The Dolomites

Having surpassed the four year mark of my time living here in Europe, I must say that I have encountered more than my fair share of beautiful places. From the sandy beaches of the Latvian coast to the rolling hills of Scotland dotted with bleating flocks of sheep, there is a diversity of travel experience awaiting anybody brave enough to venture through the circus tents that double as rural airports, or the archaic train stations of the former communist bloc. (why is it spelled with one "r" anyway?)

What has been missing from this traveler's dossier was a trek through some quintessentially Tyrollean mountain landscapes, the kind of territory associated with felt hats, high top leather hiking boots, and the cries of Ricola! After living near the always accessible highlands of majestic Idaho for seven years, I had an itch for the kind of views that make one's butt cheeks clench in fear, peaks of such colossal enormity they make you wish you had wings and a case of Red Bull. Like this guy.

The daunting task of planning such a trip, from the lengthy gear list to plotting our route from four star refugios to lung burning precipices and back down again, fell on the meticulously capable (read: OCD) hands of my former endurance sport compatriot, Jen Stover from Boise. All I had to do was find out which budget airline would get me near the Italian province of Belluno, two hours north of Venice. That and purchase all of the stuff on the aforementioned lengthy gear list so I wouldn't look like a total newb and embarrass my gearhead friends. Not the type of gearheads that my brothers are, with at least four snowmobiles, two motorcycles, a four-wheeler, and a coffin hoist in the garage, but the type of adventure seeker who owns three different Gore-tex windbreakers lined with polypropylene, titanium trekking poles, a variety of backpacks, all equipped with hydration systems, and shock-proof digital cameras that are water-proof to a depth of 100 meters.

Just for some perspective, here's the list Jen sent me:

Pack -midsize
bladder - camel back type
harness
leather or cycling type gloves
2-3 locking carabiners
3-4 18 inch tethers/slings
Pack towel
small headlamp
trekking poles
gaiters - to keep small rubble & rocks out of shoes
short sleeve wicking shirt
long sleeve wicking shirt or Hind Type
cycling arm warmers
compression / running shorts
over shorts ( hiking type with pockets)
underwear
socks - 5 pair
tights or long pants
waterproof windbreaker jacket
beanie
gloves
light weight fleece
trail shoes
sleep sheet
small dop kit > contact lenses, eyeglasses, deoderant, soap, toothbrush etc
blister kit / 1st aid

*Jen also packed her husband, Nic, and adventure racing teammate, Brad, who is also trained in mountain search and rescue. A good guy to bring along in case you fall off a cliff and shatter a femur or need any extra gear since he brings two of everything.

To further complicate matters, Wizzair (for my favorite cheap flights) only allows 10 kg (22 lbs) for a carry-on, or else you pay and extra 50 Euro to check your bag upon arrival at the airport. Wearing the same clothes for seven straight days of gut-busting hikes leaves one emanating the same odors as the display case at a French cheese shop. No, that's not Mimolette cheese you smell, it's Fromunda Bleu. (ask your nearest teenager to explain that joke if you don't get it)

This latest adventure far surpassed my lofty expectations, in terms of astonishing scenery, mouthwatering cuisine, and the animated jocularity and storytelling that ensues when old friends reunite. To share this expedition with some fellow thrill seekers from back in the Boise years, the previous chapter in my book of life, made it that much more satisfying. Here's to hoping we can do it again sooner rather than later.

The last day of a life-changing summer . . .

A recent houseguest, my friend Walt from back in Hibbing, inspired me to come out of hiding on cyberspace and get back to writing. So this entry will be dedicated to him as he lounges on my couch devouring a book that chronicles the methodologies and reasoning behind the development of the Auschwitz death camp. Quite timely since after living here in Poland for the last four years, and urging many a visitor to take the tour, I finally made the journey. But I'll save those thoughts for another time since I'm feeling a bit wistful and introspective about the last 9 weeks of summer.

One could make the case for it being the "best summer ever" but that would be like asking my mother which of her three boys is the favorite. I love all summers equally since each are special in their own way. But this one will always hold a special place in my heart since I became engaged to the woman of my dreams.

Do you ever notice that when magazines want to ramp up circulation, they always employ the "Top Ten List" gimmick? Every few months, Men's Health will reveal it's never before published (if you haven't read the mag before), Top Ten Ab-Blasting, Washboard-Building Exercises, or Outside Magazine's Top Ten Best Places to Live Right Now! (my former home of Boise topped the most recent list). So without further adieu, I give you the The Kielbasa Chronicle's Top Ten Pictures of Summer:




The beginning of June brought the Sonisphere Festival to town. 100,000 metalheads converged on an airport runway on the outskirts of Warsaw to see the four pillars of thrash metal (Metallica, Megadeth, Slayer, and Anthrax) rev it up to jet-engine decibel level.







It's the Iron Sheik, one of the World Wrestling Federation's most famous villains, in LAX airport. "Excuse me Mr. Sheik, I am a big fan from back in the eighties. Can I get a picture?" He was more than accommodating, a true gentleman.











