That comment has prompted one of the readers to send me an email asking whether it was true or not – if there really were rabid dogs in Poland. The reader was about to move to Poland and planned to take his dog with him. But now, after finding out that Poland was not a rabies free country, he was having second thoughts.

Yes, wścieklizna (rabies) is very much real in Poland. And as far as I know, all cats and dogs kept as pets must be vaccinated (koty i psy muszą być zaszczepione) against rabies. But also as far as I know, rabies is mostly prevalent in wild animals – squirrels, bats, foxes, (wiewiórki, nietoperze, lisy) etc…

What would concern me, as an animal lover, more are the numbers of stray dogs and cats (bezdomne, literally – homeless, psy i koty) in Poland.

And to calm my concerned reader who’s planning to bring his dog to Poland, this is most likely what Barb had in mind when she mentioned her wściekły pies – a stray that barks like crazy and lunges for your ankles when you walk by. Any dog that’s loud and aggressive (and doesn’t even have to be homeless) can be colloquially referred to as “wściekły pies”.

Incidentally, the adjective “wściekły” (feminine: wściekła, neuter: wściekłe, plural masculine personal: wściekli, plural all others: wściekłe) also means furious, mad (as foaming at the mouth mad), angry, livid.

And there’s even a verb – wściec się (perfective; imperfective: wściekać się) – to get angry, mad, furious, to see red, to go postal.

So, now all you ladies out there, you can say:

• Jestem wściekła na niego. – I’m mad (angry) at him.
• Wściekłam się na niego. – I got mad (angry) at him.

And gentlemen, please don’t ask me why I’m giving such examples today. Let’s just say that jestem naprawdę wściekła na niego (I am really mad at him) today. LOL!

Post from: Polish Blog

But suddenly, when I had to give some examples in Polish, I was stumped. The fact that I’m very easily stumped you all know already very well. So, I decided to take the easy way out and say that in Polish we have different words for different things. Yeah, that was lame, I know. And totally not true.

But apart from prawo and lewo, I couldn’t come up with any other examples.

Prawo could be either a noun or an adverb.
As a noun, it’s neuter in gender and it means “law”, as in “I’m studying law” – Studiuję prawo.
As an adverb, it means “right” as in “to turn right” – skręcić w prawo.
Lewo is an adverb too, and it’s the opposite of prawo, as in “to turn left” – skręcić w lewo.
But if you use it in a phrase like “załatwię to na lewo”, it means something like “I’ll get it done, but not quite legally, under the table, etc…” Which smells of kombinowanie, in a rather negative way, so there you have it.
OK, what else? Niebo (noun, neuter) can mean either “sky” or “Heaven”.
Tępy (adjective, feminine singular: tępa, neuter singular: tępe, pl masc personal: tępi, all others plural: tępe) can mean either blunt, dull (as in not sharp) or stupid. There is even a noun derived from tępy to describe a particularly dumb and uncouth person: tępak.
And here I draw a blank…

So, please, by all means, feel free to add to the list. Or else we’ll have to stick with the version that in Polish we have all sorts of different words for all sorts of different things.

Post from: Polish Blog

And to another reader - thank you for pointing out the fact that I didn’t explain the really first thing first about this word. So, in order to rectify that oversight from the other day, here it is:

• kombinowanie (noun, neuter, plural: kombinowania, though I don’t think many people would use the plural form) – and that’s the noun version of kombinować.

• kombinować (verb, imperfective; the perfective form would be wykombinować) – wangle, maneuver, get things sorted out, cheat, scheme, arrange something, etc…

And here are some examples of kombinowanie that should be easy to grasp (even for my very honest American readers, wink wink).

Personally, I have seen tons and tons of kombinowanie in the US. Heck, you want to see kombinowanie as an artform the American way, then go to any jury selection process and see how people kombinują to get out of performing their civic duty.

Another example of kombinowanie is trying to get a reasonably priced sublet apartment in Manhattan. That’s when kombinowanie turns ruthless, even by Polish standards. Anything goes (short of murder, but then again, who knows?) – lying, cheating, scheming and bribe giving (and a few other things that I shouldn’t mention on a PG-13 blog).

But I think that basically kombinowanie starts in school, and that’s a proven fact the world over. Proven how? Show me a bunch of 13 or 14 or 15 year olds who are NOT trying to get out of some undesirable school activities by any means necessary and you’ll see a bunch of witless pushovers.

