Poland and the fumbled research roll

Before I started traveling, I watched a LOT of stuff on traveling.  You know what always bothered me about the professional travelers?

They never fucked up completely.  A bone headed jarringly stupid thing. 

At least none they'd admit to on their slick sites and such.

That's where I am different. 

A lot of people out there think "Oh, I can't travel - it's hard".  After reading this, you'll say "If HE can do it..."   Actually, you might be thinking "How is he still alive?"

And that is true.  Both parts.  You too can travel if you choose to and yes, at the time of this writing I am still alive.  (If found to be dead, please drink some alcohol and 'cheers' my bloated corpse.)


So here's what happened.


Before coming to Poland, I'd booked a place for a three day stay.  Figured I could stay there, scope out the city and then - after I'd figured stuff out a bit - more to a better place.

Unfortunately, I didn't check the small box stating that my building had to have an elevator in it. 

It was up on the fourth or fifth (or higher?) floor.  And it was those kind of stairs that go all the way around in a box due to the high ceilings.

Had the night porter not come down when I was dying on the second floor, grabbed my bag and humped it up to the top, I'd have turned around, gone and gotten a hotel (any hotel) and stayed there instead.

As it was, I barely made it to the top of how ever many flights of stairs and took two breaks doing it.

So now I've got a problem. 

A different problem than being fat and hideously out of shape I mean.

I'd not eaten all day and it was night time.

Working with the night porter (whose English was limited) I got a pizza and two liter of soda delivered.  When they came they weren't exactly what I wanted but close enough.  I knew that once I went down those stairs there was no more going up them.


The next day, I had one more piece of the pizza and did my best to do some research for a better place to stay.

Found a place on Airbnb.  Checked the map of Krakow (where I was) and it looked fine.

Had to pay the entire price up front. 

Since the crazy time known as 'May Day' - May first - seems to be a thing here as well I decided to book a place from today (7 Apr) till 7 May.  That way, hopefully everyone who was clogging up the hotels with wanting to be on holiday would have buggered off by then and returned 'from whence they came'.

Since it was AirBnB, you have to pay the whole thing up front (about $1200) and their draconian return policy says that if you cancel, you don't get the first month back.  Ie, the whole thing.

Contact an Uber, have him take me there.

When we get there, rather than the nifty hotel I was expecting, it was a house.  A house with an unlocked and easy to open front door I discovered when I knocked.  I quickly closed it again because I didn't want them to think some fat foreigner was there to steal their food.

Which was tempting, I admit.

It was time to call the number.

My uber driver was happy to do that - and discovered...

They were in a different town.

Three plus hours away different town.

WTF.

Somehow, my search for places in Krakow had given me results in Wroclaw.


So now, I have a choice. 

I can either get on the phone with AirBnB and argue against their draconian refunds policies for an unknown amount of time or say 'fuck it' and go to Wroclaw.

After finding out the taxi driver wanted to charge me about $100 to get there, I decided to take the train.  Second class was $11, first class was $22.

Decided to take first class because nothing else was going right today and I wanted to have at least one nice thing.

Met a nice Polish lady who had been living in the UK for 15 years working for British Airways.  Had a two hour conversation with her.  Also met a nice yoga instructor lady but she got kicked out because she was suppose to be in second class.  Pity.

So now, I am in Wroclaw.


The apartment isn't bad.  Questionable if it is worth $1200 per month or not but it's comfortable and very close to the city center.

More later!

PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT

And now for a public service announcement...



RANDOM CONVERSATIONS

I was talking to a group of Poles and telling them I am from a country founded by prudes where we must know the name of a woman before we can even make love to her. One of the ladies said "That's disgusting!" Another lady said "What are you in, the twelfth century?" One of the guys asked "Can't you just write it down on a card and leave it when you're done?"

It's good to be in Europe. I've got to visit Poland some time.



GEORGIAN CUSTOMS

If you call and book a taxi the day before you need it for a full day of work and wish to cancel it, you must pay 10% of the price that would have been paid. According to the folks I spoke with in Georgia, this is common and correct.

All of the gas stations in Georgia are 'full service' meaning that someone else pumps your gas and takes your money. They are not full service as in the 'Back to the Future' movies where a mob of people rushes out to check your oil, tire air pressure and clean your windshield. In fact, I think panic would set in if a mob of people rushed your car at a gas station for any reason.

If you are a guest in a home, they will bring you an ashtray and encourage you to smoke - even if nobody in the family smokes. Contrast this with the 'angrily huff off or say bad things if you are outdoors and smoke around them' crowd.

