Return to college . . . Poland v.s. Azerbaijan!

Hello all . . .

Enjoying a nice sunny day over here in Warsaw while taking the time to clean up my flat, which has been referred to as being a bit college-esque. While I admit that the complete absence of wall hangings gives my place a sterile feel, the pad in Poland is nothing like my previous dwellings back in the day. Reasons why include:

*no keg fridge
*no beer / bikini posters
*no vomit stains on the carpet
*no late-night Buddha (only a few will get this reference)
*no corner booth from Country Kitchen (one of the best acquisitions of furniture, ever)
*no bar
*no black light
*no disco ball
*no neon beer signs
*and most importantly, no roommates! (I love most of my previous roomies but there comes a time when a guy has to grow up. I'll let you know when that time comes. Baby steps . . .)

I can justify my lack of interior decorating ability by citing the 2006 Anti-Clutter Doctrine drafted last summer as I unburdened myself from most of the worldly possessions that do not fit into three suitcases. No more useless junk shall make its way into my apartment since I know I'll be living a transient lifestyle for awhile.

Couchsurfing.com brought a guest to my place this weekend. Krystal, from Detroit, via Freiburg, Germany has been crashing on the futon for the last few evenings. On Friday night she, and couple of other friends were forced to endure the sheer lunacy of the Ice Bar. I've been wanting to check this place out since I read about it a few months back. Always in search of uniquely odd things to show out-of-towners, a bar built inside a giant freezer was something I had to see.

We can cross this one off the list of "must sees" here in Poland. You walk into this trendy little bar carpeted in wall-to-wall faux polar bear fur. From there, you have to drop 10 zloty on a parka rental and entry to the ice box, where you have to pay an additional 15 zloty for the privilege of taking a shot of Finlandia from glass a made out of ice. Only vodka is served inside the cooler that has also been tastefully decorated with nude ice sculptures. Way too much work for way too little fun. Never again.

The Russian Market . . . now that's a tourist attraction that never fails to deliver. My Polish-speaking friends from Africa are always there to give me a great deal on knock-off Nikes. These guys look so American, stupid me strikes up a convo with a massive guy clad in LSU gear:

Me: "LSU fan huh? Go Tigers!"
Him: "I'm from Ghana, man!"

Once again, doing my part to foster international brotherhood by trying to give the appearance that not all Americans are ignorant. Succeeding? Not quite. How one makes the decision to leave the sunny, tropical environs of Ghana to sell counterfeit shoes in frigid Warsaw is beyond me. Suffice it to say, Eastern Europe is not really the most welcoming place for my compatriots from the dark continent.

Speaking of ignorance, Americans have been happily oblivious to the "elegant game" of soccer. I, for one, fail to see the beauty in a sport where the majority of matches end in a tie (a lot of them scoreless)and are decided in an anti-climactic shootout. But when given the chance to see the Polish National Team play here in Warsaw, I eagerly accepted. After all, they were playing against their arch-rival, Azerbaijan.
It's a former Soviet state, and if there's one thing the Poles hate, it's anything having to do with mother Russia. Alright, maybe I'm hyping this up a little bit.

Anyhow, Krystal and I did our best to pose as hard-core fans of Polska. Donning the ubiquitous scarf and some funny headgear, all we were missing were a couple over-sized, foam, #1 hands and some face paint. You don't see those too much at European sporting events. That could be a lucrative investment opportunity for any of your business-minded folk. The importation of foam #1 fingers to Europe has "financial windfall" written all over it.

The atmosphere surrounding the match was as exciting as I anticipated. Upon arriving at the stadium, we could see that the hooligan prevention forces were making their presence known. Policja in full riot gear armed with ornery German Shepherds patrolled the area outside Legia Stadium. After passing through the ticket checkpoint, I was given a frisking that would violate most sexual harassment statutes back home. Apparently, the hiding of contraband within the warmth of one's family jewels is common practice.


Drunken revelers sang and cheered for the entire match, led by this one lone man standing on a platform at mid-field. He tirelessly exhorted the crowd to root on the white and red while the veins in his neck and head protruded from the exhaustive screams. He reminded me of a couple teachers I know. By the latter part of the second half, Poland's version of Crazy George had fried his vocal cords and was nowhere to be seen. It was nice to see, however, that the Polish National Team had the more traditional cheerleaders provide us with half-time entertainment. They weren't exactly the Laker Girls, but there must be some sense of modesty in this overwhelmingly Catholic country.

