Tag Archives: Polish

Driving into Town

Posted on by under Learning Polish

When you live in a country but don’t fully understand the language, there are times when you can’t tell the difference between a word and a name.

Take for instance, the first time I went sailing in Mazury. In the late afternoon, the rest of the crew would discuss in which port we would spend the night: ‘We could stay in Mikołajki, or go back to Wierzba or there’s always Trzcina.’ During the trip, I was surprised that Trzcina was always an option – whether we were in the northern lakes or down in the south. ‘Wherever this port of Trzcina is,’ I thought, ‘it must be pretty central because it’s only a couple of hours sailing from anywhere in the Masurian Lakes!’

It’s no different on the road.

In the same way that I thought Trzcina (reeds) was a port, a foreigner coming to Poland for the first time might think that Wita is name of a town in Poland. I’ve seen quite a few road signs on which the word Wita is printed in a bigger, bolder font that the actual place name.

Either that or a foreigner might think that Wita is another word to define a town like Dolny or Wielki. ‘We didn’t get much of a welcome in Olsztyn Wita so why don’t we look for some accommodation in Olsztyn instead?‘

Indeed, this is part of a wider issue for a non-native learner – in the final kilometre before any Polish town there are so many billboards, welcome signs, banners and advertisements that you can be overwhelmed.

So to help, I’ve prepared this short guide to arriving or leaving a Polish town:

Arriving

  • wita / witamy = either the town (wita) or its people (witamy) are welcoming you. Personally, I’ve always felt that witamy is a warmer version because it comes from the people. How exactly a town can welcome anyone I’ve never figured out.
  • zaprasza / zapraszamy = in this case, either the town or its inhabitants are inviting you over, but don’t worry, you are not expected to bring a gift.
  • miasto monitorowane = this literally means that the town uses surveillance equipment and often comes right after the witamy sign. Together these signs mean, ‘you’re welcome, but keep your hands where we can see them!’. Basically, the authorities don’t trust you not to break the law as you pass through.
  • warto zobaczyć – this presents three things that are worth seeing in the town. Always disregard the last one, it’s just there to make up the numbers.
  • witamy na ziemi…/ ziemia…wita = often a region or jurisdiction will welcome you, e.g. witamy na ziemi świętokrzyskiej. Foreigners might panic at first, thinking this is a message for aliens, welcoming them to the Planet Earth. Don’t worry, it just means ‘welcome to the land of…‘
  • miasta partnerskie – these are other places with which this town is twinned. If you’ve never heard of any of the towns mentioned, don’t worry, no one has!
  • EU Funds – finally, you might see something that looks more like an enlarged document than a street sign. You can ignore this, it’s just a receipt showing who paid for the pavement.

One challenge with these signs is that they tend to be covered in graffiti, so you might not know which town you’re in, but you will know which football team is trending.

Leaving

It’s the same story when you’re leaving town. Quite wisely, most towns don’t invest too much effort to say goodbye, however, there are some things it’s worth bearing in mind:

  • żegna / żegnamy – to me, this is more personal than do zobaczenia, especially żegnamy. However, if the town welcomed you on the way in (wita), but the people are saying goodbye (żegnamy), then it means that they’re glad to be rid of you.
  • zapraszamy ponownie – the townsfolk are inviting you back. However, if you noticed a miasta monitorowane sign on the way in and you broke a few driving laws, then I wouldn’t go back if I were you.
  • termination sign – in Poland, when leaving a town, there is a sign showing the town’s name with a red line through it. This looks very official as if the town just got cancelled by some bureaucracy. Don’t worry, the town will continue to exist, just not for you. We don’t have such signs in the UK. You just drive out of town without any fanfare. In Polish, there’s an idiom wyjść po angielsku (to leave in an English way) which means to ‘leave without saying goodbye to anyone‘. The same applies to towns and villages in the UK – they don’t say goodbye either.

Radom wita

Billboards & Banners

Finally, a word about billboards and banners. Polish towns extend a warm welcome, but their businesses welcome you and your wallet even more warmly. I must admit that there are so many billboards and banners lining the road into most places that I wonder whether there is a legal requirement, i.e. to register a business, you are obliged to erect a ugly billboard or sign on the road into town.

It seems that, in Poland, if you’re setting up a business, then you don’t have many choices for the company’s name. In fact, there are only 3 options:

1. -pol

The first option is patriotic. You use the suffix -pol to show the world that your business is 100% Polish. This is especially true if you sell food:

  • Szynkopol
  • Indykpol
  • Rybopol

For a logo, it’s common to use a cartoon of a pig, turkey, fish etc, happily dancing its way to the dinner table.