So, actually, I don’t think that the totalitarian regime of the communist days had much to do with the Polish kombinowanie way of life. If you read how those really ancient guys like Mieszko and Chrobry got to be princes and kings and otherwise mighty and powerful guys, then it’s obvious that kombinowanie (and this time definitely including murder) has been with us, Poles, for a lot longer than the last 50 or 60 years. In fact, you can even say it’s kept us alive through the centuries, it’s helped us survive wars and other calamities.

And what happened if we ended up stuck (no doubt of a result of kombinowanie of other powers) with a witless wonder of a ruler who couldn’t kombinować even if the very survival of his country depended on it and concentrated on building pretty palaces instead? Like Stanisław August Poniatowski, for example? Everybody knows.

So yes, kombinowanie may be our way of life, and I don’t think it’s more prevalent in Poland than in other countries (it seems to me that in Asia and South America it’s physically impossible to get anything done without some very skillful kombinowanie). We are just a lot more honest about admitting to actually doing it.

PS. Do you still see any goofy computer language in my posts on this blog? I am using a new computer and a new internet provider (microwave wireless something something) and I hope there will be no more glitches.

Post from: Polish Blog

Apparently there is a difference between those two. And apparently, I have been always using the wrong form.

But first things first. “Do” means “to”, and “na” means “on”, more or less and most of the time anyway.
So what’s the deal with “do miasta” and “na miasto”? I asked my friend to explain it to me using simple and easy to understand words, but even though she was the one who pointed out my incorrect usage, she was unable to actually articulate the difference. But that’s the Polish language for you. Nothing new here. We pride ourselves on being able to speak such a difficult language, but when it comes to explaining the finer points of this language we draw a blank.

So, I started to google, because I was sure that some learned person (with a PhD in Polish, no doubt) out there would know how to explain the difference between “do miasta” and “na miasto”. And what did I find?

The difference is there indeed, and it’s really simple. (Oh yeah, if it’s that simple how come I never figured it myself huh?)

So, you say “idę do miasta” if you are out of town and actually heading into town.
And you say “idę na miasto” if you are actually in town (as in: you live there) and are leaving your house (apartment, hotel room, whatever) to wander around a bit.

Simple? Maybe. If it were up to me, I’d get rid of the “na miasto” version, because it just rubs me the wrong way. Or maybe I’m simply jealous of people who actually live in the city and don’t have to go into town?

Post from: Polish Blog

I really don’t like sweeping generalizations, though that doesn’t stop me in making them myself from time to time, to be perfectly honest. So most of the time when I hear such a general comment, I just take it with a grain of salt. But when those sweeping generalizations begin to include me, well, that’s a whole another story. It’s personal then, and for me that’s when the gloves come off.

But yeah, what kind of generalizations are we talking about here? You know, those broad comments that encompass perhaps an entire nation or an ethic group, like that the French are generally rude (not true) and the Americans fat (again, not true). So why am I getting all worked up about it today? Somebody has told me recently, and to my face no less, that Poles are a conniving, dishonest bunch that can’t be trusted. As a proof of those national characteristics, the person used the famous Polish art (or is it a skill?) of kombinowanie.

Now, I know those comments have been around for centuries, and I know that Poles made kombinowanie into a whole new art form in its own right (that much is true), but when someone says it to my face, that makes it personal.

And personally, some of the most dishonest and untrustworthy people I’ve met in my life were single males between the ages of 22 and 32, university educated, no less. Does that mean that I’m going to pass sweeping generalizations that all single males between the ages of 22 and 32 are dishonest pricks? Of course not. So it really bothers me when narrow-minded people apply such generalizations to whole nationalities and ethnic groups.

I explained as much to the person I was talking with, and his response was “but you guys (meaning Poles) have a bad reputation everywhere you go.”

Oh really? Is that true? Am I that out of touch with how the Polish people are perceived by foreigners?

And is “kombinowanie” really all that bad? I’m as good at it as the next Pole, and yet I’ve never used it for nefarious purposes. Quite the opposite in fact.

But what is that “kombinowanie” anyway?
Some of my fellow countrymen will tell you that it’s one Polish word that can’t be translated into English. I disagree. It can be translated, but how you do it depends on the context.

The verb “kombinować” can mean many things. It can be used as in “to scheme”, “to fix”, “to sort out”, “to arrange” and so on. You get the idea. Nothing wrong with a little “kombinowanie” itself, it’s why you want to kombinować that might be perceived as less than honest by some people.

