In the last post (I’m not linking, just scroll down, you lazy schmuck), I mentioned that contrary to the sentiment of “Bezrobotny,” I’d seemed to have fallen into a relatively stable work situation, for which I was awaiting phone calls and confirmations of hours. To which the cosmos replied, reading from a collection of Robert Burns, “The best laid plans of mice and men / often go awry.” One by one, schools failed to call, and again, one by one, informed me of the economical impossibility of employing me, or simply disappeared, never to be heard from again. At this point, with one private student and two through the Skype School, my workweek consists of 6 hours, totaling 168 zlote in pay. Did I mention that the exchange rate has been plummeting for some unfathomable reason?
Yesterday (Monday) marked four weeks since my arrival in Krakow back in September. For the last month, I’ve been sleeping on a fold-out couch in the spare room of some friends of the family, unsuccessfully hustling for work and sitting in various cafes, reading or trying to find a day without embarrassing news online. Suffice it to say, this isn’t exactly what I had in mind. But as those of you who know me well no doubt already know, when I have undue amounts of time on my hands, which was more often than not, considering my study habits, I tend to think. And think. And reconsider. And think again. And because I can’t really travel, what with money being tight and my needing to stay in Krakow, in case someone actually DOES call, time is the one thing I’ve got in spades.
So, I’ve had more than enough time to think this over, and then reconsider it, and then think it over again. And I’ve come to the conclusion that, for a myriad of reasons, Krakow is not really the place for me to be right now. Mainly, its because my goals for this year to either put away a pot of money for tuition/living when I got back to school in ’09 or ’10, or to do something constructive towards preparing for that. I was initially planning to learn another language or improve one of the ones I already speak, in order to make translation and comp lit a real possibility. But apart from questions of supporting myself, Polish doesn’t grab me the way, say, German or Spanish do. Add to my inability to fulfill either of those main goals the fact that since I’ve arrived, I haven’t really gone out or met anybody, even when I DO work. I don’t speak Polish, apart from buying food or paying for tram tickets, and the few schools I have worked at were more brief contract positions than teaching posts, with a staff room and the kind of friendly interaction even schools in Toronto managed to have.
So I’ve decided to give it one more week. If the next week triples my weekly workload and at least triples my pay, I’ll consider staying and find a flat. If not (and this seems more and more like the most likely outcome) I’m getting on a westbound train, and heading to someplace closer to the Atlantic. I’ve got family, I’ve got friends, and they’ve all got couches.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Thursday, October 9, 2008
Bezrobotny
So, I’ve been here, in Krakow, for two weeks, and with the exception of two hours’ teaching over Skype per week, I am still unemployed. Most of that, I’m told, has to do with the scheduling of the University, which started in earnest yesterday, meaning the private schools won’t get their stuff together until next week, at the earliest. The net effect of this, besides a dwindling supply of zloty for yours truly, is a lot of time to sit in the Kawarnia, drinking coffee that should stop pretending it’s not espresso, and contemplate Poland. And maybe, you know, learn some Polish.
John Cleese – John Cleese, as in “This Parrot is No More” John Cleese, endorses a major Polish bank. I don’t have a problem with it really, but it’s quite strange to walk down the street and see his face, larger than life in the plate windows of a bank on the Karmelicka. Apparently he does TV commercials, too, but I haven’t seen any of those. I would imagine they are somewhat humorous.
Paradox – A few years ago, there was a spate of articles about what had come to be know as “The French Paradox,” being, of course, the fact that French people are thinner and happier, despite their butter-enriched everything. I think the name may have been misapplied. Since I’ve arrived, I’ve been fed not only mushrooms, breaded and pan-fried (not sautéed, FRIED) in a stick of butter, but a slice of country bread, thickly spread with…lard. As in, the rendered fat of pigs. I can’t say it’s the tastiest thing I’ve ever eaten—VERY salty, a little bit grainy, and mostly just coating the mouth with a greasy feeling, and make you CRAVE something acidic, like coffee. Or vodka. The mushrooms, on the other hand, now those were something.
