I MISS CEDOC

I know that I'm not in Gabon anymore and that I should be saying goodbye, if not to blogging, to this particular blog. I have already planned my last entry, and I promise you it will be as touching and inspiring as only my writing can be. Before it sees the light, however, I will still tell you a couple of stories.

The first one concerns our good old friend, the temple of African administrative hell, - have you guessed already? - yes, CEDOC! Do not get too excited, though. I have not (yet) received a call from Gabon telling me to give back the original of my carte de séjour, which I managed to smuggle out of the country. But I did lose an administrative battle today and, believe it or not, it made me remember CEDOC warmly. It turns out Polish bureaucratic world might even be worse than the Gabonese one. Judge for yourself.

Crucial information: in February Kasia and Jandro will be conquerring Brussels.

And now the story. It all started with an epiphanic moment of clarity:
"I won't have insurance in Belgium!", I exclaimed one beautiful morning.
"Do not be distressed, my daughter", replied my Father, "for you are in Europe, where life is easier and public offices less corrupt."
"You speak the truth", I said. "Let us google the Social Security webpage".

We thus googled. After a quick visit to the office in question (and I will not call it the SS Office due to my Polish prudence), I found out that all I had to do was register at the Employment Office (fill in registration form, show ID, university diploma, all contracts, and possibly several baby pictures), get the U2 form from them (and no, ladies who work at the Employment Office do not appreciate Bono jokes so you can stick them up the body part often displayed in the baby pictures), take the U2 form to the Social Security, fill in another form and show ID. You will get your insurance card in a day!

It all sounded extremely simple and I decided to follow the advice of the chirpy Social Security lady. First obstacle: the Office is about 700 kilometres away from my parents' place. Undeterred, I boarded a bus, the underground and another bus - the trip rounding up to an even hour and a half - only to find out that the number of people queuing was a charming 136. The security guard told me I had no chance of getting in that day. No worries, I'll come back tomorrow, I thanked him and trotted away to catch a bus, the underground and another bus home.

I'm tough. I'd defeated CEDOC. I'd defeated Trésor. I was ready to stand up against The Queue. I came back the next day, much earlier, at 8:30 am. There were 55 people ahead of me. I sat down and started reading. Do I have to tell you how depressing the Employment Office in Warsaw is? Sad, grey people, sit in apathy; they don't even bring anything to help them pass the hours they must spend there: no books, no mp3 players, only staring into space. The air is charged with frustration and, in some cases, with the stench of alcohol or unshowered male bodies. I felt blue ten minutes into the experience. Three and a half hours later, when my turn finally came, I was desperate to get out.

952! My number is finally called! I pick up my bag, I put a CEDOC/Trésor smile on my face and I enter the magical Room 9. I quickly localize the counter which called me and direct my CEDOC/Trésor smile accordingly. At this very moment Man sits on my chair, opposite my civil servant, who rudely informs me that Man was there before and was asked to come back. She thus blocks me, as no other lady will attend to my registration needs, because my number was already called. I have no choice but to wait for the monstrous Man to finish his buisness. He finishes. Nothing can stop me now! Courage!

Well? What happens next? It's Europe, n'est-ce pas?

Yes, it's Europe. Which, as of today, means absolutely nothing to me. You see, my conversation with the civil servant lady was full of contradictory statements, which left absolutely nothing clear, apart from the fact that I was not in the correct office altogether, as I was locally assigned to a different one.

Conclusions: I don't know if I should register. I don't know if I can get insurance free of charge. I don't know where I can get the U2 form. I don't know how to get to the correct Employment Office. More conclusions: administration works badly everywhere in the world. Only in some countries it's corrupt and/or messy enough for you to stand a chance.

And, while Jandro is trying to convince Galician authorities that he has indeed left Gabon and is now in Spain, there is only one thing I can say: I miss CEDOC.

The image comes from here.