2. -ex / -bud

The second option is for a company that exports a product or service. In this case, it’s necessary to add -ex to the end of the name. The owners hope, rather optimistically, that this gives the company an international profile:

  • Dachmex
  • Żwirex
  • Paletex

The only exception is the construction industry, then it’s necessary to use bud in part of the name:

  • Drogbud
  • Słupbud

3. Two Guys

The final option is used if two Polish guys are setting up in business together. In this case you take one syllable from each of their first names and join them together:

  • Janmat = Janusz and Mateusz
  • Zendar = Zenon and Dariusz
  • Jarmar = Jarosław and Mariusz

To give another example, there’s a furniture company that operates in Poland called Juan. Because of the name, I assumed it was Spanish, but I later learned that it was set up by two guys from Warsaw called Jurek and Andrzej. Stupid me, forgot about the two guys rule!

If you are bored on a long journey, then you can play a game with these company names. It’s a great way to pass the time.

The rules are simple. The first passenger to spot a sign, billboard or banner with one of the above types of company names get the points. As you leave town, the person with the most points wins.

  • -pol = 1 point +  2 additional points if there’s a dancing turkey, fish, pig as a logo
  • -ex/bud = 2 points
  • two guys = 3 points (but you have to say which two names were used)

By the way, if you’re playing this for the first time, avoid Radom, it’s for advanced players only – you’ll have 30+ points before you get anywhere near the city!

The Alphabet Enigma

Posted on by under Learning Polish

Ask a British person how many letters there are in the alphabet and they will instantly answer: twenty-six.

Ask a Polish person how many letters are in the Polish alphabet and they don’t know. Indeed, they don’t even care. The most typical responses are:

  • who cares?
  • never counted!
  • why would I need to know that?

In Britain everybody knows some basic facts – there’s 1 sun in the sky, 4 points on a compass, 12 months in a year, and the first thing you learn on your first day at school is that there are 26 letters in the alphabet.

In Poland, no seems to give a damn how many letters there are.

It’s weird, shocking, even scandalous, and whenever I express this to a Pole, they don’t see the problem.

Without knowing how many letters are in the language, how can you type an email, decode the enigma machine or do something really hard, like play Scrabble?

I guess part of my shock is connected with the fact that I, as a foreigner learning Polish, had to get to grips with many additional letters. Yet Poles don’t even know how many there are!

Another enigma that surrounds the Polish alphabet are the phantom letters Q, V and X. They’re not in the language, but they show up from time to time and this confuses me.

V, for instance, isn’t in the written language, but does exist in body language – I’ve seen many Poles holding up two fingers to show the V for victory gesture. Is this allowed? V isn’t even in the Polish alphabet. Shouldn’t they make a Z for zwycięstwo gesture by drawing a Z in the air… or would people think they’re referring to Zorro?

Then, there’s X which appears in the names of countless Polish firms from Budimex to Metalex, while Q is present in Latin words such as Quo Vadis. So do the letters Q, V and X exist, or don’t they?

Foolishly, I once agreed to play Scrabble in Polish. An English native-speaker gets a surprise straight out of the box when you see the points on the letter tiles. In the English version, Z is worth 10 points while in the Polish version it’s only worth 1. The other most valuable letter in English is Q, which is worth 10, but isn’t in the Polish version. My usual strategy for winning – waiting until I can place the word q-u-i-z on a triple word score – just wasn’t going to work.

scrabble

So I started with a short, simple word – just three letters J, U and Z to spell the Polish word for ‘soon‘:

Me: It’s on a triple word score, so 3 times 6 equals 18 points.

Opponent: There’s no such word, już is spelt with a Ż.

Me: Aren’t the Z’s interchangeable? I don’t have a Z with a dot.

Opponent: No, they’re completely different letters. One is worth 1 point while the other is worth 5.

Me: Oh come on. That’s pedantic. It’s the same letter. Looks the same, sounds the same and comes at the end of the alphabet.

Opponent: No, Z, Ż and Ź are different letters entirely.

Me: But I’m a foreigner, isn’t there’s some handicap system in which I can substitute a normal Z, S or C for the funny ones?

Opponent: No. They’re different letters. You can’t substitute a M for a W by turning it upside down!

Me: Fine, can I have ‘F-U-J?

Opponent: No, it’s not a word.

Me: Of course it is. That’s what foreigners say when they first see the Polish alphabet!

Okay I was being facetious – they look so cute that learners, when they first encounter the new letters, give them special names:

  • funny E
  • Z with a hat
  • A with a tail
  • L with a belt

I guess it’s because they look like Roman letters dressed up in Polish folk costumes with hats, belts, swords and feathers.

In Polish, some of the diacritical marks are called kropki and kreski (dots and dashes), and of course, dots and dashes are also found in Morse code…

…which makes me wonder…

…maybe Polish writing actually contains a hidden code?

