TGI Friday's on a Sunday

So here we are, waiting for our flight once again, in the same place - the only one that will give us food, drinks and Google under the same roof. As I previously said, we're wiser and better prepared this year - we have discovered the wonders of technology and so, instead of spending our time reading or sleeping or planning, we are taking silly pictures, which turns out to be a lot more fun than any of the above.

It's time to travel, it's time to go

As always, trapped between the temptations and the promises awaiting for me and the ones I'm leaving behind. There is no doubt about the perfect symmetry of my state of mind - I am sure that upon leaving Cuba I will be just as trapped as I am now, before leaving Warsaw. But growing older apparently does make us wiser - I am now wise enough to refrain from questioning my moods and my mixed feelings and from trying to put everything in order. I'm taking my mixed feelings and my confusions with me and I have no intention of solving any of my dilemmas while away from home.
The only certainty I have is weather-related and I am more than happy to leave the snow behind, looking forward to overdosing on sun and light. And dancing, but that goes without saying.

What makes Torun so cool

Except for the obvious attractions to be found in any guide (gingerbread included): it is probably the only town in Poland where you can meet really beautiful girls working with stained glass in a small shop hidden on a narrow street among other red brick buildings that look medieval and very inviting, going along perfectly with gingerbread (the town's trademark) and impossibly sweet wine. The entire town has a fairy tale feeling to it so I guess it's only natural for some of its inhabitants to look like princesses. 

It has unicorns! Makes sense if you think about the "once upon a time" atmosphere of the city so no surprises  here, but the unicorn fanatic in me just couldn't help an inner shout of joy at just how pretty this particular one was.

Also, it was a relief to discover that I have no more hidden talents. I think I'm done, at least for the time being, which is indeed good news, as I doubt I'd have had the time for anything that is not already included in my routine. But at least I tried and my rather unfortunate involvement with traditional art resulted in a ceramic chicken that looks like a duck with scales instead of feathers, a painted egg that I am too embarrassed to show, as it stands proof for just how shaky and not suited for drawing my hands are, and some wood scultpure that was very close to becoming finger sculpture. 

But at least I finally got my city break. And a huge pack of books from les parents so there will be no more complaining for a while. I'm pretty sure about it.

City break

I think I'm down with the lack-of-holiday disease because I keep having dreams about suitcases, packing and cake. Two months left and I'm off to Cuba again but something tells me I might have trouble waiting that long and I'm fidgety and eager to go somewhere even for a few days just to hang out without having about 5 to do lists and a list that organizes my to do lists. I need a city break. Like last year's trip to Krakow: fresh fruit, books and nice people, I'm really not that demanding. 

And speaking of travel and Poland, I came across this text I wrote three or four years ago about Warsaw, back in the days when it was not home, but my number one tourist destination, and I thought I'd share. 

Let the great world spin

One year later, we're anxious to go back, with improved dancing skills, emotions under control, a plan to save our bodies from demineralization, ready to avoid some of the mistakes we made last year and looking forward to repeating some others. 

Not in vain the distance beacons. Forward, forward let us range.

Let the great world spin for ever down the ringing grooves of change.

(Alfred Tennyson, Locksley Hall)

Istanbul in a nutshell

It's been ages since I last had so little time to explore a city yet, to my surprise, Istanbul and I sparked from the first few hours. It was more of a sniffing the city's potential situation than actually interacting with it, nevertheless I still have more than a few highlights: 

- the city is inconceivably large. Warsaw looked like a little village on Sunday afternoon when I finally got home after very little sleep, a lot of time spent on planes and airports and too much coffee (but even that didn't stop me from sleeping 19 hours).  

