matching tracksuits

fun in threes, sometimes fours

Last Tango

Wednesday 08 June 2005

Kinga mentioned as we were getting ready for bed that this is “one of the last nights” we’d be sleeping in the apartment. “The next to last, actually,” I said, for we’re moving out tomorrow.

One of the most haunting and yet most disconcerting aspects of moving is the consciousness we have of being in a stream of “lasts.” The last time we’ll sleep in this apartment. The last time we’ll lug stuff up these steps.

The last morning coffee here.

Generally, we have no idea a “last” is approaching, though. They take us by surprise and can leave us reeling if it’s a significant last – the last time she talked to her father, for example. You’d think that foreknowledge is a good thing, then. But it tempers everything and makes every moment both indefinitely long and breathtakingly short.

Lying in bed last night, thinking these things, I recalled a poem by W. S. Merwin:

For the Anniversary of My Death

Every year without
knowing it I have passed the day
When the last fires will wave to me
And the silence will set out
Tireless traveller
Like the beam of a lightless star
Then I will no longer
Find myself in
life as in a strange garment
Surprised at the earth
And the love of one woman
And the shamelessness of men
As today writing after three days of rain
Hearing the wren sing and the falling cease
And bowing not knowing to what

Coffee

Tuesday 07 June 2005

Heading back home--I had a break between lessons--I stopped at the shop across the street where I've done all my shopping for seven years to buy coffee. I picked up the big half-kilo package from habit and headed to the cashier.

"When will you be leaving?" she asked as she rung up my puchases.

"About two weeks. A little less," I replied. "But Kinga and I will be moving out of the apartment this Thursday," I continued.

So what are you buying this huge coffee for, you dolt, I thought.

Indeed, I should have saved money -- a few groszy (Polish cents, really), but money is money -- and bought the smaller coffee.

The weird things one has to take into consideration when moving...

I Wanna Fly Away

Monday 06 June 2005

I knew it was going to be an interesting evening when, browsing the hosts' bookselves, I saw the title Astral Projection.

"I'm a pagan," explained the hostess, and suddenly I wished I had a hidden camera.

Learn how to leave your body--walk through walls--fly around your neighborhood--meet your deceased loved ones and astral spirits--communicate with your guides and teachers--experience other dimensions--and even travel through time to witness past or future events! And Much Much More! 100 percent Guaranteed...

Later in the evening, I overheard the hostess saying, "When I mention love spells, people ask me, 'Oh, you can cast spells?! Can you make that cute guy fall in love with me?!' I just laugh and say, 'It doesn't work that way.'"

It works, just not that way. How, pray tell, would a "love spell" work, then?

Of course, I wandered around the 'net for a while the next day. I found this:

Hi. My name is Bob. I'm slowly becoming more and more interested in astral travel but have a few questions. Would you please help me with these?? I included all of you after reading the testimony you gave on machoneaudio.com. Serious responces [sic] only please.

  1. Are you ever in any danger when you are having an OBE? (i.e. demons, evil spirits, danger of not being able to come back, ...)
  2. Can you use these OBE for the purposes of becoming a person more loving??
  3. Do you meet angels/gardian [sic] spirits??? If so, what do they say to you??
  4. Have you ever attempted to draw near to the heavenly realms, and what happened if you did??

Again, please bare with me. I always was under the impression that this kinda thing was either dangerous or unhealthy.

I simply have some questions that I want to ask people who have done this theirselves, instead of simply reading a book.

I would appreciate your time and advice, whatever you think I should hear!

I knew that he didn't want a smart-ass response, and I realized as I typed away, giggling, that I was being very childish...but I couldn't resist:

Some tips about astral project/travel:

  1. It's the 21st century, so don't get caught up in silly gimmicks. Stick to the basics when it comes to obe.
  2. Because it's only something that exists in your mind, you need to bear in mind that everything you see is not what it seems but only an illusion produced by your gullibility.
  3. It's the 21st century, so remember that most people have replaced superstition for scientific knowledge. Keep that in mind during your travels.
  4. If you encounter a fellow traveler or a demon, it's probably just an acid flashback.
  5. It's perfectly safe to leave your body – nothing will hurt it – as long as you leave a shotgun by your body's side so it can protect itself.
  6. The body has a mind of it's own, so always lock the door before leaving your body.
  7. If you're tempted to take this all as a joke, you're probably too intelligent to be messing with astral projection.
  8. It's the 21st century. Remember that.
  9. If you've had as much fun reading this as I have writing it, you're probably too intelligent to be messing with astral projection.
  10. It's the 21st century. Remember that all religious hoaxes have been cleared by the bright dawn of scientific literacy. If you're tempted to believe this, you're probably not firmly in the 21st century.

