thought

Don’t say you’ll call if you won’t, don’t say you love if you don’t.

The Shanghai encounter

Maybe it was Shanghai that stimulated her mind so well. In Beijing she felt threatened by the guards guarding everything, she felt threatened by the dust which she felt was settling in and destroying her lungs. She felt threatened by the huge, grey buildings and the lifeless streets. But Shanghai, oh, Shanghai was different. She already knew it would be different when she sat on the plane and so it was. It had that wonderful, somewhat humid air. Similar to the one London has. The air that makes your hair all curly.

And so she was, totally alone in Shanghai. She went to the Bund, strolled down the Nanjing Donglu at night and had no one to share her thoughts with. Nevertheless she enjoyed it. Being in and discovering a new city all by herself was like a meditation, like a trip to her inner self.

She went to the Jade Buddha Temple and bought a jade tiger necklace there. She felt this unique, spiritual ambiance only Asian temples have. The thing you don’t feel in European churches.

She went everywhere, explored the entire city. All by herself. Well, not completely by herself. The Shanghainese air was there. No matter where she went, she could feel it. She could feel the old, decadent times. The thick opium air, the ladies all dressed up, the frivolous atmosphere. She started soaking it in.

Everyday she felt more confident, more beautiful, she even dressed nicer, although she did not know whether everyone was looking at her as a sort of curiosum or if it was that they marvelled at her 1920s-like appearance. She wanted to believe in the latter version. And then he came – the one she did not want to live with but had to, since the hotel was so expensive. They barely met for breakfasts and at night when they were going to sleep (in two separate beds).

And it was before one of those breakfasts that she (they) saw him. He came into the elevator on the 8th floor letting an old gentleman enter the lift before him. She looked at him and from that moment on, it could have been anyone getting on the elevator and she wouldn’t have noticed. He was wearing a perfectly cut navy-blue suit and a little pin in the chest pocket. They smiled at eachother and his perfectly white teeth lit up  his dark complexed, handsome face.

And then they arrived on the 3rd floor and she had to get off. She ate her breakfast sitting with the roommate and thinking of the man from the elevator. In the afternoon of the same day, she was coming back from one of the many sites, all dressed up and pretty and she saw him at the reception desk. She hesitantly started going in the direction of the elevators, stopping here and there, pretending she was interested in the shoe-cleaning machine or some panda figurines. And then he came. They entered the elevator together. They were going up. He asked how her stay was, they talked about the bad air-conditioning but it could have been a talk about absolutely anything since they both seemed to enjoy the mere presence of eachother. Once again, it was her who was getting off first, once again it was the 3rd floor. She sat at lunch, alone in the restaurant thinking of him, the Indian prince…

On the last day she, and her stupid roommate were payng for the room at the reception desk. And then he came, once again seeing her with the other guy, probably thinking they were a couple, or not thinking about it at all. He was wearing a white polo shirt and was in a hurry, asking for the fastest way to get to the airport. She saw him, said hi, smiled. He “hied” back and once again the beautiful smile lit up his face. He made sure that everything was ok with her invoice and rushed away. She hoped to see him again in the lobby or anywhere during her last day in Shanghai. She even purposedly stopped on his floor a few times but he was nowhere to be seen.

By the sea

She met Alexander von Humboldt in Sopot.

He said he didn’t like techno music;

So they just sat there on the boardwalk and talked.

About linguistics

and love.

Coca-Cola truck

Coca-Cola truck

Trop & Me – a tribute to a dog angel

I just came back from the cinema. The movie I saw was Marley & Me – the story of the lifetime of a certain labrador. The movie is based on a wonderful, funny and touching book by John Grogan and the film is also deeply touching but I am sure a person who has not been a dog owner will have a hard time understanding such emotions. I had read the book at a point in the life of our family when our dog had just passed away and Trop, because that was his name, was no usual dog. In this text I would like to share with you some stories from our life together.

Trop

We found the dog, or rather found eachother in the area around our countryhouse. I was six and we were cross-country skiing with my mother when we saw a dog running along the road in the distance. My mother whistled and he stopped for a second but then he kept on running.

That afternoon, and it was winter with about -15 C, we were coming back from the country when we saw the dog again. My mother said to my father:” Stop, I’m not leaving this dog in here”, and he did. She went out to get him. The dog sat down on her feet. She didn’t have a leash so she took off her scarf and tied it around his neck. They then returned to the car and Trop sat down beside my legs and put his head on my lap and I said: ”So we now have a dog”, and we did. Trop was a german pointer, a skeleton of a dog at the time when we found him.