The visiting team was overmatched in this contest as Poland triumphed 5-0. I enjoyed the high score, but my opinion of soccer has not changed. Despite all the hoopla and pageantry surrounding the match, the game itself was almost as boring as watching it on television. But I can certainly see myself attending more matches in the future. The frenetic cheering and carousing made it a cultural experience much different than any other sporting event I've attended.

Red Auerbach had his victory cigar. The Poles have victory road flares that they whip out of their pants when the win has been assured. I get brutally fondled by security on my way into the stadium. I'm just wondering how a guy smuggles something in that resembles a stick of dynamite. On second thought, maybe it's best that I don't know.

Off the grid for about two weeks . . .

My apologies to the faithful readers who check out the site looking for a weekly update. My technological umbilical cord was unceremoniously cut some time ago due to some strange Polish rule about paying your internet bill on time. I'm not trying to place the blame on the internet provider but it's a long complicated story involving French-like business hours (closed at 4 on Fridays?) and long lines that harken back to the Communist era.

Okay, enough excuses. There have been a few cultural experiences in the last couple weeks that I feel I need to share. The first highlight would have to be the long-awaited (for Varsovians, anyway) grand opening of the Hard Rock Cafe in Warsaw. Through a well-connected vasectomized (is that a word?) colleague, I was able to get into the glitzy VIP opening last weekend. This was quite a high-profile event complete with red-carpet, famous (in Poland) rock stars, and free eats and drinks (woohoo!). All I needed to gain entry was to pretend to be a big-shot architect from Texas, who also happens to be the father of one of my students. Piece of cake.

The night was filled with hob-knobbing and schmoozing. And that was just with the "Jim Beam girls." One of the more interesting characters I met was a man who seemed quite enthused about showing off the fact that he has two thumbs. Yes, I know, we all have two thumbs, but how many of you have two thumbs on one hand? Pretty damn cool if you ask me. He could not tell me enough how important it was to the Polish music scene to finally have the Hard Rock Cafe open in his nation. Ummmmm . . . part of me felt a sense of wonderment when he made this statement and the other part of me wanted to buy him one of those cheesy Hard Rock t-shirts that every American tourist has in his wardrobe. No, none of you are getting one, so don't even ask.

Another of the more colorful revelers I met was the "Guerilla Traveler." This guy helped me realize the importance that having a real eye-catching business card can have in striking up a conversation. The right card can make quite the first impression when forced upon the unsuspecting fellow American ex-pat. Everybody has a story to tell about how they ended up in Poland. This guy has even wrote a book about his travels complete with a website that is infinitely snazzier than any hackneyed effort I can put on MySpace. Check it out, there's even a video promoting his book. http://www.guerillatraveler.com/

Anyway, try the ribs at Hard Rock when you're in town. They're delicious when served with a side of free cigarettes (yes, girls with free cancer sticks on silver trays, what a country!) and aging Polish rockers.

I told my good friend Chicky that I would post a photo of my badge of honor from rugby practice. They used to tell me back in college that I needed to stop tackling people with my face. Some would say it's a play for sympathy from the ladies. Others would say it's a remarkable improvement on my normal ugly mug.

What happens when you mix classic 80's hard-rock ballads, a couple hundred Poles, and a woefully undersized hockey rink? You have yourself the makings of a good time at Torwar open skating. There are a number of places to go in this city where I know I'll be the only non-Polish person there. Last night was certainly no exception and it had more chills, thrills, and spills than the Saturday night stock car races at the St. Louis County Fairgrounds (that one's for the folks back home). I wish I had brought my camera for this. Seeing so many people crammed into such a small space, skating in circles to REO Speedwagon and Rush was quite the experience.
This also served to remind me once again why I hung up the ice skates after 6th grade in favor of the less expensive but more revealing Speedo.

One of the odder things I saw this past week were these four guys prowling the streets of Warsaw looking for little children to abduct. Their cover story was that they were promoting the launch of Microsoft Vista in Poland. Yeah, right, like I'm supposed to believe that a giant Vietnamese villager, a moon man, a saggy-assed giraffe, and an eight legged martian have anything to do with a computer operating system.

Thanks for taking the time to read. Sorry for the delay in posting! Oh yeah, here's a picture of the new mall in downtown Warsaw that I helped design.

Signs of spring . . .

There is an old Polish saying that if the Christmas tree roots are in ice, Easter will be sunny; but if the Christmas tree's roots are in water, the Easter eggs will roll on ice. Well, I'm hoping this proverb doesn't hold true since we had an unseasonably warm December here in Warsaw, but if this week's weather is any indication, spring has arrived in kielbasa country.

Talking about the weather can be considered sort of a reach when making polite conversation with somebody, but here there are some interesting signs of spring that are not normally found when the weather gets warmer stateside.

