Swój or mój? - possessive pronouns continued

Posted by Anna

Ha! I see that “swój” and its different forms are not going to win any popularity contests when it comes to Polish grammar for foreigners. And honestly, I can’t blame you guys. Those little buggers are really annoying.

I’ve seen some really convoluted explanations of ”swój” and so I’m not all that surprised by your comments regarding this particular possessive pronoun. On the other than, I am not sure if my explanations can be any better.

But let’s give it a shot and see what happens. And first things first:

  • swój (masculine), swoja (feminine), swoje (neuter), swoi (plural masculine personal), swoje (plural, all others)

Now, take a look at these two examples:

  • Dała to jej rodzicom. – She gave it to her parents.
  • Dała to swoim rodzicom. – She gave it to her own parents.

Do you notice the difference? From the first example, we can deduce this thing:
that a female gave something to parents of another female.

Compare it with the second sentence. Here, it’s clear that a female gave something to her own parents.

At its most basic that is the difference between a “regular” possessive pronoun and this “swój” business. – It is used when a 3rd person possessive pronoun refers to the subject of the sentence. In our case – the parents of this mysterious woman who was the subject in our example.

It gets all goofy, however, when “swój” is used in the first and second person. Like this, for example:

  • Mam swoje powody. – I have my (own) reasons.
  • Przyniosłaś swoja książkę? –Did you bring your (own) book?

See what I mean? Why can’t we say “mam moje powody” and “przyniosłaś twoją książkę”? Technically, the grammar is correct, and technically it shouldn’t be wrong, yet, for a native speaker “swój” is the only proper choice in those sentences. And that is regardless of what Polish textbooks written by foreigners tell you.

I would say that in the beginning it’s probably best to remember that “swój” refers to one’s own something-something.
And the easiest way to remember it for a long time is through this:

  • On kocha swoją żonę. – He loves his (own) wife.
  • On kocha jego żonę. – He loves his wife. (which in this instance would be not his own but some other guy’s wife)

That should help you (or at least my male readers) remember when you should use “swój” and when it’s time for a different possessive pronoun.

 

Polish Possessive Pronouns - are they really that difficult?

Posted by Anna

Are Polish possessive pronouns really that difficult? I need an honest opinion here.

I have always thought they were one of those relatively straightforward bits in our convoluted language. But it turns out I might have been either mistaken or overly optimistic.

Yesterday I was asked this very complicated question:

Ok, so you say “moja książka” (my book) and “jej książka” (her book). But then you say: “On zgubił moją książkę.” (He lost my book) and because in this sentence “moja książka” is in the accusative (he lost kogo? co?) it became “moją książkę”. And when you say: “On zgubił jej książkę.” (He lost her book) only “książka” morphed into the accusative form, but not “jej”. Why is that?

And my answer: Because it’s Polish, that’s why.

But seriously, this is one of those instances when I realize that Polish possessive pronouns and their declensions can be totally incomprehensible even to the most dedicated learners (and to many Poles, too).

So, in order to make my life easier (because someone out there was bound to know the correct answer), I thought I’d ask this question to a couple of my native Polish friends. But ahem, their responses were not exactly all that helpful:

Friend #1: Dude, you’re right. This is weird. And how come I’ve never noticed this myself?
and
Friend #2: Because, duh, that’s how it is. Can’t you just tell your readers to memorize everything and stop bugging me?

I’ll ignore friend #2 for now, but yeah, friend #1 was right. We always tend to think about possessive pronouns as behaving kind of like adjectives. However, some of them think they’re special, or something.

Take a look:

  • my – mój (singular, masc.), moja (singular, fem.), moje (singular, neuter), moi (plural, masculine-personal), moje (plural, all other)
  • your – twój, twoja, twoje, twoi, twoje
  • his – jego
  • her – jej
  • our – nasz, nasza, nasze, nasi, nasze
  • your – wasz, wasza, wasze, wasi, wasze
  • their – ich

And see this? Those guys that have only one form – jego, jej and ich don’t decline. The nouns they describe decline as usual, but those pronouns themselves – don’t.

