Monday Mormons

So, walking home after work tonight, I caught up to and was passing two young men. As I drew near, I noticed their identical black pants, shoes, and coats. Their short, conservatively neat haircuts. The white collars just visible at the neck. And sure enough, as I came even with them, one turned to me and said "Przepraszam bardzo" (Excuse me very much, I know we don't say that in English, but "bardzo" is like an all-purpose intensifier). He'd obviously learned some highly specific Polish that I didn't understand, but I've encountered many a Mormon here, and without exception, they're American. So I just asked him, in English, "Are you Mormon?" (Because of the coats, I couldn't see the nametags, so I had to be sure. But people don't just start speaking to you in Poland, unless it's for some very specific and understandable purpose, like, "Has the 835 bus come yet?" or "What time is it?" or "Is this Jagiellonska?") Anyway, of course they were, from Utah itself, making one last try on their way home. They didn't try very hard, I think they just wanted to speak some English, but they walked me home.
Back in the States, Mormon missionaries are just a nuisance, a knock at the door when you're in your underwear and have to find clothes and really just want to drink your coffee or your beer and be left alone, but there they are, earnest and paired. Here, it's just cute. They're so out of place, so conspicuous, and most Polish people are either devout or disillusioned Catholics, but above all, devoted to their beer and vodka. I really wanted to ask these boys at what point they told interested Poles that they'd have to stop drinking. I don't think alcoholism is any higher here than anywhere else, but celebrations always and must include vodka, and being Catholic, there's many a celebration. The point is, whatever I feel/think about Mormons in general, I have a great deal of sympathy for these kids, walking the streets all day, trying to convert people in awkward Polish (though almost all of the ones I met are more fluent than I am, at least they know more complete sentences). Though it is hard not to laugh when an 18 year old introduces himself to me as "Elder".
What's also interesting about this encounter for me, is that I had just been thinking about how, in a foreign country, the most jarring things are not the strange, but the familiar. You expect the strange and unknown, but what makes you pause are the things you know, in an unfamiliar context. It's not the old buildings, not the intricate architechture or ornate moldings, but the McDonald's on the ground floor. It's never the language you don't know, but the stray English word, "Ok", "Hello", "Sorry". And of course, I expect Polish people everywhere I go, but it's a little bizarre to walk down my street chatting with two Mormon Americans.
Among the most interesting are t-shirts. T-shirts with English sayings or slogans are very popular, but you always have to wonder if the wearer knows what it says. My friend and colleague, Patrick, who's from Texas, collects these (as in sightings, not the shirts themselves). One that really gave me pause was a teenage girl whose shirt read "HOMEWRECKER". Another was a student of mine who had a shirt from a bar in San Francisco. The name of the bar was "Sailor's Love". She wore it all the time. And of course, the sports wear. The Yankees and Bulls I'm sure they know, but someone wearing a Georgia Bulldogs cap or Cardinals jersey, I'm not as certain of.
Although, sometimes the familiar is just familiar and pleasant. Hence my trip to the Krakow McDonald's on New Year's Day, craving grease and that special sauce (I swear, my first time since leaving the US), and the Hawaiian pizza I'm about to reheat (so proud I'm able to order pizza by phone on my own now, though I dearly miss the late-night variety of delivery in New Orleans; here, it's only pizza that comes to your door. There's no help for a 2am jones for ribs or baba ghanoush, nobody to call for nachos or szechuan chicken. Hell, if you could just get pierogi or bigos delivered, that would be nice, but it's pizza only, and better call before 10pm.) And I'll probably discuss another time whether it's a good or bad thing, the insinuation of American culture into another, but for tonight, I'm oddly reassured by its presence. So thank you, TelePizza, for bringing that strangely delicious combination of pineapple and ham to Poland, and goodnight Elder Lyon and Elder Smith: may you sleep well and deeply, since you can't have coffee in the morning, but it was nice talking to you anyway.