Pióro

Last week, with the accession of Poland and the Czech Republic into the EU, some remarked that it was finally the end of Yalta. A week later, we went bowling.

Really, I’m by no means a bowling enthusiast. I can think of dozens of other things I’d rather do, but our new found mobility drew us to that triangular formation of ten pins. We also hoped to catch some hockey as that is one of those areas where the Czechs are more enlightened than the Poles. Vodka, or cooking, is not.

At the border that leads into Česky Těšín, we did some serious double-czeching (yes, those kinds of jokes still make us giggle) on the information we’d found on the Czech and Canadian web sites. Just because the rest of the world knows about the policy changes, it doesn’t mean that the Pole and the Czech looking at our passports would. Which they didn’t, but after a few calls the Pole said Martha’s mom would have no trouble getting back in and the Czech said we could all enter his country. We asked if the people at the other border-crossing, the one that you take into Polish Cieszyn, were up to speed with these changes. Yeah, yeah, it’ll be no problem. So we sauntered into the land of knedle.

Within minutes, we passed a bar with the US/Sweden game on the TV. I yelled, “Whoa, hockey!” and Patrick, who’s been abroad for so long he’s in serious withdrawal, bolted for the window like a ritalin kid to a Christmas display. This manoeuvre freaked out a pair of wiener-dogs and greatly annoyed their owner. Five minutes into Czech and we were well on our way to causing an international incident.

The bowling alley had the game plastered up on a big screen TV. My first priority was to find out who won the Canada/Slovakia game. The Czechs were amused with our glee, but did not share our happiness. It seems their second favourite team is the one from the country they used to be joined with.

My bowling games weren’t too hot. Of the three or four frames I bowled, I didn’t break 200. I had to be told whenever my turn was up as I was glued to the big-screen display of Sweden nicely trouncing the US. Jill, Martha and Dorota all did very well at the lanes.

When the game ended, I noticed the group playing in the lane next to ours. There was a guy whose consistent strikes were made more impressive by the fact that he was two sips away from alcohol poisoning. He would then pass out once his turn was over.

Most of us were back at the border before midnight. Dorota, with her Polish passport, had no trouble. The Polish border guard was up on his country’s new regulations. In fact, on May 1, his department was sent on official memo that said Canadians didn’t need visas. A little later they were sent another memo saying the first had been a mistake. Still later, they received a third memo saying the first one was, in fact, correct. The Czech, whose desk was attached to the Pole’s, still hadn’t received anything as helpful from his superiors.

The Czech wondered how the heck we got into his country. Martha and my visas had expired months ago. Where were the new ones? Jill only had an old Polish visa in her passport. How did she get in? Why did Canadians need visas anyway? How did we all get in without even a stamp? Who did he have to call? He eventually figured it out, or decided there was nothing he could really do but let us leave. Either way, we warned the two guards that later on that night a very drunk Canadian and American would be coming through. They were just as legitimate as us. Please let them pass too.

It’s almost shameful: how predictable we can be. If there’s a fence, we want to see what’s behind it. Lock something in a box, and we look for a screwdriver to pop it open. Tell a bunch of Canadians that they can’t cross an international border to visit their Polish town’s ugly Czech twin, and they want nothing better.

With the accession of the Czech Republic to the EU that country has dropped their visa regime. Now, Canadians can travel to Czech visa free, which means we don’t have to decline offers to go bowling by our Polish, American and British friends.

If you’ve been reading the Globe, you may be a little confused about where you can and can’t go in the new Europe. According to that venerable paper, only Estonia, who had Soviet-style visa restrictions for Canadians, is adopting an EU-like travel policy. It seems the fact-checkers at the Globe failed to surf over to the Czech embassy’s visa page. There, in a big screaming font, it says the visa requirements for Canucks have been lifted. In fairness to the Globe, the reports over the past months have indicated that the Czech Republic would not make any changes on May 1.

Now to the second error in the Globe article: Poland has lifted it’s visa requirements for Canadians. Although, the Poles aren’t so apt at up-dating their web site (at the time of writing, the Poles haven’t up-dated their Consular Information page since June of last year), the Canadian government is at least timely. Over the past weekend, we put this development to the test. We went to the Pieniny mountains, near the Slovak border. There are numerous walking paths in the region, including some that take you over the border. We have multiple-entry visas so the walk was no problem. But Martha’s mom, who landed just two days before the new changes, had a mere single entry visa. Under the old system, she would have been allowed to leave Poland for Slovakia, but she wouldn’t have been able to get back. But on May 3, it was no problem for her to hop across both borders. I think it helped that the border crossing was a foot/bike path in the mountains, one of the chillest passport controls I’ve ever been through.

So, my fellow Canadians, you now have $75 extra to devote to a trip to Poland. We’re here to the end of June. We can all go bowling. What are you waiting for?

Just when we thought the contest was over, Warren comes up with his entry. We’re giving him the Palm d’Or for Audacity. Here is his entry proving we are, in fact, really big in Cieszyn.