Hope this helps.

In the exchange that followed, I got called "sagaciously stupid," "sophmoric [sic]," "childish," and he referred to my thoughts as "the luminous pearls of wisdom you so enlightened me with."

Guilty on most counts, I guess.

Astral projection makes objective claims that should, in theory, be testable: your spirit can leave your body. As a non-believer, I have a great problem with the whole notion of a ghost in the machine, but that aside, it's still problematic. If astral projection is possible, where's the proof? If it's this great feat that anyone, with a bit of training and practice, can master, why not prove it?

How could we do this? Easily. Early in the NASA program, before any probes had made it to a foreign planet, an astral projectionist (I don't know the correct term.) could have "gone" to Venus, for example, an given a detailed account of what we'd find there. Then, when we send a probe ourselves, we check it. If astral projection is true, bingo: we have the evidence.

Funny thing is, something like this was indeed done, only not with Venus but with Jupiter. Of the claims made, something like 15-20% were true, but obvious from current knowledge (i.e., it's gaseous, there are storms on the surface). A small proportion were unverifiable because either the claim was ambiguous or the data received was ambiguous. The vast majority of the astral projectionist's claims were dead wrong. Proof that it doesn't work? Not really. But it certainly makes it extremely suspect. (You can read more about this in James Randi's Flim-Flam.)

Fathers’ Computer

Sunday 05 June 2005

This week Kinga and I finished getting DSL installed for my her dad's computer, as well as a general overhaul of the whole thing -- re-installing Windows (that basic computer admin hell known only to Microsoft victims), cleaning out old files, etc.

And teaching him how to use a webcam. Actually, much to his credit, he figured that out for himself. We'd shown him how to use Skype: for voice chatting, but it doesn't include video chatting at the moment. For that, I reluctantly installed MS Messenger, and he figured out the rest while Kinga and I were at home Saturday morning.

He does catch on fairly quickly, I must admit -- once you show him something, he remembers it.

But like many people new to computers, he's not comfortable learning as I did: clicking around, thinking, "Hum, wonder what this does."

It has, once again, shown me how relatively "ahead of his times" my father is. Our first computer was a TRS-80, with, I think, a staggering 8kb of memory. Those were the days -- plugging your computer into the television as a monitor, and connecting it to a cassette recorder in order to load a program.

Next we had an IBM PC Jr. It was a waste of time, I think, and Dad quickly upgraded to "the last computer we'll ever need." It had a mind-blowing 40 MB hard drive.

Jan, Kinga's father, didn't touch a computer until Kinga bought one for university. But in his typical, admirable fashion, he bought books and magazines and read up on the world of computers, even if he didn't understand it all.

Now that he's got DSL, he doesn't feel guilty sitting for hours at the computer, just wandering around the internet.

Afternoon in Jablonka

Saturday 04 June 2005

Three Random June Thoughts

Tuesday 31 May 2005

One

June is finally here -- the month of our return. After four years in Poland, I’m moving back to America. After twenty-some years in Poland, Kinga is moving to America. Big transitions for both of us.

“You’re more European now,” she said last night, not commenting though on what I’m more European than. I suppose than I was. She mentioned the almost cliche change some Muslim men exhibit when, after marriage and returning home with their new wife, they suddenly revert to ultra Islam and become a new person -- much to the bride’s dismay. I suppose that’s what she meant -- more European than American, and her concern was about me becoming a fast-food bubba.

Two

In the process of packing, I found the old photos I’d taken before coming to Poland the first time, almost ten years ago now.

