Day Seven - 31/8/12 From Kraków to Toruń

The great amount of cycling I did the day before made for stiff muscles on day 7. I ate two bars of chocolate before two o'clock which says something about the condition I was in and the desire to gain energy from somewhere. The road leading out of Leszno was a mess but instead of taking the diversion, I decided to be stubborn and go through the roadworks as I was afraid of getting lost. They went on for longer than I thought and made for slow progress with strange looks coming at me from the construction workers.
            Once I got past that, I managed to gather some momentum and speed. The route was pleasant enough and all was going well but then I felt that funny sensation in the back wheel and realised I had another puncture. The wheel was not completely flat but was definitely soft. I stopped at a shop and asked the lady working there for a bucket of water to help me find the problem. She was very friendly and duly obliged. Fixing the tube again was surprisingly not so difficult but put the fear into me that this was going to happen again in the future. So many problems with the bike and all this after having it serviced before setting off. I had been worried a little about getting punctures and had thought about replacing the tyres but it was too late now. I was just hoping I could get to Toruń without any more mishaps. 
           My aim for the day was not so clear. It was a case of just trying to see how far I could go. 
More roadworks in a town called Chodaków and more dust and noise. I had to backtrack a little here after taking a wrong turn and then it took me some time to find the bridge to Żuków. I think the mayhem of the roadworks was the cause of missing the correct turn left. 
Once I got across the River Bzura, I took the 577 all the way to the bigger main road called 60. One of the funniest place names I saw on the way was a town called Gąbin. According to the Oxford online dictionary a gombeen man is a person who is:

'involved in the lending of money at unreasonably high rates'

but in Ireland this word is used to describe someone who is basically an idiot.

      My strangest encounter in a rural area full of fields of cabbage and onions was with an old man on a bike who was wearing a hat. When I asked him for directions he looked at me with his mouth slightly open displaying his full selection of teeth which amounted to about five in total but he remained mute. I asked again but nothing changed in his blank expression so not knowing what to do, I thanked him and moved on. I rode fast and eventually made it to Płock but crossing Solidarity Bridge (Most Solidarności) was terrifying. I had to get off the busy road and lift my bike over the metal barrier and onto the footpath. It was far too dangerous for a cyclist to ride among the vehicles big and small that were roaring past.
       Fortunately in Płock I found a hostel without much difficulty. It was a bit expensive but very clean and well-equipped especially the kitchen. I took advantage of this by making a massive meal of pasta with fried onions, tomatoes and beans. It was a meal for two or three people but I devoured it on my own.
      Płock has some nice architecture and its lofted position over the River Vistula is attractive but there was not so much to see and do there. In the square in the Old Town there was a concert stage set up with some bands playing but the drizzly weather was unpleasant. I wandered around a little contemplating what to do but the gangs of males prowling the streets encouraged me to return to the hostel. Despite being a four-bed dorm, I had it all to myself. I fell asleep watching Polish TV, woke up not knowing where I was and then struggled to the bathroom in a haze to clean my teeth before hitting the hay for real.

     

              
         

Day Six 30/8/12 From Kraków to Toruń

Eggs for breakfast and too many were not enough. I don’t know how many I had but it was a lot. I felt well-fed, well-rested and ready to cycle the short distance to Warka and then to Warsaw. Before I left, I was also given a packed lunch for the journey by my friend’s mother. There was nothing else I could have asked for. Great hospitality and care.

          From Czerwonka, I took the 730 to Warka and then the 731 which later joined the 79. Góra Kalwaria is obviously a busy interection for lorry drivers as I have never seen so many lorries in one area. I felt tiny on my little bike in contrast to these metal, dirt spewing giants. The roundabout before the town was so crowded with them that I couldn’t wait to get away from there. I kept moving and took the less busy 724 which lead to Warsaw and this was where I felt something was wrong with the bike. I looked down to check what it was and saw that my back tyre was flat. This is always a risk but not something I had expected to have to deal with. There was a repair kit in my bag but my previous attempts to repair punctures have nearly always ended up with lots of frustration involving struggles to get the tryres off and on. I remember one occasion when I managed this but then somehow made another hole in the tube when putting the tyre back on.

There was no time to waste. I had to do something. There were some houses nearby so I approached one and opened the gate. As usual there was a dog there who made sure he was heard. The owner appeared and I explained the problem. He gave me the bucket I requested and let me get on with things. Surprisingly, fixing the puncture was relatively easy and it was not long before I was back on the road again feeling very proud and grateful for the help which came at the end when he helped me to wash the oil from my hands.

