Adventures in the land of Mushrooms

Dirty Little Secret

2009-06-13T14:48:00.016+02:00

What has this lady got in common with me?

Little did I realise when I met the missus a few years ago that she had a dark secret lurking (literally) in the back of our closet.

The true extent of the problem hit me hardest today when I was cleaning the house and looking deep inside places I don't usually take much interest in. I always knew she was a little eccentric, possibly even strange at times-I mean she was having a relationship with me.

I noticed some weeks ago, when I was moving our stuff that some of the boxes, which she had packed on her own, weighed a fucking tonne. What was in them?

Her "inclination" so to speak, was in its advanced stage. There are furry ones, ones with sequins, ones with hair and claws, elegant ones and sexy ones, kinky ones and hideous ones, ones with stripes and ones with lights, ones that look like a pig and ones made from a pig.

In fact, on last count, there was around 25 pairs. That's a different set for every fortnight of the year.

Let me introduce you to Karolina, my own personal shoe fetishist.

The Imelda Marcos of Krakow.

Need wider lense

Greetings from Podgorze

2009-06-01T11:27:00.005+02:00

Lots has happened recently. We moved. I play in a band. And my brother got married. I was best man at his wedding. The speech went fine -mainly due to the fact that dinner was delayed due to the Rugby. In other words- everyone was pissed by the time I got to talk.

I do feel more of a foreigner when I go to Ireland these days. And the weddings are very different in the two countries. Having to pay for your own drink is a bummer. Also one hot meal and not 4 takes some getting used to. But at least we danced as much as they tend to do in Poland. Irish bands tend to play more contemporary music. No Biały Miś unfortunately. :/

We now live just across the river from Kazimierz. What a novelty not having to check bus times when you go out for a beer. However, in a cruely ironic twist, even though we only live a short 20 min walk from the centre , we probably spend more on travel now than we ever did. Ah sure it's only 10 zl in taxi etc etc. Convenience is the mother of excess.

Having become well acquainted with the moving process by moving out ourselves recently and helping a friend only yesterday- I have noticed two things that are always constant.

1)Either the place you are moving out of , or the place you are moving into, will be on the top floor of a building.

2)There will be no elevator.

Thank god for friends. In a stroke of good fortune- my appendics operation prevented me from lifting heavy things for 6 weeks. Life has a way of getting you back though. Literally. My friend Philip's spinal issues being testament to this yesterday.

Anyway our block looks like a Sanitarium but we like the apartment. It's on the top floor and we can't hear the neighbours anything like we could in the old place. Thank f*^& for that.

Being a stones throw from the gates of the old Ghetto, we awake every morning at 8am to the dulcet tones of crowds of Jewish tourists gathering below our bedroom window.

A very Krakowian way of dealing with unwelcome noise was introduced to me some weeks ago. Inhabitants of an old Kamienice, who lived upstairs from a local bar with a recently extended beer garden, had the ingenious idea of pouring piss from bottles and shit smeared on rags (sometimes alight) down on top of the parasols which shielded the rowdy revellers. Such an extreme way of expressing your dissaproval seems a little barbaric but it works. Imagine yourself on a balmy summers eve, sipping an ice cool beverage with your sweetheart when you suddenly hear the faint trickle of someone's still steaming urine rattle off the top of your parasol until it becomes a niagarous roar. It sorta kills the moment.

Love in the time of appendicitis

2009-04-05T16:40:00.006+02:00

After a stomach ache that wouldn’t go away I found myself in A and E at Rydygiera hospital on Monday afternoon last. At 8pm my belly was being kindly shaved my an even kinder nurse as I stuttered apologies in Polish for its largeness as a result of eating too much Pierogie Ruskie. Half an hour later I was speaking to people in green suits in the bowels of the building preparing for surgery on my appendics but not before trying to sell them English classes for medical professionals. Never miss an opportunity. I was just sorry I didn't have my business cards on me but then again I was naked apart from a very fetching smok. No-I am not Jewish. It transpired my appendics was inflamed and I should have gone to the hospital much earlier than I had.

No more than 2 hours later I was staring at a group of surgeons who were standing around talking and sharing a laugh.

Me: Jak Było?

Surgeon: Porządku.

Me: Duzy bole mnie brzuch (after the perfectly measured anaesthetic wore off it felt like a rabid vulture was slowly devouring my intestines)

Surgeon: Wiem (laughs). To jest naturalne.

Me: Wszystko naturalnie w Polsce ( very sarcastically)

Surgeon: (snort of laughter)

.....Out comes the morphine...

A friend who visited the next day told me he was full of foreboding when he heard I was in a hospital in Nowa Huta, likening it to something from the dark ages with rigid, putrid corpses being wheeled out as often as people were coming in.
My experience in this hospital far surpassed anything I have had in Ireland previously. The makaron and twarog with a little hill of sugar was one of the more interesting dishes on offer at lunchtimes for sure. But maybe that was something to do with it being Friday and the fact that an ornately costumed priest always seemed to be lurking in the hall keeping sentinel on the kitchen staff and any attempt to put devil meat on the menu. He burst into my room every day of the 6 days I was there trying to force feed me communion. You have to commend the peristance of religion and how they try to take advantage of the sick. I nearly took him up on the offer one day but only because I was hungry.

In terms of the care I received, the facilities, cleanliness and the diligent and dedicated staff and surgeons who work there-I couldn't have asked for more. I have a wonderful 3 inch gash in my gut also which I am delighting in showing off at every available opportunity.

Life in Poland is certainly swings and roundabouts. As soon as you make a narrow minded assumption on anything, it has a way of showing you how prejudiced and completely wrong you are. I still hate Enion though.

Thank the sweet lord for this ladder.

The lights are off but there's somebody home..

2009-03-27T21:48:00.018+01:00

Can I just say as a foreword that living in Poland is generally a pleasant experience.

Having neglected my blogging duties for some time now, I suddenly have inspiration in the most unlikely of institutions. My muse is the Polish semi state electricity board-“Enion”. Uncannily similar in sound to “Onion” and in the affect it can have on your eyes after prolonged exposure. Oh yeah-they have a monopoly in our area.

Two days ago I wrote this on paper by candlelight, with the odious stench of rotten pig carcass emanating from our lifeless fridge.

On wednesday morning at 9.30 two young men came knocking on our door. They had ID’s and we presumed they were about to carry out a standard reading of the meter. As we were closing the door, they politely informed us that there was one more “thing” in a “by the way” type of tone. They were taking away our meter or in other words disconnecting our electricity supply. My jaw hit the ground. We had paid our bills promptly since we had lived in this apartment belonging to my friend. The irony was the last one had been paid just the day before. They explained that a contract had been signed by the owner sometime in the past but this had since expired. They weren’t supposed to be even talking to us about this as we were only tenants. But we work from home , I give lessons from home????
That logically led on to the next point. Why the fuck didn’t you inform us that such a “contract” had expired? We would gladly resign and continue as before. “I am sure we did” the young guy replied officiously. But we didn’t get anything???? And hold on –just one minute ago you didn’t even want to explain to me face to face what was happening, so are you sure you sent a letter????? They left.

As the cold reality of the situation dawned on me –romantic evenings tripping up on my shoes in the darkness, mopping up a melting fridge, not to mention a pile of cancelled lessons and the money blown we didn’t have from being forced to eat out-I started to get angry. Really angry.

1)What “civilized” country in 21st century Europe goes to a paying, reliable customers premises due to a piece of administrative nonsense and disconnects their electricity supply without prior notice. Apparently kabul has a quicker electrical reconnection process than Kraków. Although that may just be because few own a house anymore so clients are thin on the ground. If we had refused to pay our bills we would have had at least 12 months grace before being disconnected. I think my raucous laughter is a prelude to encraoching madness. If anyone can drive you bertie these fuckers can.

2) Surely an action of this magnitude deserves at least a phonecall –never mind a letter. Enion had all contact telephone numbers and correspondence addresses. Obviously not. The look on your clients face when you disconnect them of a basic human requirement in most modern countries, is way more funny. Also the 90zl reconnection fee increases revenue.

3) Isn’t it easier to call to a customers house with a new “contract” giving them the option of resigning rather than no option at all. See last sentence from point 2.

4)Why is bureaucratic and procedural officiousness in central Europe so intent on pissing off everyday honest, law abiding people and making their lives miserable? The tentacles of this country’s communist past continue to paralyse large swathes of its institutions and have a very detrimental affect on the mental health and livelihood of its inhabitants.

On calling the office we were patronisingly informed by a gormless automaton that it was very important to be aware of this “contract” which we never knew existed. Surely the idea of a “fixed period” contract for electricity is like having a comparable one for water?. Ie a contradiction in terms. Yes I’ll only need it until January then you can disconnect me as there is a low pressure front on its way. She was also unable to tell us that even though this contract had seemingly expired why they had been giving us estimations up until june. Basically they were talking out of their arse. No surprise there then.

Anyway- we are off to the office with my friend and his house deeds (hahahah), 90 zl in 5 and 2 gr coins, some rancid pork and a bag of defrosted peas from my now weeping freezer. Oh the joy.

To be continued.

Our house- Wednesday 6.30pm. That's me on the right in the smoking jacket with the knife.

Some thoughts on the season...

2009-02-04T14:24:00.001+01:00

Fleeting flakes of snow rest on my weary mind

Only flickering silent shadows remain as Winter holds His breath

Restraining a heavy sigh, Animals sleep in their snowy beds.

A sharp scent of years past dances through my window ajar

Blinding blue light- My senses!

Wooden sleighs, empty turf sacks, soaked slacks and red flared nostrils, Ice-

Lunches packed and nowhere to go

The Earth – Frozen under my foot, like the shrill laugh of youth

I turn for comfort to your sweet smell, your sleep-filled dreams

Who is dreaming?
Who is the dream?

Darina Allen did it

2008-12-08T22:40:00.015+01:00

After 2.5 months of watching Polish builders "reinsulating" the outer walls of our apartment block, I had had enough.Who were these clowns? Was there any end to their silliness? I was exasperated. Underwhelmed. As the work approached its 3rd month, I was sure I was caught in some sort of "candid camera" experiment with a prankster Polish Jeremy Beadle jumping out from behind a jack hammer some day as I left for work.

Being awoken every morning for a season at 7am on the button by drilling, shouting, hammering and heartfelt pleas of "Kurwa- Co Robisz?" had really laid its mark on my psyche .These guys were certainly punctual. I was a shell of a man. And why did the noise always stop as soon as we got up? I was convinced. They were fucking with us.

Two things did become very clear to me as the end came in sight and they started collecting their cursed bits and bobs, in a futile effort to make the perimetre of the building looks less like a nuclear wasteland.
They were as follows:

Blocking the entrance to an apartment block containing 200 people at any time of the day from 7am to 5pm is ok. All inhabitants must wait until the highly skilled workers can finish their detailed labours which involved much profanity (see above), smoking of cigarettes and other assorted goons standing around vacantly watching the procedure. You may have to wait in sleet and snow until they give you the go ahead to enter your own apartment half frost-bitten. But at least when you do, you know the job will be done well. Don't you?

Having 50 metre drapes coming down the side of the building covered in the word BOLIX is perfectly normal here and in no way reflects the quality of work provided by said company.

Having electrical cables and exposed wiring/sockets hanging from every orifice of a building at every angle is acceptable and people just deal with it-however disgruntedly.

Inhaling one kilo of obliterated styro foam every day has no effect on your manners or the amount of cigarettes you smoke or where you smoke them. It was quite a surreal scene though. Snow in August. Who'd have thunk it??

That large bottle on your balcony that says "Wisniówka" and that gradually becomes smaller as the day progresses, isn't being used to clean the brushes.

All in all, a truly unforgettable experience. And all for the wrong reasons.

On a happy note-here's some pictures of our Pumpkin jam and a Mercury Rev gig I went to in Sosnowiec where I narrowly avoided getting my head ruptured open by a full can of harnas. The insult of it all. The bastards didn't even give me the privilige of getting killed by a decent fucking beer.

The angry whingings of an Irish man in Poland should become more regular in the new year.

Media Markt don't do miracles..but if they did.......

2008-11-20T17:26:00.005+01:00

Snickering away this evening with a smug grin on my face I was . I had been told the news that the German owned, electronic supplier Media Markt had made a bit of a faux pais with one of their badge shipments recently (the llittle things you wear on your jacket). The staff who do the stock orders, seem to have a fantastic sense of humour. The irony isn't lost on me considering who they are working for. Sales are brisk apparently and sure why not.

But the item does seem a little out of place next to the electric toasters and kettles.

A humble fashion accessory for every red-blooded male. Now available at your local Media Markt.
While stocks last!

Złota Jesień

2008-10-12T12:56:00.010+02:00

There is no time quite like it. The first golden leaves of autumn start to fall , blanketing the ground with their richness. Poland has striking seasons. This has to be one of my favorite. You know the long dark days are just around the corner but for the moment there is just a sweetness in the air and only a hint of what is to come. It's unseasonably warm. We are in the midst of an indian summer.

And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For Summer has o'er-brimm'd their clammy cells.

Alot has happened since I last wrote here. I set up my own company. Karolina lost the registration for the car (again) and we picked 12kg's of Elderberries at my friend Ardeshir's place. We got a big box of apples off him also after scaling a very tall ladder with a broom and beating the crap out of his trees. The 15 litres of Elderberry wine is already in a DJ and so much less work than the strawberries were. Unfortunately I need to wait 3 years for best results. I know I am not that patient. :) The apples? When I get a moment we'll do some chutney.

S0me time ago I checked out the sausage dog parade on Rynek. Hard to tell whether the owners or the dogs were the ones on parade. Brilliant!

Lassie never came home...from Poland

2008-09-26T15:50:00.004+02:00

Smalec is making a comeback it seems. And everyone wants in on the action. Smalec is one of the more unusual Polish condiments. Previously regarded as merely peasant food, it consists of the congealed lard of the beast of your choosing, with bits of other stuff thrown in-like onions, crusty bits of meat and more fat. When my brother visited last year he talked about it for months afterwards. It’s that fascinating a topic.

The smalec renaissance is one I view with close interest. Suddenly the upper echelons of Polish fine dining are seeing the beauty of a great rustic dollop of smalec on your crusty bread. Out goes your homemade lobster ravioli with truffle shavings and pine nut fecking coulis and in comes a big dirty pot of smalec for your delectation sire. Yes it’s become all kitsch and trendy to eat this stuff but it tastes so good that you just know it has to be bad for you. And guess what -you’d be right! It seems it's not only a health hazard to those who eat it.

Enter a very curious article in the paper the other day. Some people like to make their own Smalec it seems and one particular gentleman in Kraków (typical) was selling it in vast quantities to his neighbours at a snip. The increase in smalec production coincided with a huge dip in the local dog population and sure enough, he was boiling up , any, and every bloody hound he could get his mits on- for his own nefarious purposes.

Oh yeah I forgot to mention. He had been doing it for 50 years.
The Jeffrey Dahmer of the dog world is being charged with “animal cruelty”.

little jars of love-dog lard

barking mad

Po Polsku

Kearns does Shatner in Shanghai shocker

2008-09-02T20:38:00.004+02:00

When an acquaintence introduced me to the wonders of this alt Elton John classic at a karaoke bar in central shanghai I couldn't but marvel at the multi-talented Mr Shatner's sheer coolness. Is there anything the man can't do?

It's Bernie Taupin sir but not as we know him.

