In the news . . .

Lately things have been a bit slow around here for news in Polska. We had a few people have their cars destroyed by falling icicles, right around the corner from where we live. These old buildings aren't so efficient in their insulation so you get a situation that looks like this.

People worldwide are falling in love with a wayward pooch that stowed away on an ice flow in the middle of the Baltic:

One of Poland's greatest heroes, more famous for being the world's most accomplished lifter of heavy objects (a.k.a. World's Strongest Man on ESPN) has gotten bored with the fact that giant steel balls and kegs of sand do not put up much of a fight. So Mariusz Pudzianowski, a.k.a. "Pudzian" to those familiar with his work, has entered the world of Mixed Martial Arts, or "Ultimate Fighting". Here's footage of his first fight, that was mercifully stopped before he could crack this poor guy's skull. As they as say before every episode of Desperate Housewives, viewer discretion is advised. That means you Mom!


Although we have had a harsh winter with copious amounts of fluffy white stuff, we don't tend to mix our snowsports with a healthy portion of vodka. Our opressed neighbors to the east of us, however, tend to become a bit depressed during the dark days of winter and take some drastic measures to entertain themselves. I remember doing something similar as a youngster but I was never so drunk and definitely not as high (pun intended).

Ice Capades . . .

Remember the Ice Capades? I vaguely remember attending a show at the Duluth Arena when I was a youngster. This was back when I was still harboring dreams of one day becoming a real hockey player like my heroes on the 1982 Hibbing High School hockey team. The stark realization that I was far behind my peers in the ability to streak down the ice at high speeds came to fruition during the Winter Frolic skating races during my sixth grade year. (January of 1986?)

The only reason I made the finals against the much more coordinated kids from the public schools was a pile-up in the final turn of the qualifying race that I somehow avoided being swept into. The clear-cut favorite, a gifted skater that went by the moniker "Duke", crashed and burned on that fateful day, allowing me to skate to victory, not unlike the miracle gold medal finish of Australian speedskater Steven Bradbury in the 2002 Olympics.

The other kids at St. Leo's school knew that I would be inevitably and soundly defeated the next week during the finals. The Duke had been the best hope for our tiny Catholic school to achieve vicarious glory. Their fears were confirmed. I wasn't even close, finishing a distant sixth place, but being awarded the miniscule courtesy medal that soon found its way to the bottom of my dresser drawer. Not long after suffering this crushing embarrassment, I decided to hang up my skates in favor of spending the next 6 years competing in a Speedo.

Fast forward 23 years to the recognition that only the love of a good woman could get me to put on another set of blades. What little skill I had back in the day has severely deteriorated into what one might envision if Fred Flinstone were crossed with one of the Hanson brothers. Fortunately I had the Polish Peggy Fleming to distract anyone's attention to my robotic movements.

How I took all the available sheets of ice for granted growing up. I can remember having no fewer than 6 city rinks to carve up either indoors or outdoors. This isn't quite the case here in Warsaw. Check out how unbelievably crowded open skating can be! You need to have your head on a swivel out there, lest you be taken out by another novice flailing about.

Happy Birthday Mom!

The planets are still aligned . . .

Did I honestly think that I would wake up this morning, wipe the sleep out of my eyes, fire up the laptop, and read the news that the Vikings were headed to the Super Bowl? I was only 2 1/2 years old the last time Fran Tarkenton led them there in 1977. Surely this would be the year that they would make a triumphant return and try to exorcise the demons that have made them the Buffalo Bills of the NFC.

Alas, it was not to be. But after watching the highlights, I am so glad that I stopped emotionally investing in this team way back in 1998, after Gary Andersen shanked a 39 yard field goal and denied me a road trip to Miami with my fellow bartenders from the Green Mill in Fargo. There was no wailing and gnashing of teeth as I stared plaintively at the glow of the screen this morning. No "Damn you and your interceptions, Favre!" or cursing to myself, thinking "How can you fumble the ball so much? You're supposed to be the best running back in the league!" Nope. None of it. Okay, there may have been a flicker of hope, deep in the recesses of my mind, some dormant brain cells that hadn't been stimulated since the Randall Cunningham, Robert Smith, Randy Moss "most prolific offense ever" season in 1998. But now they have finally been put to death with this last epic failure, a textbook display of how to lose a game that you seemingly have in control.

I feel for all of you that still hold onto hope, thinking every year that just maybe it will be different. But let me tell you that it's so much easier when you just give up hope and realize that the Vikes will always find a way to lose. It stings a lot less when the reality that it just doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things somehow crystallizes. However, if you derive some sort of masochistic pleasure from always coming up short, check out this video:

Attention prospective visitors . . .

It has been a couple months since we moved in, but we at the Chronicle thought we would let you know that we have relocated our offices downtown, right in the heart of the Polish capital. After much deliberation, weighing the benefits and drawbacks of living in a pre-war building near the hustle and bustle of the city center, we decided to take the plunge. After all, as a friend of mine said during my decision-making process, "When are you ever going to get another chance to live right in the middle of a European capital?" (click on the pic for a high-resolution image)

The place is around 1000 sq. feet (sounds small to Americans, but it's huge by European standards) with two bedrooms, so we are hoping that we'll see an uptick in the number of visitors coming from across the pond. A lot of you have made it over here to the land of cheap beer, hearty food, and beautiful women, but there are still quite a few who have talked wistfully about a visit, yet there is always something that gets in the way of them buying the plane ticket. (Usually time and/or money) Yes, Europe is expensive, especially now with the Euro costing $1.50, but remember that Poland is still not moving to this currency in the foreseeable future, despite many politicians' claims. Only one of this country's neighbor's has made the switch in hopes of hedging their bets against any future financial crisis, Slovakia. Travel there is still a bargain, though, as it is in Hungary, the Czech Republic, and the Baltic states. So come on over!