My pace picked up again and remained quite fast until I reached the outskirts of Warsaw. This was a proud moment and a photo moment. From Kraków to Warsaw felt good. It really felt like I had achieved something even though getting to the centre of the capital still took some time. The traffic was pretty heavy but I kept going at a fast pace until I reached sights that were familiar to me.

Time for lunch in Łazienkowski Park, a relaxing place to stop and a welcome break from the noisy traffic from earlier. The only thing was that now that I was in Warsaw, I wasn’t sure whether to stay or not. It was tempting. After eating all of my food supplies, disasater struck again, the chain came off my bike, not once but twice. I was really getting fed up with bike problems and felt like abandoning it in a ditch but couldn’t bring myself to do it even though my patience was really being tested.

After a bit more exploring in Warsaw that involved briefly going into the Old Town and then Old Praga, I decided to leave. Łomianki was next on my map but it turned out to be a mistake. By the Wisła there was a path but this turned into a dirt path that was too sandy at parts to manage so I had to dismount and walk. When I finally got back onto concrete again, a local woman helped me to get to Łomianki but then I was faced by a forest which scared me as it looked easy to get lost there. Nervously I ventured in feeling that there was no choice. I rode for a bit before deciding what to do. I didn’t want to take  the busy E77 or the forest so I backtracked and took the road to a place called Stary Babice and then rode past village after village in a daze. It was slowly starting to get dark and there was no sign of any accommodation anywhere so I kept pedaling as if trying to escaping the darkness creeping up behind me. This continued until I got to Leszno and that was when I asked a local if there was any accommodation in this town and was so happy when she gave me some good news.

Cycling past the forest to my right, I was so happy not to have to resort to camping wild once again. The sound of insects was a sure sign of being bitten multiple times during the night had I slept in a tent. The hotel that was recommended was not bad at all. The price for a room was really low at only 36PLN, without a TV I must add (it was 48PLN for a room with a  TV). The room was clean and very modern as was the hotel. What a surprise in such a quiet area called Julinek. Dinner back in Leszno and then a really scary cycle back in the dark before bed after a testing day.

From Kraków to Toruń - Day Five 29/8/12

I woke up with the plan to get to a village near Warka to meet friends who had also been on a biking trip in the east of Poland and were nearing the end of their adventure. I will keep the anonymous here for legal reasons. The intial aim had been to get there on day four but I had been over optimistic and unrealistic about this as it is about 85km from Kazimierz Dolny to Warka.

          In my charming wooden room I felt better but still tired but resisted the temptation to have a lazy morning and leave later in the day. Knowing that my bike was back to good working order also gave me the encouragement needed to force myself to pack up and leave. Since being a child I have always hated riding my bike when something is wrong with it. I used to spend so much time trying to fix things and often made them worse by not having either the tools or the skills with which to do it. Nowadays I am willing to humbly pay someone to do it especially if they are genuine and trustworthy which I don't always find bike mechanics to be.

          Once packed, I bid the owner of the house a fond farewell as she had been very helpful by not only getting my bike fixed but also by making me feel very much at home. If I come back to Kazimierz, I will definitely stay there again.   From Kazimierz to Puławy I cycled at a good pace, not too fast but steady, and got there pretty quickly. Once again I crossed the Wisła, this time by bridge and stuck to the main road, the 738 and later the 48 all the way to Kozienice. I really felt pleased to be making a lot of ground with my knee behaving itself better than before and my bike reveling in the speed I was pushing it to do. Taking the main roads also made the journey easier despite things getting a bit hairy at times. Keeping concentration was the most challenging part as lapses caused me to veer off the road on more than one occasion into the gravel or stones that lined the road. I didn't injure myself or fall but it meant breaking the rhythm I had built up.

          A phone call from my friend gave me the energy to really push myself to get there before they left. Her mother was willing to feed me and put me up for the night in her place in a small village called Czerwonka, not far from Warka. There was still the slight chance I could make it to this village before my friends had to leave. It was unrealistic but I made myself believe it was possible in order to maintain the pace I was keeping. Knowing there was a place for me to stay was another motivating factor.

          I pushed hard and got to Głowaczów and then took the 730 which was a pretty good road. The cars on both sides which raced past made me pedal faster. I found myself in a good rhythm with my legs feeling stronger than before.

          When I arrived at the village my friends had just left but I was warmly greeted by my friend's mother and aunt. I had a wonderful shower and was fed with a delicious meal. It was a chance to enjoy the comforts of a nice home – the luxuries of civilisation which I must confess I really missed. It sounds great taking a tent and going into the wild, and I love this idea, but when it actually happens I find myself craving a good bathroom, a proper bed and all the modern comforts that I have at home. 