Hardly a catastroika

2008-08-29T19:00:00.007+02:00

As I sit here in my little apartment in Kraków, depressingly mulling over how those bastard Americans pulled the wool over paranoid Polish eyes (yet again) with this defence shield jerk off and Condolezza's clever strategy of using Russian aggression in the Caucus's to convince the government here to do the unthinkable and say yes to these muppets, a thought occurs to me.

Slowly and with some dread, I carefully peel off the protective layers of clothing that encloaks our 20 litres of wino truskawkami and lo and behold the beast has cleared almost completely-just two months after we started out.
Taste? Well it's hardly a Dom Perignon 1976 vintage but aside from being a little yeasty which is natural and quite dry ,which you can so something about, those in the know say if it tastes like this now, in 6 months it could be quite tasty. The excitment of it all. In the meantime I can stare lovingly at the pinkish/rubyish clarity and feel the satisfaction in knowing that home made alcohol production may possibly be the future. My future anyway ;) You can keep your Missile Defence Shield Mr Tusk. Give me a bunker with a couple of bottles of this stuff and a few pototoes and I'm good.

Shanghai Surprise

2008-08-16T14:52:00.008+02:00

We're back.

Where do I start?

Some things I will find hard to forget about China:

-The great sea of humanity on the move at Chinese train stations.
-The art of queuing and being stealthily skipped in any you ever join.
-The suffocating heat as the sweat streams off my brow into my steamy fish broth.
-The rhythmic whirr of the lively city Cicadas.
-Realising with some despondency that you just travelled all the way to China to watch people eat giant bucket–sized pot noodles on long distance trains.
-The infinite hilarity of “Chinglish”.
-Bold Chinese children creating a ruckus here, there and everywhere. The one child policy has created a generation of spoiled monsters.
-The smell of fresh jasmine flowers brewing in our flask.
-3 fucking KFC’s on a 500 meter stretch of pedestrian walkway with a shuttle bus connecting each one. :/
-The warmth, openness and hospitality of the people.
-Nightmarket culinary curios. Dog, Snake, Scorpion and Grubs alfresco.
-Hypnotically watching the air-conditioning unit in our room slowly open and bellow forth cold air. It feels like the caress of a beautiful woman.
-The food, the food, the food. Chinese tapas and revolving tables.
-Listening to Karolina complain about the crazed Chinese drivers and cyclists. Ha.
-Umbrellas everywhere and not a drop of rain.
-People on motorbikes wearing welding helmets.
-Shiny gadgets and heartbreaking squalour sitting side by side.
-Palatially plush Karaoke bars, leather sofas, butler service et all.
-Electric mopeds. Silent but deadly.
-Pretty university students initiating “chats” with you only to realise it's all a sales pitch. And I thought I was interesting.
-The relentless march of the Chinese industrial machine.
-Realising how lucky we are when you don’t see the sun for 3 weeks due to the pollution. Azure blue skies are underrated.
-Knowing that irrespective of how much you smile, that there will be always be two prices. One for the locals and one for the “gringos”.
-No matter how many large bottles of Chinese beer you drink you will never get drunk.
-The frenzied, insatiable buying of the Chinese middle classes.
-Chinese men spitting, coughing, sneezing, and with some gusto and little shame, gullying up huge shimmering globules of green lung mucus wherever they happen to be. No carpet is safe.
-Chinese engagement rings luckily don't have Made in China written on them.

The Bund by day-Shanghai (one of the few days we see blue sky)

Steaming Chinese Pierogi or Dim Sum

Fresh noodle makers, Kaifeng, Henan

Spicy , mouth numbing Sichuan Fish - Suzhou

Canalside tranquility, Suzhou

TV Tower monstrosity, Shanghai

Fashion Shoot, Suzhou

Crush those peanuts. Flapjack makers Kaifeng.

Peking Opera. In Shanghai. :/

China II

2008-08-06T17:02:00.005+02:00

Some more pics from deep inside the interior.....

Shaolin Trainees. Rich kids with attitude.

The other side of the tiger. 10 plastic bottles gets you one Yuan. 10c. recycle but don't retire.

Buddhist/Taoist carvings in the caves of Longman Shiku

Friendly food seller Zhengzhou, Henan Province

Eat that peach

Bubba or Budda

Baby amid curios market Beijing

Grubs at night food market. Not for the squeamish.

Shaolin posturing

Construction amidst the Pagodas.

welcome to the maCHINA

2008-07-31T06:52:00.008+02:00

red door forbidden city

chinese pierogi to go with chilli

Mao and us near Tian'anmen sq

temple of heaven- traditional chinese instrument

Great wall in 100 degree heat

Flower sellers peddlars in early morning Beijing

Chinese Rooves

Bygone bikes

lillies and other flowers in a park

Mini Ming

I write this from the depths of the Chinese interior clutching a Polish>Chinski phrasebook with chinese script on it which is underlined for words like by train, by bus, how much for a beer, weather hot , can you write this in chinese for me and air conditioning.

If I could choose one song to describe the consuming beast that China is-it has to be this.

Beijing to Shanghai Overland

2008-07-17T15:22:00.004+02:00

On awakening from my heavy slumber this morning I realised, with some alarm, that we would be departing this fair land for China on Monday morning. We have decided to "wing it" so to speak without the help of the omni-present Lonely Planet travel bible and go forth in ignorance. So we enter a country of over 1 billion souls, without a word of the language and an iota of what we want to see/do for our 3 week sojourn. That is - apart from gorging on delicious chinese fare that doesn't include sweet and sour chicken balls and chips. I may even seek out "Dog Meat King" if I feel adventurous. Restaurants with glossy colour pics will be most welcome.

I feel anxious as well as very excited. Like standing on the edge of a steep cliff looking down into a gaping chasm of uncertainty. Our linguaphone chinese has told us that "Ma", depending on stress and intonation, can mean 4 different things in English. Mum, Hemp, Curse and Horse. Need to be careful there. It will also be our first tentative step on the couch surfing ladder as we plan to stay with a Chinese lass in Shanghai for a few nights. Insider knowledge is a priceless thing. That and someone who speaks Chinese.

I'll try to lash up some pics and rantings of our experiences over the next few weeks. Like our Russian Pilot, I'll be on the vodka come Monday morning as we are flying Aeroflot:/ Wish us luck.

My H.R.T will go on

2008-07-14T17:12:00.006+02:00

How big are those sunglasses!

Some couch curfing friends met fellow Canadian singer "extraordinaire" Celine Dion on Rynek Głowny some weeks ago. Celine was taking some time out before playing to a devoted half-full audience in Błonia park. Celine is the one on the left by the way.

It's finally all over in Stalowa Wola

2008-07-07T20:21:00.006+02:00

So we set off to the north east of Kraków on saturday morning for a friend's wedding to a beautiful Polish lass from SW. He astounded me with his level of pin point preperation and apart from telling us to go via an inland lake that would need a ferry crossing, everything went smoothly. I am always late. But I have never had a groom call me 20 mins before he got married to ask me where the f*^k I was. Dedication.

In the countryside in Poland, the duration of the wedding mass can wear the patience of the most devout follower. As it hit the 85th minute mark, I fully understand why I usually only set foot inside a church once a year. This was my first Polish "country" wedding and, as the groom was English, there was plenty of hapless victims to talk to po angielsku and later insult.
It was a typical country affair with the more unusual games that reared their head as the evening wore on. Some ghoulish masked intruders also entered the building at some stage during the festivities although I am not sure why. The requisite Polish live wedding band ,including funky sax player, were surprisingly very good and even played the odd bluesy track and kept the DiscoPolo turge to a minimum. This included a rip roaring version of sweet home chicago at 4am in the morning. Respect. They must have played for eight hours solid and yes they were drinking steadily (you'd have to I suppose) but as everyone else was getting gradually drunker too, their mistakes didn't really matter.

This was also a Poprawiny event. This basically means you get to bed , wake up the next day and head back to the same hall to finish off the remaining food and alcohol . This is some task when you have 200 bottles of vodka between 150 guests. In many ways Poprawiny is better than the actual wedding as everyone is more relaxed and the drinking is more focused. My head is still sore and the drive back today was hellish. Worth it? Absolutely.
My best moment , dancing with the bride to the darkness. Now that's out there.

vegetarians look away now -flacki-tripe soup

One of the more bizarre wedding games involving ladies tights

the happy couple

Poprawiny madness

What has Imelda Marcos and Celine Dion got in common?>

2008-06-28T19:25:00.017+02:00

The weather is great at the moment-that was until giant hailstones starting pelting out of the summer sky earlier this week. Like the end of the world it was.

On checking out an online poll for "50 of the worlds worst ever groups", I was amazed to see two names there, that have recently played in Kraków -at no 25 and 26 respectively.

Actually no, I wasn't amazed at all. When JAMIROQUAI played a free concert here you know Kraków city council's budget aint enormous and also that he is no longer as popular as he was ten years ago. I blame that stupid hat.
More worryingly, the barbie-esque, alien featured, skinny one, Celine Dion, is not paying for free at all and is scandalously charging 205 zyl for a ticket to hear her screech about broken love and marrying powerful record ex men, old enough to be your daddy. And she has 3000 shoes apparently. How interesting. I wouldn't go see her if she was playing in the back garden (if we even had a backgarden). Is she completely removed from reality charging this price in Poland. Does she even know how much folk earn here?

On a positive note, Lou Reed is playing Warsaw. The grumpy old bastard would be high on my must sees if only I could start earning some decent money. The police were apparently awesome on thursday night in Chorzów too :(:(

We went and gawked at an airshow that was close to our apartment here today. Some daredevil stuff by one pilot in particular as the pic below will testify.

Paws ...........for thought

2008-06-25T16:45:00.002+02:00

Hell hath no fury like a cyclist scorned and other tales

2008-06-20T14:56:00.012+02:00

Bubbling with life....

Whilst cycling into town yesterday I was nearly ran off the road by a driving instructor vehicle with student learner inside. I thought I was seeing things and it would have been funny but for my near demise at this idiots hands. I was puse with anger. To the complete misfortune of the folk in the guilty car in question they got held up at a busy junction about 500 metres up the road and there I had my window (literally) of revenge, as I sprinted frantically after them.

Normally quite a chilled out and composed soul, I lose all these traits when on a bike- particularly after a near death experience that is someone elses fault. All decorum and grace left me as I bellowed in the window at the instructor "po angielsku" might I add with a deluge of expletives too obscene to mention here. The student driver found the whole thing utterly hilarious ( I don't think she particularly liked him either) but I appeared to severely unsettle the rotund instructor. The continued eye-balling for the next few kilometres probably didn't diminish his unease. I guess a tomato faced, roaring, english speaking, helmeted and bespectacled mad man is the last thing you expect encountering. Particularly in the wilds of "the Huta" on a warm june morning as you try to impress an attractive 20 y.o female.
No wonder the drivers in this country are so unbelievably shit when you have clowns like him "teaching" people. End Rant. Now breathe.

Our strawberry wine is alive and kicking and producing lots of foam and bubbles as the yeast devours the sugar we added some days ago. Today we add some homemade irish tannin-ie a cup of Barry's tea. By tomorrow the sugar should be at a suitable level to strain and transfer to our secondary fermenter. It tastes pretty decent already but a little yeasty obviously.

Wino Truskawkowa I

2008-06-17T16:14:00.006+02:00

Natures candy

So the Pani that works in a wee sklep outside of our apartment (the same one I am inducing a caffeine depedency on) kept me 10 kilos (4.50 zyl a kilo) of the most succulent, sexy and juicy end of season strawberries I had ever seen today. I was almost crying putting them into the fermenter for fear of making a complete balls of this. Such is the risk I can only liken it to taking a strawberry bath instead of eating any of them.

This had to work or there would be hell to pay. What followed for the next half an hour was me sterilizing everything within a 10 metre radius of our wine making equipment. Completely over the top and annoying (according to Karolina anyway) But yes, it seems official- I am turning into my old man-controlling and obsessive. Shit.

So a little over 90 mins after getting our gorgeous bounty of red nectar, we had washed, topped and tailed and chopped 10kg of fruit (probably ate 5 kilos of it) and thrown it all into our primary fermenter with some steriliser to kill nasty flavoured and bad moulds. A little pectic enzyme was added also to break the ripe stew down to make a sort of liquor by tomorrow. We almost killed each other debating about procedure here. Every single strawberry wine maker in the world does things a little differently. Pandemonium. Let's hope this works. I am covered in bright red juice and the smell is intense even from the balcony. Tomorrow we add some yeast and watch the beast come alive.

A barrel of love

Strawberry wine

2008-06-12T23:57:00.006+02:00

How many times do you need to shake the petrol nozzle before you shake all the petrol off completely?

Why does my IPOD always pick Kashmir by Led Zeppelin when on random shuffle with a selection of 8000 others songs to choose from?

Why are Polish national sides in all sports so prone to ill-luck and misfortune?

While pondering these and other questions last night around 10:35pm during the "enthralling" Poland/Austria game, an idea come into my mind. Call it an attempt to escape the utter misery of watching an abject Polish national side embarassing themselves in the european championships.
I have decided to venture into the brewing business. Wine brewing specifically. I'll start the long process next week. It's kinda interesting but most importantly remains a way to get pissed on the cheap. The bottles make quaint "gifts" therefore cutting down on the unnecessary costs of buying stuff for other people. Hopefully strawberry season won't prematurely end before that. What a sickener that would be.
By August I should be bottling; and exporting to western europe come late autumn.
Well that's the dream. I shall keep you posted on the ups and downs of my endevours.

Here's some soothing post related melody from one of the most prolific, talented and recognition starved musicians of his generation.

Poland VS Germany

2008-06-08T17:20:00.011+02:00

The somewhat moderate left wing Polish "Fakt" newspaper, gets the nation all fired up for tonights euro 2008 group game. It pissed off the Germans something terrible. I really can't see why.

Come on Poland!!

Snow and Sunshine

2008-06-01T21:44:00.007+02:00

The route

We travelled to Zakopane earlier this week with my parents and sister who were over for a quick trip. Apart from almost murdering my ueber-obsessive/controlling front seat driver father on the way to the mountains, everything was good. Clear blue skies and generally very pleasant weather greeting us on our arrival.
However something dawned on me that day. Karolina's mum wisely says -

Guests are like fish. They start to stink after 3 days.

The only exception to this ,is if the fish are Irish, and related to you. Try 8 hours.

Zakopane I've always found to be an odd spot that I can't make my mind up about. Quaint it aint, with hordes of tourist children sucking helium out of gigantic balloons which you can buy off a very dodgy looking fellow on main street for 2 zyl a pop.
We decided to escape the tack and head for the hills on the second day with an assault on Giewont our aim. Zakopane lies in the shadow of the reveered sleeping knight and we would cheat a bit by taking a cable car to a bordering peak and then walk across the adjacent slopes for 3 hours to get to our destination at a slightly lower altitude.

Our cable car forebodingly dissapeared into the early morning mist only to break through the cloud into an azure blue mountaintop world , moments before it terminated at Kasprowy Wierch. There was still quite alot of snow to be found. Even I was surprised by this at the end of May. My family on the other hand were dismayed as they had come dressed for a walk in the countryside, not the high tatras with light, gripless footwear. We walked with them for a little under an hour but they felt unsafe with their footwear. The complaining , yet reluctant perseverence bordering on martyrdom, started to get to me.