UP! OR BATTERIES CHARGED

During our holidays we finally managed to visit the Polish mountains, my very favourite place in the whole world. The Tatra mountains are situated right in the south of Poland and we generously share them with Slovakia. They are rather high: up to 2500 metres above sea level, and - have I already mentioned it? - they are absolutely stunning.

Hiking in the mountains lets me clear my head. The strenous physical exercie makes me focus. Suddenly the choices are binary: I can go on or I can't, I'm too tired or I'm not, I'm too scared or I can continue. This helps you get perspective and see your problems from a different angle. Black or white. It's not so hard to choose anymore - after all, we do not make much difference anyway. You breathe in the clear mountain air, you let the views envelop you and you know that at that instant nothing else exists.

This was the break I needed. After all my time in Gabon and Spain, I needed to visit a place where I felt utterly and completely comfortable. Where everything is blissfully predictable: either I will get to the top or I won't. Not too much room for surprises. Things in my head fall into place and I feel a strange kind of harmony. Maybe that's how you feel after meditating?

I've been charging my positive energy batteries before returning to Gabon next Monday. I've been meeting friends, spending time with family (both mine and Jandro's), eating lots of good stuff and speaking plenty of Polish. Our last months in Africa will be full of this positive energy. Before a new adventure starts.

Pictures from the Tatras here.

NO MAN'S LAND

I really didn't mean to be silent for such a long time! It turns out, however, that holidays can keep you very busy. We left Gabon on 8th July and spent two weeks in Poland and two weeks in Galicia. Europe surprised us. Suddenly, we could melt into the crowd, unnoticed. So many products to choose from. Such low prices. Everything was comfortable again, the context so well known. But being away from our two countries for a long time also made us see how different they are from each other: we spent two weeks in a typically Polish home, followed directly by two more weeks in a very Galician environment. And we jotted down several differences we'd used to pay little attention to before. Turns out you don't need to travel as far as Africa to talk about cultural shocks!

Early Bird or Night Owl?
In Gabon we sort of follow the Polish timetable - a great adjustment on Jandro's part for which I will be eternally greatful. We get up at 6 am (for work, of course) and go to sleep between 10 and 11 pm (sometimes - in my case - as early as 9:30 pm!). That is more or less what we did when staying with my parents. In Galicia, however, in the summer the sun sets after 10 pm. It is customary to dine after this hour and meet people even later; a friend might ask you to join him for a drink at 11 or midnight. It is virtually impossible to go to sleep before 1 am and most people go to bed much later. As I'm no night owl, we would compromise and try to get home around 1. Result: we would always get home earlier than Jandro's parents.

The art of eating

In Libreville we start our day with a big breakfast, we have hot lunch at 1 pm and a light dinner around 7 or 8 pm. As my parents don't have lunch at home on workdays, we could follow this framework without a problem, spending as much time at the table as we wanted. Anyway, in Poland having meals together is not such a big deal during the working week: every family member has a different timetable and we simply eat when we get home. On the other hand, we tend to gather for a family Sunday lunch, which includes a soup, a main course and a dessert (during the week there is only one course and the dessert is nearly always skipped). On such occasions we spend some time together at the table, chatting and enjoying one another's company. In Galicia, however, every meal is a celebration. It always consists of two courses, bread, wine, coffee, dessert(s) and spirits. You spend the average of two hours (up to three) at the table, which is a special family time. It is crucial to be home in time for lunch, this being the central point of the day. The food is delicious but you always eat too much. And the hours spent sitting at the table, talking, do not help you burn all these calories. Result: two kilogramms more in two weeks.

My cousin's mother-in-law's daughter is pregnant again
In other words: family. Family is important in Poland. You visit them a few times a year and spend holidays with them. They stick up for you and help you. You like your family. In Galicia family bonds go beyond what you can imagine. Family members visit one another sometimes more than once a day (!) and you often hear gossip as the one in the heading. They meet up socially or go out together several times a week. Jandro has more first cousins than my entire family put together and during our stay in Galicia we must visit them all at least once. And, Jandro's town being as small as it is, you meet everybody anyway by simply going to the fish market. Result: Jandro's aunt made us a delicious empanada de xoubas to take to Poland.

