failure to communicate.

i have come to believe that there are two kinds of Polish people: those who find it amusing when a foreigner does not speak the language, and makes a fool out of himself making hand signals and noises, and those who do not, seeing it more and an un-needed interruption in there otherwise uneventful day.

Case in point- there is a small shop below our apartment. the women there are defiantly part of the second group. the shop is incredibly handy for its closeness. it doesn't have many options when it comes to any single item, but the variety of merchandise is quite impressive given its size. one may purchase chocolates, bread, wine, vodka, pasta, magazines, cigarettes, tampons, eggs, fresh veggies, cheese, milk, pastries, and meat.

the final item is what i was looking to buy. so i did what any self respecting person does when trying to buy pork, but has no idea what the word for pork could be. i squished my nose with my finger and snorted a few times. needless to say, the woman was not amused. she looked as though i were just one more rotten meat ball in her spaghetti bowl of life. but this is something one must expect from life as a foreigner, that if you do something strange it is inevitably the fault of your country, and has nothing to do with your own strange personality.

Luckily there is an actual butchers a few blocks away where the ladies love me. the meat is better, and when i make funny noises they laugh with me. There is a look of sympathy and understanding from behind the hanging sausages, and i take my pork and head home.