how to go on strike in Paris

well first of all find a "hot subject", just look what Sarko wants to do and say "i dont agree!!".
then talk about it and then...
choose a day, its a crucial choice, it has to be in the middle of the week, lets say tuesday. then the hour, as said it has to be in the middle of the day. why?because at that specific moment you want to vote blocking university and most of the students who might be against.. well they will have classes:)
once you have done that just wait. You have 100% chances that this project will pass with almost 90%of support...

welcome to France, i dont have classes since Tuesday.. and noone knows when it might change...

coming back to blogosphere....

since tuesday I have internet.. Ola has already started downloading things and I was thinking.. how about coming back to my blog?so here I am.. Im back:)

well, I guess Im back only to write down that its friday night and Im sitting with wine (no cigarettes- i stopped.. in pains...) in front of my laptop watching how fast can one episode of Desperate Housewives be downloaded.. and I find it really relaxing...

so by now Im busy but I guess from now on this blog will finally be what it was supposed to be..

cheers!

hobbies

When I was 8, I went for a camp.. scout camp.. well ok, just immagine those small bastards in high socks and grey trousers, yup, that was me.. for about two weeks:) I even wanted to join them later but as in Poland you have two types of them, I never knew which one I was supposed to choose. It doesn't change the fact that during those two weeks for the first time I met someone with whom I really wanted to talk and holding hands and sing all those songs about the fireplace and friendship that you sing usually in the evening with a guitar.. what can I say, I met a guy...
my whole love story ended as fast as it has started.. I was 8 and he was something around 12 or even 13, oh my God!we saw each other at the breakfast, one fine morning and then I felt that the fact that he has green eyes as me has to mean something... finally when we all went for a walk I have realized that he was walking next to me and we were alone!which means that the others were more or less 1meter ahead.. and we started to talk.. and thats the moment when myy huge love evaporated.. we had normal talk about us and live which was more or less like this:

Him: soo.. we have the same color of eyes.. thats funny
Me: it is.. a lot:)so, what do you like to do, in general?
Him: I like singing (....yes.. he did...ooh...)
Me: me too!!!
Him: I like dancing too
Me: me too!!
Him: well.. but most of all I love reading books...

and that was the moment when my love was gone.. because instead of being amazed that I have found a soul mate and all that.. I was walking pissed off that it wasn't me who said about books first and that this idiot was stealing my hobbies and he had to think I was actually copying them from him!!so I just looked at him, into his lovely green eyes and said something about finding my brother.. and I left with heartbroken and huge depression that I really have to be a boring person...

since then I haven't changed that much, I guess.. I sing when noone hears me, I dance when noone sees me(unless I am in Krakow and I really don't care:)) and I read.. awfully lot...and it looks to me that my new hobby is to move...out... according to my latest plan I am coming back to Poland next year...

alcohol as the best painkiller ever..

I was thinking about coming back to Krakow all the time. I was supposed to have fun, to drink, to dance and in general to live like every normal person lives, unless you live in Paris. So I came to Krakow on thursday and after usual stuff like my dad not recognizing me at the airport or favourite dish for dinner I have decided that its the high time to go out. So I did. After an hour half of my face looked like a pampkin and I couldn't even think of touching my chin or play with my hair on the right side... well.. what the hell, alcohol makes miracles so before I have decided to proove this suspicious theory I called my mum to beg her to call my dentist. aaaah...

next day, small hangover, huge teeth problem- I cant open my mouth properly, properly which means wide enough to eat something. What the hell, my visit is in the evening, Im sure she will do something to make me feel better. I came, they made me an X-RAY and I was waiting.. and waiting.. and waiting... my dentist came, she looked at my X-RAY thing and only said:

monday, 10 in the morning...

I am going to have an operation. Did I mention how frighten I am when someone is talking about blood, cutting things.. people?Well, I am.. and I will be there alone, hopefully I won't feel anything, surely I won't see anything... but there is one small problem- I will hear everything. Im sure doctors have to have some kind of special language so patients don't always understand that they are actually going to die... I am terrified because I am already too everyone-has-a-secret-and-im-sure-they-want-to-hurt/kill/whatever-me person so even if they talk about new puppy that doctor's daughter bought, for me it will be more like "why the hell there is sooo much blood here".. basically I am not the best person to be operated..