My mother stayed with us but my father and sister turned back. 15 mins later it seemed a good decision. Myself, Karolina and my mother came upon an area of the path which was on the edge of the steep mountain and which happened to a have a sheet of melting ice covering it , at an alarming 45% angle. This, I thought sadly, was where the adventure would end and we would turn back. A days recreation is not worth risking your life for and the fall would be hundreds of feet and difficult to recover from. Up stepped my 58 year old mother who, without flinching grabbed hold of the mountainside, and as nimbly as a ballerina, glided across the precipitous icey ledge. Easy.
Well I had no choice but to join her but I had a sickening feeling in my stomach as I did it. This section of the Tatras bordering the Slovakian higher peaks has everything, including picturesque mountain valleys dotting the landscape and frightening as bejaysus drop offs. It's quite the spectacle. I even half expected Heidi to come bounding down in front of us with a cup of goats milk in her hand. Grand Papa?

I highly recommend it. Just wear some proper shoes.

Me and wonderwoman.

Snooze at 2006m

Romantic Poland's dead and gone...........

2008-05-30T12:04:00.009+02:00

.....it's with Piłskudski in the grave.

Not being the most mechanically minded individual, I ignored a red battery light indicator in my car for the last two weeks. The consequences were to be problematic. On a trip to town on Saturday afternoon, parked illegally, twenty metres from the Rynek, my usually quite reliable italian car wouldn't start. This was the first time this had happened but I assumed it was a battery issue and pulled my always dependable, shiny jump leads from the back of the beast. Now I needed to find a good samaritan who could spare 3 mins helping me . Easy? Maybe in the Poland of yester year, where you queued just to see what was available on that particular day- toilet paper, vinegar, 7up (Pewex only), etc.
Enter the brash new 21st century progressive shiny Poland, where everything has a price, even common decency. The species of Pole I initially asked for help may not be that high up the evolutionary ladder, but even in Ireland, a taxi driver would take a moment of their busy day and help someone in distress. I asked 10 taxi drivers in a row only to be met with "nie mam czasu" which roughly translates as:

go fuck yourself -what's in it for me helping a pleb like you? I'd rather sit around here scratching my arse for the next 40 mins. It's hard work pretending to look busy you know.

And so the ignominy continued. One gentleman even said that it would cost be 20 zyl for a jump.
This was the standard taxi driver jump start fee (a fact which was depressingly confirmed by another person later on)Being desperate I intially agreed, before that Irish, frugal part of my brain started working and I told him to take a hike. The cheek of it. Now even in Ireland this would be shocking. We aren't exactly overflowing with the milk of human kindness since the celtic cat started roaring back in the nineties but yet I can gaurentee you , as despicable and opportunistic as alot of Dublin cabbies might be, they would still give you a hand. I guess my idealised, romantic notion of Poland has been shattered-certainly by the taxi driving brigade. Everyday Poles will certainly help you without thinking about it. But I am still left with a terrible taste in my mouth.

On a positive note , I found the first Polish new potatoes today. yeah :D

Grammar i Kawa

2008-05-21T12:11:00.008+02:00

During my weekly Polish lesson yesterday I hit rock bottom. I was slumped disheartedely in a corner of Camelot Cafe with a blackcurrent Nalewka. This wasn't as warm and hearty as I thought it would be and was a real let down compared to the piping hot raspberry one I got some time before. The weather was shite-miserable and dank and with no comfort to be gained from my drink of choice I turned for inspiration to my teacher, Paulina, and then she mentioned the word "grammar". Usually enough to send me screaming out of any enclosed area, I gave her the benifit of the doubt as I had been 20 mins late meeting her due to horrible traffic.

What followed was 60 mins of the most painful, convoluted language rules I have ever seen. OK Polish nouns are all different genders I can deal with this. However the inflected ending depends on how the actual word finishes- eg with a k, e, g, i, etc etc. For each ending there is a different inflection. Also it depends on whether the noun you talk of us alive or dead/inanimate. They also have 3 more cases than we have in English -that's a grand total of 7. Nice. Now I have friends who are half Polish and speak it fluently, having lived here for most of their lives. Poles instantly know something is amiss when they speak. What chance do I have? I think my best bet is to just embrace my foreigness and concentrate on being understood. I will never get the grammar and the sooner I accept this (and my teacher does also) the better.

On a lighter note our new coffee machine is a revelation. The coffee is pretty damn tasty so much so that I have been dropping Latte's down to the girl who works in the tiny wooden sklep beside us. She wants to pay for it, but seeing the delight on her face makes it all worth while and I couldn't possibly think of taking money. Yet. My fiendish plan is to get her addicted and then hit her with an enormous bill by which time she will be a hapless coffee junkie, salivating at the mouth and too strung out to argue. Either that or she gives us free radishes all week.

Moje drugie polskie wesele było lepsze

2008-05-13T14:54:00.015+02:00

Poles just don't get in when I eulogise at length about their train system. Let me explain. I finished classes on saturday morning at 11.30 am -needing to be in Warsaw for a 4.30pm wedding, I was understandably a little anxious at how tight I was cutting it.
However, I arrived in Warszawa Centralna by 3pm. That's 300km away. Iarnród Eireann's comparable Dublin-Tralee service, no offence meant, would still be stuck in Nenagh with officials trying to remove "leaves from the track". Yes, it's not perfect nor incredibly cheap but I think that in comparison to its more western european counterparts (one in particular), it's streets ahead and Poles should stop complaining about it!

The advent of my second Polish wedding represented a sort of epiphany for me. I suddenly understood the Polish psyche a bit more, however fleeting , for the few hours of its duration. My first was spent in a state of confusion. This time around, the most striking difference for me was the complete lack of self-consciousness. Alot of Irish weddings will not get going to well into the evening with people being coaxed and cajoled at great length to get their arses up and dance. It's a bit different here. From the moment the first tunes are played the dance floor is rammed. The music that is played is secondary. Alot of it is turgid biletastic polska pop-"Jak Sie Masz? Kochania" etc. Yet everybody knows this and just has fun and camps it up to great effect. This comes first to any pretence at being "cool". The result? Great craic actually. The Mountain music dancing was my favorite part.
The collective manic celebration of this occasion amidst the sweating throngs re affirms your faith in "the wedding" albeit a very Polish version of it. The basic idea is:

We, (the married couple) will provide our best friends and family with the most sumptuous food , as much as they could ever hope to possibly eat in an evening, all the alcohol, wine and beer that they could ever hope to drink stopping short of poisoning themselves.

So now that we have bought your ass for the evening-what do we ask for in return? Simply that you have a great time and enjoy yourselves.

And they do. It's not that difficult.

As the evening wore on (in between air guitar solos during Europe's the final countdown and slow dancing to the heart breakingly anthemic Biały Miś), I took a grim fascination with an elderly waiter who looked like a squashed Polish version of the Chief from One flew over the cuckoos nest. I ended up dribbling broken Polish to him around 4am , thanking him for his exemplary service and attention to detail, while only moments before mimicking the lifting of a shower room control panel and throwing it through an imaginary window.

You can drink copious amounts of vodka and still be relatively coherent at these bashes-with an amazing 3 hot meals served for sustenence through-out the evening. Only at the end did I begin to waiver-see adjoining pic. A friend of mine stated-You will never bloody change. No I don't think I will you know. I dont think I will.

Feels good doesn't it?

Biały Miś -unforgettable -Bear suits et all

Radio free europe anybody?

2008-05-04T23:04:00.014+02:00

Is that Kirsty McCall? And where's Mike? Mike?

Nice trousers

Listen out for the dirty and very loud backing track to hide their shameless lack of talent.

What do Micky Oldfield, Alphaville (who?-yes really)and The Hooters have in common? What, apart from some really bad hairstylists and 80s tastic cheese rock? Well, according to my sources their songs are so old that they no longer receive royalties from public radio broadcasts of their "art". Queue any and every Polish radio station I have ever listened to, playing one or more of these songs on rotation, ad-nauseum,every 30 mins.
The hooters fame really amazes me. They are complete unknowns outside of Germany and Poland-let's all do our bit in stamping out mediocrity in music and keep it that way. As Bill Hicks said "I want my rock stars dead." That's certainly true in this case. Their fans are muppets -not allowing the embedding of videos on other folks sites. Unfortunately , as a result, I have had to give you a live rendition of their stadium anthem Johnny B live in Germany-which is just not as explosive as the single:/ No shame with these boys.
Special mention to the freaks from Alphaville for silliest video. Plus a lead singer that looks like a transvestite Michael Ballack. He's a footballer. I checked and I don't think they were ever big in Japan.

German Shepards. Michael fresh from a tour of the orient. Marian after a hard nights gigging.

To declare or not to declare

2008-04-30T21:44:00.006+02:00

So the end of the month approaches. The end of April. The last day of April. Today.
I am lying in my darkened pit (bed), trying desperately to nurse myself back from the brink, after a heavy night on the warka with onion soup and homemade croutons. These I concocted at 4am this morning in a moment of genius.

I then somewhat indulgently cancelled a 4pm lesson rather than scaring away my 8 year old female student for good with the pugent waft of semi digested Polish beer and pierogi ruskie.
Now where's my comfort food? Whats that? Lying on my window. A very official looking form that has been winking at me for the last 6 weeks. Tax. Record of tax paid for year 2007. From my detestable employers from last year who reluctantly paid the tax they had been "withholding" from me after much wrangling and bulging of veins. Imps of satan.

However it seems they may get the last laugh. In Poland you must submit a tax declaration form before the 1st of May. It is illegal not to and it can come back to haunt you and earn you a few months in jail or a hole in your portfel. In a wonderful twist of fate, the post office closes at 8pm. It was 7:15. Karolina was giving me awful stick over IM telling me that I leave everything till the last min bla bla bla and that sometimes she's not sure about our relationship etc etc. But that's just the way I am. Always have been- always will be- A disorganised bastard. With no idea how to decipher the complex Polish tax words in the3 page form apart from the my name and address part, I quickly filled in the PIT 37 -stuck it in an envelope and got to the post office just in time for closing. Registered letter. Proof of postage before deadline. Bang. Done. It will ofcourse come back as it isn't completed. But at least they got it on time. Everybody's happy.

Cyling Da Huta

2008-04-25T18:08:00.019+02:00

We bought a new coffee machine today. I wont give you any indication of the ridiculous amount of money we paid for it. Suffice to say it weighs alot and is all chrome and shiny and will cost me several months of Polish labour to pay it off. It looks more like a small tardess than something that can give you a coffee. Now all we need is a matching Dalek and we can start filming. Its all in the name of pleasure and a once a junkie always a..... Our old one isn't even broken you know.

Today was a cracking day and to celebrate with mother nature I decided on heading out for a trip amidst the industrial tundra of NH. Celebrating by damning, swearing, gesticulating wildly and glaring alot, in an effort to stay alive on my bike. Yes it can be grim but when the sun shines it's quite pleasant you know. Ignore the industrial chimneys belching forth plumes of noxious green and blue filth and its almost pretty. It was a planned town and wide green parks abound aswell as the long meandering vistula and it's cycling and walking friendly banks.
Originally constructed as a residential area for the workers of the local steel factories, Nowa Huta these days is it's own city, and one that rivals kraków in terms of scale (pop 200,000), history and in places, architecture- Albeit minus the legions of stag parties and expensive designer shops.
Let's just say it's alot quieter in the evenings.
Plac Centralny, so much better than silly Ronnie Reagan square (previous incarnation after independence -to piss off the Russians I presume), is great to relax in and soak up the social realist architecture surrounded by tulips (the flowers). Why you could be in Moscow!

Nowa Huta for me remains an integral part of any Kraków visit,
-that and visiting one of the many old communist style "bar mleczny's". Here you can still pick up a nice glass of compote, some borscht and 8 pieces of the pierogi of your fancy for under 10 zyl.A frugal mans utopia. Catch them now before they dissapear forever.

If anyone wants to buy a Gaggia machine in kraków-let me know.:)
It made the coffee below.

Latte Art from Ms J

A dieing breed. Old style communist "milk bar", Wanda, Huta

Selling veg and playing cards

V for victory. I hate Coke!

Tulips and Trams. Plac Centralny

Merchant of Venice comes to the City of Stockings and Spires

2008-04-21T00:23:00.007+02:00

We went to the theatre on saturday night. I got dressed up for the occasion. I needed an excuse and had spent 150 zly on two new shirts. See previous posting. Little was I to know that this particular production would be one of the raunchiest, uebercamp, burlesque pieces of post modern theatre I had seen in some time. Like William S meets the Scissors Sisters in Moulin Rouge with a legion of semi/almost fully naked Polish beauties writhing about like sirens for prolonged periods. To sit in an auditorium for 250 mins having understood only about 30 words , yet only feel mildly "put out" was puzzling.
Yes I felt a little dirty afterwards if you should now. The music was excellent aswell.

"Shaun -Musziesz Nowa Koszulak Kupic"

2008-04-16T19:39:00.006+02:00

Zofia called me unexpectedely the other morning as I was lying in bed trying to prise my sleep encrusted eye lids open. Zofia is Karolina's mum. Zofia can be a bit scary*. My level of Polish is such that we can engage in semi articulate everyday banter about stuff. Little did I know what she would start talking about. Karol's ex boyfriend is getting attached in May and for the Slub, we will be travelling to Warsaw to join in the celebrations. Now I can't imagine going to my ex's wedding. Ever. She would rather see my innards burned slowly by a rare amazonian parasite, than send me an invitation. I guess people are so much more civilised in Poland. Mature.
In true Polish mammy style Zofia wasted little time in telling me what was on her mind. I love the candid approach usually.

-So you are going to the wedding yeah?

-Yes

-Getting the train are you?

- Yeah I have to work on saturday morning so we will take the 12pm express from Kraków

-Are you going to buy a new shirt?

-Sorry?

A new shirt. I've seen you wear this blue one countless times to other weddings. I think it's time you bought a new one.

-I hadn't really thought about it.

-Yes buy a new one. And possibly a new tie when you are at it. The other one looks worn. You should try to look your best.

-Ok:/ I am going now. Bye.

-Don't forget-Bye.

Yes the shirt was worn frequently. But it's my favourite shirt. Didn't expect her to be so forthright. Tomorrow I go to town to try to buy a new shirt. I hate shopping.

*Generally only scary when engaging with her before midday. Awakening to her tones is highly disturbing.

Bye Bye Medusa, Bye Bye

2008-04-06T13:47:00.011+02:00

The wonderful versatility of the everyday "dread"

Po Polsku tez

This post is dedicated to Karolina's dreadlocks. After several years in the making and half way down her back ,She decided to slay the beast of dread some weeks ago. Half of the dusty Guatemalan countryside remained clotted in them upon our return to Poland and enough was enough she said. Irish Samson cut Polish Delilah. Afterwards I felt guilty about doing it though. I felt apathetic towards them mostly, never loving nor hating them, but once they were gone I missed them a little and the strange little jar of cinnamon/orange/ginger/and a hundred other fused fragrant spices I have never heard of, that took the place of washing. If you wash them they tend to smell. I'm serious. Her mother was delirious with joy and welcomed her daughter back to regular society from that lonely periphery where people looked at you funny and no one would ever offer you a good job "looking like that".