          After eating, I slept, woke up, ate again and chatted with my friend's mother and aunt for a while. Having a long conversation was an activity which had not happened since leaving Krakow. It was nice to share my thoughts out loud with someone else. I had started talking to myself a little while cycling, a sure sign of the need for a conversation and perhaps the beginning of a mental breakdown. After drinking some wonderful homemade cherry vodka (wiśniowka) it was easy to fall asleep early satisfied with the position I was in.
         Time was starting to run out so I knew I would have to do more of the same over the next few days if I was to make it to Toruń. By more of the same I don't mean eating and sleeping but giving my body the rest and energy it required to stay strong and energetic in order to reach my final target.

From Kraków to Toruń - Day Four 28/8/12

The rest worked a little but my body was aching and in need of a lot more of the same. Attempts to fix my bike seemed to work initially but then the same strange feeling kept coming from the back wheel each time I pedalled. I was moving but something was not right and my fear was that it would get worse the further I went. My spirits were quite low and dropped lower when I discovered I was going the wrong way and had to turn back. They dropped even lower when I missed the ferry crossing at Kludzie because I hadn’t realised that the the object I saw in the water was the only ferry across the Wisła. It also didn't help that when I asked someone who was on it, they didn't really help in any way.

          I set myself a much less ambitious aim for the day, to get to Kazimierz Dolny which was not so far away. The route on the other side of the Wisła was very pleasant with orchard upon orchard lining the pretty, smooth road I cycled along. There was no heavy traffic, not much wind and no problems in making good speed towards Kazimierz. There was just the problem with the back wheel which was getting a little worse the more I traveled. At least I knew Kazimierz having been there before and was looking forward to returning.

          Soon I was only 12km away. I decided to follow one of the blue bike signs which led me up a massive hill which I had to walk up. At the top I was rewarded with a wonderful view of the surrounding countryside. People were working the land harvesting raspberries and more apples. This area really lifted my spirits and made all earlier frustration disappear. It was really something special and I was very tempted to ask for a job and stay for a couple of nights. Fruit-picking is something I have always wanted to do during the summer but have never gotten around to it yet.
Going down to the next village was tricky as the path was very uneven and once I got to the next road I decided to follow this to Kazimierz rather than the bike path sign which seemed to led off onto another dirt track.

          When I finally saw the sign which signalled the end of the day’s traveling, I felt relieved to have made it. My knee was still sore and the bike's condition had deteriorated even further with slipping gears another problem. Finding affordable accommodation was not easy with prices quite high but a little outside the town I found a great place to stay in an old wooden house that was run by two women, one who was particularly friendly and helpful.

          When I explained her the difficulties I was having with my bike, she told me to follow her. She drove slowly back into town and I kept up with her on my bike. She brought me to the only bike mechanic in the town who fixed the back wheel there and then and only charged me 5PLN for the work and 15PLN for replacing the damaged part on the back wheel. It was a lot less than the 215PLN fee I paid for the bike to be serviced in Krakow. With a fully functioning bike once more and a comfortable place to stay, I felt elated. 

          Kazimierz is a town famous for the artists that live there and the charming architecture. It is also located near the Wisła with wonderful views especially the one I saw as I walked around the town as the sun was setting. At night, I didn't do too much. After getting some food, I went for a coffee and returned early enough to my accomodation feeling more optimistic about the following day.

From Kraków to Toruń - Day 3 27/8/12

Despite the itching from mosquito bites, I slept quite well and felt ready to make up for the lack of kilometres the day before. There had been a lot of rain during the night so the tent was quite wet but only on the outside. Thankfully, it was dry when I was packing everything up. As usual I started off at a slow pace to loosen up my leg muscles. My right knee was a bit sore which was a worry especially so early on into the trip. From Staszów I took the 757 to Borogia and then went through some smaller villages to get to Ujazd. Here I stopped to have a look at the impressive ruins of a castle dating from the 17^th century. From Ujazd I starting having problems due to the fact that I didn’t want to travel on main roads but this brought other difficulties. It was easy to get lost.

          I went to Toporów which lead me onto a tricky dirt track to Mydłów. With such heavy luggage on the back of my bike, it was difficult to manage my wheels on the stony path but eventually I made it. Getting to Opatów involved getting lost many times with one local particularly unhelpful. He told me I was going the right way but the dirt track I was following onto lead to a dead end at a large field which there was no path through.