But since yesterday I realized that once you say- they will cut me, you know, wisdom teeth(or whatever, I call them bastards) people or are making fun of it(mind you, you cant open your mouth to eat, you are not happy about it and trust me laughing in this stage of mouth is not the best thing to do)or are telling you about his aunt/grandma/dad/whoever who went to the hospital and they cheated/left scisors inside/ made him pay too much/treated like shit/operated wrong thing(the last one is my favourite). Among all my friends I think only really few said: it will be fine, dont worry..more beer?

so today I woke up again with huge hangover and my bastards still kicking..
the first thing I asked my mum was:

do you think one shot of vodka before 10am will do?

third day..

as every woman in a specific age, every month i have "my days" which means that I suffer. and I suffer a lot. First two days i can't get out from my bed and the only thought I have is to die.. fast... but then third day arrives, and let me tell you: this is my favourite day of the month.

I cry.

I feel small and miserable. I am aware of my belly but most of all I can officially take my teddy and cry as much as I want. Yesterday was my day. My boyfriend had one of his "leave-me-alone" days so I switched off my phone and left to my friend to watch latest episodes of Desperate Housewives. I dont need much to cry, sometimes simple commercial is enough so, of course, I ended up sobbing over poor Mike's destiny and all that. I went home and I still felt that I didnt cry enough. The thing with me crying that day is that later I dont have to express my feelings that much. I can smile and be supportive. I can deal with other's problems and all that. But first I need my cry out day.. and this day arrived. So I was crying and crying, I was listening to Grzegorz Turnau, I was listening to old music from the times when I used to be in a radio.. and I was crying.. as usual I paid for that by sleepless night but it's always worth it after all.. I should wake up fourth day, after two hours of painful sleep and be ready to deal with coming week... but...

but today guy who was supposed to come and fix my shower doors didnt come. and he treated me as a huge idiot. and that was too much.. my third day is still going on and Im afraid it will go on until thursday when I will finally go home.

let me tell you a story...

once upon a time.. or to be more specific last december I took as usual a shower. With wet hair and conditioner in my eyes(which means that I was almost blind and extremely... angry) I tried to get out. To my big surprise doors of the shower were blocked. As a real polish fighter I used my fist persuasion to leave my unexpected preason. Shocked, I called the owner that those doors are actually really blocking and that it wasnt previous renter's stupid immagination.. He promised to step by and fix it. While waiting I had to manage to enter to my shower by squeezing my body between blocked door, wall and a sink.. Mind you, my bathroom is ALMOST 1m2... huh... it was december...
Since that day I had to call the owner at least 4times, only to remaind him that he promissed to do smth. Then I had to spend two days waiting for two different guys to watch them while they were watching my bathroom.. seriously, every visit lasted more or less 5min but everyone was late at least an hour..
One sunny day my phone rung:
- hi, im calling from Leroy Merlin i will be at your place in5min to leave those doors.
me: but sir... im at the university right now and noone is at home so how want you to leave that?anyway, weren't you supposed to call me in advance?
- well i am. i will be there in 5min...

As you can guess doors were not delivered. He promissed to call me later to reschedule the delivery. Silence.
I still dont have new doors and the owner is forcing me to:

1. go to Leroy Merlin to ask about my doors. I went and they told me that doors were too big for my bathroom and that the owner should have received a mail about refunding his money.
2. call Leroy Merlin to ask about my doors. Apparantely after his visit at Leroy Merlin those doors are not too big anymore...


Normally it should be a company that takes care of their clients.
Normally it is the owner that takes care of his apartment and damages made by his mistake.
Normally I should go home and lie in bed with Ayn Rand and tea, instead I will call again Leroy Merlin to ask nicely about a delivery day.
Its 30th of march.......

how can we live without stereotypes?