As I was wandering around the city this evening (me aimlessly wandering around is a definite sign), I noticed a distinct upsurge in the number of street performers. Tonight, my heart was warmed (no pun intended) by the presence of a couple fire dancers near the city center. I don't know why, but there's just something about a dangerous looking woman twirling chains with firey orbs attached to them. If you tell me to meet you somewhere in the city and I run into a couple of pyrophilic females, chances are good that I'm going to be late.

The ubiquitous (one of my all-time favorite words) accordion man was also sighted. This guy, however, is more of an "all-weather" street performer. In fact, one of the joys of riding the tram cars in Warsaw is the possibility that accordion man will jump on and serenade you on your way home. I think it's an especially lucrative gig for him since the audience is helplessly stationary. This allows him to pass the tin cup in front of all passengers who sooner or later are forced to part with their loose change.

I'm a really big fan of the guys who go above and beyond for the sake of street performance. It's easy to dust off the guitar, violin, pan flute, saxophone, or even mime make-up kit and make some quick zlotys pounding the pavement around Warsaw. But it takes a special breed to get some friends up off the couch and form a street band. Not only do you have to get everybody motivated, but the more friends you have at your gig, the more guys you have to split the money with. Here's a pic of my good friend Scrote in front of some hard-working Poles last fall.

Speaking of Scrote, his name came up in my health class today. For the second consecutive trimester, I've been entrusted with the delicate task of educating the international youth community about puberty and sexuality. One of our vocab words was "scrotum" and, of course, I couldn't let this go by without mentioning one of the key differences between males and females . . . the use of nicknames. That's all I have to say on that subject.


I am looking forward to Wednesday's class when we will have a special guest speaker talk about his experiences with both the prostate exam and vasectomy. It is bound to be a riveting lecture from one of my most trusted and respected colleagues.

I think that's an appropriate note to "end" on, don't you? But for your own amusement, go to google images, type in "prostate exam", and see what pops up. Whatever proctologists make, it just isn't enough. I'm hoping that in the next 8 years, they will have found a less invasive way of screening for prostate cancer.

Do widzenia moj' colegos!

Mark

ASW science on YouTube

Before I head of to play some adult recreational league basketball, I thought I would try posting my first video. Today in science, we had fun with fire. I posted the vid on YouTube. Check it out (copy and paste the address into your browser):

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wzmxwEAZcpo

I would directly link to it but then my students would be able to find my blog. Not a good idea!

There wasn't anymore excitement to my winter break other than watching the Ireland vs. England rugby match at Jimmy O'Bradley's Irish Pub. I'm firmly convinced that there is no such thing as a fire code in the city of Warsaw. This bar was packed with Irish and English ex-pats singing their respective anthems with boozy enthusiasm. I don't know the words to "God Save The Queen" or "The Fields of Athenry" but chose to root for Ireland since they make such great whisky. The boys in green came away with an historic victory, scoring 6 tries on the visitors for a 43-13 drubbing.


Also, I want to wish a wonderfully happy birthday to my Dad back in Minnesota! Wish I could be there but I'll see you, Mom, and Dave in just a few weeks!

Need laser, won't travel.

This week is winter break, otherwise known as "Ski Week" at ASW since a lot of families use this time to head for the mountains. It would have been nice to do this too but I had intentions of getting LASEK surgery on Tuesday and using the rest of the break to let my eyes heal.

Some have said that I'm a little crazy for trying to get the procedure done here in Poland but this country is becoming a new hotbed of "medical tourism" i.e. all the rich folks from Western Europe are coming here to get inexpensive cosmetic surgery performed (cheap boob jobs and Botox). Anyway, I'm sitting here typing this while wearing my glasses since I didn't qualify for the surgery. The reason being that my corneal peak is not symmetrically centered over the focus of my pupil resulting in a negative Kappa angle. Yeah, I didn't quite understand this either especially when explained through a thick Polish accent. There is some sort of advanced wavefront technique used to remedy this situation but with discretion being the better part of valor, I've decided to wait for a second opinion back in the States.

This has left me in a bit of a funk since valuable traveling time was devoted to a surgery that never happened. The highlight of my break has been a trip to Polish purgatory . . . yes, that's right, I went to IKEA. Oh yeah, I almost forgot, I also rearranged my furniture. I'll spare you the exciting details.


So, not much to report here from Poland this week. I think I'm going to jump on a train tomorrow morning and head to Torun, birthplace of Mikolaj Kopernik a.k.a. Nicolas Copernicus, the father of heliocentric theory. For those who slept through high school physics, he's the guy who came up with the radical idea of placing the sun, rather than the Earth, at the center of the universe. At least you can learn something by reading this blog.