Lastly, a note on our neighbours whose only line of conversation with us after 4 full months here is "make sure you close the hall door twice before you leave." The is the same family who like argueing/debating in our communal hall at 7.30 am in the morning. On the fifth or sixth occasion it was mentioned we thought that they
were obviously very worried about security etc. Now approaching the 108th time in as many days ,we feel that they are either:
1) Slightly mentally retarded in some way (or they think I am-not beyond possibility)
2) This is simply a Polish convo starter like "how's the form today? or "grand spot of weather we are having eh?" and because my of my cross cultural fog keep missing it
3) They are bored senseless and have nothing else very interesting to say
4) All of the above

My responses are getting more disgrunted though
Tak
Wiem!
Oczywiście!!!
idź sobie!!!!

What do I do before resorting to profanity?

Roads and Driving in Poland Rant/Bitch

2008-03-29T13:47:00.004+01:00

Please don't continue if you feel uneasy at reading the whingings of an Expat. Piss off back home if you don't like it so much you may say....but maybe I can get some feedback on these musings...

Behind the wheel of a car in Poland is a privilege-most of time. When driving south the flat central planes gradually gives way to the rolling meadows and lush farmland of Malapolskie and at the right time of year you can see fields of golden rapeseed stretch into the horizon.
I drove to Poland via France , Holland and Germany 2 years ago. I was confused and a little anxious when at the German/Polish border the queue was almost a mile long to leave the country yet no one was entering.

Driving an Irish registered, right – hand drive Polo with masking tape on the headlights, on the thoroughways in Poland certainly attracted its fair share of gawkers and idiots. Now, several years on, driving a Polish registered Italian-made car, there are alot less gawkers.
Having conducted many an English class on the reasons why Polish roads have more deaths on them campared to other european countries, I have my theories.
The road infrastructure here is poor yet improving everyday with the influx of EU funding. Roadworks are an everyday part of life, irrespective of how short your journey and can frustratingly add lengthy delays to any trip. But most will agree that it’s unequivocally a case of short term discomfort for long term gain. So we remain patient if at times somewhat exasperated. It isn't the only contributing factor to the slaughter though. Yes the roads don’t help- narrow, pot holed and ill-lit at night, a 200km journey can take up to 5 hours depending on where you go and the level of re - surfacing present. All primary roads lead through Warsaw from the south –so if you are heading anywhere north of here, you simply must drive through this heaving, grid - locked megalopolis. Like driving from Ennis to Sligo but having to go via longford. Taking into account this and a male-centered macho, cavalier attitude to speed and safety, you get alot of drivers taking stupid overtaking risks on shabby, traffic-clogged roads just to cut their journey time by 20 mins.

First time I drove in Poland I was astounded to see how the “hard shoulder” was being used as another lane. The last thing you want to do is stop on it. If someone is behind you and cannot pass, you simply move into the hard shoulder to let them overtake as a token of common courtesy and politeness. You are not expected to do it, but can, if you feel it is safe. Sound familiar? This is the way I remember it working in Ireland anyway but in Poland the usage differs slightly. You must pull in to the hard shoulder if someone wants to overtake you, irrespective of how many drunk, black clothes wearing pedestrians, angry cyclists and strawberry sellers are occupying that particular stretch of tar. Some of the most impatient, impolite and childish bastards have I met on the roads here, but i'll say no more about it.

The whole culture of driving in Poland is one which is greatly variant with anything I have known before. Yes they are bit more aggressive and like taking risks, but the same can be said for drivers in any country. How you can really evaluate things, is by looking at drivers relationships with other non car users that is revelatory. In my first month in Poland I was almost killed at “pedestrian” crossings at least half a dozen times. The Polish definition of pedestrian crossing on the rules of the road brochure appears to be –“random section of road painted with white stripes indicating that vehicles may accelerate at will as they appraoch. If walkers are straying carelessly onto it in an effort to cross the road go even faster and try to maim". On my return to Ireland I had forgotten that most drivers stop at these inconvenient stripey crossings if a pedestrain is anywhere within sight of them.

Wielkanoc w Białystok and other adventures

2008-03-25T19:04:00.024+01:00

If we could walk with the animals, talk with the animals,
Grunt and squeak and squawk with the animals........

There is a place in the far northeast corner of Poland that reminds me of where I am from originally in northwest Ireland. Podlasie is wild and barren. A mostly flat and featureless landscape but with a starkingly haunting emptiness about it that is hard to forget. Imagine this and a land where the dulcet tones of Radio Maryja are broadcast into every home(catholic station complete with choir singing/hymns and live phone ins, praying and rosary service).
Nature lovers take note this area is a popular summer port of call for thousands of migratory birds including the majestic White Stork who travel all the way from Africa to catch some of this countrysides laid back, peopleless vibe. Stork nests are more plentiful than houses from what I could see and I wanted very much to come back in summer to enjoy it all when it was freezing and snowing less and my head didn't hurt from the cold so much.
http://storks.poland.pl/about_stork/index.htm

Stork nest near Tykocin, Podlasie

It was here we went for a Easter weekend after breaking the grueling 500km journey from Kraków, in Warsaw, for the night.We stayed with Karolina's 73 year old uncle who still runs a small farm in a very isolated hamlet in the middle of all of this awesome nothingness.
He was an absolute gent from the moment we arrived and, even though his dog bit me the first night, couldn't have made us feel more at home, including feeding us a cabbage-fastic Easter brunch. Somewhat of an Everyman/Dr Dolittle type figure with his love of all things animal foremost in his life, he looked well for his age and rarely stayed up past 9pm and rose by 7am. He jokingly remarked, when we awoke the first morning at 10am, that he thought we had died.

Apart from a fondness for drinking beer with sugar (sacrilege), collecting glutinous ticks that had attached themselves to his beloved cats (which he kept in Nivea hand cream jars for display)and showing off the giant lice that had gratefully taken up residence on one of his pigs,he was just a regular guy who lived on his own and drove his little yellow Maluch to church every week. He did what he had to and was generally quite happy as a result. I was a little envious.

Does this pig have Lice? Answers on a postcard

And in the future everyhome shall have a little yellow car...that runs on vegetable oil

I met more of Karolina's family than I can now remember the faces or names of but they all made me feel very welcome. Before the trip, I naively thought my Polish was coming along alright. The folk here speak even faster and have a more accented brogue than down south though. I awkwardly sat at the typical Polish Wielkanoc food laden table with 28 relations for 4 solid hours and nodded and smiled in a pathetic attempt to pretend I had an iota of what the men folk were talking about. Farming. Machinary. Farming. Home-made Alcohol (Now I am interested-Ile procent alcohol jest? Czy Pan Robił? mmmm Pachnieć (I was driving)). Farming. Machinary . Farming......etc etc.
Still being the mute and dumb foreign boy has its advantages and you just keep being fed and the women occasionally look at you and smile with pity before offering you more Sernik.
Normally I take refuge with the children or the animals but even they weren't entertaining me this day.

And so Easter 2008 concluded with me being locked in a toilet in a service station on the outskirts of Białystok as several workmen pried off the door with a collection of assorted electrical devices, to eventually free me from my ultra violet prison after 30 mins. Oh woe is me. That was how I met Karolina's cousin Tomek.
Through the door of a service station jacks.
I'm sure he will remember me.

On a serious note -32 people were killed on Polish roads over this long weekend. Having driven about 900 km in the last 5 days, I can see why. Utter childish petulance, bad manners and driving on roads as shocking in places as these, is a fatal combination. More bitching to follow...

Another tree of the earth felled by illegal Pakistani logger in rural Malopolska. If you know this man please contact 505-634-428

Spring into shape

2008-03-12T21:17:00.009+01:00

Spring just exploded in a bright March morning in Poland, without a moments notice. Your senses are over-awed by the array of smells and sights besieging it. Whatever hopes I had of getting a ski in faded quickly into the ether. On the upside, with them, went the grimness of the long drab winter, sulky faces included. Everything suddenly became colourful and sexy in a flash. Like God just got inspired.

Around this time of the year when I first arrived I had a brainwave. I would start cycling (with a helmet) to beat the gridlock and get a bit healthier. I discovered balls of titanium are needed to do this such is the manic auto hell that is central Kraków. Because of summer heat a lot of roads in Poland have sunken tyre ridges which can be lethal for even the most experienced of cyclists. It’s akin to getting your bike wheel jammed in a LUAS track and being unable to break out of it without toppling on your head. This I have also experienced, I regret to add aswell as being stopped by the Guards on North King St at 2am in the morning with my Helmet and lights in my bag and 6 pints of Guinness worse for wear.

There are no bike lanes in Poland. This is a futuristic concept. You can share the bus lane if you are brave enough. Problem. The bus lane is exactly wide enough for a bus. Not for a bike and a bus and bus drivers will waste little time telling you this. I once got ran off the road by an infuriated bus driver who wasn't used to seeing cyclists on his patch. I told him to piss off in very bad Polish (something cuttingly quick witted like spadaj grzybie if I was inspired enough-which I sadly wasn't on this occasion). This is hardly an excuse for attempted murder. When I cycle I turn into a bit of a angry bastard and with that attitude goes basic manners some times. It is a war out there. The facade of aggressiveness is the only way to survive but drivers hate you for it. Heaven forbid that they should be on the look out for you as much as you are for them. Of course you can veer out on to the car lane but they will blow their horns until you ears bleed to tell the mad man to get the f*&^ out of their way. Didn't anyone tell the Irish lad our roads are for vehicles only.

So where can the displaced and unwanted go? The answer, as suggested by the police, is the footpath. Illegal in alot of countries, Polish authorities view the cyclist as another type of pedestrian, albeit one straddling a large metal frame hurtling around at 10 times the speed and capable of inflicting considerable trauma on young and old. I refuse to concur with this as if I ever have an accident or cause someone any injury from cycling on a footpath, you can be sure their story may change. On a point of note, Irish police, particularly ones you meet late at night in the inner city, will also advise a similar option to you. Only if they deem that you may be a danger to yourself or others ofcourse.

Society b or not to b?

2008-02-28T19:22:00.011+01:00

Polish chess wizard on the cusp of adding yet another scalp to his collection

I am a night owl. I am rarely in bed before midnight and instead can be found marauding around my apartment like some domesticated nosferatu-only a shadow- often seen washing dishes, cooking stuff, writing /reading things-basically anything to not go to bed at a reasonable hour. My joy was unrivalled when I discovered a website dedicated to my particular sloth-like condition that appears to be gaining strength around Europe. Welcome to B-Society life. :) General crux being- why should people who cannot get up early be made to? They can be just as productive as normal folk-just at different times. Ok.

http://www.b-society.org/
and
http://www.dw-world.de/dw/article/0,2144,2370239,00.html

Like the rest of the B society brigade, my issue is not that I go to bed too late, but that I would rather have flesh eating ferrets gnaw out the back of my eyes than rise early to a comatose reality. Doing so constitutes a monumental feat, whereby I am congratulating myself for days afterwards, promising that I am never going to do that again any time soon. Being in a relationship with a beautiful girl who turns into Medusa if spoken to before 10am doesn't help.

This disposition is partly facilitated by my so called "occupation". Teachers rarely have a class before 3pm. And so on goes the never ending cycle of lethargy-late to bed, late to rise, the cycle only broken momentarily on Saturday mornings for school, or, like last year, when some old guy used to walk around our block hollering Cebula and Ziemnaki (Onions and Potatoes) at first light. The only thing that tends to awaken me from my slumber these days is our very noisy neighbors who like roaring like wild boars at each other in the morning when they leave the building. They consist of an elderly babushka (of course), a younger mother and her two children. They like using the communal hall in our building as an area to debate the "Obama effect”, the crisis in Darfur and escalating real estate costs in Poland –usually anytime between 7 and 8am. The mother has a voice so perfectly pitched for irritation that it would penetrate any material known to man-and she knows this. Maybe she is B-Soc too and is just letting off some steam, so I forgive her. A life lived through the dreamy haze of my morning stupor used to worry me. Now at least I have an excuse for it.

:Lubrication Nation

2008-02-27T00:15:00.013+01:00

The future of shaving is here and it has a funny name.

Confession time. I like WARS. WARS is not as expensive as everyone thinks and costs considerably less than other, less effective options. WARS is easy to use, apply and gets results fast. You can use WARS on your own and don't need expensive backup which makes it perfect for unexpected forrays. WARS may endear you to the local populace. WARS doesn't kill anybody. Surveys have shown that 99.98% of men who use WARS to overcome persistent problems on a daily basis simply smell a bit different. Sort of like a cheap old spice mixed with imperial leather.
So you can imagine my utter disgruntlement when, with a beard like a Jetro tull roadie , I go to get my 2 monthly WARS fix in a kiosk only to be told that they don't have any. Yes I can make it last a whole 2 months and sometimes even longer. The lathering capabilities of just a pea head of this stuff is quite the sight. How this is achieved, I am yet to discover, but I am sure it is something completely natural like the concentrated congealed fat from an entire organism of undisclosed origin in every tube. Industrial strength for the domestic man.
WARS is like the Irish shaving brush and soap of yesteryear. Polish shaving cream or Krem de Golenia back before dirge like Nivea's super sensitive skin aloe vera extract shaving gel/balm. WARS has a natural ,yet surprisingly long lasting eau. One for the more discerning, mature gentleman and the women will comment that you smell like their dad. Mmmm. If you don't believe how good this stuff is just check these reviews out:

http://badgerandblade.com/vb/showthread.php?t=1777

It also costs about 5 zyl less that anything else on the market, making it perfect for miserable Irish hobos, who'd rather spend money on cabbage. You can buy almost 2kg of cabbage for 5zly. Enough Bigos to keep a grown man fed for several weeks and wind energy created to power a small lawnmower.

Sadly, I ended up buying the next product down which was called Lider, which was a reasonable substitute considering. These names actually seem to work over here and I am sure there is a marketing exec having a right laugh in some office in Warsaw. Anyway, I fell for the clever marketing which soothingly promised effectively softens beard and the rest is history.
Next week, I buy washing-up liquid. Stay tuned.

Przepraszam, jak sie nazywa to miejsce?

2008-02-22T16:13:00.008+01:00

It could only happen to me....

When out last Saturday I asked the barman in the establishment we were meeting some friends the above question:

Me:Przepraszam, jak sie nazywa to miejsce?
Barman:To? miejsce.
Me: Tak, To miejsce?
Barman: Miejsce
Me: Co? :/:/

Loosely translated, I asked what was the name of the place we were in and he answered the place.....and then I got confused....of all the names in all the cities in all the world...
Decent bar though , close to Alchemia in Kazimierz.

Only other thing of note this week was me trying to fix one of our leaking Kitchen taps with the water on. As with most things of this nature , I made a dogs arse of it and made it worse, water spewed everywhere and we eventually found a way to kill the mains supply. The floor needed cleaning anyway. In true quirky Polish style, our plumber was called Konrad Kurek. Mr Tap as he is affectionately known in the trade. He was born for this job.

Poles apart? Lost in Translation

2008-02-15T22:26:00.008+01:00

There was always going to be a small percentage of the population gullible enough to fall for cynical marketing ploys

My ongoing struggles at fully assimilating into Polish society and getting to grips with a challenging and often frustrating Slavic quadruple consonant dialect have been documented before. I have taken lessons but when I say “fully assimilating” I mean being able to talk to people in a natural, relaxed manner at parties etc and feeling less like the retarded foreign lad that all and sundry must speak English too. The emphasis was always, I felt, on me to speak Polish whilst living in Poland. Having spent 3 wasted years in the barren linguistic wasteland of Germany trying to improve my German, I had decided now was the time to get tough. I don’t care if you want to practice your English this is all about me. However for 50 zl an hour I can gladly assist. It was a self imposed outlook and I longed for acceptance and to fit in.