Style—The strangest thing about Krakow, I think in particular, is the stark difference in style amongst the inhabitants. The average age of the city is quite young, because of the universities, and so there’s a lot of young, stylish, attractive people walking around. The difference between men and women, though, is huge. About 25% of the men are what one might consider “well-dressed,” meaning non-sneaker shoes, tailored trousers, collars on shirts, and, invariably, a scarf of some sort. The same goes for virtually every woman I’ve seen. Sweaters, shirts, even being casual, there’s a great awareness of one’s public image here. The remaining men, though, are inveterate, well, slobs. Anoraks, hoodies, baggy jeans and skater shoes. Or soccer jerseys and consumer-grade soccer shoes. In that way, as well all the others, it feels like Ireland in a foreign language. As to a reason why…I’m afraid I’m at a loss. But, I’m sure I’ll found out, sooner or later.
John Cleese – John Cleese, as in “This Parrot is No More” John Cleese, endorses a major Polish bank. I don’t have a problem with it really, but it’s quite strange to walk down the street and see his face, larger than life in the plate windows of a bank on the Karmelicka. Apparently he does TV commercials, too, but I haven’t seen any of those. I would imagine they are somewhat humorous.
Paradox – A few years ago, there was a spate of articles about what had come to be know as “The French Paradox,” being, of course, the fact that French people are thinner and happier, despite their butter-enriched everything. I think the name may have been misapplied. Since I’ve arrived, I’ve been fed not only mushrooms, breaded and pan-fried (not sautéed, FRIED) in a stick of butter, but a slice of country bread, thickly spread with…lard. As in, the rendered fat of pigs. I can’t say it’s the tastiest thing I’ve ever eaten—VERY salty, a little bit grainy, and mostly just coating the mouth with a greasy feeling, and make you CRAVE something acidic, like coffee. Or vodka. The mushrooms, on the other hand, now those were something.
Style—The strangest thing about Krakow, I think in particular, is the stark difference in style amongst the inhabitants. The average age of the city is quite young, because of the universities, and so there’s a lot of young, stylish, attractive people walking around. The difference between men and women, though, is huge. About 25% of the men are what one might consider “well-dressed,” meaning non-sneaker shoes, tailored trousers, collars on shirts, and, invariably, a scarf of some sort. The same goes for virtually every woman I’ve seen. Sweaters, shirts, even being casual, there’s a great awareness of one’s public image here. The remaining men, though, are inveterate, well, slobs. Anoraks, hoodies, baggy jeans and skater shoes. Or soccer jerseys and consumer-grade soccer shoes. In that way, as well all the others, it feels like Ireland in a foreign language. As to a reason why…I’m afraid I’m at a loss. But, I’m sure I’ll found out, sooner or later.
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
The Other Side of the Mirror
I’ve just come from the Krakow Central Post Office (Poczta Glowny), where I mailed my absentee ballot back to North Carolina. I’m writing this on the upper floor of the Kawarnia Provencja, off the Main Square. I don’t know exactly how old this building is, but the sign out front is charmingly missing a few letters, and if the timeline I’ve been given for the city’s growth is correct, it predates the U.S. by a century or two.
The difference between the two buildings seems to mirror, if you’ll allow the flight of rhetoric, a similar divide in the Polish psyche. The post office, in a nice, old, building, looks on the inside like I’d imagine a Soviet government office would look is the Soviet Union had never collapsed. Clean, modern, but very impersonal, clerks behind plate glass, and low ceilings and light. The café, in contrast, is the kind of place that makes Lonely Planet editors hard. Sloped, white-washed ceilings, vintage ceiling fan at the apex. Paintings on the walls, older, wooden tables. Candles are burning at various places around, and of course this balcony where I’m sitting right now, accessible by a steep, narrow flight of stairs. Did I mention that the “coffee” I’m drinking, which is really more of a long, double espresso, cost me like $2.50? And it goes without saying (I AM in Central Europe) that smoking is…I wouldn’t go so far as to say encouraged, although the EU might. Stack of ashtrays on the counter is all, take them as they’re needed.