Of course, we had already made note of all this before. Nevertheless, being away made us realise how much we both adjusted: we are neither typically Galician nor typically Polish anymore. We created a sort of a new space - no man's land - in which we share our respective cultures, taking from them the things we both accept and like. And as much as I like being at home, it will also be fun to get back to that special space of ours.

Pictures from here and here.

Photos from Poland and Galicia here.

GABON ALSO CARES

For the past week the world has focused on Poland. Western world, you might want to correct me but you would be very wrong to think that. I was rather surprised at how many people cared about what had happened in Smolensk.

During the days following the crash, I received messages and phone calls of support from all my friends and acquaintances, both Gabonese and European, including the security men guarding my building. But that is just the personal level.

The crash has certainly not passed unnoticed by the media and authorities. The day after the accident, l'Union, the country's most important newspaper, printed not only an article relating what had happened, but also a condolence letter from the Gabonese president, Ali Bongo Ondimba (I couldn't help but notice the spelling mistakes... but I suppose good intentions matter). Moreover, the Delegation of the European Commission in Gabon has lowered its flag to half-mast, adding a Polish one next to it. There is also a book of condolence available at the Delegation, which everyone is free to sign. Due to all my illnesses I have not yet seen the book but there was rumour of Ali Bongo himself planning to come and sign it. And even though in the end he did not, there is now rumour of somebody planning to provide him with the book in the intimacy of the Presidential Palace. I also found out that in one of Libreville's churches a mass was celebrated for the crash victims (for several reasons I did not attend).

And all this in a small African country, where maybe ten Polish people permanently reside. I must say I am rather impressed.

Apart from the above, not much to report. Maybe just that my sinusitis has proved to be sinusitis + typhoid fever (yes, again), and this time my Widal & Felix results are 1/160, as opposed to 1/60 the first time I had it. This amounts to two antibiotics and an overwhelming fatigue. Mental note: never wait with the blood tests. Even if they are expensive.

AWAY FROM HOME

Today more than ever I feel far away from home. My mind wanders through the wide streets of Warsaw's city centre. I walk down Nowy Świat and Krakowskie Przedmieście, I have some coffee, which keeps me warm - the spring day is bright but cool. I reach the Old Town, take a turn around the Saski Park, come back to Marszałkowska street and enter one of the shops. I renounce the heat and the sun, the sea views and the juicy green of the forest. I wish to feel the atmosphere of my city, I want a familiar language around me, I wish to be enveloped in the feeling that I belong, the sensation of sharing the past and the present with those surrounding me.

I want to share my country's mourning. This morning Poland lost nearly one hundred of its leaders, including the president. I will not pretend that I supported him - the truth is I wanted him as far away from the political life as possible. But this great tragedy makes me feel for him and his family, as well as for the families of all those who died. I am terribly sorry.

I do not want to give you a picture of the crashed plane. I upload a picture of sunny Warsaw instead. A picture from home.

Media about the plane crash:

• The Guardian.

• Le Monde.

• Gazeta.pl.

• El Pais.

MISSION: NEARLY IMPOSSIBLE

As painful as the decision was, I decided to invest in a new camera. I like taking pictures and there are so many pictures to take in Gabon! Seize the day, I figured, and thus I went and seized. Or at least tried to seize, for it proved to be at least as complicated as getting anything done in Libreville. Luckily, I'm trained in not giving up.

My Dad was kind enough to accompany me on this sad occasion which required getting rid of a large part of my savings. He knows I could not have done it alone. Consequently, we met up in one of the biggest shopping malls in Europe (you think I'm using a hyperbole to enhance the effect of my prose but I am not and it really is). The day before I had seen Sony Cyber Shot and Canon Power Shot proudly displayed in one of the big shops and was inclined to purchase the latter. Sadly, overnight my Canon disappeared.

