Many things have occurred since we arrived in Poznan a little over a week ago now. We’ve moved from our university-hotel into our own urban garret. To get to our garret we ascend what seems like 900 stairs – 1000 if you’re carrying Meghann’s suitcase of documents – and then you arrive at our charming coldwater flat. As Bill Murray says in The Razor’s Edge, “It’s hard to find a landlord that doesn’t provide hot water these days, but isn’t this refreshing?”
There is actually hot water with a bit of a struggle or the snake charming of a tiny little hot water heater over the sink in the kitchen. The apartment is large with a cupboard-like room for Meghann to work in next to a wardrobe which promises to lead to Narnia. Polish Narnia. Our “great room” has our surprisingly comfortable bed, made more so by Meghann’s clever remembrance to bring a fitted sheet which is not easily available in Poland. The location of the apartment is perhaps its greatest feature: above a wine shop and vegetarian eatery, and a five-minute walk from my University, a giant mall, and various shops and restaurants. There is also a 24-hour deli across the street in front of which toughs sing futbol anthems. As I type this, a woman serenades the neighborhood also from outside. There is still no internet in the apartment due to various bureaucratic difficulties, but we hope perhaps we’ll have it this week.
But what does any of this have to do with a toaster, you ask?
This extended disquisition on the apartment is a way of saying it lacks many essentials which required shopping. As the apartment seems to have a total of five outlets, all sorts of electrical paraphernalia needed to be purchased. A few days ago, a very nice graduate student took us to IKEA (kitten aside: The Swedes deluge Poland again!) where we purchased much crap after being overwhelmed by the museum-like fancy crap upstairs. Luckily, we found the cheap crap in the basement, bought one of each, and were driven home. Then the same graduate student without complaint took two trips from our hotel to our new apartment to move luggage and crap. We should not, however, overlook the tireless efforts of a young professor who found this apartment and is still waging the Internet Battle for us. She is also the one who helped with my University library card, introductions, etc. (Kitten aside: Haven’t we moved wildly off point?)
Indeed we have, Miss Kitten. We now return to the toaster.
So, today we ventured forth to find electrical gadgets. To do this, we journeyed past the mall within walking distance, took a tram for the first time this trip, and went to another mall, the largest in Western Poland. (Kitten aside: Don’t laugh. Poles enjoy enormous malls.) After wondering aimlessly, (Lamb aside: on a completely different note, we also spent days trying to find a sponge. Weird, right? But we found one today.) we came across a gigantic Best Buy wannabe. We got a czajnik (electrical tea kettle), a hair dryer, (Kitten aside: let’s see if this one finally works.), three power strips, two extension cords, and the dreadful faux pas—what we thought was a power adapter. (Kitten aside: FAIL!)
Now, to be fair, the day has had much of the Lamb attempting to speak Polish: in the grocery store, in the electronics, and more to come. And often, while not actually speaking the language, he was able to get his point across. And in the Best Buy Wannabe, he did get his point across, and was led to believe that this object was a power adapter, and, indeed, it sort of was. But after we bought it, the Lamb wisely opened it before leaving the store’s vicinity, and found it would not work with our computer cords, the whole purpose. So, with the Kitten’s sarcastic, “Good luck,” the Lamb girded his loins, and went back into the store to return the faulty adapter. Skirting the bitchy wolfy check-out lady with black-dyed hair, I correctly assumed that returns had to be done at the counter where everyone looked angry and miserable. (Kitten aside: Didn’t you just switch from the third person to the first person?) (Lamb aside: So sue me.) I waited my turn in line, and eventually sat in front of a skinny young woman. I asked if she spoke English, she said no, I pointed at the adapter and said, in English, “This doesn’t work.” She seemed to understand, and spoke a lot of Polish at me. I said in English, “This doesn’t work.” Then a tough-looking man to my right translated that she was asking if I wanted another one. I said, “Nie, this doesn’t work.” After more translating, it seemed I could not get my money back, but could exchange the adapter for something of an equal price.
Enter toaster.
The cheapest toaster was twenty zlotys more than the adapter, so I grabbed it, walked back to the skinny lady, put it on her desk and laid a twenty-zloty note on top of it. She seemed to understand, and, nearly victorious, after much paperwork and, yes my friends, bureaucratic stamps in what I think was, literally, triplicate, I had my toaster and a receipt. But overconfident I became! Walking out the store, I set off the alarm, and a child of twelve with acne wearing a suit that said something that looked like “Security,” stopped me and spoke at me in Polish. (Kitten aside: It is, after all, Poland.) I said I didn’t speak Polish (in Polish, kinda), and asked, in Polish, if he spoke English. He did not. But it was clear he wanted my toaster. Because I am not stupid, I gave him my toaster. (Kitten aside: Note, he didn’t throw anything.) (Lamb aside: As I type this, and read it outloud to Meghann, she is sweeping the floor and complaining about the dirt. Has she become a Polish housewife? It must be in the water.) (Kitten aside: Well something is. [she explains, “You don’t see the Poles drinking the water.”]) After giving him my toaster, he had me go back through the door, and this time I didn’t beep. Clearly my toaster was causing the security violation. I showed him my receipt and gave him my winning smile. That didn’t exactly work because he kept talking to me in Polish and I just kept smiling. But eventually, probably to get rid of me, he let me go, and I, with a toaster in hand, walked over to Meghann, who had been sitting on a bench guarding our other items.
Lesson: Persistence pays off.
And, by the by, we did get our adapter. After a tram ride back home made more exciting by the fact we didn’t have tickets for the tram and could have been hauled off to Polish prison any moment, we went to our more nearby mall. (Kitten aside: You focus on the police, I focus on the gigantic smiling Asian family that took over the tram.) (Lamb aside: Would you like to expand?) (Kitten aside: Seeing foreigners warms the cockles of my heart.) (Lamb aside: What she means is that there was an Asian family on the train, children beaming and smiling and mother equally pleased.) At the nearby mall I suggested going to the iSpot, the local miniature Apple Store. I asked a clerk if he spoke English; he didn’t, but after I explained in English with gestures what we needed, he explained, in English, where to go. We went. Kitten entered. She emerged, victorious: two power adapters in paw.
We are so victorious, we had dinner at home made in our new czajnik and on our IKEA dishes with my deli meat purchased – almost – in Polish. We’re even doing laundry. We also de-iced the fridge. La Vida Loca!
(Final Kitten Aside: But as Polish history teaches us, no victory goes unpunished.) (Kitten aside: Wait, I’m not done.) (Kitten aside: The wiring to our kitchen light has gone bust. We cook in darkness.)
Post Script: Today (Monday as I post this) helpful workers brought us a table for our kitchen and fixed our light. Hey presto!