William Gibson, in his novel Pattern Recognition, which I just finished re-reading, described Great Britain as “the other side of the mirror.” Poland feels very much like that. Everything here was, since the war, anyway, imported from Russia or built on their model. As a result, they’re built themselves up into a modern European country, but everything feels a little bit…off. Light switches aren’t switches so much as they’re two-inch-square power studs, still on a pivot, but taking nicely to a full-handed slap if you get out of bed in the middle of the night. Vending machines seem to be non-existent, but tiny, vending-machine-sized kiosks, with a person inside, are omnipresent, and sell cigarettes and soap to boot. Buildings have yet to be retrofitted with streetside entrances, the effect being that entering a lot of places, cafes and offices includes, requires a turn down an unnamed alley with a number posted above it, looking for your sign on a door. The traffic lights are the old, Eastern-Bloc style ones which they also have in East Berlin. Walk is a green man walking, Don’t Walk is a red man, standing still.
The nicest thing about Krakow in this sense, though, is the way all the influences seem to meld. Warsaw, by all accounts, is a mostly Soviet city. It was destroyed during the war, and rebuilt, and as a result is on the ugly side. I’m up there for a night or two next week, so I’ll see for myself. But Krakow managed to escape Luftwaffe and Red Air Force bombing, and so the old buildings survived. The Communists built their stuff and now, in the last few years, the EU has funded a variety of modernization campaigns. And so the mirror is here, plainly visible and immediately tangible…but so is the construction of a newer Poland, one that exists outside the old oppositions. Whether that’s entirely a good thing remains, judging from people I’ve talked to, to be seen.
The difference between the two buildings seems to mirror, if you’ll allow the flight of rhetoric, a similar divide in the Polish psyche. The post office, in a nice, old, building, looks on the inside like I’d imagine a Soviet government office would look is the Soviet Union had never collapsed. Clean, modern, but very impersonal, clerks behind plate glass, and low ceilings and light. The café, in contrast, is the kind of place that makes Lonely Planet editors hard. Sloped, white-washed ceilings, vintage ceiling fan at the apex. Paintings on the walls, older, wooden tables. Candles are burning at various places around, and of course this balcony where I’m sitting right now, accessible by a steep, narrow flight of stairs. Did I mention that the “coffee” I’m drinking, which is really more of a long, double espresso, cost me like $2.50? And it goes without saying (I AM in Central Europe) that smoking is…I wouldn’t go so far as to say encouraged, although the EU might. Stack of ashtrays on the counter is all, take them as they’re needed.
William Gibson, in his novel Pattern Recognition, which I just finished re-reading, described Great Britain as “the other side of the mirror.” Poland feels very much like that. Everything here was, since the war, anyway, imported from Russia or built on their model. As a result, they’re built themselves up into a modern European country, but everything feels a little bit…off. Light switches aren’t switches so much as they’re two-inch-square power studs, still on a pivot, but taking nicely to a full-handed slap if you get out of bed in the middle of the night. Vending machines seem to be non-existent, but tiny, vending-machine-sized kiosks, with a person inside, are omnipresent, and sell cigarettes and soap to boot. Buildings have yet to be retrofitted with streetside entrances, the effect being that entering a lot of places, cafes and offices includes, requires a turn down an unnamed alley with a number posted above it, looking for your sign on a door. The traffic lights are the old, Eastern-Bloc style ones which they also have in East Berlin. Walk is a green man walking, Don’t Walk is a red man, standing still.
The nicest thing about Krakow in this sense, though, is the way all the influences seem to meld. Warsaw, by all accounts, is a mostly Soviet city. It was destroyed during the war, and rebuilt, and as a result is on the ugly side. I’m up there for a night or two next week, so I’ll see for myself. But Krakow managed to escape Luftwaffe and Red Air Force bombing, and so the old buildings survived. The Communists built their stuff and now, in the last few years, the EU has funded a variety of modernization campaigns. And so the mirror is here, plainly visible and immediately tangible…but so is the construction of a newer Poland, one that exists outside the old oppositions. Whether that’s entirely a good thing remains, judging from people I’ve talked to, to be seen.
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