The big family picture on the 4th of July. Can you count how many of us there is? And Luiza got to meet all of them.











Family Fun Time rolls into Nashwauk for the 4th of July Parade.











The ladies in the family enjoy some 4th of July Polish Punch as they watch some lawn games. Nobody fell out of their chair, much to my surprise.











It was really nice to share the beauty of outdoor Idaho with my big city girl from Poland.













On the last leg of our three week odyssey, my old friend and fellow chlorinated warrior, Steve showed us around in San Diego.











More fun on the Fourth with Steve and my brother Dave. Yes, we make it look easy, but this is harder than it looks.











Two of my very favorite people in the world came over at the same time in the beginning of August. Walt, all the way from Minnesota, and Carri from Boise, joined me in Warsaw for a big Euro-sized beer. We then went on to Krakow and Prague.






Joined three friends from Boise (Brad, Jen, and Nic) for a week in the majestic Dolomites on the Austria / Italy border. This is just one of the many jaw-dropping views we encountered during our many lung-busting treks up and down the peaks.

Election Day!

Today is the day for a special election to determine who will replace the former President Lech Kaczynski, who was one of 96 victims in an April plane crash. Things are a bit different here, since there were at least ten candidates from various parties on the ballot. But the real race is between two men, acting prez, Bronislaw Komorowski and the late President's twin brother, Jaroslaw. He is the former prime minister and had achieved meager levels of popularity when he was voted out in 2007.

He represents the far-right, anti-Euro nationalist movement and has campaigned under the imaginative slogan: "Poland is most important". SuTprisingly, he has gained in the polls thanks to the country being in a time of crisis. Due to the undending torrents of rainfall in the countryside, the Vistula river has overflowed its banks and left many small villages underwater. The current interim government has provided about $1800 per citizen displaced by the floods, yet Kaczynski has played armchair crisis manager in calling for the payments to be doubled.

Pundits predict that "Bronek" (Komorowski) will fail to win the 50% majority for outright victory today. That means the inevitable run-off between the two leading vote-getters on July 4th. Definitely some historic moments going on here in Poland.

Goodbye Dad . . .

James Gaspersich, age 69, passed away at home in Hibbing on May 13, surrounded by family. He is finally at peace after a 7 1/2 year battle with chondrosarcoma that never extinguished his dynamic spirit and zest for life.

He was born February 27, 1941, in Virginia, MN to Frank and Angela Gaspersich and graduated from Mt. Iron High School in 1959. After a short-lived career as a plumber, he attended St. Mary's School of Nursing in Milwaukee and graduated as a registered nurse in 1965. Commissioned as a 2nd Lieutenant in the U.S. Army, he served in the Army nurse corp at Letterman General Hospital in San Francisco. After his discharge from the service, he returned to the Iron Range in 1968 and continued his education at Hibbing School of Anesthesia, becoming a certified nurse anesthetist.

From there, he commenced a career in anesthesia, beginning at Hibbing General Hospital, becoming chief of the department at Mesabi Regional Medical Center, and retiring from Fairview Range Regional Health Services in 2002 due to his illness. Along the way, he found his true calling, easing the pain of others. He cherished the friendships he made with his colleagues, and was truly blessed to work in such a compassionate environment.

While employed at Hibbing General Hospital, he met his true love, Janet Nelson, on May 25, 1968. They were united in marriage two years later, on June 6th, devoting a lifetime to raising their three sons and pursuing a passion for gardening and holiday yard decorations. He was also an active part of St. Leo's parish, serving for many years on the board of trustees, and was a member of the Knights of Columbus. Throughout his retirement, he cultivated his love of woodworking, constructing countless treasures for friends and family, but still found time to enjoy the peaceful solitude of yard work or plowing the driveways of Highway 37.

James is preceded in death by his parents, Frank and Angela Gaspersich. He is survived by his wife Janet; three sisters, Angela Bauer of Milwaukee, WI, Vivian (Herb) Schur of Rochester, MN, and Dolores (Ted) Huska of Hibbing; son Paul, daughter-in-law Jennifer and their two children Griffin and Lauren, of Blaine, MN; son Mark of Warsaw, Poland; and son David of Isanti, MN; and mother-in-law Edith Nelson, of Pengilly; and numerous nieces, nephews, and cousins.

National Tragedy . . .

The whole country is in a state of complete shock as we mourn the loss of 96 government officials, including the President and first lady of Poland. Several times this past weekend, I walked down to the Presidential Palace which is about a 1/2 mile from my apartment to both pay my respects and marvel at the outpouring of emotion from what seemed like hundreds of thousands as they made the trek down to the official residence of Lech Kaczynski. This is a short video of the memorial only a few short hours after the country was given word of the catastrophe.



This shrine has now mushroomed in size since that afternoon, as most who pay their respects place a votive candle or a flower near the entrance to the grounds. You can feel the heat emanating from all the flickering torches within a hundred feet of the shrine. A view from above is the only way to get true sense of how many Poles have made the pilgrimage to mourn their leader. This video was taken yesterday at noon as the country observe two minutes of silence as sirens and bells rang through the streets.