Maybe thousands of encrypted messages are hidden in all those dots and dashes and funny tails?

I don’t want to sound paranoid, but what if the sentence ‘Czy świerszcze lubią jeździć na łyżwach?’ includes a hidden message to Polish readers, like ‘never let a foreigner beat you at Scrabble‘?

Just before World War II, when the Polish Army shared their intelligence on the Enigma machine with their British and French allies, did they share everything, or perhaps, did they keep something back?

Just like the number of letters in the Polish alphabet, and the phantom letters Q, V and X… it’s an enigma!

Far, Far Away

Posted on by under Polish Language

To a child, sitting in the backseat of a car, the most important question is ‘how much further is it?‘ You can’t blame them for asking – Polish fairy tales often start with za siedmioma górami, za siedmioma rzekami… (over seven mountains, over seven rivers…), which builds the expectation that most places are pretty far away.

From an early age, we need to know how near or far something is… it’s no wonder that a language develops a rich set of words to describe such things.

Near

In English, travel agents promote hotels in holiday resorts by saying they are only ‘a stone’s throw‘ from the beach. And this is something you can check. Just walk out of the hotel, pick up a medium-sized stone and try to throw it as far as the beach. Of course, your hotel will only be a stone’s throw away from the police station if you injure someone, but if no one is around, then you can actually verify the advertising.

The equivalent expression in Polish – rzut beretem – intrigues me. If you want to say that something is close by, then why say it’s only a beret’s throw away? I assume you would have to toss the beret as if it were a Frisbee, otherwise it wouldn’t go very far. But why a beret? I guess you can throw a beret further than a woolly hat, but why choose headgear in the first place?

I’ve never associated the beret with Poland. It’s more commonly associated with France. Maybe this idiom is anti-French? Do Poles like to tease the French by throwing away their headgear? Is that why Napoleon didn’t hang around in Poland very long – because Maria Walewska kept throwing his funny hat out of the palace window?

A better hat would be those worn in Zakopane – I’m sure you could throw a ‘kapelusz góralski‘ quite far off the top of Giewont.

For advertising purposes, the expression rzut beretem is perfect if you’re promoting a hotel in the south of France. Saying the beach is only a beret’s throw away fits the cultural context. But it wouldn’t make any sense in Morocco where you would need to throw a fez and your hotel would need to be right on the beach to have any chance of hitting it.

Far

When you learn a foreign language sometimes you get jealous. You come across a word, expression or idiom that is so cool, poetic or funny that you wish you had it in your own language too. That’s how I feel about the following expressions – I wish we had them in English!

Both of them describe a far away backwoods, and they’re so much more poetic than in the middle of nowhere, boondocks or hinterland. There’s a children’s book called ‘Where the Wild Things Are’ and these two expressions seem to fit into that world.

Tam gdzie diabeł mówi dobranoc (out where the devil says goodnight) – this one is really creepy. I mean, if the devil was saying good morning or good afternoon, it would be scary, but the fact that he’s saying goodnight makes it especially dark… as if you wouldn’t want to visit that place because you don’t know whether you’d wake up the next day. I can just imagine the devil saying ‘night, night‘… and adding sarcastically… ‘don’t let the bed bugs bite‘.

devil3

At least the devil is polite enough to say goodnight… in person. You’d think a busy executive like the devil would delegate the job by sending some minor demon to wish you sweet dreams. But no, wherever this place is, it’s important enough that the devil gives it his personal attention.

Tam gdzie wrony zawracają (out where the crows turn back) – while the diabeł expression seems to increase the importance of the place, this expression makes it so unattractive that crows don’t even bother to fly there.

I love the implicit insult in this expression. Crows consume rubbish and carrion, but not even a crow would visit this place to scavenge. When I steal this expression, package it and export it to the UK, I’ll substitute seagulls for crows – they’re more numerous and even less fussy about what they eat… so the insult will sting even more!

But then again, by replacing crows with seagulls, the idiom would lose some of its darkness. After all, crows are associated with death, and if they turn back, what horrors must exist beyond that point?

So, in actual fact, I don’t need a fairy tale or holiday brochure to transport me to a far away place… that’s over seven hills… and over seven rivers.

When it includes the above expressions… all I need to is have a conversation in Polish!

Cute Overload

Posted on by under Learning Polish

I have one inhibition when speaking Polish.

It’s not that I’m concerned with making grammar mistakes. I don’t care if I get vocabulary mixed up. And it’s not about using the right declination.

The thing that I have a big inhibition about…is diminutives!

I just don’t feel comfortable speaking in a way that makes things small and cute.