We'd like to extend a hearty "gratulacje" to our fellow international educator, Kit, living down in Quito, Ecuador. She just tied the knot with her Ecuadorian boyfriend, Holger. If you recall from this entry, back in February of 2008, Kit relocated from her job as an elementary teacher out in California. We wish her and her new husband a lifetime of happiness and many more years of cross-cultural romance.







Also, a happy belated birthday (yesterday) to my Auntie Lori in Elk River, MN. She's the one of the left : ) .






The last three years of mild Polish winters have come to an abrupt halt as Old Man Winter has struck with a vengeance the last couple weeks here in Warsaw. We've been experiencing some northern Minnesota-like temps as the mercury has plummeted well below zero (which is really cold when you use the Celsius scale!). Add that to the substantial snowfall within the Warsaw metro area and you have yourself one big mess. Somehow, despite a relatively small army of snow removal equipment, the city has dug itself out. The lion's share of the work falls on city employees armed with nothing more than a piece of plywood with a wooden handle attached. I wish I could've found a picture since it really is a primitive looking but surprisingly effect method. No polished steel snowscrapers here. Do widzenia!

Family fun time

Glad to be back in Warsaw after a couple weeks on the other side of the pond celebrating the holidays with the family. As many have said to me, "You're so lucky that you have a big family where everybody gets along with each other." I consider it more the product of our easy-going natures, honed over many years. It wasn't always like this ya know. There was more than a decade of tantrums, brawls, and declarations of "I hate you!" before the natural détente that accompanies the transition into adulthood (see: maturity).

Some of us, myself excluded, have arrived at the point in our lives when we can sit back and laugh (or be horrified) as we see ourselves reflected in our own kids doing battle with their siblings and cousins. I certainly found it amusing to be a curious onlooker watching my brother wrangle his two youngsters for the duration of the Christmas break. He failed to see the humor and was more than willing to point out how "relaxed" my lifestyle was and that coming home to witness the "family circus" was a potent form of subconscious birth control.

I must admit that observing two of my cousins (both 4-5 year old girls) wrestle over a sled with the end result being one kicking the other in the "privates" does not send one scurrying to the nearest Barnes and Noble for baby books. But it is always amazing that we can eschew all other commitments (i.e. in-laws) to coordinate our three-ring Christmas Eve. It gets tougher every year but this year's version was the biggest in history. 37 people, one fetus, and a couple dogs:

Two days later, most of us were able to reconvene back at my brother's cabin, or as I like to call it, The Family Funtime Resort. The occasion we were celebrating was my grandmother's 86th birthday, along with the arrival of a huge dump of snow on Christmas day. Paul, Dave, and I spent the afternoon excavating and constructing our own luge track which ran from the cabin, past the gigantic snowman, all the way to the lake. It was well worth all the effort as we spent hours outside recapturing the glory days.

Larbucks!

Coffee. Black. Triple espresso. Mint cappuccino. Gingerbread mocha with a double shot. Egg nog machiatto. Chocolate latte with whip cream and a caramel swirl. These are just of few of the concoctions that have been served up in the teacher’s lounge at ASW in the past couple days. Every year around this time, the usual refuge from crazed, sugar-infused middle school students is transformed into Larbucks, the Polish outpost of the world famous Seattle coffee shop, complete with a faux fireplace, and dorks with laptops hogging the free WiFi for hours on end. Oh wait a second, one of those dorks was me.

Larry, our middle school techie and native Seattleite during the summer months, has made it his personal mission to get the staff through the always difficult days right before we all set off for the long holiday break with friends and family. Over the last few years, he has decided to share his love of the dark-roasted bean buzz with the entire school faculty. After chatting with him over a cup of sleep remover this week, I soon discovered that this love has morphed into obsession.

Myself, an amateur when it comes to coffee appreciation, bought my first espresso machine last spring, used, from a departing parent. It’s an old Krups with some wear and tear, but it’s effective in producing a powerful potion with just the right amount of amber foam to top it off. But when I saw Larry’s monsterous, almost robotic, multi-functional Swiss Army knife of coffee makers, my curiousity was piqued. This thing did seemingly everything but bake you the perfect biscotti to accompany your brew, with the sleek lines of an Italian sportscar to match. Thinking that I might be in the market soon, I inquired about how many ducats a beauty like that would set a guy back. After hearing how serious Larry is about his coffee, I decided that I didn’t quite have the samelevel of dedication. Not to mention the industrial grade grinder that he picked up from a guy in Italy for 200 Euros. Whew!
We here at the Chronicle extend a special caffeinated salute to the proprietor of Larbucks for his dedication and passion for his craft. The last two mornings have brough smiles, great conversation, and countless laughs among all that entered the cozy confines of Larbucks. It’s the little things that make coming to work at ASW a distinctive pleasure and his generosity in sharing his love of the bean adds that special touch to the holiday season. Thanks Larry! And thanks to our esteemed Athletic Director Jim Matter for taking time out of his busy schedule to pose for a few pics : )