- the food (all of it, but especially the indecently sweet cakes). I think I ate in three days more than I normally eat in two weeks in Warsaw and I didn't regret any bite nor did I count any calories, which is not my typical behavior

- Turkish baths - another proof that my obsession for spa treatments is a very legitimate one. I felt relaxed, pamepered and, strangely enough, hungry

- drivers, especially bus drivers. They drive, speak on their cell phones, count money and give change, manage to squeeze themselves in the traffic that pretty much resembles what I had previously seen only in disaster films,  when the main character desperately needs to get to his loved ones but is stuck in a motionless sea of cars. I don't know about the end of the world, but Turkish drivers are pretty damn impressive.  

- Bagdad street late at night after dancing with a very skillful salsero and the bars near the marina, bazaars, small shops in the narrow and hustling streets, glittery plastic, freshly squeezed juice, kebab places (I even liked the smell of those and they normally make my stomach hurl), fake Fendi and Louis Vuitton bags, which I honestly believe to be the most authentic souvenir one can buy in Turkey, silver jewelry, spices, sweets

- Taksim and its almost surreal contrasts, Cuba bar, the bartender who was fluent in English and Spanish, Son de Cuba and a nostalgic on both ends conversation about rumba, Havana, dancing and performances, cake, the guy dancing breakdance, taking a cab to get to the bus stop to get to the airport

- the gay club which I found by accident while looking for Cuba bar and the guys who offered me tea and asked if I really intended to go to a party without wearing make up

- University campus, the size of a small Polish village, a very unfortunate conference which I feel very happy to have attended because otherwise I would have imagined something completely different than it actually was

- the sea. Impossibly blue, breathtaking in its beauty, feeding my fantasies about the war of Troy and convincing me I had to go back. 

Apparently this is the year of ports. Since February I'm practically living half the time in my suitcase and after a very lucky and warm encounter with Tallinn (more on this coming soon) and a very unfortunate one with Oslo (nothing to be shared about that except that I hope I never have to go back there again), a few weeks ago I went back to Gdansk (which is my second favorite city in Poland after Warsaw and deserves a post of its own) and I'm getting ready for Liverpool. And, in the more distant future, for the most beautiful port on the most beautiful island known to mankind. 

Next stop: Havana

Almost a year and a half of daydreaming about this day (if we don't take into account the fact that I've been fantasizing about Cuba ever since I was a teenager, but back than it was more wishful thinking and less strategic planning), a year of research and extensive reading, a few good months of networking, updating contacts and asking for opinions and advice, three months of focusing on Cuban dancing, two weeks of shopping as if there was no tomorrow. 33 kg luggage allowance - probably half of it consisting of notebooks, laptops, cameras, tripods, cables, batteries and recording devices. 

A month to discover all the wonders Cuba has to offer, to dance and remember how it feels like when dreams come true. 

Playing cool in Bucharest

Short, intense and very educative. This is the best way to sum my trip to Bucharest just two weeks ago.

When I had almost come to terms with the idea that my job was just as much a source of stress as of financial stability, I was pleasantly surprised to see things have changed for the better. Apparently all it takes to make a good impression on people who never gave you a chance is a lot of self confidence, some experience, a hint of diplomacy and of course a few really smart outfits.

All in all it wasn't as bad as I feared it would be. In fact, it was completely different form all the other trips I took to Bucharest ever since I got this job and was shipped off to Warsaw 2 years ago. This time it was tear free and almost stress free, with just enough time to meet the parents & friends and even explore the city. A week into my Shakespeare obsession, having asked the parents to bring over The Complete Works, there could be no better time to discover this:

Two Macbeths and one Hamlet later, I had the key to calm & serenity: if I can't always do only what I like, I can at least try to be more positive about the things I have to do and focus on the present, while planning a few things for the future but without living in the future entirely.

Sure, it's quite a comfortable situation, because I know now that at least the near future looks very, very bright and being patient will totally pay off.

Spring break vs. summer holiday

To be honest, I don't think I ever really liked summer holidays. I loved the excitement of the weeks before summer, all the planning, the expectations and the daydreaming but then, before I knew it, it was almost over, I was slightly bored and looking forward to my old routine (the horror! I always thought I did my best to avoid routine, turns out I respond well to limits, deadlines and countdowns and to an extent I need them in order to function properly).

