Emigration etc.

I suppose I was 20. Not that I am past my prime now, with grandchildren racing in the shadow of an apple tree thriving underneath my window, begonias on the windowsill and a duck roasting quietly in the oven. Anyway, I was 20. Third year in college, great expectations, naiveness, etc. I was in America. How incredible that even after the recent dark ages across the Atlantic (paranoic war on terrorism, Iraq, economic crisis, shootings in schools) those tree words still carry an aura of magic. The first glimpse at New York's Manhattan, skyscrapers, astounding feeling that nobody cares about you, therefore there is no need to feel uberimportant, black people, enormous traffic, over air-conditioned "Greyhound" busses, "Amtrak" trains, industrial suburbs of New Jersey, a guy with a python across his shoulders on the bus stop in Camden, a kid selling something colorful in a dinger, a street preacher moralizing about Jesus and Apocalypse and a vagabond shoving a tattered "Starbucks" cup into my face. No change, no change!

If you arrive to a Western country from Central/Eastern Europe, panhandling mostly leaves you outraged, the main difference being the fact that in Central/Eastern Europe you could rarely see fit young men and women, physically capable of working, begging on the streets. If you boarded a plane to Lithuania, you would mainly encounter old weary women on their knees asking for change besides Baroque churches. Throughout my explorations to the USA, the UK, France, Ireland, Italy and Spain I've never seen elderly women begging. Honestly - don't remember such an occurrence. Beggars in the West are fit and well capable of working. Men panhandling besides ATMs, restaurants, on Ha'penny Bridge, besides cars stuck in traffic... Have you noticed that the vast majority of them have hands and feet? Therefore I'm convinced they are in the streets not because they can't get a job or are incapable of working, but because they have chosen panhandling as a style of life.

I encountered panhandlers for the first time when I was walking towards underground station in Philly, USA. At first I couldn't even get - what's the problem? Why so much anger?

Over the past two and a half years that I'd spent in Dublin, I came to conclusion that panhandlers in this country are mainly junkies. Not as angry as in the States, but typically all young. Ironically, quite often they find shelter underneath or besides signs "Staff wanted".

I went to the ATM to withdraw some cash a few weeks ago, but some guy was in my way blocking the access. He apologized and placed himself underneath the money machine.
"Nice day", he said.
"I wonder if for long", added.
"Indeed", I answered.
"Good for you, I'm sure you can enjoy it", he muttered in a voice rehearsed for zillions of times.
"Have you got any spare change?" he asked.
"Sorry", I replied.

Panhandling besides ATMs in Ireland is a tremendously common sight. As a matter of fact, panhandling in general is acutely popular over here. Some say because of the widening gap between the poor and the rich - while some get more and more prosperous others become even more poverty-stricken. Sometimes it is the case, although knowing for a fact that dozens of able-bodied Lithuanians bulldozed their way to various benefits from the Celtic Tiger (on top of working 40, 50 or 60 hour weeks), I tend to think that panhandling nowadays for many has become a kind of occupation - despite vast opportunities on the job market. Although Irish still can't compare to the impeccability of the skills needed to, let's say, Italians. During my two-week-long stay in Italy this spring I learned of such numerous ways of mooching money that I could kick start a new career. I.e. distribute a flyer with a picture of a small girl on the train. She has one month to live. This is my daughter. Please help. I gave a euro - damn it, I couldn't look at that picture without apathy.

As of the 1st of January 2007 the number of those, who day in and day out live with a hand reaching out for small change, has even increased over here. New citizens of the expanded EU flooded the streets. But instead of IT professionals and laborers of mushroom factories, it was an army of gaudy skirts with a marching band of accordions. Until now if you ever met an Irish child on the streets of Dublin, it was a busker with a bucket in front. If you hit the streets of Dublin today, you encounter dozens of children, 10-year-olds and younger, with a hand reaching out for change (what a connotation of the word!). "Spare some change, madam" become the first English words they learn.

Once a Dutch woman whom I got to know while working in the shop, stressed to me that begging in the street with children is illegal in the Netherlands. In fact, during a couple of weekends spent over there, I had never encountered beggars. Just a quick glance of a tourist, which, obviously, could as well be quite wrong. During a few days spent in Denmark I was approached by a beggar only once. A friend of mine gave him a cigarette.

A couple of months ago a young beggar won his High Court claim that a law outlawing begging in a public place is unconstitutional because it excessively interferes with his right of freedom of expression. I guess, the expression of freedom can be interpreted in many ways nowadays.

