On being illiterate

I now know where the market for 70's Disco music went to. Polish cab drivers. I don't know where else in the world one can instantly get their fill of ABBA and the Bee Gees.

I was contemplating this fact while cruising down the road in a taxi toward the train station. My eyes were trying to take me out of the car to free me from yet another chorus of "Dancing Queen" when they caught hold of something incongruous. A sign on the door of a nondescript building announcing, in English, "Polish Secret Service."

Of course my initial reaction was that these people are not helping to lift their international stereotype. But the more I thought of it, the true picture came into focus. What a clever disguise! Write the name on the door in a foreign language! No one will guess that the Secret Service would really just announce their whereabouts on the front door. Stir in a dash of obfuscation, and Presto! Instant incognito!

Being illiterate really has its disadvantages. We just can't fake the language in this part of the world. In France and Switzerland, we could see the English words hiding, disguised as French or German, on the street signs or on a box of sugar. For example, any fool can see that the German word for ham is schwineflesh.

In Poland, it just ain't so. You could think you are buying a box of sugar but get it home and find out that it is foot powder. This can be a big surprise if you have already sprinkled it on your corn flakes.

Plus, after a day in France and Switzerland, I was merci-ing and danka-ing just like every other multi-lingual wannabe. Here in Poland, I think you need to gargle with razor blades before you get the dialect down. And the letters no longer are faithful to the sounds that a boy from California would expect, having some other variant invented for the entertainment of the locals.

So, my brain fumbles for the thing it knows in my awkward attempt at communicating - I start speaking Japanese. I don't know how many times I have said "wakarimasen" (I don't understand) or "sumimasen" (I am sorry) and so on.

This can make shopping a special challenge. We have been earnestly striving to find a luggage cart every since we left the bikes in Switzerland. The bicycle panniers are great for cycling, but trying to schlep 8 panniers and a daughter on crutches from Platform 1 to Platform 9 in less than 2 minutes so we won't miss the connecting train has set some of us to tears and others to cursing.

But "luggage cart" just doesn't seem to translate, no matter how hard we try. Plus, clerks laugh at our artwork. Actually, I don't think anyone makes luggage carts any more. We have been to countless luggage stores and all they have are -- suitcases on wheels.

We thought about buying some rollerblades and strapping our panniers to them. Then we decided on a skateboard. Before we could execute on the skateboard idea though, we took a 90° turn and bought a full-fledged moving dolly from a hardware store. So, now we can strap our panniers to the dolly and off we go. And if we decide to move a refrigerator along the way, we can do that, too.

Today marks 3 weeks for Katrina and when she broke her leg. Three more to go until she gets the cast off. We are in Gdansk, in the North of Poland, and are all still speaking to each other.   Our next stop on our "Another city, another caslte" tour is Sweden.