Everyone knows ham.

Philip and me: Serious mode.



Philip and me: Happy mode.


I think I made a mistake. I told the Germans about Polish Ham.

And now they all want to see it. Not only that, but the Germans are telling other Germans and they also want to see it. And soon the entire country of Germany will know about it, and when I come visit in November, the border patrol person will look at my passport and say, "Oh, it's her…the Polish ham-ster."

I am fine with people reading my writing (why else would I have a blog), however, there is some strangeness about spending a day with someone and then, the next moment, have them read about your impression on how it went. Suddenly, I have this fear that they won't like what I write or my jokes won't translate or worst of all, they will be offended by what I say about them. Polish Ham is not about hurting other people's feelings, but at the same time, I want to be honest with what I experience.

That said, I love everyone who I have met so far. Seriously. Well, except the girl who works in my building and wouldn't help me with the laundry.

Take Philip, who is one German I think is great. Philip told me that he is a social person and likes to be friendly, but there are only a few people who are part of his inner circle. On the third day upon meeting him, I have decided that I am in the inner circle. I've even invited myself over his house in Berlin to visit him and his family (He has a wife and 8-month old daughter). He did say something about not having a guest room and that he might be out of town, but I think he is really excited about it.

In class yesterday, we were all given little cards featuring cartoons of people. There was Jean-Paul, with the Eiffel Tower behind him, and Suzy standing next to the Statue of Liberty. We had to work with partners to say in Polish where the people came from.

My partner Kristina (who I also think is great, but for completely different reasons) and I spoke about the people in a natural way you would speak about a fictional cartoon. "Jean-Paul is French," we said, using the masculine form of the adjective. But then there was Philip, from across the room, who would pick up each card and loudly exclaim, "Oh! Jean-Paul!" as if he remembered Jean-Paul from his trip to Paris. He projected similar excitement for everyone from Carmen from Spain to Margaret from England. This is the kind of guy Philip is.

Philip likes classical music, and he suggested that we all go to the Filharmonia tonight to see a performance featuring three Polish composers. Philip, Kristina and some others already purchased their tickets yesterday, so I needed to get tickets today for Katrin and myself. But then some people found out that I was getting tickets, so suddenly I was responsible for the tickets of five people, including myself.

I didn't know where the Filharmonia was, so Kristina pointed to a general area on a map where I would find it. But then I was on the tram with a few classmates who told me to get off at a completely different stop, practically pushing me off the tram, saying that the building was somewhere different than I originally thought. I wandered around a little, asked a woman where the Filharmonia was, and she just stared back at me like I was crazy. "Where music is?" I sputtered in Polish. Kept staring. I knew I was in the wrong place.

So I started walking really fast, like New York City fast, pushing past people on the streets, feeling a sense of panic and the unknown, starting to feel really pissed off. I walked to the place where I thought Kristina grazed the map with her finger and didn't see it. I was annoyed with myself that I didn't have an address, that I didn't know where I was going and then all of a sudden, the building was right there. I purchased the tickets, speaking in Polish, even asking questions to the teller in an eloquent way (for me, at least). And then I was okay. I was fine.

This week with the Germans has been fun, but at this moment I realized how much I have been relying on them to help me navigate the city. They are the ones I tag along with on the tram. They are the ones I follow to the restaurants. They are the ones that lead me around town. But leave me alone to do something like buy five stupid tickets that would normally be no big deal, and I go into panic mode.

This lesson taught me that one, I needed to be more aware of my surroundings because the Germans won't be here forever and two, I have to fight the tendency to be a follower. So while the Germans went on one of their sight-seeing tours, I wandered around all the streets of Krakow off the main square, absorbing it all in, sometimes checking the map to see exactly where I was. I felt my heart race a little bit trying to navigate my way back to the Filharmonia to see the performance, but I made it in time and I didn't get lost.

Group at the Filharmonia: me, Kristina, Gerda, Dirk, Line, and Katrin.