It was a close race. In the interest of fairness, first place is tied between Jill (Martha’s mom) and Caitlin. According to my inbox, Jill’s image got to me first, but Caitlin’s was actually sent twenty-six seconds earlier. Caitlin has her company’s server to blame for the delay and for costing her the clear win. Still, excellent work by both of our first place competitors. Second place goes to Frank, my dad. He also gets honourable mention for getting the most comprehensive grouping of images (eight in total), including the ones that show our special message. See if you can find the message. There are four of Silesia’s finest English teachers lying on the main square spelling a word for the world to see. Our friend, a native of Cieszyn, is standing with us ready to explain just what the heck we are doing, just in case the local fuzz got suspicious. Everything went smoothly. It was a good birthday for Martha.

There’s this web site that, every thirty seconds, serves up a shot of the main square of our town. As I’m writing this, it’s close to midnight and there’s not a heck of a lot to see. In the daytime, however, this square is positively bustling. It’s this little web-cam that is going the be the focus of a contest.

On Martha’s birthday (13 April) at 17:00 our time, Martha and I and two of our teaching pals will strike some poses in front of the camera. At 5pm, there’s still enough light out and we’re guessing that the people in Eastern Time (11:00) or Mountain (09:00) will have little trouble sitting down at their terminals. The job for you folks at home is to get a screen-grab of our antics. The first person to e-mail the image to me will be the winner. The prize: honourable mention on this here web site and the prestige of being the first.

To get a screen grab, you must have the shot of the main square open in a browser. (The address is coming, one sec.) Then, press the Print Screen (PrtSc) button on the keyboard. Next, in your favourite photo-editing program, paste the image. Don’t forget to format the image for web before e-mailing the entry.

If you don’t have a capable photo-editor, Irfanview offers a very good freeware version.

Click the Rynek Online button, left side, on this web site. What you will see is the view from high atop Cieszyn’s town hall.
Get your PrtSc and Ctrl + V fingers ready for Tuesday! TuesDAY! TUESDAY!

Sometimes it’s inevitable that you attract attention to yourself. You’re in a town of 40 000 Poles. Czech is common “other language” because you’re right on the border. But when you and three other English teachers go into a bar, most of the place is staring at you.

This staring got quite unnerving for the first few months. Even in a city as big as Toronto, this kind of thing just isn’t done. Well, sure it happens on the subway all the time, but if you notice the starer, she suddenly notices a very interesting ad on the subway wall. The façade of public privacy doesn’t have the same priority here in Poland. Maybe it’s the fact that this country has 8 million more people than Canada living in an area 3/10 the size. Whatever the reason, a Pole won’t shift her gaze if you return hers. This cultural trait can provoke reactions ranging from frustration to full-out paranoia.

My early strategies for dealing with the staring were varied. Sometimes, I would try to speak quietly, with the hopes of blending in. This would backfire for two reason. If we were out with our teacher-friend, Patrick, his booming voice makes it hard to keep a low profile. But even if Patrick wasn’t around, I’d still get stares. Sometimes, no matter how hard I’d try, something on my forehead read, “Not from around here.” Other times, I’d try to ignore the starers. But I knew they were watching. I could feel their eyes on me and hence the aforementioned paranoia. Finally, I resorted in waving and saying ’hello.’ My plan was to shock the starer with a response, so they’d know that I knew that they were looking too hard. All this strategy got was a stone-faced response (except for kids, they wave back).

But now, the stares have either stopped or they’ve just receded into the background. Whatever the case, I’ve found that the local gazing inhibition seems to be contagious. One night, I was sitting on a bench in the main square waiting to meet with the gang, and these two young men walked by me. Of course they took a long look at me as they passed. I, unflinchingly, looked right back. Later that night, I was actually introduced to one of them at the bar. The guy said, “Hey, I saw you in the square.” To which I replied, “Hey, yeah, me too.”

Really, we just have Turkey to blame. Ever since we visited that country in July 2002, we’ve been really into backgammon. There was a bit of a hiatus that spanned our departure from Turkey and Christmas of that year. But, since Santa got us a travel backgammon set, the games have pretty much been non-stop.

So, for mathematical and statistical research, for its overtones of impending insanity, for the enjoyment of the fans, for the sheer hell of it—we present our official backgammon scores (click the Pastime link on the side and scroll down with the arrow keys if you need a better view). We promise to up-date them as sporadically as the site. Enjoy.

Family can be annoying. For example, your grandmother (Babcia) and her friend Nick arrange a month long stay in Poland which includes a stay at a sanatorium in Nowwheresville central Poland and then dental work (because such things are relatively cheap with the Canadian dollar) in Wherethehellisthat northern Poland. The glaring mistake in all these arrangements is that there is no time for visiting you, the number one grandson. At least, that is what my Babcia had done. But, Babcia is Babcia. I couldn’t stay angry with her and I was looking forward to seeing her when Martha and I left for Busko-Zdrój on Saturday.