I don't like it when the world stops for 2 or 3 months and everything from cocktails to festivals and is a constant reminder of the fact that it's that time of the year again, when we should take it slow, relax and enjoy whatever is there to be enjoyed. I dislike it even more when everybody else stops and I have to keep going.

Luckily, this year's belated summer holiday is enough of an adventure to keep my adrenaline levels really, really high. And lately I've been fantasizing about Lviv (can't possibly understand why but I won't go into details) so maybe despite the overwhelming amount of urgent tasks & stuff to do I should take a few days off and pack my bags. Very spring break like, right in the middle of summer.

Field trip

Until recently I used to think that the Masurian Lakes were a Polish urban myth. In summer, everyone escapes from the city and runs up north to spend a few quiet days in nature, in “the district of one thousand lakes”, as travel guides like to call it. Every year I’d hear at least half of my friends planning to spend a week “na Mazury” but I was never quite sure where that was or what was happening down by the lakes, so amazing as to be an obligatory holiday destination.

So when I heard there was an international ballroom dance competition held in the Masurian district, I figured it was a sign I should finally take another step towards becoming even more Polish and hopped on the bus to Mikolajki.

I obviously arrived too late to see the first part of the competition and too early to meet my friends who were still dancing (full reports of the competition, pics, videos and my random ramblings, here), so I decided to check out the wonders the city has to offer. I had to cope with the idea that there are no maps because apparently nobody needs them - true, the city is really small, but a map would come in handy, as there's more than just a yellow brick road to follow. And it’s a tough call, especially since all roads look almost identical and street lights are pretty uncommon, much like bars or any other coffee-serving facilities that are still open after 10 p.m. After a lot of walking – which also appears to be rather out of the ordinary – I finally found a Drink Bar open 24/7. The only customers were two very drunk middle-aged men and two not-so-drunk-yet middle aged women, quietly enjoying their drinks surrounded by plastic flowers and posters of football players who were probably famous before I was born. While drinking my coffee I realized that being out of my comfort zone – defined by huge crowds in the streets, full bars, cute bartenders and colorful outfits – makes me feel uneasy and that was a conclusion I was not ready for. To double the fun, I think I have overdosed on cop novels and detective stories in the past few months and, as always, fiction leaves very strong traces on my reality. Needless to say in the latest novel I translated a lot of creepy things happen in a small, dark town, with lots of bridges and narrow streets. Those creepy things usually involve young women being kidnapped, sexually abused and eventually murdered in well hidden basements. Not the best scenario to think about when walking over a bridge, hearing nothing but the wind and my own thoughts. Still, I think it is a major improvement, as I’m officially over The Book With No Name episode and vampires are no longer an option if I want to scare the hell out of myself.

Quote of the week

A few days ago, at a geek-chic-meets-university-hip conference I heard something very appropriate given the recent course of events:

We spend money we don't have to buy things we don't need to make impressions that don't last on people we don't care about.

No idea who was the genius behind this saying, but there's nothing better to illustrate the days to come. As if I didn't have enough issues already. Time to start packing the fancy dresses, the high heels, the office outfits and what's left of my positive energy and hit the road.

The art of baking gingerbread

Let it never be said that my kitchen skills are limited to making coffee and toast. But for my talents to shine it takes a very special setting, super secret ingredients from far away lands, a magic spell and an oven that works miracles in less than three minutes. It is very likely that baking will not become part of my daily routine, but it was fun to experiment it in the Museum of Gingerbread in Torun.

While mixing the ingredients and rolling dough I found out that the essential ingredient for gingerbread is black pepper (?) and also the Polish names for different types of flour, which was definitely the most useless information I've gotten in ages, both from a practical and a linguistic point of view.

