TASHY TRAVELS
Every Sunday, I am going to upload a post about the different countries I have visited and/or lived in since 2002.
I can assure you of some interesting stories.
POLAND - PART TWO
I lived in Poland from March 2002 until March 2004. I wrote regularly about my time there and I have decided, as the first of my travel blogs, to split
all these writing into 4 parts, which will appear weekly from 4 September 2016.
This second post takes you up to Christmas and shows the different way countries celebrate.
22 December 2002.
The last Sunday before Christmas and I am off to the shops to see what’s in store. To be honest, the shops in Poznan could be almost anywhere in the
western world. And walking down the various streets in Poznan, there is not a great difference from being home in England, especially my time in the suburbs of
London. The nice thing is that there is a fair amount of open space available and, even in winter, people make full use of it.
I have noticed that people in Poland seem to have fewer pets than the people in England. Certainly you rarely see anyone taking their dog for a walk.
Those few that do have to adapt to the conditions. In the cold weather you need to improvise so that little Fido, or Rover, or little wedrowiec as he may
be known, doesn’t get his tiny paws cold when he wanders around doing his little lapy of the park. I am now trying to be clever in two languages, which may
not work but should be admired.
I wonder whether other languages do have such things as puns. The motto, which we set up for our project, “Together – Peace by Piece”, doesn’t really translate.
I suppose if I ever did learn another language, unlikely, and then start to write in it, very unlikely, then my wit, or attempts at wit, would be even more unlikely;
their loss, I’m afraid. This may not be a majority view.
Talking of majority views, there are a number of foreign students in Poznan so it is possible to meet up with groups of people for whom English is the first r
ather than a second or third language. Most of the Americans I have met will claim that Polish women are the most beautiful in the world. They claim this is an
objective comment; I’m afraid anything I said would be highly subjective, although in total agreement. Certainly the young people would appear to have lifestyles,
and indeed opportunities, at least the equal of the young in the Europe they are about to join. I now have to ask, if this statement was correct why did so many
head off to England as soon as the opportunity arose although I did read that now, 2016, some are heading back and we are no longer in the EU
But there are still parts of Polish life which go back several decades. Each of the apartment blocks around where I live, and there are over 100 of these
blocks each containing at least 40 apartments, has its own rubbish area. Contained within a concrete shed-like structure, the large skips are emptied daily but
not just by the city council. All through the day, as rubbish is deposited, you can find people, usually in the older age range, sifting through the rubbish for
glass bottles, cardboard or anything else they can find and then sell on. Often, they will then place the items into an old pram and set off for the next shed.
I said all day but I have noticed on some of my nocturnal journeys that there are people with torches peering into the rubbish. Now in our so-called
civilised society, certainly in England, we have recycling containers for all manner of things and, let’s face it, this is all these people are doing. My
initial reaction when I saw it was how could they do this, it’s not very pleasant. But then I heard these old folk chatting away as they searched and I realised
that maybe, just maybe, we have got it wrong. I couldn’t do the work of a surgeon, a fisherman, a butcher; all far too unpleasant, but these people recycling the
rubbish actually have a purpose in their lives. Find rubbish, sell it on, make money and live. Not my choice but something. In England at the moment there is much
talk of working past the so-called retirement age. Why? What is a retirement age? It’s only a convention invented by people. You can, if you want, take your
pension at fifty but why retire? Nice to see now I am past retirement age, I practice what I preached.
I remember the old rag-and-bone man, I could take a pension and retire if I wanted, and he had a purpose to his life and that is what these people, without
a cart and, if I remember correctly a “Hercules”, are doing. It’s all very well having all the containers for blue glass, red glass, smoked glass, plain glass,
paper, cardboard, clothing, Edwina Currie books etc and locating them in household tips which you can drive too. But this is better. What’s wrong with letting
people collect it. It gives them work. I’m not convinced that modern life is so much better and in Poland with its small shops, the equivalent of rag-and-bone
men and their education system, and maybe more to come, I think I have some proof for my concerns.
There is also, at the end of the apartment blocks, a large metal structure which looks not unlike the asymmetric bars in gymnastics. But no, it’s another
way that people make a small living round here. Men and women, and sometimes children, will offer to take your carpet, place it on the asymmetric bars and beat
the living daylights out of it. Not everyone has a Hoover. Of course, this isn't so easy with fitted carpets.