My parents posted ads in newspapers, that they had found him, but no one replied. It turned out later on that he was a dog that never got lost so someone must have kicked him out.

The Marley & Me movie reminded me of some of the moments we shared with Trop. He was truly a family member, a brother to the little girl I was at the age of six and a true friend until his last days when I was eighteen. The time with Trop was some of the best years in my life.

When I was little, we would play lying or rolling on the grass in the country. I would also often just lie beside Trop and pet him. He was this gentle, wise angel of dog.

When I got older, my mother would drive me to school and he would accompany us, sometimes even taking the elevator ride up, which he really enjoyed because everyone petted him. They would walk around the area after I had started my first class. Mom actually acquainted her now best friend through Trop. Basia asked whether she could walk him with her. My mother agreed.

He was also a freqent visitor at my father’s office where he would often sleep in the corner behind the conference table or cuddle up to the secretary or the accountant.

He, however, wasn’t always an angel, sometimes the demon would switch on in him. He loved swimming, water was his passion and he would bathe in the little river next to our house regardless of the weather, be it frost or not. Back in they days, the Wilanów fields weren’t full of apartment blocks as they are now, they were this huge dog walking area and the place where Trop would fullfil his passion, beacause of course, as his breed would suggest, he had been trained to be a hunting dog. The only problem was that he was scared of shots and it was probably the reason why someone got rid of him. But back to him. On the Wilanów fields, we would let him loose and he would find pheasants, hares or chase after ducks running in the river and my mother would chase him along the bank – to Wilanów and back, which wasn’t that small a distance. He also had a different type of barking for every type of animal he was chasing.

Trop was also a dog gentleman, and sometimes he would fall in love and would regularly escape his collar and run to the lady dog’s door – every evening. In the countryhouse, he would always give his place to any guest ladydogs that were present. His biggest and returned love was the lady dog belonging to the man who later became the President of Poland. When he did, Saba (Trop’s love) had to move to the presidential palace.

I also remember that at our apartment in Warsaw, the entire family would fight for a place on the couch in front of the tv in my father’s study and it was usually Trop who won.

Trop, or Tropcio would also not attack cats, which made him welcome in different cats’ homes. Friends of the family loved having him over, to the point that some of them got their own dogs after his visit. And while tracing game and water were his passions, he was also a family guy. He would know when someone was sad and would try to console you.

He also always knew when someone was opening the fridge and would wake up from his deepest sleep. In his old age, he went deaf, but he still knew when the fridge was being opened. At some point, before we realized he had lost his hearing, we thought that he started being disobedient, but that wasn’t true. Once we recognized his deafness, we learned that we could reach him through sign language and point in which direction he should go, and it really worked. Before a pedestrian crossing, I would lower my hand and he would touch my palm with his nose, then we crossed, and when he was in front of me, he would look back for me to show him in which direction he should go. Truly amazing.

Another scene I remember is from the lake area in the North of Poland. My mother and I would bathe in the lake, and Tropcio was constantly running around, sniffing and only coming back to rest for a few minutes, lie down in the lake and drink some water or… to swim to the center of the lake to chase some ducks. Unfortunately, every time he arrived the ducks were already gone, so he was disappointed and would eat dragonflies (protected under polish law) on his way back issuing sounds of disapointement.

Anyway, these are just a few memories of Trop’s life with us. I believe, in our family, he found his true happiness and with him, we certainly did too. My biggest regret is that, in the midst o f my teenage years, running around after a certain boy I did not spend enough time with Trop during his last moments with us. At the age of around 16 (according to the vets he arrived in our family at around 6), he fell sick but he got out of it- my mother had spend two weeks driving to the animal hospital to sit with him through drip infusions and everyone, including the staff of the hospital was very happy that his health was back. But after further two weeks he fell ill again and his hind legs got paralyzed. In some instances he was ok, but in others, a horrible pain captured his entire body and he would look at you hoping that you would help him. The diagnosis was that it was a failure of the neural system and that his life could only be prolonged for maybe 2 further weeks which would include him suffering. We made a decision to put him to sleep – probably one of the most difficult ones for one to make.

I remember our last moments with him at the hospital and his eyes… And then we were asked to leave for a moment and after a while the staff brought him to our car. I remember every moment of that day and the movie today just brought them back to life. My mother and I could not calm ourselves down and would just cry and cry (this would continue for months). My father, who does not show his feelings easily was also deeply shaken. My boyfriend, or boyfriend candidate at the time could not understand why I was so full of sorrow but the guy is not even worth mentioning and Trop – one of the dearest friends I’ve ever had most certainly is.