          Frustration forced me onto a main road again as I was tired of getting lost. The wind was also making it difficult to feel like I was making much progress. The E371 which was not pleasant for a cyclist. The large articulated lorries which passed me by on the other lane nearly knocked my off my bike as the wind they generated hit me hard. I rode as fast as I could to get off this road as fear propelled me forwards urging my legs to push harder to get to Opatów. It was a relief to get there and I found the city to be quite pleasant with a nice square in the Old Town. Being back in a city gave me the opportunity to stuff myself with food which is what I did. It was just a shame that the spinach soup had sausage bits in it which I had to avoid being a vegetarian.

          Just like the day before, I reached a point where my legs struggled to keep going. Reaching Kazimierz Dolny was looking a bit ambitious. The wind hadn't abated and seemed to be against me all the way as I took minor roads to Ćmielów. There were some steep hills to climb but also respite as I was able to freewheel from some big heights as well. One interesting place I passed through was Małoszyce, the birthplace of the famous Polish writer Witold Gombrowicz.
         Finding the way was not as hard as earlier and soon I was on a lovely road which cut through a forest and took me to Kościelna Ruda. This was where things got really hard again and I had to force all my weight and strength against the wind. At times it was really was a test of endurance and the thought of giving up crossed my mind more than once. The fear of being stuck in the middle of nowhere spurred me on and once I got on the 754 to Bałtów, it suddenly became easier to ride once again.

          My speed really picked up as all the earlier frustration was unleashed through my legs. Even my sore knee didn’t bother me as much. Kazimierz was too far to get to but Solec nad Wisłą soon became more possible as I ate up the kilometers. I had thought about stopping at Bałtów as it looked nice and there was actually some information about the Amber Trail there but my body felt full of adrenalin so I pushed myself to go the extra 20 something kilometers and finally made it to Solec. I was changing gears to climb a really steep hill when the chain came off. Another challenge to my wits. Getting it back on was not easy but I managed and then noticed that the back wheel was not going round as smoothly as before. Something was wrong with it but I was not sure what. As it was starting to get dark, I figured I would find a place to stay first and worry about the bike later. With the help of locals I found a room in a holiday resort centre that was cheap and quiet.

          I had done about 9 hours of cycling and was absolutely exhausted to the point of feeling I was hallucinating as I sat down on the bed and had a couple of beers to relax myself. It had been a tough day with the wind being the biggest opponent against me. It was so good to not have to sleep in a tent and to have a proper shower after a long day.

From Kraków to Toruń - Day Two 26/8/12

No need to worry. That’s what I kept telling myself but yet every little sound was a threat to my nerves. I felt my body stiffen with breaths coming in short gasps as the sounds of life in the forest kept me in a state of great fear. My body was stiff, my nerves ruined. I longed for daylight and the chance to pack up and go.

          When it came, I did just that, the only problem was the going part. I couldn’t remember which way I had entered the forest. I tried a number of ways but to no avail and decided it would easier to do it without the bike. I did find the way but then couldn’t find the bike. I backtracked and searched for at least one hour with my legs getting scratched and stung in the process until I finally found it. Back on the road again, I felt exhausted and dizzy from the lack of sleep and stress. I was also itching like crazy from the mosquito bites I had received despite spraying myself with repellent. Weather wise, it was sunny but windy which made progress that bit slower.

          Again, I wasn’t sure how far I was going to go. Without a speedometer it was difficult to gauge what was possible. The 973 road was pleasant enough, most importantly, it was quiet. My first aim was to get to Nowy Korczyn. Along the way I passed some villages and made a detour to see a village called Zalipie which had some interesting painted wooden houses. Other than that, there was not so much to report on except typical villages with lots of chickens and many barking dogs that made a racket as I passed by.

To get across the Wisła, it was necessary to take a ferry which was maneuvered across the wide river by means of a cable. The wind was quite strong at this stage and the thought of getting blown away down the Wisła was not so unrealistic. It was a relief to be on the other side and to be on the move again. I avoided the main road as much as possible passing by villages such as Pawłów, Brzostków and others until I got as far and Rataje Słupskie and was forced to take the busy 73 as far as Pacanów and then I got off it again and once more traveled along much quieter roads through the Polish countryside.

