Move me!

Whatever you think, when you read the title, a Pole hears "speak to me". With a funny accent, perhaps. True. True. If I wanted to ask you to speak to me in Polish, I'd probably ask you: Move me pore Paul's-coo.

One day at the mouth of Św. Jana Street, I saw a foreigner accosted by a Main-Market-Square regular: a garrulously dressed elderly lady with glaring make-up and a small donation box covered with all possible logos and slogans. An UZI-velocity stream of Polish was oozing from her mouth, and her eyes were fixed on those of the bewildered victim. Before I had time to come up to him and explain that she's stood here for years, collecting for a bogus (or at most semi-bogus) charity, no one apart from her ever heard of, the would-be victim smiled disarmingly and answered: "move me voo-you". This got him rid of the lady, and me – a broad smile on my face.

If you have been lured into learning Polish by one who explained to you that "in Poland you just read what they've written", you have had your leg pulled, indeed. Yet as slightly as quite unintentionally. We, Poles do not even realise how often are we hearing is fooled by our memory of the written word. Any linguist will eagerly tell you that the word "chleb" is pronounced ['hlep]: with a distinctive devoiced "p" heard at the end of the word. There are also a number of rules. You have to keep in mind, that apart from the standard set of Latin characters, Polish makes use of a few diacritics and a handful of digraphs.

Diacritics are all those funny markings over and, in the case of just two vowels, also under the letters. Once you've learnt how to pronounce them, there are no hidden traps.

The latter of the two cannot shock you at all, after all as you've got one in English too. It's the omnipresent "th", which – to add insult to injury – you pronounce into ways: just compare "bath" and "bathe". Ours are always pronounced in the same way.

What must be scariest to the English eye is the compound of two of them spelt "szcz". Luckily, you know how to pronounce it from your language: it's very close to the sound you hear in the middle of "a greyish chin".

It is plain nothing when compared to the intricacies of English, where the word "fish" could easily be spelt "ghoti": -gh- as in "enough" + -o- as in "women" + -ti- as in "nation": the three sounds put together do make a perfect fish. Or the verb "read" which is actually read differently in the present and the past form. Enuff!

A difficulty to master are the "-sie" and "-nie" bits. The latter is especially useful, as on its own, it means "no", and somehow a use it to practice for English speakers after a couple of lagers.

To be or not to be...

Visitors usually devise their own way of coping with Polish words, at times was they know, at others – writing them down in their own way to read them out later. This mock phonetic script is used in the title of this article, and inside it wherever you see anything italicised. It does shock us, native speakers of Polish, at times. I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw the familiar name of the city of Łódź taken down as Woodsh... but I admit, this is how we read it. (We do not use the letter "v", its sound being taken over by "w", which in turn we had to replaced by "ł" – the only "crossed" letter in Polish.) Yet my amazement, cannot have been much different from that of an American tourist who kept saying that he wanted to visit "waah-ooore-claw" which to my ear sounded like "łaoklo" and turned out to be Wrocław. That simple.

Let us however return to our mock phonetic script... Hardly any self-respecting Brit will venture to read out Hamlet's adage in Polish if you write it out for them in the this script. Bitch arlbo nye bitch (with arlbo like in Marlboro) simply "has too many bitches in it". This is what we pronounce it, whether you want it or not.

As quoting the bard of Avon seems quite unlikely in your early contacts with Polish, let me introduce to you your three Polish friends: Jane D'Oberry, Jim Courier, and Prosh Eyre. No, these are not the names of top teachers of Polish as a foreign language, as those most probably end in -ski. This is a mnemotechnical way of remembering some of the most useful Polish vocab: "dzień dobry", meaning "good day"; "dziękuję", meaning "thank you"; and "proszę", meaning "please", and "here you are", and "pardon". Actually, why does the English need three phrases to say Prosh Eyre / pro-share?

Me is not had here...

Having teased you about the redundancies of English, I must to soothe you and confess: there are plenty of illogicalities in Polish that we have got so much accustomed to that we not only don't find them a nuisance but cannot live without them. (If you find the subject of how language influences your perception, Metaphors we live by by Lakoff and Johnson, though quite old (1980) is a must.) For you, the English speaker, the following is easy and self-evident: if I am here, I am here, and if I am not here, I simply am not here. In Polish when I am here – "jestem tutaj", that's plain, yet if the opposite is the case, and "nie ma mnie tutaj", we literally say "me is not had here". Learn Polish! We did. Somehow.

Agony Aunt

Should this article for any reason make you feel gloomy and all alone in the world of Polish linguistics, just don't hesitate to turn to the Pole besides you, say "core-harm chair", and see their face light up.

Post Script:

I believe that I was commissioned to write about the specialties of the Kraków dialect but found it quite hard to do for an audience who doesn't know that pinch me not is Polish for "five minutes". It would be great if we could together consider the curious habits of Kraków people, which compel me to conclude that the Kraków variety of man is the superior animal.... For example, it is we who have the true Santa Claus! Proof? He arrives on St Nicholas Day, 6th December, and not at Christmas. Even if we no longer live in manor houses, we still remember that. Going out, we say "idę na pole" which means "I am going into the field", while all the non-us say "idę na dwór" which – meaning "I am going to the court" – shows us and them where our proper places are. Indeed, there are also the curious language habits of ours that I confess, my friend, keep me puzzled: I assure you that if you address a Pole next to you Clare-netcher bossy! you will probably have him as impressed as stunned, as this must be one of the best recognised genuine Kraków phrases. Now considered obsolete and ridiculous, this general term of contempt (or endearment) translates literally into "you bare-footed clarinet!"

No, it is not a mistranslation. Jerk-oo-yeah zah oo-vageh!