It is time for our second bash at volunteering with Angloville, the English immersion course that we came across in Slovakia (read the full story here). This one takes place in southern Poland, which is utterly beautiful. Loads of steep-roofed, four-storey houses covered in intricate patterns of timber and stone. I’m fairly certain that everyone has a cow in their front garden or, failing that, at least a couple of sheep. At dusk we see perfectly normal people wandering up the street carrying huge buckets and milking stools.
As we drive to the hotel we pass a traditional wedding party, with everyone ridingin beautifully decorated horse-drawn carriages, and wearing national costumes.
The cavalcade is led by two men, on horseback, singing loudly in rich tenor harmonies. They are followed by a six-piece band in a covered wagon: the musicians try desperately to keep their violins and cellos from bashing together, as the horses sway along the road.
Next are the happy couple in a white open-topped carriage, both terribly busy on their mobile phones. And then come the wedding guests: the men are in fabulously embroidered suits, with the women in flowered skirts, with matching shawls, and lace-up bodices.
The whole thing is joyously colourful and exceedingly relaxed. We stand and watch as the horses gently wander up the hill, and the strains of some unfamiliar folk song drifts back to us.
Angloville 2
Now, the co-ordinator needs a mention here – not just because he is brilliant at his job – but also because he looks just like Ryan Gosling with a bit of Ryan Reynolds thrown in.
And his name is Ryan. I’m not even joking.
On the first day he takes time to warn us about ‘The Game’ – the Polish participant’s habit of getting the native speakers as drunk as possible. We are allowed to miss a session if we are genuinely ill, but not if we’d played ‘The Game’. Fair do’s. Realise now that the Voluptuous One from the last Angloville had been giving that a good shot, just before she confronted Steve’s nipples.
The food – better than last time?
Oh hell, yes, what a change! Each meal is an all-you-can-eat buffet with loads of choice, including two or three salads with every meal (even at breakfast). Aswe have a high percentage of vegetarians and vegans on the course, it is such a relief. The coffee is awful, which proves you can’t have everything, but I am one happy bunny.
One-on-ones
I have a very interesting session with a lady who tells me about a massive crush she developed on a much younger man (and what came of it), and another session witha mother of three young children, who describes them as sweet little energy vampires. Pretty good grasp of English, that.
I still have my work cut out for me though, especially with one chap. He is middle-aged, and quite tough looking. Not someone you’d think to mess with. Most of the week he’s seen wandering around the hotel spa in a bathrobe, and the general consensus is that this is a cheap holiday for him and he’s not that bothered about learning English. My one to one with him is nearly over in ten minutes.
‘I answer all questions, what you want, is done’, he says.
‘No, we still have forty minutes, so let’s just talk, ok?’
Shit. What are we going to talk about? I persevere, and we discover that if you look at his house on Google maps, you can see one of his hunting dogs in the garden. So, that’s useful.
After each session, Ryan gives us a small form to fill in detailing what participants’ strengths and weaknesses, and what we think they need to work on. This time I look at the paper for ages, and in the end I write: –
Honestly, no idea. Think I may have spent an hour with a very charming ex-gangster.
Our mentees
I meet up with Steve later and tell him about the lovely girl I’m going to be mentoring: young, sweet, enthusiastic and funny, with some great pictures of a skydiving day that she can build her presentation around. I ask him who he’s been allocated?
‘The Gangster’, Steve says, ‘and all he wants to talk about is what he kills when he goes hunting, and I keep telling him he can’t because of the vegetarians, so he buggers off to the spa’.
Nearly snort my tea out of my nose.
The location
We are perched on the top of a hill with a wonderful view of the mountains. At the end of the road there’s a beautiful church, a sweet little chapel, and a stunning cemetery. The church is famous for being linked to a major one in Prague and is a place of pilgrimage. The Sunday we arrive it is absolutely packed, with people lining the grounds and path outside, all standing silently (even the children) to hear the service taking place inside.
The whole place is a forest of honey-coloured wood, each surface carved by hand. And the little chapel, with its separate bell-tower, is the same – even the lampshades are made from slats of fan-shaped wood.
But the cemetery – wow. They really like plastic flowers here, and there are enough candle-lit lanterns to light a small city. Sounds tacky and it actually is, I suppose, but it is also joyous and celebratory and how I’d like my grave to look, (though a plastic Bambi and a hip-swivelling Hawaiian dancer better find its way in there too. Just saying.)
Presentations
We have some brilliant presentations that show just how hard everyone has worked. My girl has us all laughing with her skydiving story, and she looks so delighted: I feel utterly proud of her. Last up is the Gangster, and none of us know quite what to expect.
‘I am successful businessman but for weekends I go to my house in forest. I take my dogs – here is picture of my dogs. I take my children. I take my gun. And I take my LOVELY wife.’
He proceeds to describe looking for animals in the forest – to photograph them. This is Steve’s intervention, I know. Each time he mentions his wife, almost as an afterthought, but with great emphasis. By the third time, he simply has to cup his hand around his ear and look expectantly at the audience who all chime in unison,’my LOVELY wife’.
By the end of the story, he’s been confronted by a bear, saved his dogs, chased away the bear, ‘See, here is picture of bear from CCTV camera’. Big gasp, not kidding, genuinely impressive. ‘And final, here is picture of my family. Here are dogs. Here are children. Here is car. Here is house. Oh, and here is….?’
…’MY LOVELY WIFE!’ we all yell. Well done Gangster. Well done Steve.
The after-party
Well, most of us play ‘The Game’ a bit. There is a lot of dancing. One lithe young lady is a hula-hooping yoga teacher whose sinuous moves look almost impossible. One chap is a fantastic break-dancer. Another refuses to take Steve’s reluctance to dance seriously, scoops him up in his arms, carries him to the dance floor, and plonks him down in the middle. It’s a good night. Maybe a bit too good for some people as the next day, at the certificate ceremony, some of them can only lie on the floor clutching their heads and looking weepy and green.
And that’s it. Another Angloville. Another country. Another wonderful set of people and experiences. We still have a van full of Dory, and a shed-load of laundry, but it is time to move on.
. . . . . . . . . .
In my next blog I’ll tell you the Dory story, and how we ended up in Slovakia again.
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