We'll figure it out

So today I set myself the task of buying a soup pot. I had spotted a household goods store the other day when we were headed to the subway, so I had the destination all planned.

What I hadn't planned, though, was how to tackle the linguistic task. Because this store had some goods on shelves, I was able to choose a soup ladle and a second cutting board, but the pots were all behind the counter.

I started in: "I don't speak Polish" (in Polish, of course, with errors, I'm sure). I wish I remember the word the shopkeeper used. Its sense was: "we'll figure it out." And we did. I wanted a soup pot, not too expensive, so we somehow discussed the options, and made a choice.

Now I can add the word garnek to my vocabulary.

Comments

Cringeworthy? Really??

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Personal Sanctions. Second Reactions

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RIP Randy Nolde

In everyone's life there is a teacher who motivated her to try harder, strive for more, reach beyond. Or in my case, a teacher who teased, goaded, poked, pried, laughed, lampooned, and somehow created an atmosphere where I was ready to work my tail off to make him proud. Randy Nolde, we will miss you. Mr. Nolde was my Russian teacher in high school. I first got to know him as a younger person -- the Russian Club Banquet was quite the event in my home town, and my grandmother used to take us regularly even before my sister enrolled in Russian language class. Every year, the high school cafeteria underwent a magical metamorphosis. Huge murals of scenes from Russia -- fantastic, colorful onion-domed churches, and young peasants reaping wheat, and Armenian maidens with long braids and colorful costumes -- hung all around the edges of the room. On the menu: chicken Kiev made by the cafeteria ladies, supplemented with cafeteria salad, but also khachapuri and piroshki made b...

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