History probably wasn’t kind to Busko-Zdrój. The central square is lined with low modern buildings. This usually means that something came from the east or from the west to get rid of the old buildings and to give rise to such an uninspiring view. There is, however, the beautiful tree-lined Mickiewicza street that runs south from the square to Zdrojowy (Spring Water) Park. At the back of the park is the sanatorium were Babcia and Nick were staying.

“Some ladies at the sanatorium said there was a bear in this park the other day,” Babcia said sceptically. It did seem a little nuts as this park had a fountain, tennis courts, an overpriced restaurant, a small church, manicured lawns and gardens in the summer and all the traffic from the sanatorium.

Babcia and Nick’s temporary home was a large faux-classical building complete with Corinthian columns. The design, I imagine, is supposed to invoke Roman baths. As soon as we entered the building we were reminded what this place was all about as our nostrils were hit with the smell of sulphur. Zdrój means “spring” and the spring waters from Busko are said to have amazing medicinal qualities. Not surprisingly, a health spa/treatment centre grew up around the spring which is said to treat “neurological, skin and blood circulation diseases.” There are also doctors, trained masseurs and masseuses and weight-rooms built in the 50’s, complete with machines that look like torture devices. It’s the leather buckles that do it. The Poles call this place a “sanatorium,” which in Polish retains the meaning of a place to treat diseases. The connotations of “loony bin” are absent.

We arrived just in time for dinner and as Martha and I walked into the large dining area, we realised that our demographic wasn’t represented very well. Not exactly like hanging at the old folks home, but I’d get a bunch of blank stares if I yelled, “Now just put your hands in the air! You know what comes next! Uh-huh!”

Dinner was typically Polish in size. Here, the big meal comes at lunch, which makes sense, but after a five-hour bus-ride Martha and I were hoping to chow. We didn’t need to worry though. Nick scavenged us a ton of bread and back that the room, Babcia had more cookies than we could handle.

The rest of the visit was great. Nick and Babcia taught us to play the card game called tysiące (thousand). Babcia then taught us how to cheat. We went for a long walk the next day. Both of “the old people” were enjoying their stay at the sanatorium. Some aches and pains have gone away. It was a good visit for everyone.

I often tell my students about my misadventures in Poland. My stories usually make for good listening exercises. They laugh at my follies and at the weird things I encounter. I tell them when things about their country just don’t make sense to me. Usually the same things don’t make sense to them either. In such cases, they just throw their hands in the air and say “That’s Poland” with a mixture of disbelief and resigned acceptance.

Poland is less than two months away from joining the European Economic Union and things aren’t exactly in order. People within the country are scrambling to get things up to in-coming standards, while Poland’s soon-to-be partners-by-choice and old-partners-by-force are suddenly realising that EU expansion is a big change. The proximity of the May 1 accession date has prompted all of these outbursts and it’s funny that they come so late. It’s not like the accession date was a secret. Nice to see that Western, Central and Eastern European countries are no strangers to procrastination.

Hopefully, Poland’s entry into the EU will mean a change in visa policies for Canadians. Currently, those travellers with a maple leaf sown onto their backpacks need a pricey visa to get in (not including those insecure Americans who’ve picked up a maple disguise). If Poland adopts the same visa regulations as all the other EU counties, that would mean Canadians will no longer require visas.

In the interest of hassle free travel this summer, I emailed the Polish Embassy in Ottawa. I figured if anyone will know about changes to visa regulations for Canadians, it would be them. They are, after all, at the forefront of the issue. They responded two days later (a record, no doubt) with the following:

Answering your mail Consular Division of the Polish Embassy in Ottawa kindly suggests to contact us in April, because we still do not have information about visa for Canadian citizens after the 1st of May.

To which my students said,

“That’s Poland.”

Martha’s family has this term in circulation called “framily.” It’s a fusion of “friends” and “family.” Last week, framily paid us a visit.

Martha’s cousins, Sue and Diane chose Poland for their first ever European trip. A brave choice for the unseasoned traveller. Jet-lagged and tried they were treated to a full-on Polish bus queue, which was running on “extra-chaotic” that day because winter break was coming to an end.

Their recovery went well in Cieszyn. The next night Sue, Maryland Foosball Champion (scroll to “Open Mixed” after you click), made her debut on a European foosball table. (Yes friends, they are different!) Despite the unfamiliarity of the playing field, Sue still managed to impress one of the local foos-masters, who recognised her a week later, at a different bar, and asked to play on her team.

Both ladies, using the mobility that comes with a US passport, then took the train down to Prague, where they weathered surly Czech hostel staff. As Diane said, “The hostel really was hostile.”

Then back to Cieszyn and on to Kraków for the kind of crazy times that only the old capital can offer.

Thanks guys for visiting. You get the gold medal for “First Framily in Poland.” My grandmother might try and contest that award since she did land here about a week before you did. But, forget it. She’s so busy soaking her feet in some natural spring-water that we haven’t seen her yet. You guys win. Miss you.