves far worse than expected. They don’t call, they don’t write, and it’s not like e-mails are so damn expensive, right?
Luke’s experiment of waiting for them to call laster 3 months! Enough for the corpse to decompose before the familia starts looking for him. My own experiment was something closer to a month. I would be still identifiable. That’s so much better.