Pretzel anyone? Or is that Obwarzanków, Obwarzanki or Obwarzanek...

Sadly, this form of cultural assimilation requires a more technical form of language than being able to say you like to play football in your free time bardzo lubie grac w piłka nozna and what the weather is like today Pogoda jest bardzo ziemne dziesej, nie?. Deep down there was a personality waiting to get out (some close friends may argue this point) and I wanted to be able to express my self naturally through Polish in varying social situations. Nevertheless, my exasperation reached its zenith two months into my stay here, when all that was foreign to me seemed multiplied by my inability to penetrate the barrier that was everyday speech. I had Yes or No weeks as I liked to call them. The logic behind them being that rather than try to understand the slur of machine gun Slavic aimed my way, I would simple answer with a Tak or Nie as the week would befit. All the time feigning supreme confidence ofcourse. Sometimes No was a safer option and rarely involved more incomprehensible follow up questions. However sometimes a No would result in bedlam as was to be my fate at a supermarket on one memorable occasion. I bought a bottle of wine for 9.99 zl (some typical Bulgarian dry red wine) and the kindly clerk asked me, what I thought, was one of two questions, after I handed her my 10 zl bill:

1) Do you have a club/loyalty card? 2) Would you like a bag? Easy. It being a No week that week and foolishly trusting my intuition in being sure that this would be the best option for all parties involved, I said the word Nie. Confusion ensued with my girlfriend eventually rescuing me after seeing the cashiers bedazzled features from afar.It transpired she had asked me if it was ok that she didn't give me change -1 gr (about one third of a cent) and I had smilingly and unflinchingly responded No.

Camouflaged pianist amidst the revelry of Halle Targowa Sunday Market

It was to get worse. In the midst of a Yes week, when out at a local pub with some friends, a younger gentleman approached me with some fervor and in Polish began talking to me excitedly like we had been friends for years. I was perturbed by his over familiarity and for fear of dampening his joyous mood, and essentially to get rid of him, I stupidly said Yes to his initial question of Chodziles do 311? It seemed to be the response he wanted as he roared Pamietam cie! before embracing me and departing. All this played out much to the glee of the Polish contingent around us. On closer inspection it turned out that he had asked me if I had gone to the same primary school as him. I was flattered that he thought I was that young.

Each day is revelatory here in acquiring fragments of a new language and forgetting that which you had known confidently only hours/moments before. Some obstacles seem insurmountable though, and for once, are not grammar related. Poles are not accustomed to hearing non-Poles speaking Polish. There are simply not enough of us here yet to make it more common place. The first few times I opened my mouth, I was met with looks of disbelief. Friends confirmed my fears that many Poles on hearing a foreigner speak their tongue don’t automatically assume that this is a foreigner. They think it is a drunken Pole and sometimes they are 50% right. Worst yet again is that some see you as simply taking the piss out of them in an unpleasant way. Maybe like a malevolent Irish Borat in Poland. First time I said hello to someone I didn't know -again a cashier in a supermarket- she answered back quickly what? It wasn’t because she didn’t hear what I said. I became even more fearful and self conscious soon after, when I realised that people weren’t listening to what I was saying as much as I wasn’t concentrating on what I was saying either. I was mesmerised by the expression of bumusement on their faces. It became a thing of sublime beauty for me and I liked conjuring it at every opportunity knowing that I had the power do so.

another completely unrelated pic -this one, of Krakow Opera house by night

The panic that a wrong inflection, case or literal translation from something which makes sense in English into Polish can cause is remarkable. When speaking with older people much vigilance is required. If your register is wrong or you accidentally use very informal language in the wrong place it can be taken as a terrible insult. To the scene and a 50 something Polish Babcia is outside her apartment, beside her is a beautiful husky tied to a lamp post, yawning and flirting with passers by. What follows is a scene Lynchian in its surrealist grandeur and yet very mundane, trite and everyday. Being a sucker for big dogs I ask her if it is her dog. She reacts as if I enquired if she would mind if I entered her home and went through her dirty laundry.Twoje Pies? was the offending phrase here, very rude apparently even though the literal translation of it is: Your dog? Czy to pani Pies? or Would madam be so kind as to inform my good self if said dog is hers? is the correct way apparently. I was just trying to be nice and start some chit chat .Feeling embarrassed by her reaction I inadvertently dug myself an even bigger hole remarking that her dog looked very old for his age .His howling prompted my immediate departure.

If you are brave and can take the weird looks, speaking here can be rewarding. Many Polish people really appreciate the difficulty and effort involved in learning their language and are impressed by your mumbled attempts at coherency.
I have an uncanny ability, when on buses/trams /or at bus stops, to get engaged in conversation with elderly Poles. You see most of the time, when they initiate the conversation, they are very affable and talkative and remain a great way to practice without the odd looks. Maybe they are less judgmental? Just be careful with glib questions or remarking how old their dog looks. On the flipside they can be more difficult to understand sometimes. We get along quite well.

Conveniences for wee folk

2008-02-08T12:53:00.007+01:00

Let's touch bellybuttons-The Polish Kiosk

I'm buying one of those Donegal nail clippers as soon as I get paid.
Fermanagh doesn't have the same ring to it

Midget Kiosks, as I lovingly like to refer to them or simply Kiosk in Polish, are omni-present through out this land-as well as the Czech Republic and Ukraine. One need only walk for more than a few yards before you encounter yet another identical one.
These small wooden huts, no bigger than 10 square foot, with a tiny window at midriff level facing streetward, sell everything from deodorant, perfume, household detergents, confectionary and tights, to bus tickets, juices, fags, manicure sets and every conceivable Polish newspaper and magazine ever published. They attract a diverse range of customers due to their sheer convenience. If you are lucky enough to have one immediately outside your apartment, and most Poles do, you can fortunately avoid the queues of big supermarkets. Unexpectedly run out of tights for that important interview? Just pop outside in your slippers amid the snow and tundra to pick up a new pair.

The only place I have seen in Dublin, that is as economical in its usage of floor space to goods offered ratio, would be a small establishment on Townsend St called Colm’s that sells everything from shampoos to grapes to golf buggies. Similarly, no inch of space is wasted in the Kiosk either.
The Midget Kiosk is operated mostly by rotund, yet affable, babushkas in their mid 50’s who are anything but midgets and who always have a grin or a kind word for foreigners asking for items. As there is no body language assistance via this form of purchasing goods, these ladies are most likely pissing themselves laughing at your pathetic attempts at speaking their Slavic brogue. No one is really sure what they are doing though, as you rarely get to see their faces due to the odd location of the window. On my first visit to a kiosk, I stood on the street for 5 mins thinking what was wrong. What was it? Something was not quite right. And then it came to me. The window you give your order through is 2 foot off the ground.

You see you never actually “enter” the kiosk. You find yourself stooped awkwardly on street corners with your neck craned skyward trying to catch an elusive glimpse of your server. You speak to a strangers’ breasts most of the time. Most men may be familiar with this but when communicating effectively here is challenging anyway,it doesn’t make it any easier. If you could see her mouth it might help you understand what the hell it is she is talking about but alas no. Mostly all you get is just a muffled voice and fleeting shadows inside the kiosk and then a lone hand reaching out with your purchase (what she thought you wanted) and change. Only a midget babushka serving a midget customer has any chance of making eye contact and that's the way these ladies like it. Call me strange, but I like to look at the person selling me my nail clippers if possible. Is it a communist hangover that they don’t like to look you in the eye in Poland when selling you stuff? Were people shorter here before independence? Perhaps since the onset of Capitalism, people have been earning more, eating more vegetables and growing taller. They just haven’t got around to upgrading the kiosks yet.

Young Polish girl in the classic "stoop" kiosk contortion

Boyz in the Huta

2008-01-15T22:07:00.002+01:00

The many sides of Pampers Jarmolowski

playing the cute card to procure more food (in any form)

adoration/introspection card in order to get food

angry/disgruntled when repeated attempts at getting food fails

random Zywiec glass in Kazimierz

So this year we live in a Russian constructed ironwork satelite town near Krakow called Nowa Huta. Living here, you see few foreigners and you can still catch a fleeting glimpse of what Poland might have been like 20 years ago. The Huta has recently sprawled and with a population of 200,000 has enveloped everything surrounding it and become a suburb of its bigger sister.A tram can take you to the centre of Kraków in a swift 25 mins. When you tell more haughty Krakowians that you live here, they look at you strangely like you live in La South Central. Fools. This was always the working class enclave of the town , and whilst there are bad areas, most of the Huta as I affectionately like to call it, is full of decent , hardworking, honest folk. Maybe like Ballymun back home without the tracksuits and joyriding. Speed ramps do not exist in Poland due to snow and snow ploughs incompatibility with low lying immovable objects. So for any joyriders out there, come to Poland. It's the land of daring, opportunity, funny left hand drive cars,and a gaurenteed uninterrupted 110kmph in built up areas. :)

We are babysitting Karolina's 17 year old wonder dog pampers at the moment. Almost fully blind and with a gammy back leg, he looks like a product of carnal union between a bat and an elongated sewer rat. I've really grown fond of him as a result of this even if I was reluctant to the idea of looking after him initially. Apart from his odious bad breath, snoring that's as bad as mine, pungent farts and the fact that you trip over his rotten teeth, lying on the kitchen floor occasionally, it's a great thing to get to know a dog. What personality.

I end up walking him alot of the time. I enjoy it anyway. I have to. This is a completely new thing for me so after the first few incidents of him sniffing and licking random strangers' dogs arses, you start to loosen up and get more comfortable with the doggy way. Huta has more dog walkers per square metre than many places I've been and more shite on the footpaths than I care to mention as a result. You really need to give yourself a good hosedown after a 15 min stroll. The advent of poop scooping has not yet arrived here and it still remains perfectly normal for your dog to shite anywhere and everywhere he wishes, without anyone saying a word to you. The freedom of it all.

The discerning dog walkers dog of choice here in Nowa huta, or anywhere else in Poland for that matter, is the sausage dog. 95% of the time, a sausage dogs owner will be an elderly babuska. I don't get what the fascination is with them as they look stupid and walk funny but they provide loyal and affordable companionship to many people who don't have too much in the way of social entertainment and that's good enough reason for me.

Part 4, Tikal to Yucatan

2007-12-23T00:44:00.002+01:00

Giant Iguana, Tulum, Mexico

Ladies on the beach

Mayan Tikal deep in Guatemala

Monkey and child leap

Mammoth temples, Tikal

Papaya, Tulum, Yucatan, Mexico

Tulum, Carribean coast, Mexico

Part 3 , Xela to Atitlan

2007-12-15T21:53:00.000+01:00

Adios to Xela , Trekker early start

Taking in the Guatemalan countryside

Coffee beans just picked, k'iche village, western highlands

Village boy

Collecting wild honey

The descent-spot 6 volcanoes

You can bring a horse to water...

Santa clara wood collectors

Nearly there, Lago De Atitlan

Local kids admire the view amid trash and corn

Sunrise over the lake

Awesome Atitlan , the final descent to San Juan de la Laguna

The Four Muskateers

Boating atitlan

Part 2 Guatemala

2007-12-14T04:17:00.000+01:00

Guatemalan highlands explorer

Flower arranging on Sunday Xela

Mayan Masks, Market, Chichicastenango

Market, Chichicastenango

Bob and Karol ponder the great wonder that is the varying size of the guatemalan bag

Hawkers, Chichi

Chicken Bus, Xela, Vulcan Santa Maria in background

Gabi making tortillas -Xela

Our host family's tortilla shop, Xela -1000 made fresh every day (by hand)

Weaving , Xela

Cecelia and her brother whose name I forget :/, Xela

After earthquake, a large crack appears in the floor of my classroom. Xela

Texarkana to Guatemala and everything in between-Part 1 Mexico

2007-11-26T23:00:00.001+01:00

Chapulinas! roast garlic/lemon and chilli cricket (insect) seller, Oaxaca

Handcrafts-Chiapas

Some sad gringo reading lonely planet looking for an off the beaten track jewel

Canyon Sunidero, Chiapas-special mention the 80 yo lady behind me

Pelican

Multi-intrumentalist mariachi lad in bar , Oaxaca

Azure blue church San Christobal De La Casa

Churros eater, Fussball convention- Chiapas

Sublime Cascada aqua azul, Chiapas state

deep in the jungle, Mayan city-Palenque

Early morning Tortilla production near Uruapan

And the sign read-if you have reached this point you are pretty much fucked-Volcan Paricutin

Coconuts, Peurto Escondido, Oaxaca coast

making sweet chocolate like you´ve never tasted before

Ancient Monte alban- high in the mountains-Oaxaca

Empire Teotihuacan, near Mexico City

Sombrero Splendour

Moralia,Michoacan by night and hardly any gringos

Salsa Verde Picante-disrespect at your peril

Gaspacho maker-fruit, cheese and chilli..mmmm, Morelia

Kraków Koniec :(

2007-06-14T20:35:00.000+02:00

Radio Ga Ga sing along went down well with the class

The sheer relief and joy of being finished lessons with me:)

Heavy metal fans were rife in class

Students studiously studying

Maciek

Michal

Aleksy

Ania, Zusia and Asia

Tomorrow is my last school day of term of 2006/2007 and quite a momentous first year in teaching ends on a relative high. There are ups and downs in this job-ofcourse. Will they miss you? Probably not. A colleague said today he heard an Irish guy on the radio talking of retiring from teaching after 25 years. The analogy he used for the loss they feel when you walk out the door is akin to sticking your hand in a bucket of water and quickly removing it. The hole that your hands leaves is relative to the amount you are missed.......
I teach in Sligo for the summer all going ok and leave here in a week.

What will I miss about Poland?

1)The Babushkas on the bus to the market- early Saturday mornings.
2)The awesome food, buckets of salivation inducing strawberries, cherries, radishes, carrots, courgettes. The list is endless.Small note on cherries-never had them fresh before-thought they grew on top of cakes and were naturally glazed. Revelation- and they dont even taste that "cherryish"
3)Babushkas walking their sausage dogs anytime, anyplace
4)Random pissed people approaching engaging me in conversation about how my ears look Vietnamese.
5)Almost getting trampled and violently killed every time I step onto a pedestrian crossing/or my bike
6)Being able to go out on a Saturday night with 50zl in your pocket and have a great one(inc food and transport btw!)
7)Talking random hybrid Polish gibberish to people on buses/at bus stops.
8)Fighting the postman every time he delivers a record to the house under Karolina's name-(Bastard wouldn't give me it once you know!)
9)The weather. Balmy mediteranean goodness.
10)My completely bananas,but lovable all the same, intermediate class in school
Thanks for the cup Asia!

Moje Pierwsze Polskie Wesele było Fajne

2007-05-23T13:51:00.000+02:00

Every coin mislaid is one year of incontinence

The grooms father presents the bread and salt

My assumed alias for the evening

Completely unrelated strawberry on our balcony picture

I had a 8am class on Saturday morning. After it, I would race home in the car, grab some food and head for Warsaw to try to be at a wedding by 4pm that afternoon. Stressful yes, but not as bad as some crazy Polish women getting out of her car and kicking your car's door in a fit of road rage brought on my numerous incidents too mundane to mention here. Let's just say , only I, have the uncanny knack of pissing someone off that much. The Warsaw registration plate doesn't help. Krakowians don't like folk from those parts.