The Polish language has a lot of tricky grammar, but one, often overlooked, challenge for learners is grasping diminutives. By saying kawka instead of kawa (coffee) or piesek instead of pies (dog), Poles have special ways of making things sound small, cute and fluffy.

There’s a website called Cute Overload – it’s just pictures of cats, dogs and other sweet animals. If you need a daily fix, this is the place to go. And sometimes that’s what Polish sounds like…cute overload!

Take for example the word kot. Now I do think that cats are pretty…but does Polish really need 15 words to talk about a cute cat?

9 cats

kot, kotek, koteczek, kotulek, kotuś, kocurek, kociak, kociaczek, kocię, kociątko, kicia, kiciulek, kiciuś, kocisko, kocur

In English we survive with just two cutesy words for cat, namely kitty and pussycat, but Poles either really like cats or no one is heartless enough to trim the dictionary.

I ask Polish friends to explain all of this, but it rarely helps:

Me: What’s the difference between kot, kocurek and kiciuś?

Pole: Well, a kocurek is a small, cute and fluffy cat.

Me: And a kiciuś?

Pole: It’s even smaller and more fluffy.

Me: Cuter too?

Pole: Oh yes.

There are so many words for cat that sometimes I get confused and think any word that starts with a ‘k’ is another kitty word. Kościuszko…is that the guy who lead an uprising in the 18th century or is it just another word for a pretty cat?

Polish kids learn all this language during the first few years of their lives. Foreigners, who try to learn Polish grammatical rules, have a harder time. Indeed, if you try and organize all the cat words into a sensible order, you end up with a table that even Mendeleev would struggle to understand:

table

And as a result of internet memes, there’s even a new addition: koteł. Will the list ever stop growing?

So coming back to my inhibitions, I’m actually okay using diminutives when referring to kittens, puppies and froggies, but I have a harder time when it comes to non-living things – kawka, herbatka, łyżeczka, kanapeczka (coffee, tea, spoon, sandwich). It just feels silly to make an inanimate object all small and fluffy. If I just want milk in my coffee, do I need to say that I want it z mleczkiem (with a wee dash of milky-wilky)?

One consequence of this is that I’ve been told that I’m too serious when speaking Polish. Maybe I sound like a cyborg, speaking like a robot in a serious, neutral tone.

So anyway, I have lots of doubts and questions about these Polish diminutives:

  • Is it rude to respond with a different level of cutesiness? If someone offers me kawka and I, like a cyborg, say ‘yes, I’d like some kawa’, is that rude?
  • Are there any objects that are so big that you can’t make them small and cute? Godzilleczka? Mount Everestek? Kosmosek?
  • Is it possible to use contradictory diminutives, i.e. making extreme words sound less extreme? For instance, ogromienki, wrogeczek, katastrofka?
  • Why is the diminutive form often longer and uglier than the original word? e.g. cukiereczek, filiżaneczka, kanapeczka.
  • Why are some diminutives actually completely different things? For instance, the diminutive of cukier (sugar) is cukierek (hard-boiled sweet) while the diminutive of zegar (clock) is zegarek (watch).
  • Why does the word mały (small) have its own diminutives – maluteńki, maleńki, malutki, malusieńki? Isn’t this taking things just a drobniuteńko too far?
  • Scottish English has the word ‘wee’ meaning small, e.g. the best translation of wódeczka is a wee vodka. Can’t Polish just have one word for all of this?

And finally, one last question, why does the Polish language need 15 words to describe a cute cat?

The Week is Dead

Posted on by under Polish Language

After a long, hard Wednesday at work I went to the kitchen around 4pm.

‘How are things?’ Magda asked.

‘I need more coffee to get me through the rest of the day,’ I replied.

‘Me too… But środa minie, tydzień ginie,’ she said with a smile.

It was the first time I had ever heard that expression…and it made me laugh. What a wonderful little saying! Wednesday is passing, the week is dying.

But what I liked most about the phrase is that it expresses solidarity. We were both tired at work and couldn’t wait for Friday afternoon. Look on the bright side, we’re three fifths of the way there!

I once found the expression środa minie, tydzień ginie on a website offering ‘inspiring quotes’. That’s so Polish I thought. Saying ‘the week has been crap, but don’t worry it’s almost over’ isn’t exactly inspiring…it’s more like consolation. But actually, on that long, tiring Wednesday afternoon, it did give me a lift.

I do wonder why it’s Wednesday and not Thursday that is passing. I mean, after Wednesday there’s still two days to go until the weekend. After Thursday, you’re straight into Friday! Still… I can’t disagree with Piątek – weekendu początek.

Talking of Friday, I’ve observed some Poles picking up the American habit of wishing one another a ‘happy Friday’. Unable to wait for Friday afternoon when it’s normal to say ‘have a nice weekend’, some people turn Friday into a happy day too. Incidentally, I’ve never heard anyone wishing me a ‘happy Monday!’