So yeah, we are the masters of kombinowanie, but does that immediately mean we are dishonest and untrustworthy as a nation?
Your opinions please. Honest opinions, of course.

PS. I apologize for the recent lack of comments from me, but we’re moving again and have internet issues.

Post from: Polish Blog

Now, maybe not exactly your typical Polish comfort food (but what would be? Schabowy and potatoes plus surówka?) but kapuśniak is what I want to eat whenever I am sick.

The only problem is that I can’t make a really good cabbage soup if my life depended on it. Why? First there’s this issue of whether to use fresh cabbage (świeża) or sauerkraut (kiszona). I like my kapuśniak sour, but not too sour. So what are the correct fresh/sour proportions? And second, what about the soup base? Mine never tastes like it should. It always has that “nouvelle” air to it instead of an honest, hearty and satisfying down to earth kapuśniak flavor.

My dad makes the best kapuśniak on the planet and I love it, even though he likes his with fresh cabbage. However, I have never mastered this kapuśniak making skill and hence I am stuck with improvising whenever I feel like eating a bowl of cabbagey goodness.

And to be completely honest, I’ve had no idea that cabbage soup is (was?) one of those newfangled weight loss fads. Really? We, Poles have been eating it for at least a thousand years, so it’s nice to see the rest of the world catching up.

OK, but back to the original question. How to make my kapuśniak taste right the Polish way? Because right now, I make it somewhat like this:

• shred a bunch of cabbage
• open a jar of sauerkraut
• cut up some veggies
• get a couple of those bullion cube thingies or a can of ready-made consommé (I’m not the patient type to boil some bones for soup stock)
• some bacon and a couple of bratwursts
• random seasonings and spices (read: whatever’s available)

It’s still good and quite tasty, but nothing like my dad used to make.
So, how do you make your kapuśniak?

PS. And by the way, how does this old saying go? Po kapuście d..pa chluszcze. (something like: after eating cabbage soup, stuff spouts from your behind, except that it vaguely rhymes in Polish), so be careful. And the d-word is considered vulgar, so there.

Post from: Polish Blog

So here I am, at your service.

What the reader wanted was this: please tell me how to count (in Polish, of course) the following nouns: dziecko (child, neuter), nauczycielka (teacher, female), pisarz (writer, masculine), jesień (autumn, feminine), mysz (mouse, feminine), and słoń (elephant, masculine). Though I am not entirely sure if the reader wanted słoń (elephant) or słońce (sun), so just in case I think I’ll do both.

Initially, I wrote back and told him to look up my previous posts on this subject, but he responded that this is the time when grammar explanations are not enough, he needs to see how it’s actually done in practice. OK, fine by me. And actually, I just wanted to throw those words at you (all my readers in general) and see what you could come up with in terms of counting them from one to five. But since the email had the “the world is going to end on Thursday at 3PM if you don’t help me” tone, I thought I’d just get up and do it myself.

But why do I have this strange feeling that I’m doing somebody’s homework here, huh?

Ok, but here we go.

• dziecko (child) from one to five:
• jedno dziecko, dwoje dzieci, troje dzieci, czworo dzieci, pięcioro dzieci

• nauczycielka (female teacher) from one to five:
• jedna nauczycielka, dwie nauczycielki, trzy nauczycielki, cztery nauczycielki, pięć nauczycielek

• pisarz (writer, male) from one to five:
• jeden pisarz, dwóch pisarzy, trzech pisarzy, czterech pisarzy, pięciu pisarzy

• jesień (fall/autumn, feminine) from one to five:
• jedna jesień, dwie jesienie, trzy jesienie, cztery jesienie, pięć jesieni

• mysz (mouse, feminine) from one to five (this is a tricky one and I hope I got it right):
• jedna mysz, dwie myszy, trzy myszy, cztery myszy, pięć myszy

• słoń (elephant, masculine) from one to five:
• jeden słoń, dwa słonie, trzy słonie, cztery słonie, pięć słoni (and we have a whole circus!)

• słońce (sun, neuter) from one to five:
• jedno słońce, dwa słońca, trzy słońca, cztery słońca, pięć słońc

OK, dear reader, I hope this is what you had in mind. And I hope I managed before your doomsday deadline.

Post from: Polish Blog

I can’t eat much, can’t drink much (which is bad, I know, because the first treatment option for a cold is to hydrate the body as much as possible) and I am generally miserable.