While waiting for the gingerbread to bake some of us had to kneel in front of the oven and pray, which was even more disturbing as we were supposed to do it in Polish. Luckily the Master of Gingerbread, under whose guidance we baked the cookies, read our impure thoughts about gingerbread and allowed us to finish our prayer before we even started it.

And finally, the proof that I can bake (and in case anyone has any doubts, my friend Karolina can give a firsthand account of this experience).

Baking gingerbread was just one of the highlights of our trip to Torun. We also found out about the end of art and accidentally participated in a wedding. But the best thing about it was that I finally came to understand some crucial aspects of my falling in and out of love with Warsaw. Soon to be revealed.

Shift in perspective

It is my firm belief that it is impossible to "act like a local" while on vacation in a foreign city. Sure, maps and guides and booklets spice up their recommendations with tips and tricks for those who wish to take a closer look and enjoy "an authentic experience", but you are not a local until you become one. And that doesn't happen overnight and it's most of the times less pleasant than it might seem.

But is the opposite possible? After almost a year in Warsaw, could I still act like a tourist and not like the expat that I am? Would I still find it charming and spectacular, like I did during my first summer spent here? Can I reinvent the city that feels more "at home" than any other home I've ever had?

Two years ago, Warsaw would have been the best scenario for summer. Is it too late now? There's only one way to find out. Since I have to be here, I might as well pretend I'm on vacation and start planning accordingly.

Time for another vacation

On the road avec les parents. Should be interesting, it's been ages since we spent a vacation together.

The timing is perfect, because mid-July all hell breaks loose, September already looks awful with three major projects for work, university deadlines and a translation I can't seem to finish. But I can worry about that later and in the meantime enjoy my favorite pastime: packing.

Lisboa

Exactly one month ago one of my travel fantasies was finally coming true and, like most fantasies, it was even better in reality. In my fantasy, Lisbon would be fabulous. In reality, it was love at first sight. Not the irrational, life-changing love story I had with Warsaw but rather the kind of intense summer fling which you assume will be over come fall. And then, by the end of summer, you realize you've been blown to pieces and it's the only thing on your mind. I can only hope there is not a limited amount of love when it comes to cities, otherwise I think I might have spent mine on Warsaw and Lisbon.

The city is relaxed and joyful like a perpetual vacation, cheerful without being annoying and user-friendly without being too organized, filled with small, family-owned restaurants and bars where after half an hour you feel like home, cakes are decadent and fruit tastes like real fruit, the shops are still open after midnight and so are some of the art galleries, men are incredibly cute and incredibly friendly, a world of adventures opens here and an amazing sailing history is there to prove it, yet there's a sweet sadness to it, a kind of resignation from something I couldn't really grasp, much like a woman who's aged gracefully but lost her beauty, walking barefoot in the narrow streets of Bairro Alto and singing her heartbreaking fado.

I've had a thing for Portuguese writers a long time before having a thing for Lisbon or for the language. And so this trip was the perfect opportunity to have lunch with one of my favorite characters in the history of literature. Needless to say, all of his heteronyms were there.

On my way back from the Fernando Pessoa Memorial House, I was pleasantly surprised to discover this in a station of the metro:

And a few days later, at the train station in Porto:

But the most amazing thing happened one lazy afternoon near the monument celebrating Henry the Navigator, Vasco da Gama, Pedro Alvares Cabral and other navigators who played an essential role in Portuguese maritime discoveries.

In a city filled with the presence of some of the men I admire most, in the place where adventures and discoveries started, I realized just how much I missed home, and just how at home I felt in Warsaw. It was the first time ever that I was in a new city which I happened to be fascinated with and still had the feeling there was something missing. I also believe it was the first time I missed home, a feeling so new and strange it was almost shocking. I've always missed people, I've missed places, too, but I've never missed home. I think I've become faithful without even noticing it. Acknowledging this change is one thing, dealing with it is something I'm not ready for, at least not until I've sailed my very own, fictional seven seas.