The expression ‘have a nice day’ didn’t appear in the UK until the late 1980’s when McDonald’s opened their first outlets. Their staff were trained to wish customers a nice day at the end of the interaction, and it’s become a common expression ever since. I’ve heard that miłego dnia only appeared in the 90’s in Poland. Luckily for you, the Berlin Wall was holding it back throughout the eighties.

Personally, I’ve never been a fan of the expression ‘have a nice day’. The intention behind it is great, the problem is with its resolution. To quote the comedian George Carlin*: ‘Everybody wants me to have a nice day…That’s the trouble with have a nice day, it puts all the pressure on you. Now I’ve gotta go out and somehow manage to have a good time!‘

czit czat_jpg

So actually, although it’s less positive, Polish chit-chat is more realistic. Everyone can relate to środa minie, tydzień ginie. Nevertheless, Americans’ positive attitude is spreading fast. Will it conquer Poland? I’m not so sure.

I used to work for an American corporation and had a lot of meetings, calls and interactions with American colleagues. One of most important emotions in the US is excitement, and during a typical meeting, Americans would say how excited they are at least once. In the US it’s important to be positive and give the impression that you’re happy, energetic and engaged.

Poles have a hard time adapting to this – I know because I ran training for groups of Poles about the differences between Polish and US corporate culture, but they didn’t go very well:

Me: You should say you’re excited at least once during a conference call with your American colleagues.

Poles: What if we’re not excited?

Me: Doesn’t matter, I don’t think the Americans are either. They just put on a positive face.

Poles: Isn’t that false?

Me: They’re trying to share positive emotions and create a good atmosphere.

Poles: But it’s hard to get excited about a new time management tool. we just don’t care that much.

In the US, there’s pressure to be positive, wear a smiling face and wish everyone a nice day. I definitely don’t feel that kind of pressure in Poland.

So Happy Friday!

The week is dead.

Have a nice weekend 😉

 

*George Carlin https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xJZ6ixiVgCs

Can you Trust the Angols?

Posted on by under Polish Culture

I was once on an intercity bus sitting behind two Polish men. One of them was talking on his mobile phone, loudly discussing a business deal in English.

At the end of the conversation, he said have a nice day and hung up, switched to Polish and started talking to his companion. He described the deal and how much he would earn, and sounded very pleased with the arrangement. But his companion, who was older…and apparently wiser, wasn’t convinced. He turned to his companion and said in a calm, quiet voice:

‘Just remember… the Angol is not your friend!’

I was shocked. It was a generalization. He meant all Angols.

Being an Angol* myself, I don’t believe that British people are faultless, but on the whole, I think we’re trustworthy.

Aren’t we?

So why did this Pole say ‘remember, the Angol is not your friend’? Why did lean forward as if he was giving his companion a message that would protect him? Why did he use a hushed tone of voice that suggested he was talking about a dangerous alien race? Why would he suggest that Angols only pretend to be your friend?

Well, there is one thing about British people that doesn’t inspire trust – our communication style.

While Poles speak directly and express their opinions honestly, Brits speak very indirectly and hide their opinions in vague language. From experience I know that this can be confusing and frustrating for Poles.

I remember a Polish colleague once asked me ‘what does it mean when a British person says ‘I’m not impressed’? If you could put it on a scale of 1 to 10, with 1 meaning it’s awful and 10 meaning it’s fantastic. Would it be a 7 or a 2?’

‘Oh, that would be a 2’ I told him. ‘It’s like saying that something is ‘very bad’.

‘Why didn’t he just say that!’ he replied, clearly frustrated.

There are numerous articles translating expressions used by British people into normal language. For instance, when a British person says I agree up to a point, it actually means that they disagree with you. Or when they say that something could be better, it means that it’s very poor. And if you cook a meal and serve it to a British person who says that it tastes interesting…just throw away that recipe!

królowa

In his book The Right Mind*², the psychologist Robert Orstein tells a story of an American businessman visiting the UK. The businessman had just given a presentation to a group of British directors. After the presentation, one of the British directors stood up and said the following:

‘I’m not sure I, or anyone here, will agree completely with absolutely everything the speaker has said, but we thank him for his trouble in coming here to attempt to make a difficult idea possibly more clear to us.’

The Brits in the audience were shocked, but the American kept smiling. He didn’t get it.

In British English, the above sentence basically means ‘everything this guy said is bullshit.’ But British people rarely give feedback in such direct language. Foreigners (Americans included) find it very difficult to understand a British person when they are giving feedback in such an indirect style.

Growing up in the UK, you just naturally learn to communicate this way. It wasn’t until I lived abroad that I realised how confusing this can be.