          When I reached Staszów, my body was really drained of energy. I just couldn’t go any further. Fighting the wind had really been hard and it was time to rest even though I wasn’t satisfied with the distance I had done. Camping wild was not something I wanted to repeat so I looked around for accommodation but there was none to be seen, at least with my eyes. I was looking at a map which showed a campsite when a drunken old man asked me what I was looking for. I told him and he said he would help me. He wanted to take a taxi with me to Golejów where the campsite was located but I refused as it didn’t seem so far away. He said he would walk with me and show me how to reach the campsite. He wasn't the most desirable company but it seemed wrong to turn down the offer of help. Understanding him was not easy as his speech was slurred from too much booze. We continued walking with me trying to reply to his questions but then I felt his hand touch off my groin. I thought perhaps it was an accident given his state but then it happened again and he shockingly asked me without any shame if I wanted a blowjob. I couldn't really believe my ears but he repeated his offer with an expressoin of sincerity on his face. I politely declined and then had to insist on going the rest of the way myself. He was not happy with this at first and tried his luck unsuccessfully to get more money from me. Fortunately, there were no more offers of other sexual favours and there was no struggle to get away from him.

The campsite was located next to a lake. It was cold at this stage and the weather had changed so I was happy to have a place to stay to rest and recover. The facilities were nothing special, neither were the food options on offer. I had to settle for a bowl of soup and a toasted cheese baguette (zapiekanka). I was really hungry and knew that I had to look after my diet more if I was to complete the trip. Sleeping in a tent meant an early night as it was dark before 9 o’clock. The only other people on the campsite was a Polish family that made up for the lack of other people by making a lot of noise by shouting and swearing as they got drunk not so far away from my tent. At least there was less of a risk of being attacked by wild animals during the night. The scratching of bites was difficult to resist as I found it impossible to ignore the waves of itchiness that came upon me.

From Kraków to Toruń - Day One

Day One 25/8/12

The day before had been a bit of a mess considering I had to come to Kraków by via Poznań by train and then prepare myself with the appropriate equipment for the trip I was about to undertake. The key things I needed were panniers (saddle bags), a raincoat, a sleeping mat and some lights for my bike. There were other temptations such as a gas stove among others but but I limited myself to the first three. The Amber Trail (Szlak Burszytnowy in Polish) had a website dedicated to it but no physical map to guide me along the trail. This was what made me more apprehensive than anything else. With the aid of the online map, I circled all of the places that appeared on the route on my road map of Poland with the hope of somehow figuring it all out on the road. It took some time to go through the whole route and when I finally reached the end and circled Gdańsk, I really felt like I had achieved something.

          My bike had been serviced so I expected it to run smoothly and endure the many kilometers ahead – 80 – 100km per day seemed a realistic aim despite the fact that this was the first trip of such a kind I had ever undertaken. With the panniers packed tightly at the back, on top of which was a tent and sleeping mat, it was a bit of a struggle to get going at first. Going out the night before had not been the greatest idea in the world to ensure a smooth start.

          The first part was familiar territory along the River Wisła to Nowa Huta. I was pleasantly surprised to see an Amber Trail sign at Plac Centralna. If all the route was marked out like this, there would be no need for my map at all. The arrow pointed straight and unfortunately that was where the signs ended. I was faced with National Road 79, not what I wanted. It was busy with traffic racing past on both sides but there was no other option it seemed. The first target on the map was Niepołomice which was not so difficult to get to. I followed the signs and arrived there without any mishaps. Niepołomice is famous for its castle but unfortunately I couldn’t go inside it because of the no bikes sign at the entrance. Time for lunch then.

          The next part was tricky. The more favourable choice was to go through the forest and perhaps catch a sight of the żubry (Polish Bison) that are said to be found here. This was the option I chose but it was not long before I was lost and I hadn't seen any żubry. Following the bike signs was confusing as there were different colours and there was no clear indication which one was connected to the trail I was following. Eventually, I asked for help and had to go back onto the main road again, the 965. This was also confusing and so I returned to the forest again where I finally found the way to Mikluszowice with the help of some locals. Asking for directions from locals was something I found invaluable throughout the whole trip and the old man I asked told me that I would have to change my route as the bridge across the Raba was being repaired meaning I would have to go around it another way.

          I got onto the 964 with the aim of getting to Szczurowa and then taking things from there. This road was not too bad. I was now properly in the countryside passing by small village after village. On this road another cyclist soon appeared beside me and asked where I was from. He kept telling me about his time in the U.S.. He was one of these people that insisted on talking about the same topic without really listening to what I was saying, but while he was doing so, I became increasingly nervous by the way he kept swerving into the centre of the road and then back to the side again without any fear of the cars that also had to swerve to avoid him. Still, it was good to have a pacemaker despite the struggle I had to keep up with him. He had an older bike but it wasn’t long before he started pulling away from me. I guess he got bored with me as he put headphones into his ears and accelerated ahead. I was starting to get a bit concerned about where I was going to sleep. Being in the countryside was great but it meant that finding a place to sleep was going to be more difficult and sleeping in a tent was a last option.