24 December 2002.
The most important day in the Christmas holiday for the Polish people. The day is called Wigilia. I have noticed that Christmas in Poland is still
basically a religious family event and not the vast commercial enterprise it is in England and probably America too. In fact, watching, as I do, Sky News,
I notice the question that keeps being asked is have we spent enough to keep retailers happy? Well, if we have, why are they manipulating us all to spend
even more by having January sales. And surely that is not the major question at this time of year; that should be do we really know why we are celebrating,
in the Christian world if there is such a place, this festival? As I write this I am watching the Christmas Mass at the Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem
and I know one answer.
We have our small tree, lovingly, but sparingly, decorated and we have a feeling of love and peace. Have you? I have been into the centre of Poznan quite
a lot in the past days. The trees there, ordinary trees not any special Christmas ones, are draped with lights and they look so effective. There are other
trees lit up as well and little Santa’s and trees decked out in lights on buildings all over the city. Apartment blocks have a few lights in their windows
but still, as I said before, I have yet to see the over lit, almost gory homes, which spring up in England. Christmas just steals over Poland, softly,
religiously, and meaningfully. And there is snow on the ground and that is really winter, really Christmas.
Tonight, I had my first traditional Polish Christmas dinner. Christmas Eve is the big time in Poland and it all starts with a meal although nothing happens
until you see the first star in the sky. (I never thought to ask whether Christmas is delayed in cloudy conditions). There are twelve or thirteen dishes
served and each one is to represent the four corners of the earth. There are fruits from the orchards, fish from the lakes, grain from the fields and mushrooms
from the forests and the ingredients are all put together into these twelve dishes. We ended up with fried carp, herrings in oil, herrings in vinegar, herrings
in sour cream, shredded cabbage with peas, shredded cabbage with mushrooms, shredded cabbage with white kidney beans, potatoes, mushroom soup, borsch or fish
soup, mini rolls filled with cabbage and mushrooms and a mixture comprising poppy seeds with walnuts, raisins, almonds, orange peel and sugar or honey and
bread soaked in milk.
The idea is that you eat a little bit of everything but some taste better than others. I must admit I do not have this Polish love of cabbage or herrings so
I was a little limited in my intake. I must also point out that I had first met the carp a few days earlier when I went to the toilet. There they were swimming
around in the bath. This was not in our flat as I might have noticed them arriving. I was told it was not unusual to buy the carp early and then keep them in the
bath until needed but no one had thought to warn me or the carp.
The table is often set for one more person than will be there to allow for those departed during the year. After the meal, presents were exchanged; a far more
modest affair than I have been used to of late. Then I was taken to the local church, Catholic of course, where a mass was taking place. Another quaint Polish
habit, maybe elsewhere too but I had never known it before, shortly before the communion everyone turned and exchanged a greeting or held hands with the person
next to them.
And then back home to bed and no reason to wait for Santa for my present.
25 December 2003
I've jumped forward a year and this year Christmas Eve was celebrated in exactly the same traditional Polish way but Christmas Day took on a distinctly
English feel. Our new web designer, an Englishman also living in Poland, had decided to cook a typical English Christmas dinner for his wife’s family on Boxing
Day. Not wishing to be outdone, and wanting to be first, I decided to do this on Christmas Day. It was intended to be for five people. Eventually 10 turned up.
They all sat down to Roast Turkey, Stuffing (home made as Paxo wasn’t available), Bread Sauce (home made as – you’re getting the hang of this now aren’t you?),
roast potatoes and parsnips and carrots and a few more trimmings. Then they had Christmas pudding (home made because – need I say more), brandy sauce and a mince
pie (with the mincemeat home made because – I have said more). Later that night they had a piece of Christmas Cake (home-made because – I like them that way).
I think everyone enjoyed it but we didn’t have Christmas crackers because I couldn’t buy any and a friend of ours who came over from England a few days before
Christmas had his box of crackers confiscated at the airport. They were apparently a threat, and that was before they read the jokes inside. The web designer’s
Christmas dinner on Boxing Day was a similar success (we English are an adaptable lot) although, due to some virus that was going around, it would be best, if you
meet him, that you don’t bring it up. He did but everyone else was OK.
Last year, on Christmas Day, we had gone out into the country to see the family with whom we had filmed an episode for one of the programmes we made. Now,
strap your self into your seats fellow Englishmen, because we caught a train on Christmas Day. Running. On time. Through snow. Possibly virgin snow as this may be
the correct type and no-one got in a pickle (ah it’s close)
When we arrived, our hosts still had their Christmas table laid out with the food they had prepared for Wigilia. They told us to help ourselves whenever we
liked. I did. I think there was still some left a couple of days later when we left. I do remember sitting around the table one evening after some of their friends
had arrived with half a pig. The shops were miles away. They were all having a good sing-song and very few spoke English. Suddenly they asked me to sing them
something in English. I don’t why but John Denver’s “Poems, prayers and promises” came to mind and off I went. I hope I was in tune because they couldn’t
understand the words. They all applauded at the end and I stayed in the country for a few more months so I guess it was OK.
