Vee Em: A small vernal talk

The founding convention of Wiosna (EN. Spring, or Lencten, if you’re that grandiloquent and grandiloquent enough to know the word “grandiloquent”) took place in February 2019 in Warsaw. The weather condition in February 2020 seems to be a bit kooky. One could argue that the very existence of a left-wing party in Poland, let alone giving it such a name, can lead to God’s holy wrath. Given how jocular our Lord can be, the same “one” could go even further, claiming that both Robert Biedroń and his political party have influenced Polish weather and moved it in a direction that neither he nor his political supporters would aim at. Having an early spring in February would be the expression of God’s playful wrath. That “one” would be wrong, you might say. Perhaps you’re right. But while seeking reasons for our current weather, one can drift towards such insane theories, that it is better to get over with them as soon as possible. And I haven’t even got to the part of this theory where my slightly drugged brain cells are playing with Biedroń-Biedronka-biedronki word family.

The truth is, there are tons of articles on how screwed we are with the climate right now. But there are not enough reviews written these days. It is impossible to write a climate review. However, the review of the weather – a specific place and particular time – seems to be doable.

Not to spoil too much information regarding the weather – after all, it is not a forecast – February in Warsaw reminds me of the time I was sent to County Wicklow in Ireland to write a piece on Glendalough goosanders (sort of ducky-kindabird, if you’re not “grandiloquent” enough). Other journalists that went with me also weren’t Irish. Yet, all of us faced unimaginable weather, weather to discuss. There is no room for small talk when, suddenly, the wind blows for five seconds and leaves you feeling like you’ve been hit by a bus, the salty breeze makes you want to drink a gallon of wat. And there is coldness beyond comprehension while the sun is shining so strong, that you have to wear two pairs of Ray-Ban’s. Of course, let’s not forget that in such favourable conditions, you are still trying to spot a Glendalough goosander. But at least for the people who live there, it was natural. We were just not used to it!

Finally having a topic to elaborate on, the small talk became the general talk, the general talk became the big talk, and soon enough we needed to find other things than weather to discuss with people we didn’t know, in order to remain polite, since casual politeness is the foundation of international journalists’ co-operation. Within a week we ran out of topics to small talk about. We started having these long and meaningful discussions. They led to true friendships between people of the same minds, real connections beyond the understanding of words, passionate romances, no matter the sex or age. None of us finished their pieces on Glendalough goosander. Without the small talk in the workplace, no proper work was done.

As a society with only a 30-year-old history of capitalism, Poles are only now discovering the invention of small talk. But can they already handle not having it? Can they face a line to a coffee machine along distant co-workers with the subject of the weather that has become actually interesting? What are they going to replace the topic of the weather with? Politics? Not small enough. Art? These days you can hardly find a piece of it that has not been moistened with certain political opinions. But to be honest – so is it with the weather! One can determine the side you’re on simply by your choice of either talking or not talking about how the weather is getting weirder and weirder. Perhaps the coffee might seem like a neutral topic during a coffee break, but to talk about coffee while making coffee seems like the worst dirty talk possible. Or maybe it is just the time to have a proper discussion about the weather, as it ceases to remain dull. Not the hippie-Glendalough-police-raided-orgies kind of discussion but a proper talk about something interesting, perhaps crucial for future generations.

Things tend to rhyme, and in the modern world, things seem to do nothing else but rhyme. We are running out of every possible reference. Still, we cannot see the thick lines between our actions and the consequences they have on the weather, environment, ourselves, and every other thing.

But wait, that was meant to be a review (and it seems more like a piece that someone who got banned from Greta Thunberg’s public speakings for giving absurd political hypotheses and telling weird stories would say, and thus, get immediately banned more). I am running out of my word limit. The review: yeah, weather, what the f*ck!?

Vee Em