They were intended to be spare identification photos, though I doubt they’d suffice. Looking at them, I’m shocked at how much I’ve changed and how little I’ve realized that. I look in the mirror every day, after all, and so the changes -- receding hairline, more mature eyes, lack of the scars of adolescence -- slipped by me. I imagine that’s how it’ll be with Kinga as time passes. “What will she look like when she’s forty?” I ask myself, knowing the answer will still be “beautiful.” But it’s hard to imagine the marks time will make, and now I see it’s doubtful I’ll even notice until I look at our wedding album.

Three

Back to America. I haven’t been to the States in three years -- too-busy summers and a lack of money will do that to you. “Reverse culture shock” is something you hear about from time to time, and I’m wondering if it’s hovering there, a few weeks in the future. When I went back for the first time in 1998, after two years in Poland, the difference was profound. The quality of roads was something I’d totally forgotten about, so used to bumping along I’d become. The ability to understand almost everyone around me without trying felt almost like a dirty secret. “Do they realize I understand everything they’re saying?”

But most shocking was the choice -- fifty-seven varieties of everything. The entire row of paper products (paper towels, napkins, etc.) at Super Wal-Mart literally stopped me mid-stride. Channel after channel on the television, all in English. Restaurants for every conceivable palate and wallet.

And so I know the feeling of “My oh my” that awaits Kinga.

Complain

Monday 30 May 2005

It seems all I do is complain about Poland lately. But the truth is, I’m not the only one.

Many people here feel that the country is in bad shape, due primarily to corruption, and only getting worse.

There are so many wonderful things about this country — it’s a shame that the most visible thing for me and many is the negative.

Health Care in Poland

Monday 30 May 2005

is a joke.

To begin with, there’s no private insurance to speak of because its’ too expensive. Insurance in general is expensive here. Almost no one here has his car insured against theft. Considering the fact that an inexpensive new car would cost me twenty months’ of my salary, that’s ridiculous.

There is free public health care for everyone, but that’s only in theory. In practice, a lack of physicians and a lack of motivation (i.e., low salary) on the part of practicing physicians mean long waits for appointments (a matter of months sometimes) and ineffective services.

When you visit a doctor in a public clinic in Poland, you probably won’t be asked many questions. The doctor will get his pittance no matter how well he serves you, so he’d just as soon send you on your way so he can get through the multitude of patients he has for the day. A cursory glance, a question or two, and then whip out the prescription pad.

Not only that, but supplies are non-existent. You have to go buy your own anti-toxin, for example, if you step on a nail. If you’re coming in for an extended stay in the hospital (i.e., to give birth), you have bring your own toilet paper. And so on.

So public health care is dismal. If you want to get better, you go to a private clinic — and pay.

Personal case in point: I had throat problems a couple of years ago. Several visits to laryngologist working at the public hospital produced few results. One visit to a private laryngologist all but solved the problem. The difference: she didn’t just jot down a prescription after a cursory glance at my throat. She performed a detailed examination, with lots of questions, then provided not just a prescription, but a regimen for throat care.

The problem is pay — or lack thereof. Doctors are flooding out of Poland, mainly to Scandinavia.

The Shot

Sunday 29 May 2005

Kinga stepped on a rusty nail Saturday. Never mind how — that’s a story in and of itself.

This is not the story of the rusty nail, but of getting the tetanus shot.

We went to the local health clinic, only to find that they didn’t have any anti-toxin for tetanus shots. “You’ll have to go to Nowy Targ,” which is about thirty minutes away.

We got to the hospital in Nowy Targ, got Kinga registered, and waited. Within a few moments, someone took Kinga back to some room. In the meantime, I wandered about the waiting room, reading this and that. There was an article in the local paper, enlarged to the point of exaggeration, which reported that the Nowy Targ hospital had been ranked in the top 100 in Poland — number 69 to be exact. I scanned the article — boring — and then sat back down.

Kinga emerged a few minutes later rubbing her arm and holding a slip of paper.

“That was fast,” I thought. “Kudos to the NT hospital for fast service.”

“We have to go to the pharmacy,” she said.

“What for?” I asked.

“They don’t have anti-toxin either. I have to buy it myself.”

