The First Post from Krakow

I’ve been in Krakow for almost exactly one week, so I think things have percolated enough to get down something. My jet lag is a (not so) fond memory, and my Polish has progressed to…well, it’s progressed.

I’m sitting, right now, on the shore of the Vistula, right below Wawel Castle, and across from the Hotel Polska, the Japanese Museum, and the Jubilat Headquarters. The sun is out, maybe 16 or 17 degrees, and despite the fact that it’s the middle of the workday, people seem to be strolling. Or commuting…I can’t quite get a read on people’s goals here yet. The students—all 200,000 of them—won’t arrive until Wednesday, so the city still has a bit of an older, quieter feel about it.
Apart from that, here are some things that struck me, today, yesterday, or during the 48-hour haze that marked my arrival.

* Bagels. They’re not called bagels here—only in Warsaw—but they’re sold everywhere. Zl1.20, sesame seed, poppy seed, or salt. And damn tasty, if I do say so. They’re a bit less chewy than a New York-style, but I’m not about to criticize something in its homeland.

* Trams. Krakow has a pretty extensive tram system, augmented by busses. It costs about a dollar to ride, and they’re on the validated paper ticket system (i.e. no driver interaction). The nice thing is, the EU has brought a flood of development Euros, which have meant, in terms of transit, a fleet of new, low-floored trams, along the lines, I think, of the ones the TTC keeps talking about buying to replace the Streetcars. The older ones are still in service, and have either a rounded, inter-war look, or a jagged, 70’s, Commie look about them.

* Young British Men. I went out with my hosts and some university friends of their on Friday night, to a nice little café in the Old City, and then to a newer café down the street, for the “Boston Sandwich.” If anyone wants to tell me why this involves marinated pumpkin, I’d appreciate it. But heading home, and even on the sidewalk outside the bar, we encountered the dark side of the zloty-Euro exchange rate: drunk Brits on stag. Imagine a frat boy, maybe pastier and with a slightly higher penchant for violence. Sitting on the sidewalk, or making passes at everything in a skirt, its kind of embarrassing…until I remembered I’m not English. It’s nice to be asked “English or American” and have the correct answer be the right answer, for once.

I have a job interview in a few hours, at a newer school in the old Jewish district. Once things settle down more, and I have a flat, and some Polish skills, come visit. Until then, I’ll keep things interesting. As they say here, Do Widzenia.

Random Thoughts on Dublin Airport's Terminal D

I’m writing this in what I can only assume is a newly constructed departures hall at the Dublin Airport. I saw newly constructed because I was sitting in this very airport, four years ago, and this is definitely a step up. Dublin, they say, has joined the ranks of the European capitals, both in cost and culture. Although I haven’t been in Dublin since the winter of 2004, if one can judge a city by its airport, this is certainly the case.

Although, I must admit, my judgment may be skewed. It’s ten minutes past 6 in the morning as I write this, having failed to find a Wi-Fi signal despite an illuminated “Internet Point” sign, directly below one reading “No Smoking.” Did I mention that I got off a flight from JFK an hour ago, on which, I failed to get more than a few winks of sleep? And so, I wander up and down the concourse, waiting for my Krakow boarding call, and marveling at the size of the crowds here, at 5:30 in the morning. And tea (TEA!!) is like €2.50, so my breakfast, so far, has consisted of a glorified airplane shotglass of orange juice before I landed, a Moro bar, and a 500ml bottle of Diet Coke.

But I digress. The concourse I’m sitting in as I type this is ultra-modern, designed to the last detail. Everything is a pale shade of gray or ivory, utterly unobjectionable and noticeably clean. The one exception is the flaming red that surrounds the information booths, currency exchanges, and vending machines. The signage seems to indicate that there was, or sometimes is, or maybe will be, Wi-Fi internet throughout it. The ceilings are high and the walls, for the most part, glass or opaque panels. Poetry, in Irish and English, is etched into the barriers between the waiting areas and the hallways to the runways. And yet, a quick look out the window reveals that despite all this advanced architecture, one still boards planes, at least at this terminal, by walking across the runway, inhaling jetliner exhaust and feeling the weather, before walking up a flight of metal steps mounted on surprisingly small tires.

Requisite Election Year Political Post

While I was in Chicago, I spent most of my time bumming in various coffee shops—they’ve got a bunch of great ones, particularly Café Ambrosia (1620 Orrington Avenue, in Evanston), and the Boystown Caribou Café (I was living in Lakeview, around the corner). When I came down to Jackson County, NC, coffee shops are few and far between, and everything is outside of walking distance, so instead of reading Huff-Po and William Gibson novels while working my way through a liter or two of coffee, I decided to do something, you know, useful.

So, a few days after I arrived, I tracked down the local HQ for the Obama-Biden campaign, in Cullowhee (next town over). Turns out, they’re headquartered, locally anyway, in an old gas station. Drinks for the volunteers are in a gas-station fridge with sliding dispensers, and the washroom is out the door and around the corner (it IS a gas station, after all). So, I spend my time calling mountain folk, asking them who they want to be president, and suffering through their screeds when they don’t want Obama. Oh, and did I mention the plate glass window that got hit with the ass end of a hurled garbage can?

And then, as if we were living in a pulp rewrite of Vineland, John McCain opens up HIS Jackson Country HQ…right across the street. I have what you might calla hunch that this fall is going to be awfully interesting. I’m going to keep the political stuff to a minimum, since bathing in polls and editorial every day has proven bad for my mental health. I will say this, though. If McCain wins, I’m probably not coming back for the foreseeable future. I’ve got plans in Poland, and a Canadian work visa that’s valid until July 2, 2011. And I have no (NO) qualms about using it.

And We're Back...

So, it’s been more than a year since the last post, but the posts dwindled a year ago because…well, because nothing noteworthy seemed to be happening, and since I’m determined not to turn this into “my online space for self-reflection,” which seems more like “my online space for public, intellectual masturbation.”

But since things are starting to happen again, it seemed like as good a time as any to revive it. So, to recap:

I graduated from university, in English and Russian Lit, and soon after, left Canada. I took a combination of greyhound and Amtrak to Chicago, and stayed there for a few weeks, hanging out at Ambrosia Evanston, and talking to some possible employers in Krakow. I came down to North Carolina about a week ago, and started working remotely on Monday. On Saturday, I’ll be heading up to New York, and on Sunday, flying Aer Lingus from JFK to Krakow, by way of Dublin.

I’ve got one job in the bag there, teaching English over Skype, and another couple waiting for me upon arrival. And I’ve just begun teaching myself survival Polish, which will become full-fledged study once I arrive.

So, here I am, on the cusp, I suppose. This should be interesting.