          I stopped for a moment to look at the map when the other cyclist somehow came up from behind me seemingly out of nowhere with a smile on his face. I was unsure of where to go and he wasn’t much help. I was aiming for Żabno without knowing what was there and if I was going to stay there or carry on. He took out his glasses, looked at my map carefully and then pointed straight ahead. I knew the way but I guess I was hoping that he would help me find a place to sleep or give me some sort of advice about what to do next, but this didn't happen. Once again, he cycled faster than me and when we got to the outskirts of Żabno, he turned into the carpark for Tesco. I waved farewell to him and continued straight on happy to lose him.

          My legs were really struggling to pedal anymore so I stopped to have a rest and a bite to eat. Dusk was approaching making it very likely that I was going to have to use the tent. I cycled out of town and turned into a small village called Pod Lesie. There, I approached a woman in her garden and asked if there was a place where I could pitch my tent, hoping that she would be so kind as to offer me her garden but she kept looking in my basket repeating that she didn’t want to buy any fish from me. I insisted that I didn't have fish in the bag in my basket but still she said 'Ryby, nie chcę' so I gave up and went to another old lady who bluntly said no to my request. Further down the road I saw a forest and entered it. I had no choice but to pitch up my tent there with or without the permission of someone. The four-man tent was troublesome to set up but I finally managed to do so before it got dark. It was very early but it was dark so I decided to go asleep with the aim of getting up early the next morning and getting back on the road again. I was very uneasy about sleeping in the forest where every sound seemed to be amplified a thousand times – the fall of a leaf was like the fall of a rock pounding into the earth, the movement of small insects sounded like approaching feet. I closed my eyes and kept telling myself that there was nothing out there that was going to harm me, no need to worry...

From Kraków to Toruń by Bicycle - Nearly Along The Amber Trail

For the next 8 Mondays I am going to post entries for each of the eight days of my biking trip that was supposed to be from Kraków to Gdańsk along the Amber Trail (Szlak Bursztynowy) but ended up being from Kraków to Toruń. It was a journey with many moments of happiness and also other times when I found myself questioning why I was doing it. One thing came from it is that I got to see many parts of Poland I had never seen before and experienced a hell of a lot in a very short space of time. I got to spend a lot of time passing through the beautiful Polish countryside but also had to try to survive on busy roads where I was greatly in fear for my safety.
The above picture was actually taken in the Dublin / Wicklow mountains in Ireland when I was doing a small bit of training before the trip. One hour long cycle was not really enough to prepare me for what lay ahead.

English Teaching - Why Do We Do It?

As I have had a lot of contact with teachers who have been living in such far-flung places such as: Bolivia, Mexico, Kazakhstan etc, I have been trying to figure out what it is that makes an TEFL teacher.

The title of this post is a question I often ask myself. What is it that makes English teachers leave the countries of their birth to seek new challenges and experiences elsewhere? Most of the teachers I have met over the years have some sort of interest in the arts. I have met many musicians, photographers, writers and so on. It has given me reason to ask myself - are they looking for inspiration for their art?

I guess there are also the teachers who want to escape from something from the past, perhaps a dark secret, a break up, boredom and so on. Leaving gives them a chance to wipe the slate clean and start over in a location where they are unknown and have no baggage or past to taint their reputations. New people, new challenges, and perhaps a new leaf to turn over.

People often say to me 'You are so lucky. You can travel anywhere in the world.' While this is very true, do I really want to do this? Loneliness and a lack of belonging to anyone location is another aspect of the TEFL teacher that seems to be a challenge to deal with. You go 'home' and you don't feel good there, you go to another place and once again you have to try to find a way to feel connected to the society there. Some people I have met want to put a stop to this restlessness but find it impossible to do so. Language is a big barrier but culture can be equally so.

So 'why do we do it'? I don't know. Perhaps it is a form of escape, the desire for new experiences, the need to learn something new, the lack of other options available or a mixture of all of these factors. Are we fortunate to be able to use something given to us from birth as the means to travel and have new experiences? I think so, but there are also negatives that balance this good fortune and give cause for complaint and even frustration.

Summer Lessons

If, like me, you have to leave to teach abroad in another country during the summer, how do you feel about it? By 'abroad' I mean, in another country than the one where you have worked during the school year or the one that you have made your home in some ways or in the true sense of the word.

For me teaching gives you the freedom to work and live in another country and the time to keep your interests alive. Do I complain about my job? I won't answer that but the fact is that I do appreciate having time off when others are working and being able to do things like going to the post office when it is necessary or going running or on bike rides when others are only halfway through a working day.