So, can you trust the Angols? Well, I have to admit that the British style of giving feedback raises this very question. If we don’t say what we mean…explicitly and honestly…then how can you trust us? Why wouldn’t you believe that we’re trying to deceive you?

To defend the Angols, I’d like to point out that we’re just trying to be polite. In the UK it’s considered rude to express your opinions too directly.

So if an Angol doesn’t share his or her opinions very directly…if they confuse you with very opaque feedback…don’t worry, he or she is just trying to be polite

…because they do want to be your friend!

 

*I am from Scotland, but understand that the Polish term Angol refers to people from Britain and not just England.

*²p102, The Right Mind: Making Sense of the Hemispheres, Robert Ornstein, Hardcore Brace & Company 1997

The Polish Butcher

Posted on by under Learning Polish

On a warm July evening we sat in the garden of a friend’s summer house. In the growing darkness the only illumination was a lamp on the wall of the cottage, which acted as a magnet for insects from the local forest. Moths and flies flew in circles while beetles and bugs crawled up the cottage wall towards the source of light.

I noticed something huge…slowly making it’s way up the wall…and now it was only a few centimetres from my friend’s head. I had to warn her.

Emm, Ola…uważaj bo blisko twoja głowa jest ogromny koń polowy.

(Look out Ola because there’s a huge field horse near your head).

She looked surprised, but turned around to see what I was referring to. Realising that it was only a harmless grasshopper, she started laughing, ‘Kon polowy!’ and the rest of the group started giggling too.

koń

In English we have an idiomatic expression to butcher a language, i.e. to cut it into pieces until there’s just a big mess. Well, I’ve been butchering Polish for years…changing the word order, inventing completely new expressions, combining words that shouldn’t be combined, adding sounds to the pronunciation of words and using expressions in the wrong context. What’s left after this butchery is a bit of a dog’s dinner. Honestly, it’s never been my goal to speak perfect Polish, but to have fun interacting with Poles. I usually give them a good laugh.

Of course, when you want to warn someone that a huge bug is about to jump on their face, it’s useful to use the right vocabulary. Saying that a horse (koń) is climbing the wall instead of a grasshopper (konik polny) helps to get the listener’s attention…even if it doesn’t convey the correct level of danger.

But these mistakes are logical. I mean, I knew that the Polish word for grasshopper was related to a horse! And it was such a big grasshopper than the diminutive konik just didn’t do it justice. So, there’ some rational behind my butchery…I hope.

For instance, when someone says dziękuję, I always respond with proszuję. I prefer it when one expression mirrors the other.

Or with the word order in the sentence nic się nie stało… even when 55,000 Polish football fans are singing this in the National Stadium, I still can’t get the word order right. Switching the order of nie and się, I always say nic nie się stało. But, Polish word order is supposed to be flexible, isn’t it? … so don’t blame me if I take liberties.

Then there are words into which I add additional sounds…they just sound better to my ears. Most often this involves adding the letter z into words connected to animals:

  • pajęczy-z-na (pajęczyna / spider’s web)
  • ro-z-pucha (ropucha / toad)

Finally, Polish has too many comparative expressions and I only have enough free memory space for one…which happens to be the shortest and simplest: jak bela (as a bale) which is used in the expression pijany jak bela (drunk as a bale)

Now I compare everything to a bale:

  • szybki jak bela (fast as a bale)
  • zimno jak bela (cold as a bale)
  • lubić kogoś jak bela (to like someone as much as a bale)

and just assume that the listener understands that I mean ‘a lot’ or ‘very’.

So I butcher Polish…which works for me… but that’s not good news for those around me.

I live in Poland and interact in Polish around 90% of the time. The consequence of this is that my Polish skills improve, while the Polish of those I interact with gets worse!

Those friends from the summer house also use the expression kon polowy from time to time.

And my wife got so used to jak bela that she started to use it herself. Now we both use jak bela. It’s a nice shortcut, but, technically, her Polish is now worse.

So I invite you to start using jak bela too.

I wait for the day when it spreads out into society and I hear it in everyday situations. For instance, when I visit the doctor and he or she says, after completing the medical examination, that I’m zdrowy jak bela or when I’m watching football on TV and the commentator says Rasiak walczył jak bela.

I’ll be able to laugh and say…hah!…I started that…that’s my creative butchery!

HodgePodż

Posted on by under Learning Polish

It’s hard work learning Polish.

At school I had learned German, which was easier because a lot of the vocabulary is similar to English. For instance, I didn’t have to learn the words for buch, finden or fussball – it’s like I got those ones for free. In Polish, however, the equivalent words are książka, odnaleźć and piłka nożna! For an English speaker there are no freebies when you learn Polish. You have to work hard for every word.