There were so many amazing things about their house. It was at least a mile from any other dwelling. It was hundreds of years old. The inside walls didn’t
really meet the roof and some of the walls were just sheets hung from the beams. And, outside it was covered in snow; just as it should be at Christmas.
We went for a walk across snow covered fields, slid around on a small frozen pond and, generally, had a great time.
So that was it. You now have a view on a Christmas in Poland; in fact two Christmases spent here. In future I may be somewhere else but I would just like to
say thank you to all my new Polish friends who have made it all such fun for me and have accepted me into their lives. If I had a spare ten years I might
try and learn their language but, as my old French master knows, it took me that long not to learn French and I only passed the exam with a great deal of
luck. For those of you who know the story it was luck; cheating is deliberate. Maybe one day I will tell the rest of you about it, if enough people ask.
Written now
OK, I will tell you now. I failed French “O” level the first time and the second time and the re-sit, in November, was not in my school
but in nearby Camden Town Hall. There were, I recall, about 100 or so of us virgin failures sat in about six lines of desks, stretching down the hall. I was a
shy young man and was pretty horrified to discover I was at the front of one of the middle rows.
The first part of the exam was in two parts. First you had a dictation to write out and then you were read a story and you had to re-write this in your
own words to show you could understand the language. This was called, I think, the aural. As the exam started the invigilator chose to stand right in front
of me. My little hands shook, I probably blushed, my heart started racing and he announced he would begin. I looked up at him and suddenly noticed that on
the other side of the paper he was reading from, was the next part of the exam; the aural.
I then attempted to perform something akin to a biathlon, only skiing and shooting simultaneously. As I desperately tried to write out the dictation,
I was also copying the words from the story. I left a line between each line of dictation and copied the story into the spaces. He never looked down to see
why I was writing twice as much as he was saying and so when the dictation ended, we were given time to re-write it, I was ready to listen to the story but
had my own version already. Now he could have easily gone and stood somewhere else to read the story but it would appear my aftershave had some hypnotic appeal
and he simply turned the paper over and began reading the story. I don’t remember if we could make notes but I do remember I listened to none of it as I was
trying to memorise the dictation which now faced me. Needless to say I passed and now possess a French “O” level. I do not consider I cheated; I think I was
extremely enterprising and also pretty smart and it’s bloody hard work listening to one thing, reading another, writing down one of them and copying the other,
all at the same time.
The last Sunday before Christmas and I am off to the shops to see what’s in store. To be honest, the shops in Poznan could be almost anywhere in the
western world. And walking down the various streets in Poznan, there is not a great difference from being home in England, especially my time in the suburbs of
London. The nice thing is that there is a fair amount of open space available and, even in winter, people make full use of it.
I have noticed that people in Poland seem to have fewer pets than the people in England. Certainly you rarely see anyone taking their dog for a walk.
Those few that do have to adapt to the conditions. In the cold weather you need to improvise so that little Fido, or Rover, or little wedrowiec as he may
be known, doesn’t get his tiny paws cold when he wanders around doing his little lapy of the park. I am now trying to be clever in two languages, which may
not work but should be admired.
I wonder whether other languages do have such things as puns. The motto, which we set up for our project, “Together – Peace by Piece”, doesn’t really translate.
I suppose if I ever did learn another language, unlikely, and then start to write in it, very unlikely, then my wit, or attempts at wit, would be even more unlikely;
their loss, I’m afraid. This may not be a majority view.
Talking of majority views, there are a number of foreign students in Poznan so it is possible to meet up with groups of people for whom English is the first r
ather than a second or third language. Most of the Americans I have met will claim that Polish women are the most beautiful in the world. They claim this is an
objective comment; I’m afraid anything I said would be highly subjective, although in total agreement. Certainly the young people would appear to have lifestyles,
and indeed opportunities, at least the equal of the young in the Europe they are about to join. I now have to ask, if this statement was correct why did so many
head off to England as soon as the opportunity arose although I did read that now, 2016, some are heading back and we are no longer in the EU
But there are still parts of Polish life which go back several decades. Each of the apartment blocks around where I live, and there are over 100 of these
blocks each containing at least 40 apartments, has its own rubbish area. Contained within a concrete shed-like structure, the large skips are emptied daily but
not just by the city council. All through the day, as rubbish is deposited, you can find people, usually in the older age range, sifting through the rubbish for
glass bottles, cardboard or anything else they can find and then sell on. Often, they will then place the items into an old pram and set off for the next shed.
