THE PERFECT PIE

Warsaw is full of pie...

My goodness, can you believe this weather?, the butcher said, handing over my chicken breast, his resigned voice giving the impression of someone who has been tricked by cruel life into living in Brussels, the one city in the world Summer Fairy has entirely forgotten. I know, it's unbelievable!, I nodded my head in understanding, thinking I myself was one of those people. Yes, it's been rainy and grey forever, and I have already given up hope that things would get any better before May 2012. Worse still, Jandro is away right now, going to the beach (yes, to the beach, my friends!) and generally enjoying the fiesta, while I have to put up with 13 to 17 degrees, and work. 

Now it is clear to you that anyone in my position would have resigned themselves to sobbing into the pillow. And yet I have more spirit than I myself imagined. Obviously, I am a fighter, a survivor... a warrior, if you will. I decided not to give in to the omnipresent Weltschmerz. I picked up my new Paul Auster book, an umbrella and some cash, and hopped on the bus which was supposed to take me to our newly-discovered paradise on earth: Tea for Two, also known as The Absolutely Best Pie in Brussels. They have a wide range of teas as well of course, but who cares about the tea when there is Pie. The Absolutely Best Pie in Brussels, mind you.

15h43. I get off the bus. I ignore the infernal drizzle (I'm not entirely sure there is drizzle in hell... but you know what I mean), skip happily towards the house of pie and... find out it's closed for the long weekend. My smile fades, the drizzle becomes annoying, and I utter an unbecoming word. I stop skipping and start thinking. I notice I'm much better at the former.

16h00. I arrive at Le Pain Cotidien, not far away from my original destination. Even though it's a chain, it has always looked cosy to me from the outside, and the pies are generally well-reputed. I walk in, the place seems awful, and so I decide to keep looking. My friend the drizzle envelops me in a welcoming cloud of dampness.

16h25. After wondering aimlessly around Ma Campagne, hoping for a Tea for Two twin to magically appear, I arrive at rue de Bailly. Surprised to see a place I recognise, I stand on the corner, trying to figure out which way is more pie-probable. I turn left, check out an ice-cream place for pies (none), and then walk right, towards Louise. I become hopeful upon noticing a big sign which says Le Chocolatier, but it turns out to be a chocolate shop. Drizzle drizzles and I continue my search.

16h40. I stumble upon another Pain Cotidien. This one looks much better, and, feeling desperate, I enter, pushed in by the rain, which is becoming stronger now. I'm not convinced but I sit down, take out my book and order a green tea and a cherry pie with crumble. The place seems all right but I get a chain feeling from it. The tea is fine but the pie is mediocre. I eat it anyway because it will cost me a lot of money. Disappointed, I leave soon after I finish the pie, even though the original plan was to spend a lazy afternoon, having tea and enjoying the goodies and the atmosphere of a nice tea house. No goodies and even less atmosphere push me back into the rain.

17h45. I get back home and hang out my clothes to dry. The only thing that can save me now is jasmin tea, chocolate biscuits and a good film. The steaming cup of tea is already waiting. Do excuse me, I really must go and watch Singing in the Rain to stop myself from getting a clinical depression.

And who says only pregnant women have cravings.

POLISH CUSTOMER SERVICE - A CASE STUDY

Oh glorious Poland!

Chapter 1: Introduction and background information

Nice Polish girl as I am, I've always seen my country as a warm, welcoming place, full of polite, helpful people. During my time abroad, this idea grew stronger and stronger, while This would never happen in Poland! became one of my favourite reactions to life's unpleasant twists and turns. Obnoxious waitress in a Gabonese café? Why, this would never happen in Poland! Very expensive public transport ticket? No, this would never happen in Poland! Policemen refusing to speak any other language but Flemish? Clearly, this would never happen in Poland. But still. You get the idea. Oh glorious Poland, the land of the brave, home to pierogi, where the sun always shines except from November to March!

What comes next? Life itself, my friends. Ready?

Chapter 2: The argument

Last week, we went to Warsaw on a short visit. On the plane, I was daydreaming of all the pleasant things I was going to experience: family, friends, food, the overwhelming company of my compatriots (what do you think of my propensity for producing alliterations? Alarming?). I was brought back to reality by a loud Galician Ha! and a poke between the ribs, inevitably coming from Jandro, who was frantically going through his Polish conversations book. I looked at him askance (whatever happened to people using the word askance  in their writing?) and he provided me with the following quote:

During your time in Poland, you might come across unfriendly or even unhelpful service. Do not get discouraged. This happens frequently in Poland, and is a remnant of the communism, when what we now understand as "customer service" was practically nonexistent.

- This would never hap... - but I was interrupted.
- We'll just have to wait and see, won't we? - my boyfriend definitely didn't see eye to eye with me when it came to marvels of Poland but I would prove him wrong.

Chapter 3: The case studies

ONE: The holiday didn't start very well. Jandro got sick almost immediately and so, instead of having a nice pierogi lunch, I trotted off to the nearby pharmacy. The pharmacist was a young girl, completely unsympathetic to my boyfriend's sufferings. She was impolite, impatient and wouldn't even respond to my thank you at the end of our transaction. For a brief moment, I thought Jandro might have had a point. But then again, an exception proves the rule. Or something.

TWO: We were on our way back to my parents house, trying to catch a bus. I approached a bus driver, who was sitting inside the vehicle parked at the bus stop, visibly waiting for his departure time. I was extremely polite and asked if he could please tell me please what time he was please leaving please. According to the schedule, he barked. I went away to check the schedule, while he turned on the engines. The bastard was going to leave at that very moment and we nearly missed the bus! Jandro 2 : Kasia 0. But I was still hopeful.

THREE: The final blow came where I least expected it - at the airport. I will allow myself to quote the whole conversation I had with the check-in lady upon our departure:

Jandro (making the effort of speaking Polish): Dzien dobry!

Lady: ...

(We proceed to weigh the suitcase.)

Lady: You must take out 400 gramms.

Me: Really?

Lady (sniggering): Really. If anybody breaks their back moving the suitacase, it will be your fault.

(My passport and Jandro's ID are lying on the counter.)

Me: Can I take the documents, please?

Lady (sarcastically): Have I checked in the gentleman?

Me: I don't know, have you?

Lady: I haven't. Not with your hands on the documents anyway.

(I start to feel desperate. What have I done wrong?)

Me: Thank you, goodbye.

Lady: ...

This counts as at least five points for Jandro. I lost miserably at the "Who has a more realistic vision of Polish customer service?" game.

Chapter 4: Final conclusions

You all know my analytical mind, so it will come to you as no surprise that this experience led me to several conclusions. One: Polish customer service is much worse than your European average. Two: Polish customer service is at times similar to your African average. Three: Kasia living abroad tends to idealise every single country she lived in (don't even get me started on the wonders of Gabon!).

Epilogue

While catching a bus from the Charleroi airport to Brussels, I observed the following scene: a foreigner wants to board the bus without a ticket. The bus driver explains that they must get a ticket first. The foreigner doesn't understand and tries to get on the bus. The driver laughs good-naturedly, explains again, shows the guy where the ticket office is and gently pushes him towards it saying Hurry up, we'll be leaving soon! And there is really only one thing I can say: This would never happen in Poland!

For more photos from Poland, click here.