A country of doubts

Welcome to Poland. A country where anything is possible. Where the cars for sale were originally bought from ''friends in Germany" and the Bruno Gabbani perfume are an absolute hit, and of course, it's original. No-one spots the difference anyway.
Welcome to a country where the ladies break their high-heels on the level pavements, that still remember the second world war. Where patriotism is seen as to who beats more faces on the football match; who throws the rocket on the pitch first.
The smoke in metres tall chimneys welcomes me in the city of what was once a power of European sea-trade. Now just a pass-by port, hardly even remembered by the eldest. It's important to remember.
The plaster on the walls of the opposite apartment blocks have seen more things than half of the people living there together could remember. And probably these walls will outlive them aswell.
A guy at the train station hands me a free newspaper that I throw in the bin as soon as I pass him. The joys. Recycling here, anyway, is I think, at it's worst. But well, what can we do. Anyway all that matters is the airplane crash we're all sick of by now.

Welcome to a country ruled for money. It's ok, as long as the ministers are ok. And as I look at their faces on the billboards, I wonder what the fuck was wrong with me to think that coming back here was a good idea. And then I look out the tram window and see the river, and the old buildings, the chimneys, the barges. The rising sun. The monuments. The quintessence of beauty I've been missing for the whole six years. And then I remember why I'm here.
Even if the people have facial expressions equal to the one of a woman that has been fucked by a bull and she didnt quite like it. They look at you. Up. Down. Up and down. Several times. Just to check if your shoes are original, if your scarf was expensive enough and if you hair needs cutting. Typical and very easy to get used to. You just have to have the same facial expression. And you'll be fine. The best of all are the grandmas in the bus stop. Their Adidas jackets, berets, tesco bags, sandals and socks. The key to the polish-senior haute couture.
Sometimes I wake up, and get ready for college, and wonder if it was a good decision. Was it worth it. And as soon as I get to college, I dont regret anything. I forget about every doubt. Because I have them, and I have him. I have all it takes to be happy.
It's not perfect, and probably never will be. A plain person can never have it easy in this country of corruption and evil twins. But, I will always be happy. Because I got, what I wanted. And I have no right to doubt the happiness that is yet to come.
Welcome to Poland. A country of stolen German cars, old buildings that will never be renovated and doctors that dont care if youre dying or not. They need their coffee more than anything.
Welcome to Poland. A country which is fun to live in.




My name's Joanna Łaska, and this is Jackass.