My Dad generously offered to take me to another shop belonging to the chain, in another shopping mall. We spent thirty minutes in a horrible traffic jam. Wasted another quarter of an hour trying to park. There was no Canon in the other shop but by then I'd decided to buy Sony anyway. My Dad and I got the camera, the memory card and even a nice little bag to fit all that. We moved to the till. My card didn't work. Error. My Dad had forgotten his.

On our way home I tried to get money from one of the cash mashines but it said that "transaction was not possible". Error. We went home, picked up my Mom and a card that would work and went to yet another huge mall, not far from our house, which also boasts the same cheap chain of shops (now you see Warsaw as the land of shopping malls and you're not very much in the wrong). The Sony camera was there but it cost 200 zł more. My heart sank.

My parents suggested going to a small photo shop, also in the mall. It turned out that the camera was there and on offer with an eight GB memory card. I also found a much cheaper bag. And a very helpful salesman, who explained a lot. My Mom's card worked. Now I only need to give the money back.

And I was naive enough to think that everything was easier in Europe... But all's well that ends well, I can't wait to try out my new toy!

KASIA'S GREAT COOKBOOK: CARROT CAKE

I got this recipe from the official Carrot Cake Master, Lucinda, and I tried it out today. Turns out the cake is easy, quick and very tasty. The latter of course I'd known before. By the way, I'm having so much fun cooking and blogging, I'm starting to worry that reports on my culinary explorations will become a regular thing...

Cake ingredients: 4 eggs, 250ml vegetable oil, 350g white sugar, 350g flour, 2 teaspoons baking soda, 2 teaspoons cinnamon, 2 teaspoons baking powder, 2 teaspoons nutmeg, 2 teaspoons vanilla extract, 250g grated carrots, 100g chopped hazelnuts.



Preparation:

1. In a large bowl, beat together eggs, oil, white sugar and vanilla.









2. Mix in flour, baking soda, baking powder, salt and cinnamon. Stir in carrots.





3. Grease and flour a large pan. Preheat oven to 175 degrees. Bake in the preheated oven for 40 to 50 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted into the center of the cake comes out clean. Let cool in pan for 10 minutes, then turn out onto a wire rack and cool completely.





Icing ingredients: 125g soft butter, 225g cream cheese, 500g confectioner's sugar, 1 teaspoon vanilla extract, 100g chopped hazelnuts.






In a bowl, combine butter, cream cheese, confectioner's sugar and vanilla. Beat until the mixture is smooth and creamy. Stir in chopped nuts. Frost the cooled cake.







Keep your father away from the cake or else it will disappear too fast! Enjoy!

Merry Christmas everyone! Have a wonderful Christmas Eve!

KASIA'S GREAT COOKBOOK: PIEROGI

It's Christmas and Christmas is all about cooking. So today, as the title suggests, we shall take a close look at how one of the most important Polish dishes is made. And one of the few I can actually prepare. Here goes, ladies and gentlemen, pierogi z kapustą i grzybami!

Dough ingredients: 3/4 kg of flour, a pinch of salt, two eggs and some water.






Stuffing ingredients: chopped sauerkraut, mushrooms, salt and pepper; all cooked together until it's brownish and soft.





Prepare pierogi:


1. Mix all the ingredients, kneading until the dough resembles pizza dough, maybe a bit less soft but definitely elastic.

2. Roll out the dough until it's quite thin and cut out round pieces - we always use a glass.







3. Put a bit of stuffing onto the dough.








4. Fold the dough and make it pretty.







5. Boil some water with a pinch of salt and a spoonful of olive oil. Boil pierogi for about 3 minutes after they appear on the surface. Don't forget to stir!