And that’s usually one advantage of having English as your mother tongue. Over the past 1500 years English has evolved or borrowed from so many different languages that you can expect some freebies when you’re learning any foreign tongue…except for Polish.

There’s an English expression hodgepodge (originally borrowed from French) which means a confused mixture of different things. And that’s how I’d describe the English language.

English started as a Germanic language, adopted Norse grammatical structures, then borrowed loads of words from Latin and French. During colonial times, it adopted words from various British colonies around the world: pyjamas (India), tomato (Aztec/Mexcio), and totem (Native American). Indeed, English has borrowed so many words from French that in Paris there’s a saying that English is a language for stupid French people.

But, returning to the challenge of learning Polish, I must say that first impressions can be deceptive. As you listen to Polish more and more, you start to hear English words in Polish sentences:

  • Dżinsy czy szorty?  (jeans or shorts)
  • On jest prawdziwym dżentelmenem  (he’s a real gentleman)
  • To jest mityng lekkoatletyczny  (it’s an athletics meeting)

And when an English-speaker learns how to spell particular sounds in Polish, then suddenly the English language magically reappears:

  • Dżungla…wait a second…is that the place where snakes and monkeys live?
  • I’m supposed to do what? Click on ‘lajkować’…ah… you mean the thumbs-up symbol.
  • A guy who rides a horse is a dżokej? Łał.

Previously I complained that there are no freebies when learning Polish…but that’s changing…and fast! Polish is acquiring English words at such a huge rate that in future a learner will only need to learn a few spelling rules to master the language!

Now I understand why Polish has borrowed words connected to modern technology – fejsbuk, hejter, smartfon – they’re new to English as well. But there are some words that Polish has borrowed from English that surprise me. Why did you borrow flirt, fair or weekend? Aren’t there Polish words for these?

hybryda_jpg

Whatever the reason, like the English language, Polish is becoming a hodgepodge…or should that be a hodżpodż?

So, to add to the hodżpodż, I offer you the following hybrid verb, a combination of the Polish verb przesadzać and the English verb to exaggerate.

przesadzerate, verb – when a Pole pessimistically predicts the death of the Polish language due to the influx of English words

Władysław: Język polski umiera

Rajan: Don’t przesadzerate!

Begging for Bilets

Posted on by under Polish Culture

I remember the first time I tried to buy a ticket for public transport in Poland. I knew that you got them from those Ruch kiosks, and I knew what to say – I had the expression ‘bilet poproszę‘ (one ticket please) written on a scrap of paper in my pocket. There was a couple of minutes until the next bus. All set. What could possibly go wrong?

I approached the kiosk and the first thing I noticed was that the only opening was a small window at waist height. To communicate with the person inside, I had to bend forwards and turn my head sideways. Immediately I was in a submissive position, bent over like a servant as if I were begging at the feet of a king.

Through the small window, I could see someone inside. Although I couldn’t see his face, I could see the torso and hands of a man, who was sitting next to a heater and reading a magazine. It felt like I was interrupting.

kiosk

I cleared my throat and reading from my scrap of paper, I said ‘bilet poproszę‘

Instantly, the man inside the kiosk said ‘nie ma‘.

It was at this moment that I froze.

Coming from the UK, I am used to a high-level of politeness in customer service. If something is not available, then the shop assistant will say something like ‘sorry we don’t have any tickets, but if you go 100 yards down the street, you can find a shop that sells them.’ In this way, even if a shop assistant can’t help you, they at least pretend to.

What’s more, the shop assistant will usually respond by apologising and give the impression of regretting the fact that they can’t provide a customer with what they need. In the tone of their voice, you’ll also be able to hear a sense of empathy as if they were stepping into your shoes and feeling the same disappointment as the customer.

So I paused…waiting for the man in the kiosk to let me know where else I could get a ticket or when they would be back in stock. Anything to help me on my way.

But the guy in the kiosk said nothing…he just continued reading the magazine.

And the way he had said ‘nie ma‘… responding even before I’d finished saying ‘poproszę’. His response lasted a fraction of a second and it didn’t seem that he was going to put any more effort into the interaction. There was no empathy in his tone, no sense of regret. It was a simple statement of fact – there weren’t any tickets.

Yet my brain was so used to a familiar cultural pattern that I didn’t know what to do when the pattern was broken. I was stuck for a moment in a state of disbelief.

The bus arrived, some passengers got out, other got on. The bus departed.

But I was still at the kiosk, frozen in a bent-over position …slowly realising that I wasn’t going to get an apology, empathy, advice….and definitely not a ticket.