Trip to Slovakia

Saturday 28 May 2005

Survival Mode

Tuesday 24 May 2005

And out of the blue yesterday, a tolerable lesson with The Class. What makes them tick? I have no idea. Such a strange group of kids. Monday was living hell; yesterday was survivable, even decent. But still, the same old folks were up to the same old game – gap speaking activity turned into a copy-your-partner’s-worksheet activity. And of course the usual suspects didn’t come to class with anymaterials whatsoever, then use that as an excuse to sit and draw all lesson.

I’ve finally realized with that class that I simply can’t make them learn, and so I concentrate now on the five to seven students (depending on their moods) who want to learn, with the four hardest-working students (and therefore, best behaved) at the front of the room. I talk to them, and glance at the others from time to time, in case someone there gives a crap. Most of them don’t, it seems.

The other day, I all but told them this. I said that I really didn’t care whether they care anymore, and that I’m going to put all my attention on those who in turn pay attention. “Tak jest,” said the best student – a young man who has, I believe, one B (a 4 in the Polish system) this semester.

I worry this might be self-defeating in the long run, and not a very good classroom management method. Still, I’ve got about three weeks of school left, and I’m just in survival mode with them now.

Ride to Zab

Saturday 21 May 2005

Babia Gora

Thursday 19 May 2005

Kinga and I decided one of the last things we wanted to do before leaving for the States was to take a trip around the most prominent geographical feature of this area: Babia Góra, roughly translated “Lady’s Mountain.”

The Views

Babia known as “Królowej Beskidów” (“Queen of the Beskidy”), and is the highest mountain (1,724.6 meters above sea level – 5,658.4 feet) in the Beskidy mountain range, which is in turn seen as a part of the Carpathian Mountains (Wikipedia: Babia Góra||Beskidy).

Babia is an odd mountain, in that it looks radically different from different locations.

I see it daily from the south, and it’s a claim, motherly looking mountain that looks peaceful and wise. From the north, though, it’s almost violent looking and feels more like the Tatra range further to the south.

North face of Babia

Living in Lipnica so long, I’ve been to Babia many times, though due to a persistent knee injury, I’ve never made it to the top.

Our route took us around the eastern edge of Babia to Zawoja, then north to Sucha Beskidzka.

Nie wiem, jak to się stało, że jeszcze nie objechaliśmy Babiej dookoła. Już trzeci sezon jeździmy, mieszkamy u stóp Babiej i jak do tej pory nie wpadliśmy na to. Być może dlatego, że te drogi są nam znane, zbyt oczywiste. Ale okazuje się, że druga strona Babiej Góry to istny raj dla nas i gdybyśmy zostawali dłużej, to na pewno wybralibyśmy się jeszcze raz nieco inną drogą. Z Zawoi jest kilka ciekawych skrótów w kierunku Koszarawy i Jeleśni. My pojechaliśmy przez Suchą, bo chciałyśmy zobaczyć zamek. Od momentu, kiedy zaczęli robić modernizację ewidencji w Raciborzu, co jakiś czas tamtędy przejeżdżałam i miałam ochotę zobaczyć, co też oni tam mają za zamek w tej Suchej.

A Babia od strony Zawoi wygląda inaczej, rzeczywiście groźniej, szczególnie teraz, kiedy jeszcze leży na niej śnieg. Widok od Orawy jest dla mnie bardzo uspokajający — taka nasza Babia siedzi sobie i obejmuje Orawę od Lipnicy Wielkiej aż po Zubrzycę.

-ation

Thursday 19 May 2005

I did a lesson on word formation with a group of juniors today. We worked on turning nouns to adjectives (i.e., beauty to beautify) verbs to nouns (i.e., improve to improvement), and then I stunned them with the news that they were going to learn more than a thousand new words during the lesson.

It's an easy lingustic trick, really. Words that end in "-ation" in English usually are virtually identical in Polish, only with an "-acja" (pronounced "aat-see-ya") suffix, or a variation.

  • "revolution" is "rewolucja"
  • "inflation" is "inflacja"
  • "distribution" is "dystrybucja"

I don't think I need to elaborate on what word young Rafał blurted out in class...

The Balance?

Tuesday 17 May 2005

At Google's news site, the top two headlines currently:

  • Newsweek Retracts Koran Desecration Story
  • Soldier Is Found Guilty in Abu Ghraib Abuse

Nice balance.