'Ala Verde' - this is part of the Supra tradition and is continuing someone else's toast. For example, if the Tamada's toast is about all children, you should continue your toast (ala verde) on children - not talk about the Space Race or some such.

Georgians love their freedom. This accounts for both their hatred of the Russian government as well as how little USSR 'stuff' they have left over here.

The oldest brother (unless there are special circumstances) remains in his parents house. Even after he marries. He and his wife will inherit the house from the parents fully after they die.



TBILISI CUSOTMS

People are issued short wooden clubs. Their job is to chase gypsies away. I'm not kidding. Apparently, the clubs are not used to actually beat the gypsies though they could be. The threat of the club and someone coming after them is often enough to pursuade them to move along. Sadly, the people with the clubs are lax in their duties so I was still beset with beggars.



TBILISI NATIONAL MUSEUM

Costs 5 GEL to get in and sadly, you get what you pay for. There are four floors to the museum. One floor seems to be underground and could be more accurately called 'the basement' rather than the 'first floor'. The third floor is marked 'closed' with no explanation or date of possible opening available. The second floor (the ground floor) exhibits were remarkably lame. I walked quickly through them, quickly leaving behind the small group I had come with who chose to dwadle over a remarkably unremarkable group of pottery shards. I went down to the first floor (basement) and saw some very nice examples of great detail craftsmanship in long lasting gold and silver. Unfortunately, pictures weren't allowed in there. In particular, there was one small horse. It was pretty remarkable to me. In addition to the fine craftsmanship present in all of the other relics, the legs of the horse were made from small dangly rings of metal. This would give the impression of movement in the horse when it was worn. They really don't make them like they use to. Since the third floor was closed and possibly hosting the command center of a force of invading aliens, I checked out the fourth floor.

Whoever did the interior decoration for the fourth floor did a nice job. It was done up in 'grim'. Good lighting and use of colors to give it that moody, depressive, 'we've got the KGB and built a big wall around the country to keep you bastards in' look. Nicely done. True that it could have used a touch of barbed wire and maybe a search light you have to avoid but they did a good job with what they had. The exhibits themselves however I could only term as 'lame'. They were enlarged photocopies of various documents. A couple had on the barest of information in English on the identity plate but not really enough to understand the significance of the document. I'm sure that if I read Georgian or Russian they would hold more meaning. But I don't so it went into my 'list of museums that should be set ablaze for only displaying pieces of paper and photographs when there was so much more interesting stuff available. It is my belief that even a truly significant document such as the 'Magna Carta' should be surrounded by suits of armor, barding and such. I'm not sure what sort of people find pieces of paper and photocopies of pictures they could easily find on the internet worth visiting a museum to see but I'm hoping there is a special ring of hell reserved for people in museums who make the decisions to display these things and nothing else of interest.

Overall, I'd suggest the museum is only worth seeing if you a) need a shot of 'culture' or b) if it is raining too hard to do anything better. Bring a student ID and get in for just 1 GEL. It would probably work with a fake one as well if you are really interested in saving 5 GEL.



LAST NIGHT IN TBILISI

This was a rough evening for me. We had two Italian guys (the ones I was hanging out with in the videos) as well as Friends Hostel owners Lasha #2 and his girlfriend Nino making some amazing food. The problem - George's mother was expecting George and I over and had been cooking all day as well. If I was fresh from America, this would not have been a problem - at all. But since my inner stomach has shrunk to 'European size' (despite my outstandingly big 'American sized' gut) this presented a huge challenge. I knew that I'd be pressured to eat until I exploded at George's house and I'd never tried pasta made by actual Italians (who said they could cook!!) before. After these two feasts, the mandatory drinking of a shitload (about a liter or more) of wine. I compensated by eating very little of the food at the hostel.

Afterward, George brought me to his parents house. I had carefully explained to George that I'd be taking a very small helping of the food so that I would be able to take seconds and such. Believe it or not, the first thing George did was to pile more onto my plate after I'd given myself a small portion. I think the concept of 'feed guests until they explode' is on the genetic level.

During the meal and the supra afterward, George's mother was pretty much invisible. She had made the food, made sure we had enough of everything then disappeared. I gather this is pretty normal behavior for the ladies of the house but it seems like less fun for them to me. Fortunately, George's father and George's brother joined us for the supra.

