Scribbling #18: The Workplace Handshake

Something that I have been treated to is the male-to-male handshake, possibly the most polite greeting you can give to someone at work.  This is, to me, impressive, as this has never happened in the UK, unless we are just about to go on holiday for a long time (e.g. Christmas), you've just completed one full year at your workplace, or its your birthday/anniversary.  In the Slovak workplace, at least on the shop floor if not the offices, this happens every day.  It is remarkable and it feels more personal, since for at least a couple of moments the shaker and the shakee were important to each other, that we are all in this together, that we share work-related problems on a regular basis.

To most people, this is a small, even inconsequential thing.  I don't think it is, as I find that although the people here can share problems, it is always at a distance and never 'full on', as other cultures can give it to you.  In the workplace, UK men are especially ones for gossip and sharing personal problems if you even hint at using the words 'something the matter?'.  I've listened politely to such issues as a death in the family, dealing with drugs and dealing drugs back in the '60s, going through three marriages, the CSA, how it is nearly impossible to get a decent job in Poland, what gigs they went to at the weekend, etcetera, etcetera... Here it takes time, as trust is always a big issue and so thus always a rather tall hurdle to negotiate.  Language is also a 'slight' barrier to leap over, but the message usually gets across.  With pictures.  And whooshing sounds.  And mime.  Eventually the door cracks open just enough to peek in, then it shuts quickly again, in your best interest of course.

Slovak people also notice if you are particularly pro-active.  They may not say about it to you, but they will say it to each other and it will be remembered then joked about later.  Especially if it happens to be about such aspects as health and safety. During my first days, I wanted to know where to throw broken knife shards away, as putting it in the normal rubbish will endanger the cleaner to nasty cuts and scratches.  Finding that there wasn't any such place... well, just picture myself and one of the women from the office dragging an empty oil barrel across the shop floor and then asking one of the guys from the toolroom to cut it in half so that we can use it to store waste metal.  Oh, the looks I got after that...  No Slovak understands the need for rudimentary H&S and it is only being implemented now so that businesses have more of a foothold for foreign investment.  This includes such items as fire safety, recycling, trips, drops and falls and so on.

So, that's what I get from a handshake.  You have been warned...

Scribbling #17: Indy and Šupy's diary

Scratched inside their plastic hutch is the beginnings of a joint co-diary, nay, a journal, in rabittry hieroglyphics that has also just been translated.  Seems that Indy is quite the writer, albeit using some sort of medieval saga type language.

Day 1 - Indy:

And yay, verily, the Keepers of the Gate opened the closing place of our humble abode and, forsooth! we were given unto a pair of strange beings, that put both Reginald and I, Charles Montgomery XVII, into what seemed to be a cage that had been last used by an animal of the feline variety.  I believe it to be, after studying the inscriptions on the inside of the prison, that this animal went by the name of 'Crisco' and hereunto time, his fate hath been left unknowest.  Mayhaps that this unfortunate specimen was eaten by these new Keepers?  We must also assume that we are alone in this, as we have been separated from our mutual friend for the last time.  We then travelled what seemed to be many, many miles to my indentured brain until we arrived into our new cage, which seemed to be far more luxurious and homely than the last one.  We hid away from the Keepers in order to plan our next step.  This may take a couple of days, dear reader...

Šupy:

What the hell happened?  First, I was quite happily minding my own business, then some pair of jokers came and nabbed us right from under the nose of our present owner, toot sweet, like.  Charlie-boy couldn't make head or tail of what was going on.  And then there was poor Eric, left on his tod.  Charlie reckons that this is some sort of adventure, but then he decides to shove words like 'indentured' into sentences where there really isn't a place for them whatsoever.  Thinks he's so smart, the muppet.  And we got taken in a cat cage.  A cat cage.  It smelt of cat.  And the big female kept cooing at me every now and again on the trip over to our new home.  At least its got a feed bowl and decent bedding.  I mean, that's the new place, like, not the human female. Yeah, well.  The hutch is big enough to bunk in.  Charlie was the first one to take a butcher's, no pun intended, like, but we'll see what happens next, roight?

Day 2 - Indy:

Intervention!  Gadzooks!  The male of the pack had decided enough was enough, it had seemed, and wondered just what we were doing in the hutch!  No respect for privacy, these, these... those!  Thouest knowest that one clings to one's own personal space like a General clings to his horse, maps and his life, letting everyone else get blasted to bits.  That'll serve them right, lower working class chattel...

