Around Babia Day 2
Month: May 2005
Around Babia Day 1
Tatical Nuclear Theater Ticket Stike
In Moscow, Putin angered Poland. How? By failing to mention Poland’s tragic victimhood in the Second World War. Poles were infuriated. But the president of the republic said nothing -- he was a perfect politician.
In cafes and bars, plans for a strategic nuclear strike were drawn up and then abandoned with the realization that Poland doesn’t have nukes. The thought of using the forty-eight F-16 fighters in a mass attack was also abandoned because, well, they haven’t been delivered yet, and the fighter is rather ill-suited for bombing runs.
In the end, Poles did what they could – the one voice of protest and ill-will Poles could manage: they gave back their theater tickets. In Warsaw, a Russian dance troupe was scheduled to perform. Virtually all the tickets were returned.
Counter-strike, thought Putin. Now, instead of coming to Poland for a ceremony celebrating the end of the Second World War, he’s sending the a henchman.
Russia’s actions are widely seen here as a gigantic, Slavic middle finger extended in Poland’s general direction. I’ve wondered what the Russian interpretation of all this is, but since I don’t know Russian, I’m left imagining. The old master-and-servant mentality? Colony and colonizer? I don’t know.
Covering
I've been working on my cover letter for my teaching resume. I haven't written a cover letter in five years or so -- it's rusty, to say the least.
In a cover letter, you're selling yourself. Hire me! Here's why!
I've felt comfortable being a salesman. I once spent a summer trying to sell cutlery door-to-door. Vacuum cleaners would probably be an easier sale, but certainly knives are easier to sell than encyclopedias or religion.
Selling anything door-to-door is a hassle. It's an intrusion.
I was a waiter for a few months in 1996. A customer offered me a job selling mobile homes because I'd convinced him to buy a dessert. I twisted his arm and shoved his face into a pile of whipped cream -- that's how I did it. I'm not sure such a tactic would work with mobile homes.
Never did find out if I'd have had to sell the tires to go on the roof as well.
Still, being a waiter is easier than selling religion or vacuums door-to-door. The customer comes to you. The customer says, "Sell me something! Take my money!" Door-to-door means, "Excuse me. I'd like to take up your time now -- I know you're probably busy, but screw that -- and sell you something. Why, you've probably already got knives, a vacuum, and a faith, but mine's better."
Two girls once came to my door to sell me religion. It was in Boston, July 2002, when I'd gone back to spend the summer in the States. I'd been trying unsuccessfully to sell myself, but I couldn't do it -- I was still unemployed. It was hot and humid, and I just didn't feel like dealing with Mormons at that hour in that heat (the apartment didn't have air conditioning) and without a second cup of coffee. And really -- who could have more coffee when it's so hot? Sweat dripping off your nose into the French roast isn't appealing. So I told the girls I wasn't interested, even though I was. No, I didn't want to convert, but a game of dogma-chess is always fun. Well, they were Mormons -- dogma-tic-tac-toe.
So here I am, trying to sell myself without making it look like I'm trying to sell myself, even though every administrator who reads my cover letter is shopping for a teacher and knows that I'm trying to sell myself.
Slovakian
Kinga and I recently took a three-day bike trip to Slovakia.
Getting to Liptovsky Mikulas required riding over the Tatra Mountains. We could have gone around the western tip of them, but we decided that, having gone that way to Budapest, we'd rather see some different views.
And that we did. The weather was mercifully cloudy, but a bit windy at times, making the trip over the mountain (according to roadsides, a 12% grade) all the more difficult. Why is it that the wind is always a headwind when you really need a tailwind?
Wyjechaliśmy z Jabłonki o dziewiątej rano. Pierwszy odcinek do Podbiela przez Orawę nie sprawił nam żadnych trudności. Ale od zakrętu na Zuberec droga zaczyna się piąć w górę — najpierw nieznacznie, ale z każdym kilometrem trzeba było coraz ciężej pracować.
2–3 km za Zubercem zaczyna się przeprawa przez Tatry Zachodnie — Rohacze. Wiedzieliśmy, że czeka nas przeprawa przez góry, ale nie zdawaliśmy sobie do końca sprawy, jak kiepska jest jeszcze nasza kondycja w tym sezonie. Przebrnęliśmy przez te Rohacze, wjechaliśmy na wysokość ponad 1100 m n.p.m., ale to był koszmar. Niby tylko 7 km pod górę, ale nachylenie terenu wynosiło ok. 14%.
Bardzo często się zatrzymywaliśmy, żeby odpocząć. Usprawiedliwialiśmy się pięknymi widokami i śmialiśmy się z braku kondycji. Ale muszę przyznać, że widoki na tej trasie są wspaniałe — polecam ją wszystkim rowerzystom. Za każdym zakrętem odsłaniało się coś innego. Najpierw obserwowaliśmy pozostawione w dole wioski, później widzieliśmy już tylko góry — coraz wyższe, coraz bardziej skaliste, aż wreszcie najwyższe szczyty Rohaczy, jeszcze oczywiście zaśnieżone.
Kiedy wyjechaliśmy wreszcie na przełęcz, zobaczyliśmy już Niskie Tatry i Liptowską Marę — cel naszej podróży. Teraz czekała na nas wspaniała nagroda — około 7–8 km bez najmniejszego wysiłku, przynajmniej wysiłku nóg, bo okrutnie bolały mnie ręce od hamowania. Nie dało się jechać zbyt szybko po tych serpentynach.
Of course, we saw some magnificent views.
Movin’
In less than fifty days, Kinga and I are moving.
It’s not a cross-town move, probably the worst, because you are reasonably sure you can do it all yourself with a little help from a few friends. And so you rent a truck and put all your possessions in it and drive across town and unload it and then do it again.
And again. The what-to-ditch filter is not so incredibly fine, and you end up ditching precious little, and regretting it when it’s ten at night and you started before seven and you’re still not done.
It’s not a cross-country move. I’ve done that too. Well, sort of. My parents did half the work, because I was moving back from Poland to Boston. They brought most of my stuff up from Virginia, and so I guess they did the hard part.
No, Kinga and I are doing a trans-oceanic move. A continental move, which is both easier and more difficult than a cross-town move. What gets left behind is a much larger pile than what comes along.
Of course all the furniture stays.
Of course all the artwork should go, but – and here’s where it’s more difficult than a cross-town move – the possibility of damage necessitates tough decisions. We have two amazing glass paintings, one of which will stay due to its size of about thirty-six by twenty-four inches.
Of course most of the clothes go. But trans-oceanic moves also force you to clean out your closet. I’ve already ditched one pair of shoes. It was on a recent three-day bike trip to Slovakia. Instead of hauling the old, worn-out things back to Poland, I left them in the hostel, much to Kinga’s delight. Like many wives, she doesn’t appreciate old, comfortable shoes
Books occupy a curious place in the move – they’ll be packed up, but not all sent. Once we get a decent place to live, we’ll have them sent. Until then, most of them are staying in Poland.
Then there’s the question of computers, cameras, and other fragile electronics. And bikes – we have three.
Decisions, decisions.
Perhaps the most difficult part of it is the fact that a cross-state move awaits. My folks have been collecting furniture for us the last few months, so we’ll have to rent a truck, pack it up, and…
A Day at the Lake
Wooden Church of Svaty Kriz
Return from Slovakia
Vrbické Pleso: Slovakian Mountain Lake Ride