In addition to trying to kill me through overfeeding, George had another trick up his sleeve for me. He made me Tamada. For those too lazy to read the other entries of the blog, the Tamada is the dictator of the Supra. He (almost always a 'he') is the one who must do the correct ritual toasts in the correct order as well as other common toasts. Also, the Tamada needs to monitor the other conversations the group is having to search for material that could be made into a toast. Georgians are trained in being Tamada from the time they are able to drink. They pay attention to the older Supra member's toasts and learn them. Since I'm not Georgian, I had to keep on the ball.

After I found out that in the old days Georgian's use to worship 'a wine god' and have Supras in which the Tamada was basically the 'priest' for the day, this lent extra weight and responsibility. It takes some quick mental work as well - which isn't helped by drinking a lot of wine.

George was interested in not only getting himself drunk but getting me drunk as well. Needless to say, when I meet up with someone's parents and am Tamada on top of that, hell no I'm not getting drunk. Fortunately, I had a bit of luck and some quick mental finesse secured me a large shot glass sized cup. George had a much bigger glass I'd guess was two of mine. He's happy, I'm happy.

With Georgian hospitality, you must be aware that 'good hospitality' is equated with 'stuffing the guests with more food than they can possibly eat without dying'. If you don't come back for seconds, they won't think 'he's full'. They will think 'he fucking hates my cooking'. It will cause feelings to be hurt. This reminds me of a book on etiquette I was reading. Those who know me well (or have seen me eat) may well be surprised that I've read four US Yellow Pages sized books (ie really thick) on etiquette. It may reassure people to know I choose to ignore much of that unless I feel I need to use etiquette. In one of these massive tomes on etiquette, it cautions readers that if meat is brought out to only take one slice. The host may have prepared only enough for each guest to get a single slice and it will cause embarrassment (and possibly another guest not getting meat) if you grab more than one slice. I think a Georgian host would die of shame if they didn't make enough to feed everyone fourths. Outside of the USA in many countries if you have a guest, you make a huge feast. Only the Americans seem stingy with how much food we prepare - and we have Tupperware and microwave ovens. Many of the 'feast' cultures don't. Americans are just a bit cheap, mean and stingy in that regard apparently.

There was more than enough food. As a side note, praise the food as a whole but do not - I repeat do not - point out any specific food as something you really liked. You will get more forced upon you. Packaged so you can bring it home. Dumped on your plate. People running to the neighbors to see if they have ingredients to make more of it.

In Georgia, if an American came in and went ballistic, literally eating every bit of food in the house and causing them to go to their neighbors and the store for more, the Georgians would consider it a job well done in their duties as host and a good guest besides. I didn't try for that. I like my stomach being smaller - at least on the inside. Possibly because it costs less to feed myself if nothing else.



THE NEXT DAY

I drug George on "That Fucking Pen" quest part two. For anyone wanting to see the exact pen I am looking for, check out this pen. I didn't count the number of places we went to but I'd guess around a dozen. I enjoyed it because it took us to some places in Tbilisi that I know we wouldn't have normally gone to.

Despite my being told that Tbilisi would have 'everything', we could not find this pen. This is a constant irritation to George who will probably have nightmares about the pen.

After we got done with that, I said goodbye to George and pressed on via marshutka to Telavi.



VIDEOS

Mind control over Georgians

Supra 1

Supra 2

Supra 3 The Joke

Supra 4

Tbilisi 1

Tbilisi 2

Tbilisi 3

Tbilisi streets

Friends Hostel

Near Tbilisi 1

Near Tbilisi 2

Near Tbilisi 3

Near Tbilisi 4

Near Tbilisi 5

Near Tbilisi 6

George's house

George, beer and the Lari



FROM FACEBOOK

Thanks to TJ for this funny condom ad. Some others for you here.

PARADISE

TRIP TO PARADISE

I was with several American Peace Corps volunteers and showing them around the city of Batumi. I took them over to the lemonade factory. Note, this is not 'lemonade' as it is thought of in the states - at all. Think of it as 'flavored sweet sodas' and you're on the right track. I've really enjoyed several of the flavors of soda and this time we were fortunate enough to meet George and David - the sons of the owner whose name eluded all of us who went on the tour. George and David were kind enough to show us around the factory. I've been in modern American factories (of various products) and this one I felt was very interesting because everything was hand done - from the mixing of the soda, the washing of the bottles (recycling here), applying the labels with glue and even filling the bottles and putting on the bottle cap. I thought this was a very interesting tour and was grateful to be able to go on it. I hope to get to show other tourists this (should they be into it) in the future.