Emigrants from Romania and Bulgaria risk being stopped from entering Ireland until the end of next year because of entry restrictions on low-skilled workers. In order to work in Ireland, they need work permits. Just 106 work permits were granted to Romanians this year and only 33 workers from Bulgaria were given access.

If I went for a stroll in certain areas of Dublin, I can bet a bottle of good wine, that in a few hours I could calculate more than a hundred of gaudy skirts or their mustached cavaliers. No, not those with accordions in their hands. And not those photographing the architecture of Dublin. But those exhibiting their freedom of expression. Because there can be no embargos for it. On the other hand, I could probably still calculate more pahnandling Irish, staying on the streets because they have chosen to. Despite the fact that there are numerous signs in town saying "staff needed".

Freedom lulled thousands of Lithuanians to Ireland like honey does the bees, while the Irish, allured by it, hit the streets. Isn't it ironic?

Just like the Irish claim that Guinness doesn't taste the same anywhere outside Ireland (and I've been assured more than once, because, apparently it doesn't travel), Japanese get parcels with miso soup and noodles posted by their mothers (Yamamori or Wagamama do not serve Japanese food), there are a few Lithuanian specialties that I have a longing for. Although as time goes by, I discover that Polish, Belorussians or Latvians claim that those specialties are in fact theirs. After all, in the 14th century Lithuania ruled Belarus (the orange is Lithuania stretching from the Baltic to the Black sea!) and then Polish ruled us and what was ours became theirs and v.v. Eastern Europe became a concoction of local cultures. No wonder Irish or English can't tell the difference between Polish and Lithuanians. Neither can I sometimes - apart from the language.

The other day I was dashing to a local Polish shop called "Samo Dobro" (Only The Best) for some twaróg which in Lithuania we call VARŠKĖ [think varshkay]. It bears some resemblance to cottage cheese (although I haven't seen Irish ever buying it), but is less salty and usually comes in one lump rather than small bits similar to, excuse me, hamster feces. Back to food :)

I entered the shop.

Dzień Dobry, said quite a pleasant guy behind the counter and I stuttered Hello. I do understand some Polish, can utter a few words, but I don't speak Polish.

I headed for twaróg section, took one and went back to the counter.

Jeden pięćdziesiąt pięć or something along those lines came out of his mouth and I could figure out it is less than two Euro. I gave him the money. He gave me the change, said dziekuje. Thanks very much, I replied to that. Do widzenia he said. Good bye, I responded.

It was a all a bit like in Jim Jarmusch's movie Down by Law where Roberto Benigni's character, an Italian tourist with zero English, is is yelling I scream you scream we all scream for ice-cream to a bunch of Americans sharing a prison cell with him in Orleans Parish Prison.

It is possible the guy could have taken me for a Polish refusing to speak Polish. But I only came for some twaróg . A Lithuanian specialty in a Polish shop.

Alright, I stop any pretenses in regards to Polish tonight. I've applauded them (the ones who came to Ireland) on many things: their movie festivals in the IFI (by the way, Seksmisja was absolutely hilarious and I'm expecting Jasminum to be good), their ability to fight for their rights, find niches in the job market, etc. But the news about a group of Polish campaigning for the recognition of Polish as a third official language of Ireland, alongside English and Gaelic, was too much for me. I have never heard about a Polish community magazine "Sowa" mentioned in the story before and I don't know how many supporters its publisher Marcin Wrona has.

Signs "Tutaj pracujemy po polsku" (Eng. "We work in Polish here") in the grocery shops, hairdressers, opticians and in many other places have become a common sight in Ireland over the past few years. In fact, perhaps these signs and attempts to make customer service for Polish residents of Ireland understandable are to blame for the fact that multitudes of them still don't speak any or can at most offer you poor English. If they had to make a leap of faith and started communicating in English in the banks, cafes, supermarkets and beauty salons, there probably wouldn't be much need for a third official language in Ireland (and even those signs).

Perhaps immigrants from Morocco, Algeria and Tunisia should consider the idea in France, Mexicans - in the USA, Turks - in Germany and... Irish in the UK? Yet Ireland is quite smaller than any of these countries (by the way, Poland's population exceeds Ireland's by 10 times). And although Ireland was voted recently as the world's friendliest country in "Lonely Planet" Blue List I beg not to abuse this country's hospitality.

By the way, does anybody know if the magazine "Sowa" is of any significance? Somehow I have a feeling it's not even noteworthy and in that case I sincerely hope that the rant above is not necessary.