After the usual church wedding ceremony which was notable for the rousing concluding organ rendition of Mendelson's March(which you rarely hear at weddings in Ireland anymore) it was time for some quirky post vow traditions which included throwing money (loose change)at the bride and groom and then watching them crawl around the car park endeavouring to pick up every last one-good luck apparently. Mikey, the groom, was particularly enthusiastic re this task , a little too enthusiastic I may add. hmmmm. I took a smug delight in the fact that this occasion would be possibly the first, and last time, he would ever buy me a drink so I planned to take full advantage of the situation.

On to the reception and all the guests wait the arrival of the newly married couple (Ola i Mikey) outside the building. On arrival they are greeted by a master of ceremonies type figure who was to be in equal parts, a bit of a clown, and a bit of an annoyance for the duration of the evening. Bread and salt is presented to them -which they sample and then two shot glasses of Polish Vodka are poured which they down in one, afterwards throwing the glasses over there shoulders to smash on the ground for good luck.

Inside the building enormously long tables are layed out with every conceivable food you can imagine, cold meats, salads and fish, cakes and pastries. The preparation time involved beggars belief but it was impressive and only the start of what was to come. All drink and food are courtesy of the newly weds and there was as much vodka and wine as you could shake a stick at. My biggest mistake was mixing ....where have I heard that before. 2 meals were served,wait for it- at 6pm, 10pm and 1am(yes that's 1am) respectively. However formal and stiff some Irish weddings can be, there is a distinct yet charming traditionalism about Polish weddings that really endears you to them, the songs, the quirky rituals, the dancing, the drinking, the relentless eating-such is the jollity that you find yourself dancing to stuff you would normally run a million miles to avoid being subjected to. The songs are just as bad as at home....but EVERYBODY dances most of the time here- you simply cannot refuse-even when the bride plays the worst Irish diddley iddley nonsense you have ever heard and wants you to do a Michael Flatley with her at 2am.
How bewilderingly odd it is to meet Poles living in Dublin and to exchange stories with them re your mutual experiences. How frustrating it can be also when at 1am you bemoan the lack of good Guinness in Poland and how you would murder a pint only for them to tell you they will getting stuck into the black stuff within hours of arriving back in Ireland the next day. :/

The utter misery and pain of the 300km drive back to Kraków the next day was a real test of my endurance under the circumstances. It was all entirely worth it though..

Over the hills and far away...Одесса

2007-05-15T00:24:00.000+02:00

Quite possibly the funkiest toilet in all of Ukraine

Oh the solemnity of it all......Russian Orthodox Church , Bakczysaraj

Opera house -Odessa

Pre black sea swim, Chersonesos, Black Sea, Sevastopol-who's the moody/focused looking Polish lass?

After 3 days travelling with me , the strain was beginning to tell for Marta....
(not in pic)
Animals for sale -Odessa-cool Owl though....

Apparition -Potempkin's stairs

Communist Rally May 1st. Would you let this man babysit your children?

Karolina in Chersonesus, Sevastopol

There is a fabled land, south east of Poland, where wild Aligators, Lemur , Monkeys and Owls roam the streets day and night in a state of near delirium. Where noveau rich Russians have enough rubels to pave the streets twice over with, and where there is never a place nor time which is not right for- enjoying a beer. This mythical land is Одесса/Crimea if familiar with the Russian alphabet and if not –piss off you should have learned it before reading this post. Right Marta? The largest sea port in Ukraine, nestled on the black sea –Odessa was a place feared by Poles not so long ago-queue the refrain from some associates “why are you going there, do you want to get killed?” Odessa has boldly embraced the 21st century and shrugged off it’s questionable past. You can do it all here including Re-enacting famous scenes from Battleship Potemkin and The Untouchables on Potemkins stairs….just grab a pram from the nearest mother. They are perfectly fine with this as tourists do it all the time. Just ensure the baby is removed first.
It is a town that has transformed itself and redeveloped into a modern bustling metropolis with more Prada and Dolce and Gabana shops than I care to remember. There’s even the requisite Irish bar called Mick O’Neills where you can pay Irish prices for Ukrainian beer. The city is not exactly cheap by Ukrainian standards and the Russian glitterati tend to push prices even higher but you can still get a babushka at the train station to give you and your co travellers (Karolina and Marta) a room with some carpets stapled to the walls for around 25 zly a night. Be careful though because they make sure you don’t steal their soap. Also, when arriving home late, ensure you get the correct house. I climbed a gate to open it on our first night, only to discover it was the wrong house. I thought the gent, who kindly informed me of this , was going to smack me in the mouth. At least he made me feel good about my body though…
After a couple of days we decided to get an overnight train to the Crimean. Ukrainian trains are almost indian-esque in their efficiency and comfort factor. There is something so soothing about falling asleep to the rocking momentum of a night train as it trundles along the countryside in a foreign country. The train station in Semferapol was all Russian opulance and over the top leather couches with the customary disgruntled Public servants of communism still in tow. Still, a gold inlaid spiral staircase next to the ticket counter including plush leather sofa’s made up for her utter lack of empathy. Be under no illusion, travelling anywhere in Ukraine is a real challenge even for the most hardened soul. If you have no Polish you may as well forget it-as for the Alphabet –well strange symbols take a while to learn. However,once you master them, you need to convert the result from Ukrainian to Polish and then to English. Thanks ladies :D Also note that the polish speakers you travel with will make you feel terribly guilty about this. For them it’s akin to travelling with a small child , or somebody with a mental handicap of sorts. (Any comments to this comment will be met with a stern rebuke)
Polish is kinda understandable to Ukrainians-it works vice versa also. However this changes when an Irishman who has been living in Kraków close to a year , socialising mainly with English speakers, tries to utter a sylable. I think I have a decent Polish accent (sorta, well compared to a Pakistani lad I work with –sorry Ardeshir :D) The results are beyond hilarity. That’s just when I speak Polish, talking English can cause complete bewilderment.
Crimea is a jewel and the ancient stone city of Bakczysaraj was jaw droppingly impressive as were the huge white canyons that encircled it -unbelievably beautiful and bloody deserted!Thanks to the family who put us up there with one of the crudest showers in their back garden I had ever seen-yet one of the best!
Onwards to Sevastopol and all its charms and the ancient greek settlement of Chersonesus, and a dip in the clear azure water of the black sea. The only one swimming was a very white Irishman but sure who else would be?
If you have a fetish for seamen or sailors as we would prefer to call them here like the girls did, Sevastopol is for you. So pretty it be and such a strategic port it was for the Russian Navy that they didn’t want to let it go when Ukraine gained independence. I can understand this. They eventually worked something out but the town is still closely affiliated with the motherland. It’s only when you travel on a train for twelve hours from what you THOUGHT was southern Ukraine that you realise the mindnumbing enormity of what was, the once great Russian empire. We even caught the end of a Communist march on May day , complete with flags of Fidel Castro, Che Guevara and, wait for it, Joseph Stalin et all. Some people never let an idea drop.
The diet in Ukraine is a little on the fatty side. Everything seems to be deep fried and in some establishments there will be one thing on the menu-sorry strike that –one thing to eat on the menu-deep fried pancakes. If you want a beer you can choose from a variety. –This daily diet of beer and grease , washed down with beer, when you are prone to bouts of indigestion and with not a bottle of Gaviscon to be seen, can be trying. I struggled on -not before puking my guts up in a toilet made from two planks of wood and a hole. I knew I had to barf but little did I know how easy it would be once I smelled what lay beneath...
The people are incredibly warm and jovial –yes they drink a lot and I saw one old man buy two lemons and a bottle of vodka for 9Hrvn one morning. That’s about 1 euro. Maybe we were lucky but we were met every where we went with kindness and hospitality. Drinking in Public is common practice and unlike in Poland completely legal. Let’s just say they take advantage of this. Kiosks which ,like in Poland are everywhere, instead of selling cigarettes and papers, in Ukraine sell-yes you guessed it, mainly beer. And what beer it is. Some of the best I’ve ever had-pure nectar. They also have a liking for fine Cognacs,vodka’s, more beer…etc etc……………
So learn some Polish and come to the land of sunflower seeds and fields of rapeseed as far as they eye can see. Preferrably before Euro 2012.
Ps: I am not acting on behalf of any Ukrainian tourist authority and I can not be held responsible for any views expressed here. To add objectivity to my piece-I convinced a work colleague of mine to go Lviv around the same time as we were going to Odessa. On his second night he had an encounter with the local police. On noticing his very unique and valuable american passport they decided to take it- not before kicking the shit out of him , stealing his shoes ( shameless) and his wallet. He spent the next week in Kiev pleading with his embassy to sort him out. So it’s not all sweetness and pretty yellow fields I suppose.

The unbearable lightness of Pauli

2007-05-15T00:22:00.000+02:00

Radical Radishes

Lone cyclist, early Sunday morning, contemplates..

Paul -before a botched attempt to visit Auschwitz

You had Latte Art, now the new craze that's set to catch on - Bean art

With the sudden arrival of spring/summer in the land of mushrooms also came an old college friend of mine who was helping me with a website. Paul arrived in Warsaw on a flight that flew over Berlin (which he explained to us in detail) and within moments of arriving in Krakow Głowny managed to get himself lost and wandered off into a nearby magalopolis shopping centre despite my protestations to stay on the platform and wait for me. This was a theme set to continue for his sojourn. Paul really seemed to enjoy Poland and developed an unhealthy fascination with Polish Pierogi (dumplings). Karolina was incredibly happy to have someone stay who drank even more coffee than her and she delighted in making espresso for him. Paul missed out on a trip to Auschwitz because of an unfortunate incident where buses refused to read his mind and realise he wanted to go to the death camps. After 60 mins of waiting and no buses stopping -Paul had had enough!

We just received a great espresso cup and saucer from him as a thank you for his visit-so thanks again horse:D

This time of year in Poland is wonderful and a real eye opener and the gloomy disgruntlement of winter leaves the faces and everyone significantly cheers up and start to wear nice clothes. Fields of Rapeseed yellow explode into your vista and you can't help but gape. And then there's the food- strawberries, radishes, scallions, ............................

Ski Słowacja

2007-04-11T12:22:00.000+02:00

Rural Church-Slovakian Highlands

An unwilling photographee, Karolina eventually agrees at gunpoint

Easter time in the land of mushrooms. Temperatures were in the near 20's last week in Krakow. However a little birdie had told us that there was still snow in the Slovakian High Tatras-alot of snow infact. My school finished on Tuesday so we decided to head off for 2 days to Chopok before Easter hit. The plan was to leave around 6am and get to the slopes for around 9:30ish to get a full day in. True to usual form we left quite later than this ofcourse but covered the 200 km's in just over 3 hours. The weather was gloomy and foggy when we arrived and we couldn't see the summit. It also started snowing soon after. The conditions other than the weather were nice though, lots of snow and apart from some scary ice patches it was generally good. One great moment where we skied down a trail only to find it was closed because of melted snow. We had to walk down the last 250 mtrs :/ Earlier we had made a near fatal error of getting 3 separate chair lifts to the very summit (2km). The only way down was to ski but the visibility was practically zero and with no markers to show you any sort of path. It was a little hairy at times. Black trails for novice skiers in zero visibility conditions with sheer drops on either side of the mountain do not go together. You live and you learn.
On checking out the nearby town, Liptovske Mikulas that evening, we decided to stay in a private house close to the center. We had an interesting experience with a Slovakian alcohol shop/bar which served 4 different types of red and white wine on draft. We got ours to go- in a clear 1.5 litre plastic bottle.This kind of thing could really catch on in Ireland! Slovakia ,being the home of the dreaded "Absynth"-70% proof green hallucinogenic alcohol, was still no reason for me to go sampling it. I decided to steer clear of this foul demon on this occasion. My past experience with this drink has not been a favourable one and as tempting as it was to re-acquaint myself with it .... well......
On Thursday dawned a clear azure day of the brightest spring colours and we decided to go to the slopes again and take some pictures while we are at it this time. Slovakia is as close to New Zealand as any country in Europe I've been to. Near deserted roads, great beer and cheap (I am a simple man with simple pleasures), and some stunning mountain scenery set amidst the quaintest rural villages. The snow peaked Slovakian high tatras were really something to behold on this day and it's a place I will definitely go back to in the summer-god willing.

Krakow to Rosslare, German hospitality and cheeseboards

2007-04-01T13:21:00.000+02:00

you can imagine me climbing out of this 8 hours later to the cries of "daddy daddy there's a strange man brushing his teeth over there!"

Almost home.......Trappist indulgence -100 km off the Irish coast-See equivalent pic from Aug 2006

The happy man and two random intruders...

Fresh from his starring role in Pet Cemetery 3-Ciano

So we decided to drive back. Sunday morning early start was delayed due to a near flat VW polo battery. After 3 hours charging and a new set of jump leads (and almost a new battery) we were off heading for Wroclaw with a car I didn't want to switch off and enough home made Pakistani nibbles to do us until France (thanks Ardeshir!). We were met with a spectacular sunset of the deepest orange and crimson colours lighting up the western evening sky at the German border. Driving with no tax and insurance made me a little jumpy at crossings (understandably) ,but the Germans ,whilst thorough in checking we had no stash of cigarettes in the back seat, were efficient yet friendly. We headed for Dresden and took a detour towards the medieval city of Meissen on the banks for the Elbe. What an amazingly picturesque place this was-almost like it was a town made of chocolate-completely surreal. We spent a really enjoyable evening sampling the local ales and even found an Irish pub with stinking pints of Kilkenny in it for 3 euro a pop. My German has mutated into a hybrid mid European thing now and I can't say a sentence in Deutsch without forgetting that TAK is not the word for yes in this language. We met an old lady in one pub who just kept telling us she was from Sudetenland. That's all we could make out anyway. Her and Karolina had a lot in common I guess
Our accommodation for the evening was a charming spot by the river underneath a train bridge that amplified all sounds by x 100. Our neighbours were campervantastic early 50's German folk who refused my kind offer of Warka Polish canned beer but were so concerned for our well being that they gave us one of their sleeping bags for extra warmth. The bright sunny spring days meant nightime deperatures were a bit chilly. The steadfastly refused to take it back the next morning too. German hospitality has no boundaries I tell thee!
Day two I drove as far in one day as I ever have- about 420 miles. The lights of Maastricht were very welcoming-as was the car park where we slept(classy I know) and the crazy Italian restaurant we ate in on the square where everyone of the staff , I could swear, were either off their heads on mushrooms or had been smoking high grade skunk in the kitchens. I can't even begin to describe it. Very Dutch indeed.
Day 3 we are awoken by the soothing hum of the car park attendants cleaning machine. After a near fatal incident involving a lack of toilets in this car park, which I refuse to go into ,we set off for Belgium and France. Before we left the former we stopped off to laden down the car with a few bottles of Belgiums finest trappist beer, brewed by the mad monks of the region and full of live yeast cultures and strong alcohol. Once you drink this stuff you are hooked for life.
On into France and the historic rolling plains of Normandy. The German have the autobahns free for one and for all. The French have some great roads too but they are tolled. Queue pikey nation trying to do anything and everything to avoid paying these tolls. I calculated that a 100km section of tollway was equivalent to an hours teaching in Krakow. Enough said :D
Just a quick note to mention how European radio gets steadily better the further west you travel. German is all turgid home grown euro pop. Yes they are completely self sufficient as a nation when it comes to the production of this shite. Into Belgium and Holland and the tunes become a bit less parochial(ie they listen to music from other countries) and apart from some Rn B you might even get some 80's stuff. The French dig their music and their is a discernible shift when you enter northern France. You can drive to the dulcet tones of Velvet underground , Chris Rea and even Portishead. Music lovers they may be but anywhere we went for a coffee on our expedition we were met with mediocrity. Travelling with a self-confessed coffee junkie/snob doesn't make things any easier (nie dobra Kon!) but they don't even know how to make a cappuccino for f&%$ sake! One lady was about to open a packet called "la cappuccino" queue panic ......
On the last day we only had 200 km to do until Cherbourg so we were ahead of schedule. I still had this very Irish morbid fixation that the car was either gonna pack it in or some other misfortune would befall us. I'm turning into my old man:/ That morning a heavy cloak of fog descended on us and slowed us down considerably -that was as unfortunate as it got though.
All negative and slanderous comments made against the good ship Irish Ferries were taken back that evening. Getting into that cabin, after three nights squatting in the back of my car, was like checking into the Ritz Carlton on a bed of the finest goose feathers, personally made for you by a young Audrey Hepburn. A bed that you could actually stretch out fully in -with no windows for passing homeless people to gaze in at you bemusedly. We were so low down in the bowels of the boat we were under the water but little did I mind. The luxury of it all indeed!
After driving for 3 full days through the length of Europe in bright spring weather with little or no traffic, it was reassuring and very unsurprising, to gaze at Ireland in the distance on Thursday morning under a blanket of black cloud and gloom. To take 3.5 hours to travel 100km is taking the piss a bit , but then there is Gorey I suppose. The Garda at immigration in Rosslare didn't notice my car had no tax or insurance. For this I was very glad and thanked the unfortunate Spanish lads in the car ahead of me who were pulled in instead. Viva La Espana. We also got to pass through Ferns where David from Euro star is from. "We are all behind you lad- go and do us proud!!" posters hanging from every conceivable window.
It was great to get home , see the family and met up with some good friends. The wedding was a great day and both Alan and Siobhan looked the part. There was a highly humurous incident involving a cheeseboard in a well known Maynooth eatery but we shall leave it for the time being for fear of recrimination. Going home does remind you that some things never change too much though. Whilst there is lots I miss about it, there's plenty I don't too. Heres to Michael O'Leary and his lovely Customer service agent, who is probably on the minimum wage and a highly disgruntled goat, yet still allowed me to change our flights to the Monday free of charge.
Scumbags still haven't processed the refund for the Krakow-Dublin flight though.