Peace Corps volunteers


Heading into the lemonade factory

Manually sticking on the labels




Remember bottle caps in the Fallout video game?



Washing out the old bottles - by hand



George - son of the owner and guide on our trip











The finished product - I like it and the price is very right


The men who make it happen, standing under the sign for the business


Detail on the men who make it happen, the owners two sons, the owner and his brother


I wanted to extend my warm thanks for making us feel very welcome and giving us a guided tour of your factory!



FOOD

When people throw out food, the food dies. Since the food has no sin, it goes to Heaven. Because Americans throw out half the food they produce, America feeds Heaven the most. That means God loves it. [This may be considered silly but it strikes me as silly as an invisible man who lives int the clouds and needs our money.]



GEORGIAN CUSTOMS, FOOD

I am told that it is very unusual to see a Georgian eating by themselves. They will do it but prefer not to.



GEORGIAN CUSTOMS, ALCOHOL

Large Supras (including but not limited to funerals, weddings, birthdays, etc) wine rather than cha-cha is the drink of choice. It is not unheard of to have cha-cha instead, just rare.



GEORGIAN CUSTOMS, WOMEN

Unlike in Azerbaijan, at Supras (and social gatherings) women are seated at the same table as men.



GEORGIAN CUSTOMS, BIZARRE SAYINGS

If a young woman cleans off her plate, she is told she will have a handsome husband. [This strikes me as odd because in fact doing so could cause the opposite. Unless their husband has interesting tastes.]

In both Azerbaijan and Georgia, a dropped fork indicates you will have guests coming. This is a very weird and silly saying that oddly enough got proven just after we were told about it. A fork was dropped and later unexpected guests joined us in the amazingly difficult to find without a guide 'White Room' restaurant. Needless to say, we were all impressed at the statement after that. So, if you are feeling lonely, merely drop your fork. If it doesn't work, move to the Republic of Georgia and try it again.



GEORGIAN CUSTOMS, SCHOOLS

Oddly enough, there are no sports teams or anything like that. This confused me and I asked how which schools to be in awe of and which schools to shun were figured out in Georgia. I was told the usual method of determining such rankings was through street fighting. I am not kidding. They also have allied or friendly schools who help them give 'what for' to disliked schools.



ANOTHER RECOMMENDED BOOK

I recommend reading this for both men and women. I have no idea if they have it in other languages but it is worth the read time...





PHILOSOPHY

While I was camped out in Batumi Hostel, I met up with a dutch guy who I call Alex. He had a large, hard bound book that he was writing in and pasting post cards and whatnot into. He was putting no small amount of work into it. I related to him the story of Henriëtte (who I call 'Harry Potter') and how she had followed either her grandfather (or great grandfather) from notes in his diary about his travels during world war two. I said that perhaps some day, his kids or grand-kids will follow him on his travels - so make them interesting and keep accurate notes. He said that he would like that. I told him that it is a better memento than most people leave - which is their couch. Personally, I think that leaving some heirloom like that is a lot more interesting - and potentially life changing than say another silver tea set or some shit. What is sad about this is that I've come across a lot of travelers who have been traveling for years. They have some vague memories of their travels and nothing written down to show for it. They have only excuses as to why they don't write things down. "I'm no good at writing." "It takes too long - I'd rather be doing things." "I'll write it later." It's the same bullshit over and over - and it is tragic.



YUMMY

Have vampire problems? Are your vampires rotting corpses who have a thirst for blood? Are your vampires easily mistaken for zombies? Are your vampires just not 'glittery' enough? Try this product to keep them away!
Thanks to experienced vampire killer Jana (yeah, she got the punks from Twilight, don't you fucking worry) for pointing out the logical connections!



WIT ISN'T WORTH IT

I was told it would be expensive, but I wanted to check to see what was expensive. I went down to the post office and got a quote for how much it would cost to send the $5 notebook filled with my notes to the Czech Republic. Twenty six GEL. Currently, that is $16.25 USD. Fuck that - I'll wait till I get to a different country. The people at the counter of the post office told me it would be cheaper to mail it in Turkey.



STRANGE PROBLEMS

A guy I met in the hostel named Gilad Polak (Israel) does 'adventure therapy'. While I thought in itself that was an interesting profession, he also told me something more interesting. His donkey got eaten by a wolf. I must admit, that's a new problem.



POLAND

From listening to an American who lived in Poland until a couple months ago and a guy currently living in Poland, it turns out that Poland is about the same price as Georgia, with the possible exception of the capital city being a little more. Even on that point they were not in complete agreement. This is exciting to me as it may put Poland onto my future travel plans.