Šupy:

Er, tangent mate, tangent.  You went off on there, Charlie-boy.  So, anyways, the big bloke, 'e decided to go and half-inch our house out of our own home!  Would you Adam and Eve it?  Found that there was suddenly more food outside the hutch than in it, plus this weird crunchy stuff in a bowl.  I guess if we're lucky, these muppets will actually let us out of this cage.  On the other hand, it is quite cosy in here.  What with the bedding.  And the toys.  And the fact that you know that nobody is going to run up behind you, carrying a lead pipe, shouting 'Freedom!' and then hittin' you on the ol' noggin.  Poor old Charlie - never knew it would make him regress like, after being beat up by Sammy the hamster after too much Braveheart.  I dunno.  Oops, another tangent, like.

Day 7 - Indy:

Our home, fully restored to its fullest condition, was placed within the warm confines of dost bedding.  We were then disturbed by a smaller version of a human female.  Mayhaps they shrink in the wash and should be given more water?  This one kept on shouting at us and a couple of new humans a lot.  I feel that the vapours may be coming on.  Regin - Šupy was taken out and petted a lot, which he didn't like very much, but then he hath not got the same, iron discipline as I have.  Yes, when I fought in the war of 1863, they knew I - ooo, carrots!

Šupy:

Some young girlie keeps trying to poke me and pick me up and hug me and keeps shouting 'together!' every now and again.  At least she isn't a septic tank, otherwise there would be a whole heap of trouble, like.  Wasn't so bad in the end - she just sort of stood back and watched after a while.  Hm.  Where she came from, I haven't got a digeridoo.

Day 18 - Indy:

And so, dear reader, it looks as if we've nearly ran out of hutch.  This means one thing of course, we have to write our knowings within the sand of our own imagination.  Or just stop writing until the Keepers bring us a new cage.  Or just don't bother, since we've got a lot of eating, going binky, and pooping to do.  We have to catch up with our owners on many things, especially since one of them has now left of course.  Makes it easier for us to plot their destruction.  Mwah-hah-haa!

Šupy:

Er, I'll just stand over here then, right?  And incessantly lick the male's arm and hand for any minerals and/or salt if it happens to reach inside the cage.  At least he takes us out and lets us run around, like, since we are getting bigger.  It's good to stretch your legs and explore every nook and cranny, just in case we find somewhere to escap- um, have a holiday somewhere.  Yes.

The story will continue once the rabbits have been trained to post a blog of their own.

NB.  Translation for Canadians and other exotic creatures.  Yes, I am a nice person.

going binky - term for when rabbits leap about, generally being frightened about being so happy.

septic tank - Cockney rhyming slang for Yank, or American.

digeridoo - rhyming slang for clue.

half-inch - rhyming slang for 'pinch' or steal.

Adam and Eve - rhyming slang for believe.

noggin - head.

left on his tod - left alone.

take a butcher's - Butcher's hook => look.

Scribbling #16: Slovak wildlife and weather

The British culture is somewhat hinged around talking about the weather. This means that if you have been talking to someone who is new to you and happens to be from the UK, then you know that you have got to the 'just about friend' stage, as they are comfortable in talking to you about the completely obvious. Statements would include:

'Wow, it really rained today, didn't it?' while wearing the biggest raincoat ever;

'Wow, it's really hot today, isn't it?' having just been sunburnt. (Really hot in UK means anything over 20C);

'Wow, it's really windy today, isn't it?' after your umbrella has just been gutted.

Either that or they just switched to default setting and they really do hate you, one of the two.

Slovakia has a rather inventive weather system, basically called the 'whatever' system. It might still be freezing in March at eleven below, and then jump straight to 18C within a week. At the moment we've had rains, lightning storms, 30C weather, blue sunny skies, all in the course of a week.

Which brings us amazingly neatly onto the wildlife.

Bear with me.

Since there has been so much rain, lots of fields have been flooded, giving an impression that there has been a lake shortage and we're due for a catch up. All this water has also meant that a certain type of insect can lay its eggs in there, and hey presto, we have plenty of them. The sudden mosquito plague has been one of vast annoyance for myself and for just about everyone else living here. Not to mention the big momma flies that swoop in, steal a baby from its pram, then fly away again, giggling.

Okay, an exaggeration.

Maybe.

A lot of the back roads are surrounded by these stagnant-water-covered-fields, so when you drive down them it creates another type of 'rain' all over your windscreen. The pitter-patter of baby and adult mosquitoes flying into the windshield, with the last thing going through their tiny brains being their backside, will certainly be a memory of mine that may linger for a while, if not cherish.