Yesterday the President's body was driven from the airport to the palace where it will lie in state all week until the funeral on Saturday. Everything in the city came to a standstill as thousands lined the streets watching the motorcade pass by and throwing flowers at the foot of the hearse. City buses ringed the center as their normal routes were clogged with mourners and their vehicles. Hundreds on motorcycles and bicycles followed the procession after it went by.

There has been endless speculation about the cause of the accident and both black boxes have reportedly been recovered in good condition. Some point to an incident in 2008 when Kaczynski threatened a pilot after refusing to land in Tbilisi, Georgia and the political pressure to be at the ceremony commemorating the Katyn massacre. Whatever the cause, be it mechanical failure, pilot error, or a president under pressure, any efforts to establish blame won't bring back 96 people to their families.

World Cross Country Championships in Poland

I witnessed some truly breath-taking performances last weekend at the World Cross Country Championships in Bydgoszcz (BID-gohshch), Poland. This middle sized city in the northwest quadrant, located at the confluence of the Vistula and Brda Rivers, somehow landed the bid to host runners from over 50 nations in a competition to see who was the best off-road, middle-distance runner. In actuality, it ended up to be a competition to see which teams could produce the second best harriers worldwide since Kenya swept all four individual race titles, and won all four team championships at the junior and senior levels. These guys were FAST! And the U.S. women's team finished with the bronze medal in the women's senior division, but were definitely gold medalists in the aesthetically pleasing division.

Is that you John Wayne?

Again, one of those extraordinary opportunities came knocking at my door a few months ago. And by extraordinary, I mean this to be a virtually impossible occurrence for me if I was back stateside. But here in Polska, it is the land of opportunity if you happen to have the right accent. An almost surreal experience it was, but for unmentionable reasons, I decided to let this simmer for a time before publishing in the Chronicle.

Prior to getting the call up to the big show on the silver screen, my acting resume consisted of only this. My one blazing moment of profanity, err, I mean, glory. This had been a spinoff of a magazine shoot for the Warsaw Frogs rugby team, and was one of those "right place, right time" lucky breaks.

Last November, a casting agent stopped by one of our practice sessions looking for American voices for a film. Apparently there is a shortage of them here in Warsaw, or agencies just don't know where to look. In any case, this makes my terrible acting abilities in high demand as long as I can remember my lines and not take two many photos for the Chronicle while on the set. Fortunately, this role only required me to give a campy rendition of an American soldier leading his troops on a search for an escaped terrorist. My lines: "You are surrounded. There is no escape. Drop your weapon and come out with your hands up!" Later, this struck me as odd, being that the dangerous man we were on the hunt for, Muhammad, probably only spoke Arabic. But I guess you have to suspend disbelief at some point for any movie. There was also a command into a walkie-talkie "Roger that. 13.2 west." which I couldn't quite say without sounding too much like John Wayne. At least this is what the director's assistant said. What the hell does he know about John Wayne anyway? The guy grew up here. Besides, as I explained, all American soldiers think they are John Wayne anyway. I'm guessing they'll do a voiceover on that one.

Me as a commanding officer in the Marines. Now that was a stretch. But once again, throw all that logic stuff out the window when watching action movies. If Arnold can play a kindergarten teacher (Kindergarten Cop), Sly Stallone a cabbie turned country singer (He was overlooked by the Academy for Rhinestone opposite Dolly Parton), and Bruce Willis, a sperm (Look Who's Talking!), then surely I can have a turn at being a soldier.

You saw the Bourne movies right? A friend of mine, upon seeing me in these pictures, quipped: "Is this the fourth installmet in the Jason Bourne series, entitiled Bourne Retarded?" Pretty clever. I must say that I felt pretty awkward in this getup but as long as the check clears, I'm just going with it.

This filmshoot was apparently the real deal, a movie that should actually see the big screen outside Poland. It also was directed by Roman Polanski's contemporary, Jerzy Skolimowski, who was a pretty nice guy. I tried to bond with him over coffee in the make-up trailer, but he really wasn't one for small talk. Really the only thing we have in common is that we both like Poland. So we got that goin'. I'm sure he'll invite me to be his guest at Cannes.

I never got to meet the star of the show, Vincent Gallo, but apparently he really throws himself into a role and there is no limit to how far he will go to push a scene past the limits of good taste. I won't elaborate any further but this film should be pretty shocking. I'm doubting it will hit the big screen at a megaplex near you but there is some footage from when they shot the first part of the movie in Israel.

My scene consisted of me commanding a platoon of 22 Marines, including two snipers and eight German Shepherds. It was the only light moment of the whole film and if I don't end up on the cutting room floor, I will get ahold of the DVD and hope to post some footage, if for only the opportunity for my buddy Joe to heap more merciless criticism on top of my pseudo-thespian abilities. Weird times, as usual over here in Polska.