I said all day but I have noticed on some of my nocturnal journeys that there are people with torches peering into the rubbish. Now in our so-called
civilised society, certainly in England, we have recycling containers for all manner of things and, let’s face it, this is all these people are doing. My
initial reaction when I saw it was how could they do this, it’s not very pleasant. But then I heard these old folk chatting away as they searched and I realised
that maybe, just maybe, we have got it wrong. I couldn’t do the work of a surgeon, a fisherman, a butcher; all far too unpleasant, but these people recycling the
rubbish actually have a purpose in their lives. Find rubbish, sell it on, make money and live. Not my choice but something. In England at the moment there is much
talk of working past the so-called retirement age. Why? What is a retirement age? It’s only a convention invented by people. You can, if you want, take your
pension at fifty but why retire? Nice to see now I am past retirement age, I practice what I preached.
I remember the old rag-and-bone man, I could take a pension and retire if I wanted, and he had a purpose to his life and that is what these people, without
a cart and, if I remember correctly a “Hercules”, are doing. It’s all very well having all the containers for blue glass, red glass, smoked glass, plain glass,
paper, cardboard, clothing, Edwina Currie books etc and locating them in household tips which you can drive too. But this is better. What’s wrong with letting
people collect it. It gives them work. I’m not convinced that modern life is so much better and in Poland with its small shops, the equivalent of rag-and-bone
men and their education system, and maybe more to come, I think I have some proof for my concerns.
There is also, at the end of the apartment blocks, a large metal structure which looks not unlike the asymmetric bars in gymnastics. But no, it’s another
way that people make a small living round here. Men and women, and sometimes children, will offer to take your carpet, place it on the asymmetric bars and beat
the living daylights out of it. Not everyone has a Hoover. Of course, this isn't so easy with fitted carpets.
24 December 2002.
The most important day in the Christmas holiday for the Polish people. The day is called Wigilia. I have noticed that Christmas in Poland is still
basically a religious family event and not the vast commercial enterprise it is in England and probably America too. In fact, watching, as I do, Sky News,
I notice the question that keeps being asked is have we spent enough to keep retailers happy? Well, if we have, why are they manipulating us all to spend
even more by having January sales. And surely that is not the major question at this time of year; that should be do we really know why we are celebrating,
in the Christian world if there is such a place, this festival? As I write this I am watching the Christmas Mass at the Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem
and I know one answer.
We have our small tree, lovingly, but sparingly, decorated and we have a feeling of love and peace. Have you? I have been into the centre of Poznan quite
a lot in the past days. The trees there, ordinary trees not any special Christmas ones, are draped with lights and they look so effective. There are other
trees lit up as well and little Santa’s and trees decked out in lights on buildings all over the city. Apartment blocks have a few lights in their windows
but still, as I said before, I have yet to see the over lit, almost gory homes, which spring up in England. Christmas just steals over Poland, softly,
religiously, and meaningfully. And there is snow on the ground and that is really winter, really Christmas.
Tonight, I had my first traditional Polish Christmas dinner. Christmas Eve is the big time in Poland and it all starts with a meal although nothing happens
until you see the first star in the sky. (I never thought to ask whether Christmas is delayed in cloudy conditions). There are twelve or thirteen dishes
served and each one is to represent the four corners of the earth. There are fruits from the orchards, fish from the lakes, grain from the fields and mushrooms
from the forests and the ingredients are all put together into these twelve dishes. We ended up with fried carp, herrings in oil, herrings in vinegar, herrings
in sour cream, shredded cabbage with peas, shredded cabbage with mushrooms, shredded cabbage with white kidney beans, potatoes, mushroom soup, borsch or fish
soup, mini rolls filled with cabbage and mushrooms and a mixture comprising poppy seeds with walnuts, raisins, almonds, orange peel and sugar or honey and
bread soaked in milk.
The idea is that you eat a little bit of everything but some taste better than others. I must admit I do not have this Polish love of cabbage or herrings so
I was a little limited in my intake. I must also point out that I had first met the carp a few days earlier when I went to the toilet. There they were swimming
around in the bath. This was not in our flat as I might have noticed them arriving. I was told it was not unusual to buy the carp early and then keep them in the
bath until needed but no one had thought to warn me or the carp.
The table is often set for one more person than will be there to allow for those departed during the year. After the meal, presents were exchanged; a far more
modest affair than I have been used to of late. Then I was taken to the local church, Catholic of course, where a mass was taking place. Another quaint Polish
habit, maybe elsewhere too but I had never known it before, shortly before the communion everyone turned and exchanged a greeting or held hands with the person
next to them.