One thing I must moan about when it comes to my job is the fact that when the summer comes I have three options:

• If I have been disciplined enough I can live off the savings I've accumulated and bask in the summer without worrying about how to pay the bills. Perhaps I can even take off for a bit and backpack to other places.
• I can get some work and cut down on costs to somehow survive until October.
• I can leave and do a summer course abroad.

The latter is the option I chose for this year and last year. Maybe 'chose' is not the right word. Circumstances dictated it. Being on a summer camp is not easy at times. It involves making a lot of personal sacrifices when it comes to personal freedom. On the other hand, there are benefits to it. I get to see new places, meet new people, get fed, get a bed etc. I also get to earn abroad so when I return to Poland my pounds can get me a lot more złoty. Still, it means putting things on hold such as music, hobbies in some ways and I guess life in general. Is this a good or a bad thing? I suppose it is neither entirely one or the other. It simply is as it is.

One thing I will earn from this is experience, appreciation for what I have when I return and or course a well-earned break when I plan to do very little.

Don't 'Do It Yourself' if You Don't know How!

What is is about wanting to feel the satisfaction of fixing something but then making something much worse than it was?

A couple of years ago I had a record player which wasn't turning properly so I opened it up to take a look and by doing so I broke a metal spinning disk that made the belt spin. Not owning a soldering iron, I took some super glue and basically made a mess of the electronics so much so that I had to buy a new one.

This is just one of many examples of what not to do. Yesterday was another example but it was more comical as well as being destructive.

For some weeks now I have been having problems with the pipes in my kitchen. I didn't want to tell my landlord because I knew he would probably scold me for letting so much waste go down the drain, mainly coffee grinds which I had been led to believe are actually good for pipes. Wrong!

Anyway, I manged to dismantle the pipes in question under the sink and took it to the bathroom to clean it out. I first chose the sink to clean out all the crap in there and noticed it getting a bit blocked so then I chose the shower to clean out all the gunk, but by doing so I blocked the pipe in the shower. Bad idea! This one was a tricky one to fix and I had to lie on my back and use a fork to unscrew the pipe from the base of the shower. This pipe I emptied of gunk into the toilet. Good idea!

I put the pipe back in place under the sink and notices that the complex arrangement is still dripping a little. The water in the sink in the bathroom exits very slowly and it will be a problem very soon. I finally decided to contact my landlord in the end. My male pride has been damaged but have I learned a lesson?

Death of the Album?

Recently, I have returned to listening to vinyl again and for one main reason, to appreciate an album's quality from the first track to the last without skipping the dodgy ones or the so-called 'fillers'. Often when the lack of free memory on my computer starts causing it to stutter, I have a look at what I can delete and come across hoarded album files that I never listen to, some of them are a complete mystery to me. Basically, there is too much there and not enough time to really listen to it and appreciate it.

When I listen to music on my computer, it is common for a song to not survive until the end before it is skipped. If there is a visitor around, this form of skipping becomes more extreme and irritating. 'Wait for this part', 'Hang on, the next bit is great' are repeated alongside this as a running commentary of a very low attention span.
I think this form of impatience and lack of commitment to a piece of music is common and becoming even more so. Are we really losing track (pun intended) of what magic there is in the beauty of a well-crafted collection of music that has been well thought out from the first audible sounds to the fade out at the end, from the title, the carefully chosen names of songs to the whole packaging that goes with it? There are still regular surveys in music magazines on what is the best album of all time with regulars always up there from bands like 'The Beatles', 'U2', 'The Beach Boys' alongside contemporary classic albums by 'Radiohead' and ...'Catatonia', well maybe not the last one.

The point is that for me, when I used to hear singles on the radio, I would anticipate the album with great impatience and would lose respect for the band if they couldn't match the quality of their singles with other great album tracks.

Nowadays it is a very rare occasion when I pay for music, which is bad in itself, but when I do and it is usually in vinyl form (having a really noisy disk drive discourages me from listening to CD's as well as the fact that the packaging not to mention the sound is inferior) I really do try to go back to the feelings I used to have when I had to appreciate the limited number of cassettes I owned and therefore would play them repeatedly until they became ingrained into me. For me the album is not dead and can't die.

Time to turn over to side B.

A New Start

So, another new year is approaching and this time I am quietly optimistic. I used to consider September 1st the beginning of the year. Now, it is sometime in the middle of October as this is when there is a new start in the teaching world and mine. January 1st has never had much of a strong meaning for me.