But what can I do? This is the cold and flu season and we just need to get through it.
I’ve tried various remedies and nothing seems to work. And as my dad is fond of saying: katar leczony trwa siedem dni, nieleczony – tydzień (runny nose lasts 7 days if treated, and a week if not). And since I’m almost at the seven day mark, I hope I will get better soon.

And in the meantime, I can honestly say I did what I could. I tried czosnek (garlic), probably the most vile food I’ve ever met. I drank syrop z cebuli (onion juice), which along with garlic is something I don’t wish upon my worst enemies. I consumed copious amounts of sok pomarańczowy (orange juice), which did nothing but gave me acid reflux, and took more vitamins (witaminy) that has been clinically proven safe. And nothing.

I drank ziółka (herbal teas), ate rosół (chicken soup), snacked on grejpfrut (grapefruit), and felt like I was single handedly keeping the company that makes Fervex in business.

And I wasn’t a nice person to be around. But still, the doc said – nie ma gorączki, nie ma grypy (no fever, no flu) and I was felt to suffer all by myself.

I know it’s irrational to demand antybiotyki (antibiotics) for a common cold, but I just wanted to get something. Anything. Even if it technically shouldn’t work, because the placebo effect alone can do wonders for a tortured patient. But no such luck, unfortunately.

So now, if you excuse me, I have więcej ziółek (more herbal tea) to drink.

Post from: Polish Blog

But it’s not about Dzień Nauczyciela that I wanted to talk to you about today. Nah… Instead, I wanted to ask you what you thought about the weather. In Poland, naturally.

Isn’t it a bit early to be snowing? Granted, the stuff has already melted, but still… It’s only October now. And honestly, I don’t remember it snowing in October, like ever…

But with this early snow, I’m hearing a lot of foreigners complaining about the weather. Oddly, some of those foreigners come from places like Montana and Calgary, where snow in October is nothing special. In fact, it’s something to be expected. And the same people started kvetching this month that the weather in Poland sucks.

Frankly, I’ve always remembered it as being sucky. It was either too cold, or too wet, or too cold, or too wet. Even during summers. And my opinion hasn’t changed that much since.

But enough about me. What I want to know is what YOU think about polska pogoda (Polish weather). Bring it on… This is the time and place for you to complain.

And while we on the subject of weather, who’s your favorite “pogodynka” (weather person) on TV?

Post from: Polish Blog

An inhabitant of Gdańsk is called gdańszczanin (masculine; gdańszczanka – feminine). A person who lives in Warsaw? Warszawiak or warszawianin, if a male, and warszawianka, if a female.
In Kraków? Krakowiak, or krakowianin, if a guy, and krakowianka, if a woman.

There’s really no rhyme or reason to how those names are formed. And those are just the easy ones. It gets a lot more complicated when you’re talking about a person who lives in Pruszcz Gdański, for example. Or Bielsko-Biała.

And yes, if we’re back on the subject of people who live in Bielsko-Biała, what do you call them? Hmmm… Bielsko-bialski, if a guy, and bielsko-bialska, if a woman. Yeah, where did that come from I have no clue, but that’s what it says in my dictionary. Many people mistakenly assume, it’s bielszczanin and bielszczanka, but those are people who live in Bielsk Podlaski.

And since we’re gluttons for punishment (and because we love Polish), we might as well go all the way and figure out how to call an inhabitant of Białystok. Białostoczanin, if a male, and białostoczanka if a female.

And maybe you noticed one thing – all those nouns are not capitalized. If you see “Krakowianin” that means a person who lives in Krakowskiem, which is a general area where Kraków is located. But an inhabitant of a city is always written using a small letter.

So yeah, what do you call an inhabitant of Pruszcz Gdański? I think I’ll stick with “an inhabitant of Pruszcz Gdański” (mieszkaniec Pruszcza Gdańskiego).

And since we’ve been talking about Bielsko-Biała a lot lately, I thought I’d show you some photos from that city. All photographs were taken by Artur Guzy and you can see more of them on his blog – Bielsko-Biała i wszystko jasne.

Pretty, isn’t it?

And I don’t know about you, but I had no idea that Bielsko-Biała was such a lovely town.

And for those who complained about the rain, here’s złota polska jesień, also in Bielsko-Biała.

For more photos, go to Artur’s blog and practice your Polish!

Post from: Polish Blog