HERE WE GO AGAIN
If you spent some time reading my previous notes, you will know that i left Poland in pursuit of a dream. I’ve decided to became a filmmaker – this was my aim and I don’t see any reasons i couldnt fulfil this purpose. That’s why i’ve made this wacky decision – to travel without money, support and most of all- any strict plans. I’ve endured the consequences amid all this shitty situtations that happened to me on every step, like i was some sort of shit-magnet. Without any assurance what will find me on my trip, I’ve crawled slowly in the same direction: unknown, but – apparently- set by myself . I didn’t give a fuck about the warnings of different helpful advisors: like how unreal it is to realize my dream without proper connections. I’ve chosen to shit on it all, including my own limitations, lack of motivation and – mostly- fear. I knew that back in Poland i would need a lot of money (only to buy a professional equipment) that I could never made on polish wages. I didn’t even mention cigarettes. That’s how the whole idea was born. What I didn’t perceive is that the world has changed and miracle spectacular careers are a thing of the past. Sort of.
I was stuck in a moment which i ought to left behind me. I’ve pissed on Arek already, his accusations that I am a thief (yeah surely) and leaving me without my phone, money and food storage. The whole new perspective opened right before my eyes. My norwegian pal – Thord- after hearing my pitty story, set me with his friend in Oslo. I was employed to paint her house. I knew it is a great opportunity to make some bigger money and carry out a valuable recon of the city. So, I’ve part my ways with georgeous Ewa Zielonka and rushed to Oslo for my win-win. Earlier in some kind of pagan ritual, I’ve burned down my shitty chinese tent. I were hoping that along with it, the time of homelessness, wet underwear and uncertainty will disappear once and for all. Hello Oslo, hello CASH and finally – hello to an ironclad roof over my head.
New chapter began even better that i thought. At the Oslo main station i was greeted by a lovely Norwegian girl. Signe was her name. She recognised me almost instantly. It turned out she knows my little blog and she was very fascinated with my story. Or entertained. Whatever. Apart from work with painting her house she offered me a place to sleep. With a separate bathroom. For somebody who used to dream about a pair of dry socks this was like hitting the jackpot. Couldn’t be much better than that. But it was. She was also a director working for National Geographic. While she effused a paradise-ish visions of helping with my carrer I was completely dazed in new possibilities and deep in my soulf i was thankfully kissing the feet of lady Luck for such a straightforward mercy. This way seemed the right way. After all these hardships, finally i got some hope for a bit of tranquility in my life. Unfortunately, this very way turned out to lead me on the street, where i was standing pathetically with all my belongins and desperately thinking how the heck i will survive the next night.
THE NEW BEGINNING…
At the beginning though it all looked pretty neat. I’ve got some work to do, place to rest my polish head and views to make some connections in “the business”. Moreover, I got a chance for additional and certain income. I had an appointment in a Rent-a Tent company . This was about setting up a tent- thing you should know already – which is my favorite spare time activity. I’ve achieved my own style in this discipline, and in this style- master level. Sarcasmo! It was certain by now, that the fire didn’t spare me the chinese curse. I ought to be A Man of the Tent. Ok, now im just pathethic. It is the work I was in desperate need of. I’ve killed the qualifications and were invited to test day the day after. That whole day was emerging into a great, happy completeness. Strolling through the Oslo down the streets that looked like a golden beach, like some polish poet wrote once upon a time. I didn’t recognise if that was the true experience or just the harmonic convergence of suddenly friendly reality. I was soaking up with the buzz like a sponge and falling in love in passing women. Yeah. It all looked pretty superb at that moment.
When I’ve came back to the place for the night, i didn’t catch up with Signe and couldn’t reach her on phone. I’ve texted her i got this interview and i will start with her house the day after. I would not fuck up and moreover, didn’t want to disappoint her since she had helped me a lot. But what I did know for sure- that i’ve needed to have some stable income after i will be done with the painting of Signe’s house. That looks simple, huh? Going’ to the Rent-a-Tent I’ve got a call from Thord, that Signe is in total hysteria. She called me the most rude guy she ever met and said that i am basically pure evil. She even cursed me in swears that i don’t know- but i’m certain that it was nothing good. She accused me of escaping my work, smoking in her house, trying to pool a fast one on her (basically cheating) and … fanfares… stealing some shit from her! So again- i am a thief and again I shall bear the burden of “Polaczek”- Polak with diminutive contempt. Thord ordered me to come back instantly and explain myself, threating me to call the police. He said that he thought i am a good person, but instead he thinks i am a bad person. She even told Thord I said so much bad things about Norway! Gosh. After way back I discovered i am already packed up. My employer-to-be readied me to get the fuck out SEARCHING THROUGH MY THINGS. Poor girl. Of course, she haven’t found her stuff in my bags… It was found later, but what do I care- it didn’t alter the situation a bit. Though I was completely innocent – I was sacked again. I didn’t steal nor cheat, just delayed the work for one day, texting my employer in advande that i would start later. If she was worried with my absence- why the heck wouldn’t she call me instead calling Thord to call names on me. Wouldn’t it be easier to talk, than to fund everybody such amounts of negativity?
SHIT HAPPENS… EVEN IN NORWAY
And that was all for the luck. Again on the street and with the tent of course. Nothing new under the sun. This one was slightly better than the chinese toy which I’ve burned down so enthusiastically. The sorrounding reality stopped to look so friendly at the moment. I’ve missed the fjords and staying at Ewa Zielonka’s. Maybe- I even shed a tear or two about that. Maybe it was a good moment to retreat, give up? Finally acknowledge that Hans was right, saying that i am a complete loser? After all, all that shit that flew onto my methaphorical face was like an evidence i am to weak. Maybe i didn’t have the proper start-up settings. No support. No funny-money. No connections. No language. Fuck that! Maybe i am connected in some way with leaky tents and the reputation of polish thief, but i am no loser since I won’t surrender! I won’t surrender, Universe! I used to contemplate the polish sense of guiltiness. It accompanies many people in Poland, but not only. I find it characteristic for every religious vertical relation setup meddling in the past in the minds of the nations. Alright it is of minor importance, maybe some day i will publish the book with my thoughts, since it isn’t sellable nowadays. Just a book about cooking up your own shit with weeds. Pardon moi. Let the following situation be the point of the chapter. It happened just after I was threw out by Signe. Homeless again I went to public WC to do some ritualistic socks change. To my surprise, whole venue was covered in human feces. I mean there was shit all over the goddamn place. I was almost comfortable with the fact until someone knocked the door. The i’ve panicked that i will be perceived as an author of this painting by the future generations. In a heat-wave of aforementioned polish sense of guiltiness I was ready to clean up the shit of an unknown nationality with my bare hands. Then I’ve remembered what Ole told me. I am in a kind of bond with him, since we both survived heart break and are still in stasis of every-day fight for financial survival. Ole- the owner of Hardanger Hotel, who pays up his debt with dedication sweeping the butts in front of his venue, had a similar situation back in the days. Some fuckwit shitted all over one of the hotel rooms, cause it made him horny. I hope that in need of the money to pay his hotel back- Ole wasn’t cleaning it all by himself. And then I got this single thought that from every shit you can still form a rose. Or whatever.
If I would have to clean the walls of Hardanger Hotel I could do that for one hundren NOK for per hour and do it as slow as it possible to have more working hours..If shit will happen again, Ole -you’ve got my number(0047 46939228).