I realized this summer that father-in-law can be a pain as well. I had a terrible experience this summer with a new Polish girl I met on the Internet. We had decided to meet for real this summer so she invited me to stay with her in her flat in Kraków. Then she says: "Sunday, we'll go to my parents for a barbecue. It doesn't mean anything special. They're are just very social people and they invite my friends all the time. Just don't mention the fact that we met on the Internet!" ;-).
OK. We're off for a little drive in green suburban Kraków. We arrived at noon and left at 8pm. I was already impatient to leave but, when my friend told her mother we would leave now, the mum looked at us astonished : "Już !?" ;-) Wow, I made the effort of staying for 8 hours at the same place with the same people. A record.
I do my best to speak Polish and, fortunately when I get stuck, the father speaks a bit of English. Actually we talked a lot. Very friendly people indeed, and great Polish cooking. But I had to talk and listen to the father for 8 hours, who felt forced to describe all his achievements with full details, both professionally and privately. After 8 hours, I knew exactly how the engine of his new Volkswagen worked, saw all his pictures from all his travels, knew all his scores at tennis and volleyball, all the walls he had built in the village, listened to him singing the Rolling Stones, Queens and Polish folklore, with his guitar and unappropriate voice.
We had a break in the afternoon as he wanted to take us to Wadowice to show me the Pope's house. Actually I was happy, as it was not only a break but the opportunity to visit the home of Jan Pawel II, for whom I always had respect. He wanted us to stop for a coffee and kremowki. I realized he stopped talking to eat his kremowki so, in order to extend my break, I offered him a second one.
On the way back we stopped at my friend's sister so I could meet her, her husband and baby. They came back with us to the parents and we had one more meal. I can't remember exactly how many meals we had during that day, as I had the feeling I ate from noon to 8pm. Then we went back to my friend's home in krakow.
Of course she would not cook, as we had to finish Mother's bigos otherwise she would be offended. I wanted to cook for her the next day, sothat she discovers my country's specialties (and I'm a good cook) but no! there was something from mother. Something fat, with no vitamins of course, but it came from Mother so it HAD to be good. Then the day after I wanted to invite her to a nice restaurant but another ton of Mother's bigos was hidden in a corner of the fridge I hadn't noticed yet! And my friend told me : "Well, Mum always cooks a lot of bigos. Once, my sister and her husband had to it eat everyday for one week in order to finish it. But it's normal." Then I proposed to prepare a good breakfast, with salad, fruits, cheese. She said no, it seemed I loved Poland so much that she wanted to prepare a typical Polish breakfast just for me. So one morning she took a bag of parówki from the fridge and put them into the microwave oven, saying "it's very healthy, children love them as it gives them strength".
Ratuuuuuuuuunkuuuuuuuuuuuu!!!!
I learnt something vital : never buy an Italian car, for they easily break down and it seemes that the only way to repair them in Poland is to take them to the garage closest to your parents' home. So I followed her with my car after work in order to take her back to Kraków after she dropped hers at the garage. Of course we had to go say hello to the parents. I hoped we wouldn't stay long because I was hungry. Ha! I shouldn't have mentioned it. Mother's answer, with a huge smile: "Great, I just cooked new bigos, with even more meat than last time". Se we had to sit down and eat the bigos. I looked at it while eating, expecting to find flesh and bones of previous boyfriends in it but it seemed to be normal meat.
Finally, after one week, I managed to escape, as I had to come back to my country. Nothing intimate happened with this girl, as I didn't feel so attracted by her. But I had the feeling I would be married to her parents if I had been with her.
Polish hospitality is great, but it has perverted aspects... ;-)
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