Speaking of the center of the universe, it's good to see that the major headlines back home this week are the custody / paternity battle for Anna Nicole Smith's child and Britney Spears' shaving her dome. Now that's hardhitting journalism about issues that matter!

Thanks for reading . . .

No Escape from Valentine's Day

"Maybe Poland doesn't celebrate Valentine's Day!" I had been thinking to myself. How wrong I was. I should have known that a predominantly Catholic country would embrace any holiday named after a saint. I've never really been a big fan of these holidays invented by the greeting card industry. And today is probably the granddaddy of them all.

The impromptu flea market I pass by every morning outside the subway station has been transformed. Usually, you can find fur coats, porcelain Bhudda statues, switchblade knives, lacey undergarments, and other necessities. This morning, all the vendors brought out teddy bears, chocolates, flowers, and giant heart-shaped suckers as big as your head. So much for avoiding all the manufactured junk that is supposed to signify your true love.

On Valentine's Day, it's nice to be single. Only women get bitter, sitting around watching sappy date movies, and eating Ben and Jerry's while commiserating with each other, right? I'll be in a state of bliss having beers with friends tonight. But I couldn't resist putting up this picture. Thanks for reading.

It's okay . . . I'm with the band.

Last week, I had the good fortune to take a trip to Bucharest, Romania as a chaperone at the CEESA (Central Eastern European Schools Association) band festival. As you can imagine, band kids don't get into a lot of trouble so this was a nice trip to see a different city with 4 Korean students along for the ride. The band director did all the work. I was just there to carry the first aid kid, school phone, and camera.

Bucharest is a city stuck between new economic opportunity and the old communist system. This is reflected in the ever-widening gap between the wealthy and impoverished. Where else can you see a horse and buggy, Frank Loyd Wright inspired mansions, a boy leading an ox on a rope, and a Porsche dealership all within a two block stretch. There was also garbage strewn across vast fields that will soon be dotted with upscale, art-deco style villas.

I had been told that Bucharest is a glimpse of Warsaw 15 years ago. Now I can see why people have this notion that the Polish capital is a bleak, gray metropolis. Like Poland though, Romania's countryside has remained relatively unspoiled by industry and political turmoil. It was also the setting for scenes from the movie "Borat". In fact, the village where it was filmed is now suing him, but I do believe the case has already been thrown out.

There are redeeming qualities in every city I visit, but it was quite difficult to find the true beauty of Romania's capital. They have yet to tear down any of the old "Commie Bloc" highrises to make room for modern architecture. Everything also seems to have this perpetual coating of grime and mildew. It seems like the reign of former dictator Nicolai Ceausescu has left quite the hangover.

For those asleep during 1989, and not familiar with the Ceausescu regime, a fascinating synopsis can be found here:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nicolae_Ceau%C5%9Fescu

Copy and paste it into your browser if for no other reason than to read about him and his wife being executed on Christmas Day by an army officer's sub-machine gun. You can also watch his last speech from the Palace balcony on youtube.com

Romania is also home to the world's second largest building (then Pentagon is no. 1).
Ceausescu leveled over 6,000 homes, dozens of churches, and all of Old Town Bucharest to make room for this monstrosity, the People's Palace. Anything I write cannot fully do justice to the shameful history behind the construction of this monument to a megalomaniac (awesome alliteration, alright?). You can read about why Romanians call this the "Palace of Lies" here:

http://home.xnet.com/~jkelley/BucharestBugle.fldr/BuchBugle19-20.html

Bucharest also has a bit of a dog problem. Driving out to the school from the city centre, I would see strays everywhere, roaming in packs or resting lazily by the side of the road. I had brought my running shoes, but opted for the treadmill in the hotel fitness center instead of putting my gonads up as doggie treats, so to speak.

My last evening in town gave me a newfound appreciation for Romania. The activities director at AISB (American International School of Bucharest) formerly worked at ASW. He was nice enough to arrange a night on the town with Maria, one of the local hires, and a few of her friends.

I've always had a certain affectation for Nadia Comaneci, but the Romanian beauties encountered while exploring the nightlife of Bucharest scored an 11, besting Nadia's perfect 10 at the 1976 Olympics. Offering a compliment to my guide, she declared Romanian women to be "the most beautiful in the whole world". This is now the fourth country where I've heard that claim. Let it never be said that Eastern European women lack self-confidence.

My first three days in Bucharest had convinced me that I would not be making a return visit anytime soon, but I might have been a little too hasty in my judgement . . .

Do widzenia . . .

Mark