All others that have all the “adjective-looking” forms behave like good little adjectives should.

And to the question of “why is that?” my answer still stands – because it’s Polish, that’s why!

 

Seen in Poland - Picture Post

Posted by Anna

As you know I’ve traveling around Poland a bit lately. It’s been fun. I got to see all sorts of very interesting things. Or not so interesting things, which for some reason stuck in my head anyway. And I dutifully took pictures of it all.

Actually, speaking of pictures, I realized that we’ve never had a classic photo post on this blog before. Hmmm… How did I manage to overlook THAT?

So for today, I prepared a selection of photos that though maybe not necessarily interesting for everyone (and especially not for native Poles reading this blog – I apologize in advance here for any hurt feelings), show a few things that I noticed during my Polish road trips. Things that made me chuckle, or say out loud “what were they thinking!”.

Here we go:

You know those big fonts of holy water you see when entering a catholic church? Those where people dip their hands and then make a sign of the cross. Have you ever thought how the holy water gets into those fonts? And what is holy water anyway? And what happens when the font becomes empty?

Now, this mystery has been solved. This is what I saw in one of the churches in Toruń.

The caretaker came over and poured some “Kropla Beskidu” bottled water into the font, and voila – problem solved. Then he poured some into a plastic cup and had himself a drink. And then left both the bottle and the cup by the font, presumably for future refills.

This is something else I saw in Toruń. Unfortunately, the shop was closed and I didn’t get a chance to investigate this mysterious “schab po żydowsku” up close.

Schab” – pork loin. “Po żydowsku” – Jewish style. Hmmm…

While driving around Warszawa, we saw this:

I don’t know about you, but if this was my company, I’d never let such an embarrassing typo roam the streets. Or maybe Victoria Group (yes, that’s the proper name of the company - I looked them up on the internet) was hoping that nobody would notice?

And speaking of company names… I have seen quite a few really strange ones around. I can forgive “Bizarro” (a restaurant by the E7 highway), because I’m guessing the idea was to name it after a comic book character. But this made my English speaking traveling companion spit his soda all over the car’s dashboard.

Yep. Blow.

And by the way, here’s something else that makes me chuckle. There is a major jewelry store chain in Poland. They specialize in wedding bands and engagement rings. The company’s name is Apart. I know that it’s just a pretty sound in Polish and doesn’t mean anything at all. 

Just imagine this firm expanding to the UK, for example. Their ads would be simply wonderful – “Apart – the best choice you can make for the rest of your life.”

Personally, if I were getting married, I’d prefer my guy to buy our rings at a place with a more auspicious name – like this one, for example:

By why does their logo look so much like GAP? From a distance it totally had me fooled.
Hmmm… The mysteries of modern Poland.

 

Midsummer - Polish Style

Posted by Anna

This celebration technically took place yesterday, but I’ve been so busy celebrating Midsummer in all its many incarnations since last week, that the fact that I mentioned absolutely nothing about it on the blog has simply escaped my attention. I beg your forgiveness, and I promise we’ll do better next year, OK?

In the meantime, and better late than never, let me tell you about this, and incidentally - not so unique, Polish way of celebrating Midsummer.

First of all, we don’t call it Midsummer in Poland. It’s either “noc świętojańska” or “sobótki” (yes, in plural) or “sobótka” (yes, singular, take your pick). Some people claim it’s also known as “noc Kupały” but personally, I’ve never heard this expression until very recently.

The celebration is as old as the human civilization itself, and it turns out that different cultures in the northern hemisphere celebrate it not all that differently. Of course, as most celebrations these days, this one also has its origins in ancient pagan rituals. Then, when Europe adopted Christianity, in most places the occasion became known as “Feast of St. John the Baptist”*. New name, new image, yet the way it’s been celebrated throughout the centuries hasn’t really changed all that much.

So, how do Poles celebrate noc świętojańska? With bonfires, of course! The bigger the better. And some crazy people even jump over them. Supposedly for good luck, but really… more like for a long stay in a burn unit of your favorite hospital.