And then back home to bed and no reason to wait for Santa for my present.
25 December 2003
I've jumped forward a year and this year Christmas Eve was celebrated in exactly the same traditional Polish way but Christmas Day took on a distinctly
English feel. Our new web designer, an Englishman also living in Poland, had decided to cook a typical English Christmas dinner for his wife’s family on Boxing
Day. Not wishing to be outdone, and wanting to be first, I decided to do this on Christmas Day. It was intended to be for five people. Eventually 10 turned up.
They all sat down to Roast Turkey, Stuffing (home made as Paxo wasn’t available), Bread Sauce (home made as – you’re getting the hang of this now aren’t you?),
roast potatoes and parsnips and carrots and a few more trimmings. Then they had Christmas pudding (home made because – need I say more), brandy sauce and a mince
pie (with the mincemeat home made because – I have said more). Later that night they had a piece of Christmas Cake (home-made because – I like them that way).
I think everyone enjoyed it but we didn’t have Christmas crackers because I couldn’t buy any and a friend of ours who came over from England a few days before
Christmas had his box of crackers confiscated at the airport. They were apparently a threat, and that was before they read the jokes inside. The web designer’s
Christmas dinner on Boxing Day was a similar success (we English are an adaptable lot) although, due to some virus that was going around, it would be best, if you
meet him, that you don’t bring it up. He did but everyone else was OK.
Last year, on Christmas Day, we had gone out into the country to see the family with whom we had filmed an episode for one of the programmes we made. Now,
strap your self into your seats fellow Englishmen, because we caught a train on Christmas Day. Running. On time. Through snow. Possibly virgin snow as this may be
the correct type and no-one got in a pickle (ah it’s close)
When we arrived, our hosts still had their Christmas table laid out with the food they had prepared for Wigilia. They told us to help ourselves whenever we
liked. I did. I think there was still some left a couple of days later when we left. I do remember sitting around the table one evening after some of their friends
had arrived with half a pig. The shops were miles away. They were all having a good sing-song and very few spoke English. Suddenly they asked me to sing them
something in English. I don’t why but John Denver’s “Poems, prayers and promises” came to mind and off I went. I hope I was in tune because they couldn’t
understand the words. They all applauded at the end and I stayed in the country for a few more months so I guess it was OK.
There were so many amazing things about their house. It was at least a mile from any other dwelling. It was hundreds of years old. The inside walls didn’t
really meet the roof and some of the walls were just sheets hung from the beams. And, outside it was covered in snow; just as it should be at Christmas.
We went for a walk across snow covered fields, slid around on a small frozen pond and, generally, had a great time.
So that was it. You now have a view on a Christmas in Poland; in fact two Christmases spent here. In future I may be somewhere else but I would just like to
say thank you to all my new Polish friends who have made it all such fun for me and have accepted me into their lives. If I had a spare ten years I might
try and learn their language but, as my old French master knows, it took me that long not to learn French and I only passed the exam with a great deal of
luck. For those of you who know the story it was luck; cheating is deliberate. Maybe one day I will tell the rest of you about it, if enough people ask.
Written now
OK, I will tell you now. I failed French “O” level the first time and the second time and the re-sit, in November, was not in my school
but in nearby Camden Town Hall. There were, I recall, about 100 or so of us virgin failures sat in about six lines of desks, stretching down the hall. I was a
shy young man and was pretty horrified to discover I was at the front of one of the middle rows.
The first part of the exam was in two parts. First you had a dictation to write out and then you were read a story and you had to re-write this in your
own words to show you could understand the language. This was called, I think, the aural. As the exam started the invigilator chose to stand right in front
of me. My little hands shook, I probably blushed, my heart started racing and he announced he would begin. I looked up at him and suddenly noticed that on
the other side of the paper he was reading from, was the next part of the exam; the aural.
I then attempted to perform something akin to a biathlon, only skiing and shooting simultaneously. As I desperately tried to write out the dictation,
I was also copying the words from the story. I left a line between each line of dictation and copied the story into the spaces. He never looked down to see
why I was writing twice as much as he was saying and so when the dictation ended, we were given time to re-write it, I was ready to listen to the story but
had my own version already. Now he could have easily gone and stood somewhere else to read the story but it would appear my aftershave had some hypnotic appeal
and he simply turned the paper over and began reading the story. I don’t remember if we could make notes but I do remember I listened to none of it as I was
trying to memorise the dictation which now faced me. Needless to say I passed and now possess a French “O” level. I do not consider I cheated; I think I was
extremely enterprising and also pretty smart and it’s bloody hard work listening to one thing, reading another, writing down one of them and copying the other,
all at the same time.
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