Glimpses of the weekend

On the way back from London I got to thinking about relationships. Mainly because a lot of things have changed lately, but also because I've come to terms with the thought that sometimes it's a good idea to let go. And then I found a quote that's rather embarrassing and tacky, yet highly appropriate, so I have to mention it:

There comes a point in your life when you realize who matters, who never did, who won't anymore and who always will. So don't worry about people from your past, there's a reason why they didn't make it to your future. I'm not convinced I could tell, at this point, who won't matter anymore or who always will, this is all very relative. But the sad truth is that no matter how much I cared about some people, they seem to not fit in the picture anymore. And even though I'll always think of them fondly, I realized I don't have the energy to lie to myself that common memories, no matter how wonderful, are enough. On the other hand, there's always the excitement of discovering new people or rediscovering some of the old ones and that has got to be one of the best things I've ever experienced.

Back to my short and intense London trip, here's a few highlights:

• a non-touristic tour of a very touristic part of London with one of my new friends, replacing pictures and maps with coffee and chats about books, couch surfing, movie scripts and horse races
• cherry flavored beer at Tate Modern and a great discovery, Juliao Sarmento, an artist so amazing I'm actually planning a trip to Portugal in autumn to see his exhibition. Tate was twice the fun because I was there with one of my best friends ever, who I suspect knows everything about modern & contemporary art. Needless to say, it felt like taking a private tour spiced up with inside jokes and harmless gossip
• Thames Clippers at dawn
• living in Shepherd's Bush, just like the characters of the first novel I translated
• Hello Kitty temporary tattoos
• meeting one of my older friends, who has always been an inspiration to me due to his energy and unbelievably positive outlook upon life and who has always encouraged me to carry on with my plans, no matter how silly or implausible, because they're great
• overdosing on Reese's Pieces, thus ending the gummy bears episode, hopefully for good

London calling

I was about to finally write the story of my perfect Portuguese vacation, although it feels like it's been ages, not three weeks, since I was happily discovering Lisbon, when I noticed something very disturbing.

I'm meeting Big Brother for the weekend in London and as usual everything was planned a long time ago in the tiniest detail. I did, however, mix some details up (this happens a lot lately, I wonder if it's age related) and so half an hour ago it dawned on me I booked my flight to London from Poznan and not from Warsaw (my return ticket is from London to Warsaw). Which means I'm already out of time and I still have about one million things to take care of at the office, a train to catch and hopefully make it to the airport.

Which makes me wonder: am I tired and in desperate need for a vacation or the fact that I've been taking small vacations / long weekends lately has made me so relaxed that I can't even keep track of my own agenda?

Cinderella @ Casa Gogol

My fabulous trip to Lisbon started in Milan, not exactly my favorite city in Europe, but a perfect location for a Gogol Bordello concert, as it turned out later on. Having seen Gogol perform in Bucharest and in Warsaw and being madly in love with them, I thought I was prepared for another night spent in the front rows. But I had no idea what was coming to me.

Italians are insane, no doubt about it. It took them about 15 seconds to get in the mood for punk rock parranda and after the first two songs half of the audience was shirtless and I was shoeless. And the one thing you don't want to try is barefoot pogo. Turns out I should have taken other things into account when putting my outfit together. Sure, it was colorful and gypsy and looked great, but next time I'm so not wearing slingbacks. If I ever decide to see Gogol in Italy, which is highly possible, I think I might have to wear military boots. Luckily, I was rescued just in time by a very nice Italian and recovered my shoe as well, and the whole thing could have been quite sweet if it hadn't been hilarious and idiotic before anything else. The fact that Eugene was screaming something about revolutions and his dick didn't help either, but once I reached a safer spot the night went on without any noticeable incidents.

Another thing I love about their concerts is that you're never alone, even if you are alone, that's why I'm not even slightly worried about not having someone with me to join the fun. Once again, Italians proved to be more friendly than the average, loud and joyful and inexhaustible, sharing drinks, joints, chocolate and chewing gum with anybody who happened to be around.