My most fond memory of noc świętojańska was hunting (because if you have a bunch of kids doing it, it can’t be called “looking”) for a blooming fern (fern flower – kwiat paproci) when I was a child. Yes, I know, I know, ferns don’t bloom, never have and never will, but it’s tradition and all that. Luckily for the kids, and in the name of tradition, our parents had the good sense to decorate a mighty fern with paper flowers, candies, lollipops and hide it in the woods. Leave some clues around, let a bunch of kids loose and you have a full-blown treasure hunt on your hands. Oddly enough, nobody ever got lost during this activity, at least not for longer than a couple of hours.

After the fern flower hunt, it was time for wianki (singular – wianek)– flower wreaths with a candle stuck in the middle. You light the candle and let the whole thing float away on a body of water of your choosing. This is a strictly ladies (some even say – unmarried ladies only) activity. Depending on the region (or even the country – different Slavic lands have different interpretation of this) this has something to do either with getting a guy’s attention, or getting married, or finding out who you’re going to marry, or as my grandma claimed – wishing for a long, fruitful life (which I suppose has everything to do with who you’ll marry, after all).

Then you gather around the bonfire with a stack of sausages and cases of alcohol and party the night away. This one is an equal opportunity party – both guys and girls are welcome, in fact – the more the merrier. And this is when the jumping takes place.

I’ve always used to say that Midsummer depresses me – after all what’s there to celebrate? The fact that now the days are going to get shorter? But I remember those traditional celebrations very fondly and honestly, I’m kind of sad I’m too old for the fern hunt now. Ah, such is life…

* and yes, this is the origin of the Polish name as well – noc świętojańska. “Święto” comes from święty – saint (as in Saint John the Baptist) and “jańska” comes from Jan - John (as in John the Baptist). See? Same, same!

Image: wikipedia

 

When a Free Sample Isn’t Free

Posted by Anna

There are many things that I love about Poland, but there are also many others that irritate me to no end (post office - Poczta Polska is just one of them).

Another one of those things that get me really cranky are free samples that aren’t free.
But let’s start from the beginning.
I was looking for a small bottle of contact lens cleaner, small enough to take with me on the airplane. And I discovered that “travel size” in Poland means 120 ml, which of course is much too large. As I walked from one store to another seeing only 120 ml bottles everywhere, I was beginning to get discouraged. Until one helpful sales lady suggested that instead of a “travel size”, I’d have better luck asking for a “starter size” bottle.

I quickly returned to the store where just last week I had bought my contact lenses (with no “starter pack” at that) to see if they could help me. Sure they could. “Starter” bottles? Sure they had. “What brand?” I was asked. They had a choice of four. (I didn’t even know that many companies made contact lens solution!)

And just as I had been warned before, the “free” sample was anything but free in Poland. I was charged 14PLN for my “not for sale” bottle.

OK, I would expect this in Burkina Faso. Even in Brazil (with apologies to my Brazilian readers), or in Vladivostok (because well, we all know that things are done a little bit differently in Russia), but in Poland? I thought we were a civilized EU country now.

Out of curiosity (and because I had nothing better to do that day) I actually called to the company that made this particular brand and asked what the free sample deal was. And wouldn’t you know it? I was told this:
“If it says ‘free sample’ on the box that means the store got this product as a free sample to be given away as a free sample. Even in Poland.”

So, if a store is selling this “free” sample, it’s just 100% profit for the merchant. Then why do they even bother to list VAT (sales tax) on the receipt?

I guess this is one of those Polish mysteries that will never be solved.

Useful words:

  • soczewki kontaktowe – contact lenses
  • soczewka (fem., pl. soczewki) – lens
  • miękkie (adj., plural non-personal) – soft
  • twarde (adj., plural non-personal) – hard
  • płyn do soczewek – contact lens solution
  • okulary (noun, plural) – eyeglasses

PS. Regarding “travel size” bottles which in other countries are sold even with a plastic “airport regulation” baggie already inside the box, I was told by another manufacturer that “there is no market for this particular product in Poland.” Very odd indeed… What? Polish people don’t fly?