And on the fourth day: Hangover. Not just from the two bottles of Hungarian wine the missus and I killed last night. (We were lacking a corkscrew, the wife wanted to ask the neighbors, I took the American approach and pushed the corks straight through the necks and into the bottles.) No, a glass of water and some Polish ibuprofen (Ibuprom!) took care of any resisidual effects from the alcohol. This fourth day hangover is the result of a body used to cars suddenly walking upright. Of a mouth used to Crest 3D-White toothpaste suddenly being scrubbed with blend-a-med, instead. Of flesh used to luxuriating for half and hour under a scorching shower head, now being forced to squat in the tub and rinse himself off like a small child or a pet. So yes, I'm still loving it, and I have no regrets, but man, could I use a Toyota Camry and long, hot, shower right about now.
So yes, I'm still loving it, and I have no regrets, but man, could I use a Toyota Camry and long, hot, shower right about now.
you're still in the "honeymoon phase". Why don't you go down to Poczta Polska and ask the ladies behind the counter a simple question like "how much for a stamp?".....I am sure they would love to accommodate you.
My entire life is a series of honeymoon phases. Once one is over, then it's time for the next. I gotta phrasebook for doldrums like "how much for a stamp?" I don't sweat the small stuff. If I could make it in Las Vegas, contrary to what you've heard about New York, I can make it anywhere. People aren't that different, no matter where you go. For instance, I just returned from Tesco. I saw the same cow-eyed shoppers there, dragging greedy children, bored and looking for anything they could throw their money away on, that I have seen at Wal-Mart time and time again. The Doors said it nicely (and Echo and the Bunnymen covered it even better), when they said "People are strange, when you're a stranger."
It isn't about sweating the small stuff. It is about being treated like garbage. Which some people here think it is their privilege. Where I come from people are pretty decent towards each other. Friendly, apologetic. I will never get used to the rudeness here. Perhaps in the States you are used to this.
A cold chill ran up my spine when the PKO bankomat vomited back my card and told me "Unable to Complete Transaction". Unless I'm buying crepes at Soprano's Pizza or something made of wood from IKEA, my American credit and bank cards aren't going to get me very far, here. I trudged it back home, cracked open the Google Maps, and lo and behold, RIGHT NEXT to the PKO atm, is a Euronet one. I mean, literally, same building, different corner. Headphones back on, jacket zippered up, I headed right back from whence I came. The Euronet machine was like a gracious uncle, and made me feel welcome and enriched. After I "told" it how much I wanted to withdraw, it even gave me an option: pay a preset percentage fee from an established exchange rate, or gamble and pay whatever the market gods decided I should pay at that very moment, but without disclosing how much that might be. My years spent in Vegas encouraged me to roll the dice, and I ended up only paying .47 cents on my transaction. Ka-ching. The day's not half over, and I already feel triumphant. Bring it on, dzien kobieta!
Things will be much easier for reader and writer alike once I get my camera, here. Okay, the apartment is fairly new, built in 2006, on the first floor, which in Poland apparently means you still have to climb a flight of stairs to get to it. 1st floor, people! Anyways, everything is very well-lit, mostly due to the glass doors in the living area which open to the terrace. Being a paranoid American, I bring down the steel shutters with a decisive thud every night. The problem with the tub, is there's no shower curtain. And no easy way to install one. The lion's share of the bathroom real estate is covered in ceramic tiles, which, while lovely to behold, don't exactly allow for the drilling of shower rod brackets. I did my best to remedy the soggy situation with the help of IKEA products, but apparently I didn't watch enough home-improvement shows before leaving America.
Last night as we're all aware, was the evening of Dzien Kobieta, and not wanting to phone in my appreciations to my kobieta, I took her for a cozy supper at Alloro, before we picked up the kid to come stay with us for good. Here's a discovery I've made: when speaking to a waitress, or anyone really, even if the answer to "Czy pani mowie po angliesku?" is "nie"... go ahead and try anyways. Chances are, the two of you will figure something out. The English she thinks she doesn't know is probably better than the Polish you think you DO know.
In Poland rules Visa and MasterCard. Still better than in Germany when most of stores (except of big ones) accept only German EC-Card. (Or maybe not better because they write that Poland pays the most in the World for transaction fees.)
