Von Radek Knapp.
Von Radek Knapp.
So, as you’ve now crossed over the border, and will shortly have your first encounter with Polish people, there are a few things that you should know. In their own country the Poles behave in a completely different way to when they are abroad. Above all, they don’t look as foreign as they tend to do in Germany or in France. In their own country they appear and behave just like normal people – they take the bus to work, sit in cafés and chat about the weather. In the evening they like to watch TV or go to the cinema. This is not the only change that you will notice however, the other being that you are now the foreigner and will soon be made to feel this difference. Poles are very sensitive when it comes to dealing with foreigners. This is a characteristic that, by the way, they share with Western Europeans, although in this case with a totally different result. In the West the image of foreigners is clearly defined as mostly dark-skinned individuals, endowed with a healthy appetite for heroin and our taxes, and a diabolical ability to turn the heads of our blond beauties. In Poland it is the other way round. A foreigner is a noble, generous person, who comes from a place where the world is still in order. This is in part a characteristic of the hospitality of the Slavic soul. When in Poland someone says to you “Dzien Dobry”, which means “good day”, you know that they mean it. On the other hand, the Austrian “Grüß Gott” is just an excuse to make a hasty retreat, in Germany as meaningless as a yawn after waking up. In France, “Bonjour” still only exists in four-star hotels. The Polish admiration for foreigners has, however, deep historical roots. During the forty years of separation from Western Europe the word foreigner took on a mysterious and exciting resonance. No matter whoever came to Poland during that time – whether it was a French chimney sweep or a German postman – they were primarily Westerners, thus people who owned two coloured TVs, a diesel-fuelled Mercedes and had probably eaten real chocolate less than two days ago. These forty years of unconditional admiration for Westerners have left in most Poles a considerable number of Pavlovian reflexes, one of them being the unshakable belief in the goodness of all foreigners. There is probably hardly any other country in Europe where the natives take so much pleasure in using any opportunity to pass themselves off as foreigners. If someone took the trouble to count in a day the number of phone calls received by Polish public offices and banks, they would be astonished by how many foreigners apparently happen to be staying in Poland at that moment. It is almost a Slavic national sport to announce oneself in a strong French or English accent when calling an office for information. Not only does one receive the information faster than usual, it is far more exciting for the switchboard operator or the rail clerk to be able to help John Miller from Wisconsin rather than Jan Nowicki from Mokotov. For the Western European this might sound like a fairy tale from 1001 Nights, as it is fairly uncommon for a Herr Müller to introduce himself as Kemal …zdogan when calling the Munich Labour Office. In Poland, there is hardly anything better that can happen to someone than to be a foreigner. So it would be counterproductive to try to assume the guise of a Pole on the streets of Warsaw or Cracow. By crossing the border into Poland you have been endowed with a powerful privilege, namely coming from another reality. You don’t have to do all those things that Polish people in a foreign country are so desperately concerned about. Don’t try to hide your accent, and don’t hesitate to ask a Polish native for directions, just be yourself: a foreigner.