And as I can't seem to get enough of Gogol Bordello, I'm planning to see them in the UK and in Germany, not just for their wonderful and energizing music, but also because I'm really curious about their audience, wondering if it can get any better than in Italy.

In the morning, tired and bruised and happy as can be, I was on my way to Lisbon, where an epiphany was waiting round the corner.

25. The sequel

Because I very much enjoyed being 25, I decided not to turn 26 this year, but instead to celebrate my 25th birthday once again. It seems like this decision has been very confusing for my friends, and with very few exceptions most of them forgot about my B-day or simply ignored it (I still don't know what's worse). That kinda hurt, although I didn't think I'd make such a big deal out of this, but apparently I did, especially as I didn't expect it from the people I love.

***

Since I'm such a fan of traveling, I figured the best way to spend my special day was to stay on the road and on the run. So after a night train from Lisbon to Porto, I flew to London and from there to Poznan and with the very last drops of energy I dragged my tired ass on a train to Warsaw. By the end of the day, it felt a bit odd to enter the house without a boarding pass and / or ticket. Now the one thing I really hate when I'm tired and cranky (and when I'm tired I'm always cranky) is the sound of babies crying, and I had my fair share of that on both of today's flights, to last me until I turn 26, or 27, or 25 again, next year.

When I landed in Poznan I was hungry and grumpier than I usually am, and the vegetarian sandwich I bought turned out to be anything but vegetarian. The slice of ham which I didn't observe (I don't usually study my food, once I'm assured it contains no meat) tasted foul and it made me sick in an instant, then again it wasn't the first time I threw up on my way from London to Warsaw, so I guess it's becoming a personal tradition, although the reasons could not have been any different from one trip to another.

***

And then there was the phone call from my Mom. Who did not forget about my birthday, but she had other things to tell me, as well. This morning, they took my Gran to the hospital. All of a sudden, everything else faded. All I wanted was to be home, hold her hand and tell her how much I loved her and how badly I needed her to stay around. Over the years, we've had such a powerful bond, and I'm sure she knows all this, but I just want to be there and make sure I tell her. I'm sad in a way I haven't been sad for a very long time, I'm neither depressed nor heartbroken nor disappointed, it's pure sadness and it's very difficult to bear. I knew once I decided to leave Romania and settle in Poland, at least for the time being, that such situations might occur. But thinking about it is one thing, actually experiencing the whole thing is a whole different story. I'm going home. I'm not even considering the possibility that it might be too late.

***

And thus ended, in the worst possible way, the best vacation I've had in ages. I'll be back with stories about it once I sort the pics and clear my mind.

Memory loss

Being so far away from most of my friends is definitely one of the downsides of my expat experience. The fact that they're not all in one place only makes things more complicated, I'd have to quit my job just to have enough time to travel and visit them. Since this is not an option, or at least not yet, we have to rely on the internet / phones to stay updated and sometimes it can become really frustrating.

Then again, some other times it's a good thing to know they're all over Europe, especially as lately I seem to have been hit by amnesia or temporary insanity or both, which led to some serious errors of judgment.

I've been dreaming about my forthcoming trip to Portugal since March, when I started learning Portuguese. I payed special attention to planning this trip, I have the maps, the guides, the words, the books and the friends to make it a perfect vacation. Just how the hell did I manage to book my flights the way I did is still an unsolved mystery. I only discovered it a few days ago and ever since I kept checking my calendars, planners, post-its and diary trying to find out why, on the way back, I'm flying from Porto to London at 6 a.m. and then from London to Warsaw at 9 p.m. First I thought there were no other options, but I checked and double-checked and there were lots of other flights to choose from, way more convenient .

In the end, still without the slightest idea about this flaw in my perfect plan, I called my London-based friends and made plans for the day.

I just hope I won't remember what was it that I was planning to do after I'm back in Warsaw.