To help yourself with transaction fees create USD bank account in a Polish bank and simply transfer money online from America to Poland, take them in Bank department and exchange in Exchange office or online here:
walutomat.pl
Other option that I know, which omits money transfer transaction fees, is sending your American dollars from your american paypal account to your polish paypal account. It's free and withdrawing this money from your polish paypal to your polish bank account is also free. Although perhaps you can only withdraw PLN - that means, that you would have to accept paypal exchange rate.
We had dinner on the ground floor of Sky Tower, the tallest building in Poland. So, not only did I have the worst view OF Sky Tower, I had the worst view FROM Sky Tower, as well. The place was called "ROAD: American Restaurant". The waitresses wore red hose, blue denim skirts, and white t-shirts. The male wait staff just had to wear black. Faux Americanism only goes as far as your breasts, apparently. The menu devoted due space to about nine cuts of steak, served myriad ways, and with various accompaniments, not ONE of which included a baked potato. An American-themed steak-house with nary a spud to be found. Come on, that's weird. Also, I don't recall having too many bacon-stuffed zucchinis back home, either. The steaks were served raw, on a wooden board, with your own sizzling hot stone upon which to cook them to your liking. Isn't that a Japanese thing? I dunno. I had the ribs and they were good.
Merged: Anyone Got an ETA for Spring in Lower Silesia? I'm Freezing, Here!
It was too warm for a jacket when my plane touched down last Monday. Now there's 10 inches of snow on the ground and smurf says planes are sliding around like crazy in Katowice? I've got a cold, and I'm ready for the warmth. Anyone clued in to when I might see the sun and all her giving warmth?
Hehe, dunno about Lower Śląsk, but here in Upper Śląsk, we're waiting for spring too, cold and snowy now ;) Not that I dislike winter, but I must say spring is being wanted now ;)
THAT'S what that means?! I've seen that tagged all over town, and I just thought it was common football graffiti. Dang, Polson, you got all the answers today, my man.
Thank God, Jesus, Buddah, Allah, and The-Many-Angled Ones! I have a working shower! I'd take credit as quite the handy-man, but all it took was a spring-loaded contraption like pip recommended (thanks, pip!). The shower head is still at a funky angle, and sprays water on the tiles behind me and kinda gets the floor wet, but you know what? I can stand up in hot water, and that's enough for me.
Oh, and since I'm stuck indoors with my new camera, and in case my shower curtain travails weren't exciting enough for you, here's a shot of what Poland has done to my brand new leather kicks:
Now that I'm armed photographically, as soon as my kid's nose stops running a marathon and I can get outdoors, I promise more Polish-y shots and stuff. Oh, and by the way, the return process at Polish stores is like having a baby and trying to give it back for a refund at the hospital.
Okay, already. It's March 19, and this is the view from my rear window - Enough with the Winter And out the front: Enough, I say.
So the internet guy shows up and doesn't speak word one of English. He clods around testing signals or something for a bit, then disappears for 45 minutes down into the catacombs of the garage. Two minutes ago, he pops back up, tells me a lot of important-sounding excuses in Polish, grabs all his gear and is gone. I caught the word "jutra", so I assume he's coming back tomorrow. At least that's better than when I signed the agreement and found out afterwards that the company has 21 days to show up, and no telling which of those days it's gonna be. By the way, is it efficient or necessary to send the internet contract via courier, and have me sign it fourteen different places ahead of time? Couldn't the guy that showed up today have brought it? I gotta stop asking these bez sensu type questions. This isn't America, and people aren't going to do thing the American way. Period.
Thai food in Poland: 6 out of 10. An hour and a half for delivery. By the time it arrived, I'd forgotten what I'd ordered. Polish people love sauces. Everywhere I go, there's always garlic and chili sauces. They seem to like their ketchup and tomato sauces a little sweeter, and their asian sauces a little less spicy.
Side note: It pleases me that even in modern apartment buildings, interior doorways still have locks and keys.
"even in modern apartment buildings, interior doorways still have locks and keys." - in older flats keys for inside doors are lost or have never existed.