My last moment with Trop was him already passed away, on a blanket in the trunk of our car and me sitting beside him, talking to him. He was dead but his body was still warm. This was the end of the life of a dog angel, may he rest in peace. We will never forget him.

Missing you

I miss you every day.

Miss you in my bed

Miss you in my thoughts

In my dreams we’re together.

J.

The difference between yesterday and today

To my great surprise I recently noticed that elementary school and junior high school teachers use emails. You may laugh now but it wasn’t so obvious to me. I haven’t been to a non-university level school in quite some time and in my mind I preserved an image with Internet being there but also with teachers not really skilled at using it. And now, some 10 or more years later they are all emailing their schedules, sending emails to students, checking things on the Internet, wow. It is the more impressive that some of them used to be my teachers back in the days when only the students where skilled at using the Net.

Another sign of today. You learn that one of year friends broke up with his/her girlfriend/boyfriend not from him/her but via facebook. Your facebook newsfeed shows you that the person went from “in a relationship” to “single”. And that’s that. And you leave it at that. Sad. But it can also be useful – no need of explaining your current situation to every person separately.

And also, in my times Pumas used to be the “it” sneakers, now it’s Nikes.

sweet treat

She has a secret. A secret admiratiom for french pastry. She tries to avoid the street with the french patissier but there are days or even series of days when she hears the call of the sweet gene. And then it’s over.

An almond croissant – just sugar and fat, would a layperson claim. But it is so much more than that. First your teeth have to bite through the crispy crust of roasted almonds. Then you bite the piece off and feel the sweet texture of the dough. The final reward comes when you reach it’s core which treasures the delicious almond filling.

A pain au chocolat is a different, slightly less sweet treat. If you don’t want to get too sweetenized – go for it. After hitting through the french dough you’ll encounter some delicious, semi-bitter chocolate. And then you’ll let the delicate taste gently melt on your tongue.

Anyway, today she needed, or thought she needed an extra amount of the sweet secret pleasure. She didn’t stop at buying just one treat and enjoyed even… more than two. Surprisingly, the usual low, which usually comes after the extra enormous dose of sugar didn’t hit her. No sleepiness, no nothing. Just a small feling of guilt and a considerably larger amount of memories of sweetness. Was it worth it? The scale in the morning will show /alternative ending/; why, yes, ofcourse!

Unfeminism in Poland

Feminism hasn’t yet reached Poland. Or at least the elites, the ones who should be setting the standards and providing guidelines of behavior to others.

Situation 1:

Backstage of a very popular political tv show. Half of the debating politicians (not usual for the show) were women. Economy was the topic. One of the male guests is asked about how he found the show. The answer: It was very nice, very enjoyable. Question 2: why? Answer: because such charming and nice ladies were there and debates are always more pleasant when ladies participate. One of the women who participated in the show just smiles vaguely with visible uneasiness but doesn’t respond.

Situation 2:

Naomi Klein – the guru of the alterglobalist movement comes to Warsaw to promote her new book and give a lecture at the University of Warsaw. How is she being introduced by a high-up representative of the university? As a very charming lady with charming ideas. Some members of the audience boo here. Others don’t seem to notice nor care. Naomi Klein, as the guest, kindly smiles. The studies of the failure of the War on Terror, thousands of deaths in Chile after the coup d’etat, hurricane Katrina, the Tsunami and how liberal capitalism is being introduced when people are in a state of shock – charming ideas indeed.

Situation 3 (I did not observe this one first hand):

A PhD candidate comes to a PhD (a man of about 70), an expert in interpreting and says that she will be conducting a research on the differences in translations done by women and men and asks whether he could help. The answer: ‘you better grow yourself a penis first’. (This is an extreme example, from what I’ve seen it doesn’t happen too often)

It seems that the ideas of valuing women for the merit of what they are saying and for their knowledge hasn’t yet reached some groups, perhaps most of the population. It is encouraging that it is visible among the younger generation, but why aren’t politicians and professors up to date? It personally disgusts me but I also blame the women. Why don’t they respond? Why don’t they kiss the man’s hand back. Why, after being called charming or pretty (in the context of a lecture or a political debate), don’t they thank ‘the charming or handsome gentleman’? They never do. They seem to notice and seem to feel uneasy and just hide it behind a smile. But what if it’s time to react? It is time to react. To stop being nice and just fight back with the same weapon. Why don’t female politicians start talking about how handsome their co-debaters were or how the conversation was nice, because there were some charming gentleman in it? Perhaps this will show the males who still live with the ideas of the past in their brains, realize that women are their equals and should be judged and treated the way they treat their male colleagues.

I am not calling for physical equality of the sexes or for gender evenness, but it is about time that people start being treated as equal human beings, not as men, who know things, and women who should be the background and smile.