A room with a view , homeless Irish/Polish on the Elbe, former East Germany

The princess climbs the steps to her ivory tower.. (nice michelin jacket)

Crazy "old man" baby in hallucinogenic Italian restaurant , Maastricht, Holland

Wedding proceedings are momentarily interrupted when inmates from a local psychiatric hospital gatecrash

Colm's upcoming audition for the role of Quasimodo looked optimistic

Guatamalan coffee beans, rosetti and a date in cherbourg

2007-03-04T16:29:00.000+01:00

The last snows of winter arrive in Krakow -biggest snow flakes I've seen....

Karolina's latte art masterpiece

A benevolent Pakistani Genie emerges from cellar in rural mowapolska and grants all who see him 3 wishes......

So the winter finally ends in Poland. And just when I’m starting to be half decent at the skiing(ie not falling over every 5 mins-apparently I have a very interesting technique involving a lot of flailing of arms which people aren’t used to around here). What a winter it was though. The mildest on record apparently. Truth be told there wasn’t any winter really, just a series of “cold spells”. The coldest it got was -7 and a bit of snow. Nothing compared to what they are used to ,particularly the bleak icy tundra that was last winter. Snowed in and -25 during the day. Good timing.
So I am due at Alan and Siobhans wedding on the 16th March. Still undecided about whether to drive the car or jump on the Ryan Air flights we both booked. Karolina doesn’t mind but the thought of a 1873 KM journey from Poland to France along the motorway wasteland that is central europe irks me a bit. Thing is I have to get the car home and the sooner the better. Will see. The thought of boarding the decrepit Irish Ferries “luxury cruiser” for the crossing would strike fear in the hardiest whures heart. The dulcet tones of Captain leech apologising for the “slightly rough crossing” being transmitted at 1000 decibels in your squalid and highly overpriced cabin at 6am in the morning not withstanding, the 18 hour experience is one that will stay with you for many years. They have a competition at the moment to name one of their new boats. There are two options I thought of entering. Both are similar in theme. The first has a latin flavour but sums up the grandeur and sense of occasion any Irish Ferries crossing will imbue the traveller with. I’ve gone, as an outside bet, for the slightly riskue but very expressive Excretus Maximus. The other has more of a Gallic flavour but again holds true to the Irish Ferries ethos of quality being paramount.
St Excremeńt.

Whatever happens, a trip to Ireland with the car means I won’t have to correspond with any Nigerians again. It seems their intentions are not always honorable. Innocent ol me. Enter Tom Williams, lover, writer, fraudster and international dealer of cars and bikes. Tom sent me an email about my Polish located Polo some weeks ago. He expressed an interest, sorry scrap that , he WANTED to buy the car without even seeing it. One silly picture was all it took to close the deal. I immediately knew there was something going on but decided to play along and see how elaborate things could get. And how elaborate they got! After agreeing on a price (in sterling 1160) he said he would send me a bank draft in a week. My arse you will tom I said to myself. Cynical old me. He sends me an email a week later asking if I had got the draft. No I fucking didn’t you eejit because you never sent it. About an hour later my mother texts me and says a bank draft has arrived for 5100 sterling. WTF. What the hell is going on here. I immediately emailed and told the gobshite he has sent me a cheque for over 4 times what we agreed on. .He calmly explained that this was correct. The remainder would be for his shipping agent. I would have to wire these funds to him after I cashed it. 4000 sterling for shipping? Qe2 style. Do you not have used cars in Nigeria I asked innocently. Seemed like a lot to pay for a 1997 1l POLO
After some research it turns out the guy is, as I suspected , a fraudster. Elaborately fraudstering away in a mud hut somewhere in Nigeria. C’mon Tom you couldn't even spell National Irish Bank Figal(who were supposed to be the issuing body) The way the trickery works is simple. By a loophole in the banking system you cash the draft. It provisionally clears as there is not way of checking authenticity. You send his “shipping agent” 4 grand and a week later , it bounces and you are liable for this. Nasty. As the guy gets points for the amount of people on his mailing list he tried to catch with this , I award him respect for utter brazen ingenuity. If he wasn't so greedy it might have worked but 4k for shipping........
If there is no update on this blog in the coming weeks -assume Nigerian mafia have infiltrated Kraków and are dismembering me.
Currently I am still fuc*ing with his head on email saying that it’ll clear “any day now” He sounds like he is wetting his pants in anticipation. Some sample emails. I think you’ll agree he has quite a way with words. OKAY.

8/02 So how far try to get back to me fast.Okay

10/02>>>Ok look what you are saying,it look like fake when they have not process it,i dont like this kind of bussiness if you know that you want to send it back to me let me give you an address to send it back.Okay. Afterall they have not process it why can't you tell your bank to proceed and see what will happen at the end of the day and see the outcome,instead of saying what's not.

11/02>>>Have been dealing with my client for so many years now and he cannot send you a fake cheque.Okay

14/02>>>I hope you have taken the cheque from them and take to another bank?please get back to me asap.Okay

15/02>>>I hope you have seen the message that i sent to you yesterday? please get back to me to know what's the next step.Okay

and last but not least

16/02>>>WHY SILLENT?????

Rant time. Ryanair changed our flights and there is no local Polish telephone number to call them on. I’ve sent them 6 emails and the dirty animals refuse an utterance. I have been warned many times about there bullshit but it really is true. Once there are no problems,unforeseen schedule/passenger changes/mechanical failure or animals on the runway problems they are fine. Once something happens though Mr O’Leary has the last laugh all the way. They changed the times of our flights because of Deer in Kraków Airport. Where? I’ve been there lots of time and I have seen no wildlife of this particular variety. No deers, dogs, sloths or ardvaarks. Infact you’d have more chance seeing an ardvaark than a deer. They insult peoples intelligence with their bullshit excuses and like it or fuck off attitude. Think of a decent excuse at least. Because of the deer, flights are moved forward 12 hours to the ungodly hour of 6am departure.

Shopping list for the brief sojourn in Ireland is complete and includes:

15 x bags of thick cut rashers
10 x bumper packs of extra extra mature Irish Cheddar (Lidl do some good stuff that I’ve dreamt about these last 6 months)
1 x Box of King Crisps
300 x Barry’s Tea Bags
5 x large bars of cadbury’s hazelnut chocolate
2 x 2 litre bottles of club orange
Guinness, cans of draught, as many as can fit

Hopefully I’ll have time to buy it all. Buy Ryanair stand to make a fortune on excess baggage.

Snieznica

2007-02-11T17:13:00.000+01:00

Kasina Wielka, A view from the summit-Thats me on the right ;)

Last Monday we braved the tundra and went skiing in a little hamlet about an hour from Krakow. Considering my previous skiing expeditions were such a complete miserable failure, whereby I inflicted injuries galore on myself and had a penchant for taking fellow innocent skiers with me into the abyss, lets just say I was a little apprehensive about the day to come. It was only supposed to be a small hill- "perfect for beginners". It rose almost a kilometre high and parts of it were extremely steep and frozen including mole hills to cause immediate death towards the bottom. Surprisingly though the experience overall was great and apart from

1)tripping up an innocent Pole when I got off the chair lift like the clumsiest Irish bastard that ever walked

and

2) tripping up scores of times , somersaulting through the air head over heels and narrowly missing trees and ratraks (snow machine tractor things-highly dangerous to beginners)

I can confidently say I had the best day skiing ever. There was quite alot of snow and parts of the 1.4 km run were wide and powdery. One easy mistake to make is overconfidence and speed can be built up very fast on a steep gradient. I'm addicted and apart from the pain and numbness I think I wanna do it again. Maybe tomorrow...:D

I had the time of my Lviv-Merry new year

2007-01-03T11:55:00.000+01:00

12 hours to travel 300km, The first 240km you do in 3.5 hrs. Then you enter Ukraine. So off we went for new years to the land of sunflowers, good cognac and body odour like you've never smelt before. All through christmas people looked bemusedly when told of the pending trip. "Why are you going there?" they asked. "It's supposedly like Poland was 20 years ago you fool" I retorted and I selfishly wanted to see it all for myself. See it in bright 21st century technicolour splendour. Also they were rumoured to hate those pesky ruskies more than the Poles themselves. That I had to see. The Polish border town of Przemysl is surprisingly your run of the mill "border town". Very little going for it other than being a gateway to either country. Ukrainians selling cheap cigarettes and vodka-more on this later. A 15 mins bus ride will bring you to wiring fencing and security. Hence begins the utterly pointless process of trying to get into Ukraine by queueing with about 800 other "Ants" as they are so called. Full time profession-Going back and forward over the border countless times per day smuggling cheap cigs and alcohol. On the way back the more upmarket "Ants" board special buses fitted out with hollow seats and air conditioning compartments designed to store 1000's of packs of smokes from the authorities. They have enough cigarettes strapped to all parts of their bodies to give a small african nation cancer. They are ingenious in their methods of hiding them including in hats and on the roof of the bus. They only make 10 dollars per 200. Ultimately it's a very sad story that people have to resort to this crap to eek out an existence. Part of the reason border entry is so tedious is to try to limit the flow of Ants with Contraban I guess. :(:(

Uniquely carpathian bus ventilation system

Q:How many cigarettes can a Ukrainian fit into a fur hat?

A:About 120 in a good sized one-Dont forget to knock the edges off the packets for extra comfort

Anyhow- Ukrainians get priority into their own country so with backpacks et all you are left to your own devices in sub zero tundra with the rest of the "tourist" ants . After about a 90 min queue (queueing is a loose term for gathering behind some people while others elbow their way through periodically-a theme continued throughout the 5 day sojourn) , a guard emerged and , from what we could gather explained that this entry point was now closed. Everyone would have to either 1) walk a km to get into the next isle directly to our left through a hole in the fencing-classy, or 2) scale the 8ft high perimeter divide. 2 was the only option viable as the queue had now extended to sea of animal fur coats and hats behind us. In typical Ukrainian efficient fashion ,we soon realised that getting a border clerk to swap seats isn't half as amusing as watching hundreds of people climbing over tall fencing like monkeys and then crushing each other in the throng that ensued. Pissing themselves I'm sure they were.
On a serious note the guards on the Ukrainian side were particularly unpleasant and won't be moonlighting for the Ukrainian tourist board any time soon. They pushed and manhandled people quite violently as the melee increased. I was quizzed for 5 mins on why I was entering the country, who I was staying with etc etc. I thought they'd be delighted to see me! I guess they don't get so many paddys.
When you do eventually get in, it is like taking a step back in time. Instead the clocks go forward another hour which just adds to the foreignness of it all. Poland is very much the west. When you enter Ukraine you know you aren't there anymore. It seems way more like asia than europe. It's all bustle and traffic jams and folk selling christmas trees (othodox church celebrate xmas in the new year), fruit, vegetables, decorations etc.
Lviv is a very pleasant city of just under a million people. The city centre is world heritage listed and it has some beautiful old buildings including an Opera/Ballet theatre. Neither of us booked accommodation so ended up staying the first night in a very decaying and squalid city "hotel". Toilets were piled high with bags of rubbish and shite on the first morning. Time to move on we thought. Luckily we found accommodation 25 mins outside the centre with a very nice Polish lady who had a spare room. Sanitation system in the city is basic and as a result the good inhabitants only have running water between 6am and 12pm and 6pm and midnight. Makes for a very interesting time when you need to go to the bathroom outside of these hours. The people are used to it here but it really is utter medieval conditions that belies the opulence of alot of the town.
Food is close to Polish with a little more lard thrown in for good measure. It's reasonably cheap and good value for the most part. Some of the more classy restaurants had a particular penchant for Offal. Tongue/Fried Brains was not uncommon. Who or what's tongue/brains it was remained a mystery.Call me picky but I'd like to know :D Desserts were interesting also-"chewing gum-1 pack" was listed in one establishment, or "ferero-1 thing" tempted me in another.

Ballerina frolicking at the Opera

A performance at the opera was one of the highlights. All menus use the russian alphabet so are completely indecipherable as was the title of the show we went to. Apparently it was Strauss' Die Fledermaus. I was prepared for a unique spectacle but one I would bore of in no time at all. Most opera's are between 3 and 4 hours long. But the time flew in and even though there is a picture of me yawning , I was blown away by the orchestra, the ornate set and, ofcourse, the singing. For a piece nearly 170 years old that was in a language I didn't understand I enjoyed it alot. All in all, we had an amazing time in a country I'd very much like to visit again. New years at the opera house was great even if it was a brass monkey fest. Ukrainians are a decent bunch and will happily share cognac and food with you without thought. They don't queue and they push and elbow alot but this is cultural. It has to be -everyone does it. Curruption is endemic whether it be at the international train ticket counter where there are never any tickets and the goat clerk doesn't speak English or for everyday Ukrainians trying to pass university exams. It's sadly a way of life.