6. Last but not least, my favourite part: happy consumption. Serve them boiled (possibly with a bit of lard on top if you dare) or fried. Enjoy!




Task for tomorrow: carrot cake. Not typically Polish but I'll keep you posted anyway!

THE PERFECT TREE

I'm not really in Gabon right now but I somehow rather took to this blog and I hope you'll forgive me for this slightly off-topic entry. I got to Poland last Friday after an exhausting, 15-hour long trip. It's cold and snowy. -14 degrees, normally quite bearable if uncomfortable, suddenly prevents me from going out. I feel tired. But I'm home! Home! And right in the middle of Christmas preparations. To that end, my Mom is making bigos and my Dad and I, as every year, hit the icy road to find the perfect Christmas tree.

Buying a live tree is a family tradition. Never has there been an artificial one in our home. I know what people say about ecology and stuff but these trees are grown for Christmas and they are there to be bought. So we buy them. My Dad and I usually go to at least five places before we find something we like. We're rather picky, the two of us. There is no general tree market, so we just drive around until we see a place that sells trees. We get out of the car, complain loudly about there being no pretty trees whatsoever and leave quickly, because we know we will need to visit several spots. That's tradition.

When we finally find something we like, we haggle. I'd always thought my Dad excellent at this procedure. Today, however, he gave up quite quickly, while I, the Libreville handcraft market survivor, wanted to go on until I got the price I wanted. I was on the verge of shouting: I don't care about your wife and children! You give me this for 80 zł or I'm out of here this minute!, when my Dad said we'd take it for 85. I guess Africa did really change me.

Then we bring the tree home and my Dad puts it in its stand. He then, alone, puts on the Christmas lights. Afterwards my Mom and I come in. We always hang too much stuff and the tree looks ridiculously colourful. I love it. We decorate it together. Some ornaments are new (my Mom gets new things every year) but some of them, like the ballerina in the picture, are the ones I made with my Mom when I was little.

And then we look for a place to put the tree in the small living-room. There never is a good place so the tree ends up in an awkward corner in which it doesn't fit, as it always turns out bigger than anticipated. I love that, too.

And then the flat smells good. And then it's Christmas.

AMÉRICAINE?

Last week I started working as an English teacher at a Gabonese (French?) elementary school. I teach ages 5 - 11 and, well, it's not easy but the kids (contrary to what I expected) are mostly great. I don't want to write about the school today, though; this blog is not about teaching in the end. The beginning of term brought about more concerns than just ESL methodology. I had to start moving around the city on my own - Jandro did not want to leave his job and become my full-time driver (the post is still free, interested?).

So, taxis. And, above all, speaking. French. Clearly. It is stressful, this taxi business. I described them in detail in April and, sadly, nothing's changed since then. The first time is always the most difficult but then, remember?, my first taxi was in April. Thus, this experience safely behind me, with new energy I started talking to the taxi drivers. With most of them it's easy: you say how much, you say where, they nod or drive away. Done. Of course, you have to get over the initial shock - the car, falling apart, is usually driven by some kind of NY gangsta imitation. But the rule is still Nike: Just Do It!

Consequently, many people have the pleasure of seeing my struggle with French. I have had quite a few successful conversations in that language, though: cleaning lady at the school (will switch off the air-conditioning), cheese lady at the supermaket (has three children, sister will get married soon), Senegalese taxi-driver (doesn't like Libreville but the job is good)... All of my interlocutors asked me immediately: "Américaine?" There must be something inevitably American about my accent and looks, I guess. I do always say I'm Polish and to that the reactions are many and diverse:
- Ahh, Poland! The Pope!
- Ahh, Poland! There was this football-player in 1970s., what's his name?
- Ahh, Poland! Close to Russia?
- Ahh, Poland! You speak English there?
- Ahh, Poland! Are you finally independent?

I wonder what people from Warsaw would say to a Gabonese person...? Ahh, Gabon! Where the hell is that?!