Cloudy

It’s just past 2pm and the sun is almost gone. Where did it go? Why did it have to go? What makes it go so early? I’ve slept through the few hours of sun today and now the sky is grey and cloudy. My mind is cloudy. My motivation is cloudy. The time before winter and the double dose of sun that you get from it being reflected by the snow (who knows whether there will be snow this winter?) is the most challenging one. Chocolate consumption increases. People get moody. They would like to just stay at home, wrap themselves in a blanket and not to leave, not having to face the grey and unfriendly city covered by a blanket of suffocating fog.

Wybory w USA a wybory modowe (instrukcja obsługi mody bankietowej)

Dzisiaj odbywają się wybory w USA. Wybory modowe towarzyszą nam jednak każdego dnia. Zacznę od dużych, kolorowych, bardzo jaskrawych torebek z imitacji skóry…

Są one zjawiskiem nader powszechnym na warszawskich ulicach, a tak naprawdę powinno się ich zabronić! Zakazać! Tandetne metalowe klamerki, sztuczne brylanciki, ohydne kształty, ale o tym może innym razem.

W niniejszym tekście przedstawię krótką instrukcję obsługi mody bankietowej. Uważam, że jest ona potrzebna, bo ludzie niestety nie potrafią się ubrać.

Mężczyznom jest o tyle łatwiej, że wystarczy, że ubiorą się w mundurek, czyli garnitur i krawat. Oczywiście większość z nich nie zwraca uwagi na fakt, że wieczorowa pora zobowiązuje i na bankiet odbywający się po zmroku należałoby założyć ciemny garnitur.

Ale przejdźmy do mody damskiej. Oto kilka zasad:

1. Na przyjęcie nie przenosimy mody biurowej. Białym bluzkom i sweterkom mówimy nie.

- biała bluzka koszulowa nie jest koniecznością. Co więcej, należałoby się jej pozbyć, bo trąci nudą. Jeżeli ktoś uprze się, że biała bluzka musi być, niech będzie ona wykonana ze szlachetnego materiału (np. jedwab) i o ciekawym lub bardzo prostym kroju. Ale bluzki tego typu odradzamy!. Jeżeli nadal chcesz się ubrać w taką bluzkę, pomyśl, że będziesz wyglądała jak obsługa cateringu lub w najlepszym wypadku hostesso-sekretarka.

- zestaw czarna spódnica + biała bluzka zostawmy uczestnikom akademii w szkołach podstawowych

2. Czerń i biel nie są jedynymi kolorami.

3. Torebka, którą zabieramy na koktajl lub inne przyjęcie (koktajlowa) nie powinna być średniej wielkości potworkiem ani przepastnym worem, nawet jeżeli są one markowe. Podróbkom w dzień i w nocy mówimy absolutnie kategoryczne nie. Na takie torby mało kto się nabiera, a tylko źle świadczą o właścicielce.

Do torebki koktajlowej mieści się niewiele rzeczy, ale jest ona bardzo istotna. Liczy się jej kształt, kolor i materiał, z którego jest wykonana. Odpowiednio dobrana sprawia, że nawet nudny strój może ożyć. Standardowym, monochromatycznym torebkom średnich kształtów mówimy stanowczo nie (już lepiej zostawić je w szatni). Cekiniastej tandecie również nie!

4. Buty: obcas lub płaskie. Obcas jest bardziej elegancki. Buty są bardzo ważne. Nie muszą i często nie powinny być w tym samym kolorze co torebka. Jeżeli kupujemy buty, zwróćmy uwagę na to jak wyglądają. Nie zgadzajmy się na proponowane przez producentów tandetne klamerki i bezkształtne obcasy. Tandetnym szpilom mówimy stanowczo nie! Metalowe szpile powinny być zakazane – chyba, że chcesz wyglądać jak pani wiadomych obyczajów.

5. Sukienki koktajlowe to nie suknie balowe. Na koktajl lub bankiet nie zakładamy sukni do ziemi.

6. Ubrań nie trzeba kupować w komplecie. Istnieją np. second handy, gdzie można znaleźć rzeczy, których nikt inny nie będzie miał, a które będą wyglądały bardzo dobrze.  Wolno łączyć kolory.

7. (powtórka) Na wieczór nie zakładamy biurowych sweterków. Zainwestujmy już lepiej w coś ze szlachetnego materiału, np. jedwabną marynarkę lub bluzkę, która żeby wyglądać dobrze nie koniecznie musi być bardzo droga.

8. Ubieranie się wymaga również poczucia humory. Nie bójmy się żartów i innowacji.