Hitchcockian frenzy near Vinyl nirvana Lviv center

Wigilia

2007-01-02T19:54:00.000+01:00

No one knew who had left the strange, bald present under the tree, nor who it was for, yet everyone agreed-it smelt real bad.

emotional moment -the first time I hear the Violin being played well by someone under the age of 20

Before we left for the trek north, one of my students called around for her usual private English lesson. She brought her violin and played some traditonal Polish christmas carols. Her English is coming along great also. :D
Christmas in WS was great and I couldn't have been made feel more welcome by Karolina's family. I enjoyed a very different Christmas which particularly suited my recent behavior of little (see zero) tolerance to alcohol. A few glasses of wine , a few shots of spyrytus (home-made lemon and honey moonshine)and a gastronomical orgy of food -13 dishes in total--all vegetarian-including some quite good carp. The closest I got to a turkey was taking a picture of one on a neighbor's farm on Christmas morning. It's really refreshing to wake up on the 25th without a salmon leap hairy mouth. Also it seems that not getting twisted by 2pm through partaking in mulled wine-making over indulgence has its advantages. Too many to list here. The rest of my first Polish Christmas day was spent eating and watching a bizarre Almodovar movie in Polish. Yes in Polish.
My only disappointment, was hearing on Christmas eve, that the 8 Christmas cards I sent home over 2 weeks previously had not yet arrived. This was doubly frustrating as I never send cards at Christmas. EVER. So I decided on going the whole hog and getting funky traditional decorated ones with bits of Eucharist bread thrown in (yes body de Jesus -inside the card) Usually- being a cheap bastard , I even reluctantly got them sent priority air mail. It seems priority mail in Polish postal terms means a little less clay on them when they eventually arrive 3 weeks later. And I know it's all because of that previous blog about the disgruntled goats....

Wesołych Świąt

2006-12-21T20:13:00.000+01:00

As christmas approaches I will put my final blog of 2006 up. I had my last class in school on Tuesday and once I finish a private lesson tomorrow I won't be working until Jan 4. This is great in theory but in practice a little painful financially .But I'm sure it will be ok :/- Lots of pasta and tomato sauce I think. Going to Warsaw for Christmas and then to Ukraine for new years all going well. No toilets or running water between 9am and 6pm during the day. Will remind me of my youth.
Had my school Christmas party last night and it was a reasonably sensible affair. Warning bells rang when I first arrived, when, who I thought was one of the caretakers/cleaners, turned out to be the owner of the school.Silly me. Ah they make such an effort in Poland to get to know all the staff personally.Anyhow, he brings two large bottles of heinekin into the function we were having and before a sandwich or beer could be procured, he starts pouring the contents into an array of shot glasses aligned at the bar. Homebrew Polish Poitin. I couldn't believe it -bringing this shit in for his staff. Classic. I think he said it was made from 13 "spices" and whatever else was left in his shed. From the small amount that passed my lips, I can confirm that it bordered on something approaching the hallucinogenic properties of absinthe. He maintained it was only 47%. Fnar fnar. With my recent track record I passed it onto the DOS, who, after drinking one, forgot that he had some left. :D
Half way through the evening they starting giving out long strips of holy communion to people (oplotek). As soon as I got mine I committed the most heinous faux pais of the evening in saying "body of christ" and promptly blessing myself and eating it. You are supposed to go around the room and offering each person a piece of it , exchanging christmas greetings etc in a time honored Polish tradition. I'll know for next year I guess.
Speaking about time honored Polish traditions , I was in the supermarket a few days ago. Queues are not uncommon in Poland (as I have touched on in a previous post) but this one stretched the breadth of the supermarket. Young and old were patiently waiting in line for something and I had to find out what it was.
Carp. We have turkey .....they ......have Carp. Apparently it's great but it's the frenzied buying just before xmas that really interested me. When you reach the front of the queue you can gaze down upon the most overcrowded fish tank you have ever seen- filled with giant doomed carp. The affable white coated gentleman will scoop the carp of your choice out of the tank for you and either
1) kill it there with a quick sharp slap of its head against the nearest blunt instrument (if children are around a curtain will be wheeled in and the deed performed behind that)
2)Give it to you still alive in a delightful plastic bag and put it in your shopping trolley so that it frightens the living shit out of other non-polish nationals who happen to be queuing near you at the cash register. The noise and ferocity of a ten kilo Carp writhing in its death throes in a Polish shopping trolley is something to behold.

Look alike competition

2006-12-09T21:35:00.000+01:00

As a follow up to a mysterious previous post :)

One is a salt mine tourist- dressed in a lion costume; the other- a famous Wizard of Oz character

Twilight Warsaw

2006-12-04T18:42:00.002+01:00

The cigarettes are gonna kill me, I know- I gotta get a light before I hit the door

Headed to the big smoke at the weekend to catch The Twilight Singers. Good gig even if the sound wasn't the best. Dulli, as a friend of mine very succintly pointed out, is looking more and more like Elvis every day. Shame I couldn't have kept this sentiment to myself when I met him at the bar after the gig finished. Lucky it wasn't ten years ago or I would have ended up in hospital I'm sure. -Still the guy is a legend in his own right and thankfully doesn't take himself too seriously. Lanegan came on and did a few numbers during the set. He looked a little "wasted" let's just say. These are some of the more flattering pics. Enjoy.

Mind ur mad dog part dos

2006-11-27T17:32:00.000+01:00

Tango and Cash
>

Spock is leaving. After purchasing more mad dogs in a 3 day period than I care to remember (or I can). Purchasing them for other people of course. Not drinking them himself. Add to his other lists of accomplishments -A almost successful assassination attempt on my liver and a very close run endeavor to eat the local ice cream parlour-slodki wentzl- out of every dessert it had.
After a traumatic final day in krakow trying to find some Amber for the relations finally subsided, his main memory of krakow will be the pot of glutenous lard that accompanied the bread in the restaurant on saturday night. For such a cultured fine diner of spock's calibre, he just couldn't get over the fact that the Poles eat fat on bread. The wonder of it all. He doesn't dig figs either as they look strange not coming in a red packet that says "Jacobs" on it.
As a follow up to his departure- there was serious Fog in Krakow the night he left. Seriously. He will not darken these shores for some time considering it took him nearly 60 hours to get home, via an aerlingus emergency bus to Vienna-The driver liked overtaking on precipitous mountain bends in the middle of the Czech countryside. Could only happen to Spock. He left Sunday evening . Got back to Dublin 4.30am Wednesday morning. Beware the fog. Karma for poisoning me I say.

Waiting for Spock

2006-11-19T11:56:00.000+01:00

MM departs these fair shores today. Twas only 10 days -but for some inexplicable reason seemed longer. She takes with her a weakened liver, 400 polish menthol cigs, a couple of large bottles of Zubrovka and the beloved "coat" :D
I drank some beer this weekend to the dismay of my colleagues. I think a full ban until xmas might be a little excessive but I am certainly curbing it in a big way. I have to. I can't afford it anyway.
We went to see Borat last night. I nearly pissed myself laughing. How he managed to complete this outrageous movie without getting killed or at least maimed is beyond me. Nothing is sacred. If you are not so easily offended and have a penchant for men with hairy arses who speak a sort of bastardised Polish and hate the Jews as much as a certain famous Austrian -go see it.
The endless sleuth of visiting pilgrims continues - my brother (AKA above)is due to arrive on Friday. After much inter family deliberation,he has finally decided to take me up on my offer of a free ticket to the land of mushrooms. Why so much deliberation I hear you ask? Suffice to say he had difficulty finding a babysitter for 3 days. :/
To end, I want to indulge in some Polish Post office bashing. At no stage in my 3 month sojourn here have I ever
1) had to queue for less that 25 mins in ANY polish post office
2) been met with anything but utter disgruntlment from the embittered wives of king disgruntled goat
3)witnessed anything but the crudest forms of post-communist inefficiency and ueber antiquated manual systems that make the GPO look like a futuristic postal never never land in the sky
4)seen more than one booth open at any one time. Ratio average-25 customers to one goat
5)not been queueing directly behind an elderly person who wants to complete at least 8 different jobs -most of which involve eye wateringly long form filling from the above mentions goats, who walk around in a confused fashion trying to find things. Once the person has finished the goat will go on a break. That is certain.

Oh they are also on strike at the moment apparently. On the upside- they sell some damn good shampoos. Viva la Polska!

Malevolent Midget and friend bring anarchy to krakow

2006-11-11T20:18:00.000+01:00

Fire hypnosis Rynek

Shaun always felt more comfortable and self assured when there was a sewing machine closeby to offer support

So it is independence day in Poland to mark the anniversary of the end of the first world war. Grainne and Paul arrived Wednesday and seem to be enjoying themselves so far. Got a taxi with some other directionless Irish to Auschwitz yesterday. One of the guys was completely pissed (2pm in the afternoon) and vomited before they even arrived in the cab.Grainne has intimated he was a little too friendly for a somber rainy afternoon visit to the death camps. Embarrassing as hell you say...but little was I to know that this theme would continue...on into the evening. Suffice to say I had my own particular "experience" -. I'm off the beer till xmas at least and possibly till Lawlors wedding depending on how things go. I know a few things for certain now. Call it a sort of epiphany if you like. 1) I am not 18 anymore. In fact I am far from it and should behave so. 2)huge quantities of polish beer and zubrowka do not go well on a stomach which has had a meagre slice of quiche and some potatoes as sustenance for the entire day 3)Polish handbags are impermeable and can hold twice their own weight in fluid if required. Sorry Karol:/
On a lighter note -check this lad out. He was one of the candidates for lord mayor of Bialystok. Will try to find a better English version but in the interim-enjoy his jumper.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fhsp-DonUUk&mode=related&search=
A friend of mine has uploaded alot of my Indian photos from last feb/march-check them out here.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/runie80/sets/72157594378506194/

A visit from the Slip

2006-10-29T13:20:00.000+01:00

A krakovian establishment. part shoe shop ,part anti-funghal cream dispensary

My folks arrived last Monday and stayed for 5 days. I was a little apprehensive at the thought of the visit due to the very 70's kitsch apartment they were staying in. After an initial shock though they settled in ok.They had a reasonably good sense of direction too.
I think not having a shower curtain was something that completely bewildered them though. The method of garbage disposable in large polish apartment blocks got some strange looks also. Not surprisingly. Instructions are easy. Take everything in your bin including large beer bottles etc and place it in a tray type chute. Close it and hear the noise of something approaching the weight of a pre-adolescent child falling a 100ft. The clamour is quite soothing and it really takes the hassle out of the messy business of garbage disposal:) What it falls into exactly I don't know. And I dont want to. The neighbor's particularly like it late at night.
They managed to do alot in the days they were here including the necessary visit to Auschwitz.I drove them. I thought I should do something with the car before my insurance runs out (today:()

Polish Christening

2006-10-24T23:39:00.000+02:00

Polish advertisement compaigns were a little more upfront than what I was used to back home

In warsaw at weekend for my Polish Christening deflowering ceremony. Kinda like a Polish wedding but without the mindless drunkeness and stylish band, so I hear. As much food and alcohol as you could shake a stick at. Even was an over 40's Disco night in the ajoining function room which we were welcome to take part in.Of course we took them up on the offer. 50 year olds dressed in short skirts and tight tops. Little alcohol was being consumed and there wasn't a man in sight. All they wanted was to dance to the latest german euro trance. They were happy enough with a slice of cheese cake and some tea.

Cashin and the curious tale of the Scot in the night time

2006-10-18T14:47:00.000+02:00

Spot the famous wizard of oz character? and the answer is ...the cowardly lion ofcourse An erstwhile recreational salt licker, Colm found himself unusually popular with the ladies

Predating John and Eimears visit, a good friend of mine Colm decided to visit a few weeks ago. He stayed for 5 days and managed to fit in an awful lot in the short time he was with us. On last count he had read 4 newspapers, 3 music magazines,a vanity fair(eh) half a polish travel guide and 2 quite substantial novels. He's quite the speed reader.
We had a few good nights out in Krakow though and even managed a visit to a Salty mine. On our last night we went to table quiz in an Irish bar with some people.Thanks to Colm's breadth of general knowledge, we managed to come in a very respectable 2nd last. He knew most of the questions though in fairness to him but as a greek and roman graduate getting the questions on Alex the great wrong is completely unacceptable. Nero???
The last I saw of wonder boy was him locked in amorous conversation with a young scottish lass. His flight left at 12.30 the next afternoon. He arrived at the apartment at 11:20 , unshaven , disheveled, stinking of cheap Polish beer but with a strangely satisfied smirk on his face. Go lad.She was a "lovely" girl apparently. How he got the plane, I'll never know but I guess being an ATC has its advantages when it comes to arriving at the airport 20 mins before your plane leaves.

2006-10-17T21:19:00.000+02:00

Pensive hill trekker gathering thoughts before final assault on summit
Feast fit for a ............subject
Two weeks ago we decided to take advantage of the unseasonably brilliant weather and headed for the hills-or the Tatras mts and Zakopane about 110 Km from Krakow and close to the Slovakian border. As it was end of season, we managed to blag a room for the same price as pitching a tent (practically nothing) as there was no other campers around. The owner was quite the character.She bore an uncanny resemblence to a bloated Pauline Fowler type figure. She was gregarious and affable and thanked us for providing her with some company on the last night of the season. Her Polish hospitality was a god send as the temperature plummeted that evening. Zakapane isn't without its tourist tack element , but it's nice and in the cosy bars, mountain folk play mountain music and eat mountain cheese when the sun goes down. Oh -and you can buy really cheap helium and scare the shit out of the locals by singing strawberry fields 4 ever-chip monk falcetto. Dobry Wieczor-Poprosze Hell. :-)
The next day we trekked to the 2nd highest summit in the region (Deer rock) .Really not recommended for those with breathing difficulties as it was one of the hardest climbs I've done in ages. (also the only climb I've done since I left home). Half way up, people were feasting on lard, bread, gerkins and beer. mmmmm. It only took 4 hours round trip which made me feel even more of an unfit c&#t than I am. In the true pikey tradition- sandwiches and cooked chicken were served when we reached the top. It's amazing how good food tastes at 1500 mtrs.

Mind ur mad dog duffy

2006-10-17T20:43:00.000+02:00

Eimear taking a well earned rest from the exhausting business of being lost

Glencar side Benbulben-Co Sligeach Wow , just found one of the pictures I took (yeah me)back in May has been commended in a photography competition run by mountainviews.ie. Classic. Out of all the pictures I sent in , this one was the least memorable but I suppose its an unusual view of a truly kick ass mountain. If anyone is around on 10 lower Camden St, Dublin Camera Club tomorrow Thursday 19th at 8pm -can you drop in and pick up my winnings and report back on what it was like?????
So....2 and half months in Poland and the harsh slavic winter finally encroaches. After what has been an unseasonably warm indian summer it looks like Autumn is truly here. The people look even more miserable that they usually do in the mornings:D
So I'll start at the end and work backwards. Duffy and Wife (I'm serious:p) visited last week. Their departure marked the end of the good weather but it was good to get a break from their endless complaining about how uncomfortable the coach was. Ungrateful bastards. Typical Duffy-will travel untold distances for a free bed. You are in Poland now horse. We aren't in d4+2w anymore. It's a pre end of communism era apartment-all 70's beige and mauve colours including cuckoo clock and gas heating. We really enjoyed their company for the five days and when they weren't lost and wondering around trying to find the gaf with a dazed look on their face , they were only too happy to be ripped off by every tour operator in Poland who saw them coming a mile off. Apart from one unfortunate incident with the Polish national shot drink (see title) the guys were a real pleasure to have aroound and life will be alot less entertaining without their company.