Being a foreigner in France can create sometimes situations.. specific ones:) The whole thing is about questions.. after all, there is no stupid questions, huh?sure.. there is not...

1. your parents, are they comunists?
2. Well... i know that you might dont like this name because you are polish.. but its really nice bar, you know? (we were heading to Politburo...:))
3. You aren't allowed to joke about Pope, are you?
4. You still think that Chopin was polish???
5. Listen, I wanted to apologize for II World War...I have found out yesterday what we have done to you...

But seriously, we are not any better. Honestely, how much do we know about other countries? We cry that French people are not interested in us.. we feel offended... but..

I remember when one day, in Krakow, students from Ukraine made a test to check how much an average polish student of journalism knows about his neighbour... More than 60% wasnt even able to name more than one city.. not mentioning information more detailed like religion or at least one writer..

We prefer to stay in a world made of stereotypes.. But when someone else does the same thing to us?
Well....

we can fight:) scream and feel shocked...

we can start to learn and discover other countries and their cultures..


we can also smile, light a cig and answer:

you know, war was over long time ago.. Anyway, dont feel sorry, we didnt take it personally...

oh yeah.. the world is made of absurd....

its so good to have people around you..

Recentely i realized that is sooo good to have people around you.. especially strong people.. I mean, seriously, its great! They are strong; so by definition they deal with their problems and also with other's problems. When you are depressed you can call such person and you know for sure that you will get help.. that someone will listen to you, will find an answer for most of your questions.. you need someone who can come when you are depressed and just show that someone cares?call for a strong person, after all, why not?We are weak so its normal that someone stronger than us will take a charge of our life.. or at least of those few moments when we dont feel like thinking, when we dont feel like dealing with life, when we actually want just to feel depressed and left cheering us up to someone else...


but what if you are known to be a strong person?

well you risk that one day you will find yourself sobbing in your bed and listening to depressive music...


........alone.....

about moving out...

It is normal that in a certain age people start to think of moving out from their parents. It is obvious and understandable. For me, the first time when i started my studies and i felt, oh God, so mature. My dad offered me a deal that i can pay him rent for my room instead. Of course i was shocked, destroyed, angry. I stayed.

Second time when the idea about moving out crossed my mind* was when i was finishing my studies and i was, oh God, more mature than most of my friends. I stayed again.

And then i moved out. Not only from my parents, not only from my home town. I moved out to another country, another culture, another reality. And, oh God, i so regret it....

Dont get me wrong, i dont intend to go back. At least not before i finish what i've started here. Its not even that i hate Paris or that i feel out of place. Not at all.. I feel great here(well, most of the time), i have friends here, i have my own life, i am with someone who loves me.. but its just a french version of my previous life.. Worse? different, thats for sure... and still i regret that i left Krakow... all those nights when i wont go out to the center... all those zapiekankas that i have to make on my own in a microwave... I regret that i thought that i was mature enough to live in France and when i did it, i realized that noone is never mature enough to change his life without regretting something...
the only thing i dont regret though, are those kilos that i've lost since i came here....



*actually it crossed more my exboyfriend's mind than mine, after all...

almost 6months..

huh.. ok, so here i am, during my private lecture about blogs- it was me who was giving it and i had only one student:)- by accident i have created this thing.. i need to admit that i was thinking of it but... from words to deeds is a long long way.. anyway, by creating this blog i really prooved that it takes more or less 5min.. so i have a new blog:)its a bit crazy to continue it when i dont have acces to the internet at home and i dont have english dictionnary neither.. i'll try, it might be funny:)
why this title and not some other stuff like, all about me or i love bita smietana?well when you come to France, first thing you notice, except that they barely speak english, is this sacred:

salut, comment ça va?

i'll tell you one thing: they dont really care:) but you always have to answer:
oui oui ça va... et toi?

well.. even if you dont care.. :)i live here almost 6months and my only reaction to that is another question, after 20min of small talk: hey, but are you really sure you are ok?

im older than all my friends from university and they still call me la petite poulette, more or less small hen, isnt it cute?
welcome to my life, we will see if it looks funny only to me:)