AZERBAIJAN

Listening to Peace Corps volunteers who got sent to this country talk about it, it isn't really striking me as one I'd like to visit for a couple reasons. First, they follow the 'do unto others' philosophy when figuring out visa costs and lengths. For example, it is costs $50 to get into your country for their natives and they can stay for 2 weeks, that's what you get going there. That may sound fine on the surface but it kills their tourist industry. Which apparently isn't set up at all. I've heard for an American to get in, it is expensive and you don't get long. With the exception of one guy who requested it, none of the Peace Corps people seemed thrilled to have been stuck there for two years. In the Peace Corps, you request a general region and then they send you an invitation letter to where ever they need you regardless. You have the right to refuse the invitation but unless you give some sort of good reason, you probably won't get another invitation to a different country. And, you are stuck there for two years. It doesn't sound good to me.



COSTS

Baklava: I went to a store and asked how much a piece was. 1 GEL per piece, I was told- or I could buy it by the kilo. How much per kilo? 25 GEL. Cool. How many pieces per kilo I asked? 22. WTF.

Horse rental (in some part of Georgia I'm not in), 40 GEL per day.

Pack of weird cold medicine you put into hot water that works really amazingly well, 1.5 GEL

Knife sharpening from a street vendor, .60 GEL

Decent cigarette lighter with a built in flashlight, .50 GEL

Eye drops (natural tears variety, thumb sized container), 6.5 GEL



TOP TEN READER COUNTRIES

The top ten countries reading the blog within the last thirty days are in order of readership below. I see Jordan is number six. Note that if the border to Syria is able to be crossed (twice...) then I will be coming to your country soon. By that I mean Jordan.

United States, Georgia, United Kingdom, Finland, Australia, Jordan, Canada, Ukraine, Germany, New Zealand



YOUTUBE

In case you didn't catch it, the German forklift safety video - with English subtitles.

TERROR!

THE TERROR MUSEUM

I was advised to see the Terror Museum. It opens at 10 AM (sharp) TUE-SUN. To get in is 1800 HUF, no photos. For the audio thing it's an extra (I believe) 1300 HUF. I didn't get the audio thing because a) I am a cheap bastard - still trying to rebuild my money after the last trip and b) I typically don't like the long speeches. I'd much rather have a native just give me the Cliff notes, if you know what I mean.

My thoughts on the Terror Museum. Well, it was obvious that they put a lot of work into this thing but I felt like I was looking without really seeing. I think I got the gist but the subtleties escaped me. Doubtless, if I was fluent in Magyar (Hungarian) or had sucked it up and got the audio thing I'd have gotten more out of it. Although Budapest plays host to tourists from all over the world whose common language is English, only about a third or so of the signs were in English as well.

There were a lot of exhibits I just didn't understand. For example, there was an old style car surrounded by black drapes. Tense violin music played. The room lights would dim while the lights on the car would increase. Then, the lighting would go back to what it was previously. I have no idea what the fuck that was all about. My only thought was 'perhaps this is the car that came to pick up people and whisk them away?' If so, I'd have been more interested to see inside of a vintage car. There was also a pig made out of plaster or paper mache standing by itself with a sign (only) in Hungarian. I have no clue what that was. Given it's location in the former 'secret police headquarters' where they slaughtered and tortured assloads of people, I figured it must be an evil fucking pig.

They also had a video of a trial for a guy and his cronies who had attempted to overthrow the communists. Their biggest crime - as I see it - was failing.

I also got to ride down the same exact elevator that Michael Palin had ridden down and watched the video in. That was kind of cool though I do remember that he had sprung for the audio guide. That's what having the big BBC budget can do for you.

The basement was a bit moving as it served a grim reminder to what dicks people can be to each other.



COSTS

Lukewarm Chinese food at a Hungarian 'working man's' eating place with a lemon flavored Fanta, about 900 HUF.



TURKS AND POLES

I met a group of four Turkish nursing students as well as two folks from Poland. I think that they have more people in their group but I'm not sure. I gave folks my card and said that if they enjoyed my blog to let me know when I get near the country. I'd love to go visit them, stay with them and chat with them. Good stuff. All of them seemed really nice and I think it would be fun to learn about their countries through their eyes.

I did get two of the Turkish guys names - Honour and Serdar (pronounced "Sar-Dar"). I hope I get to meet them again when I eventually reach Turkey.