Reflections

  • I laughed when I later found out that ‘Ruch‘ means ‘movement‘…I associated it with being stuck and going nowhere.
  • I once wondered what it would be like if Ruch ran a project to train kiosk workers in customer service. Would the service be transformed? Probably not. Instead of a two-word reply, he’d just try and sell me stuff I didn’t need…only more politely.
  • Actually, a kiosk is a good place for a beginner to test their language skills in real world. You get a short, clear response to your questions – kiosk workers don’t tend to bamboozle you with long sentences or complex expressions.
  • Ruch has modernised their kiosks and in the most modern ones you can actually make eye contact with the person inside…without bending over. Opposite my apartment we even have a Ruch ‘salon handlowy‘…that’s what they call a kiosk you can walk three paces into.
  • Since that day I’ve had quite a few experiences in Poland in which the level of customer service I received didn’t live up to my expectations. I must say that I prefer the British style of interacting with customers. Customer service in the UK is polite and empathetic – very much focused on the relationship with the customer…but sometimes it’s also false. ‘Sorry, we don’t have any tickets, maybe if you try up the street?,’ is a just a polite way of saying ‘no, go somewhere else‘.
  • I hear lots of complaints about the quality of customer service in Poland, but there is one thing about it that I do appreciate…it’s honest. If there aren’t any tickets, then they’ll tell you that. No sugarcoating, no sales pitch, no pretense.

Nie ma.

Idioms for Dinner

Posted on by under Polish Language

Idioms can be confusing, especially if you understand the words literally. Often I jump to conclusions about what a Polish idiom means and end up getting it completely wrong.

The worst thing is… I tend to remember the wrong meaning more vividly than the actual one.

So here’s a small sample of Polish idioms I’ve misunderstood – all connected with food:

1. Wpaść jak Śliwka w Kompot

This is translated as ‘to get into hot water‘ and I like it because it’s so Polish. In the UK, we don’t have kompot and plums aren’t a popular fruit, so to understand this idiom you need to come to Poland and take a look at a jug of kompot.

śliwki

Do the plums in a kompot jug look like they are in trouble? When I first came across this idiom I assumed, incorrectly, that it meant to be in a comfortable, familiar situation. Shouldn’t plums feel at home in a jug of kompot? After all, the plums are with friends! What’s more, I don’t think a plum in kompot is in that much danger. A lot of the fruit gets left behind once the kompot is drunk. I’d rather be a plum in kompot than a plum in jam or in bigos.

2. Jak Flaki z Olejem

Literally, this means ‘as tripe with oil‘. I had been offered flaki (tripe) many times in Poland (which I politely refused) before I came across this idiom. So I associated flaki with something very ugly…even a little exotic…and frankly disgusting.

So when I came across the idiom, I assumed it meant either disgusting or ugly. In English we have an expression that something looks like a ‘dog’s dinner‘, meaning that it’s a mess or really horrible to look at. I figured flaki z olejem meant the same.

I was surprised when I later saw the idiom in its full version ‘nudny jak flaki z olejem‘ which is best translated by the English idiom: ‘dull as ditch water’.

Now I feel sorry for all those Poles who had to eat tripe for every meal so that it became the definition of boredom!

3. Bułka z Masłem

I first heard this idiom when listening to a shanty in the port of Sztynort in Mazury. Maybe it was the context that fooled me because the shanty was about a sailor who survived a storm, reached Sztynort and ate a bread roll with butter. So I assumed its meaning was connected to safety or stability. You know, the kind of thing a fireman would say after it turns out that there’s no bomb in the building. ‘It’s okay, just a false alarm, everything is safe and we can all go home and eat a bread roll with butter‘.

Of course, bułka z masłem actually means that something is ‘easy/simple‘. I guess it’s pretty straightforward to spread butter on a roll, but it’s not so easy to understand why it was included in that shanty.

Curiously, the English language also uses food idioms to describe something that’s easy:

  • a piece of cake (UK)
  • as easy as pie (US)

…except both are a bit more posh than the Polish bułka.

In Conclusion

The Polish language is full of great food idioms. Indeed, you could eat a three-course meal consisting of idiomatic foods only:

Client: What do you recommend?

Waiter: Well for a starter, I recommend flaki z olejem.

Client: No, that’s a bit boring. Anything else?

Waiter: Perhaps…dwa grzyby w barszczu?

Client: Barszcz is fine, but I’ll just have one grzyb..save some room for desert.

Waiter: As you wish. For the main course, we have some niezły bigos.

Client: Perfect, I’ll have the bigos. Can you serve it with bread and butter?

Waiter: Dla nas to jest bułka z masłem.

Client: I’d prefer bread if you have it.

Waiter: And for desert, the icing on the cake, wisienka na torcie.

Client: Delicious.

Waiter: Anything to drink?

Client: Kompot…with plums?

Waiter: Certainly…and I assure you that no plums were harmed in the making of the kompot.