Despite this, plans are starting to form in my head. Resolutions have never really worked for me so I don't really spend much energy on them but plans are things that I do look forward to. Some involve the anticipation of hard work and graft, hours of mind racking and head scratching to create the finished product. Travel, on the other hand, simply involves budgetary plans but this does not make it easier in any way. It does make the long days of preparation, running around town and teaching worthwhile though and adds another worthwhile incentive to that of basic survival.

Regarding the eve of the new year, I plan to follow the pattern of previous eve's by relaxing. No fireworks, no over indulgence in champagne of other forms of booze, no dancing on tables, no mulitple countdowns which lead to a big anti-climax and most of all no big plans. I will save those for the rest of the year. 

Christmas - what I don't like and what I like.

I don't like Christmas for many reasons as I wrote one year ago in this blog. I don't like the build up to this time with all the signs pointing at you to 'spend, spend, spend' or face looking mean or being called 'scrooge', I don't like consuming so much food, I don't like Christmas songs (not even Shakin' Stevens), I don't like the hope for snow when it means I can't ride my bike, I don't like thinking about what presents to buy nearest and dearest, I don't like shopping full stop!, I don't like Christmas movies (as shown by my desire to watch a documentary about the fight for democracy in South America on Christmas Eve) and I don't even like saying the words 'Happy Christmas'.

What do I like? I think that for me the important thing is to appreciate who we know and where we are. It is the time for reconnecting with family members if we are far away. It is the time for having a meal together without thinking about work or anything else. It is the time to switch off for a short time and relax because that is what what everyone else is doing so it is hard to do otherwise. This is what I like and why I am glad to celebrate this time off.

Flying Home

One of the things I always find amusing about flying is when the captain switches on his microphone, introduces himself with a few words in the usual relaxed manner and says something like 'sit back and enjoy the flight'.

Being able to fly is an amazing achievement but not particuarly a comfortable one and for me it is not an enjoyable experience. After getting past the multiple security points and stressing about losing something or forgetting about a possibly suspicious object in my bag, which could encourage further inspection or even interrogation, then there is the flight itself to worry about. Yesterday, the pressure on the aircraft was one problem which made my head feel as if it was close to exploding. Yawning, swallowing and holding my nose and pretending to sneeze helped a little to retrieve my diminished hearing as well as easing the pressure in my head. The constant droning of the air conditioner was another thing to moan about.

My last rant is connected to the passengers I had to share my flight with. Why do people constantly turn on their phones when they are told that it is not safe to do so? I don't know how great a risk there is that phone signals may block or interfere with communication equipment at the airport but the risk of doing so is unnecessary when all that is needed is a little bit of patience.

After landing, the scramble to get back onto land is understandable as claustrophobia reaches its peak.

On the positive side, I am happy at being able to fly as it would take probably a day to get home. Thinking about spending countless hours in a bus followed by an unstable ferry journey makes me appreciate human air endeavours and I guess I can tolerate the above discomforts for this.

Why?

The title of this entry is still echoing in my head. Why? Why such unprovoked aggression towards innocents who soon had their night ruined and not only their night?

I was with some friends going from one famous bar in Krakow "Alchemia" to another, "Eszeweria". Our spirits were high due to the alcohol flowing through our veins as well as the fit of giggles that seemed to be infectious. Two friends had come in from out of town and the rest of us had all eaten some wonderful food together. Basically, all was good.

The first sign of a disturbance came when I saw someone running. He then hit another man who was soon clutching his jaw in pain. It didn't stop there. My two friends who had come here for the weekend were soon trying to protect themselves from the aggression shown by the hooligan who had just left his mark on the other man.

Then, he proceeded to attack anther friend. I watched, shocked, and sickened as this took place before me. I was stunned, too stunned to move. Despite our greater number, the sheer anger and rage shown by the two hooligans was too much. Finally, it ended and we escaped into the bar we had been aiming for. My legs were shaking as what happened finally began to sink in. It made no sense and that was the hardest part to understand. Had it been provoked, at least there was a reason. As it was, there was just a barrage of frustration and anger that sadly had the effect of sending three friends home early and left the rest of us in another bar with feelings that cannot be described by words.

Hooked!

What is it about music that captures me sometimes in a more extreme way than others?

Like obsession, I arise from bed with one thought on my mind or return home from work with a great need which is only satisfied when the first notes of the melody ring true to me. Recently this has been caused by an album I have known for some time but which has come back to me in a very poignant manner as if in revenge for not being appreciated before. This album, is the first one by Loudon Wainright III. The track below I wanted to share is one called 'Hospital Lady' but have been unable to find it online. For this reason, the link I have placed up here a clip of the opening track on that album recorded in 2009 which shows that he is still in good voice. It is the honesty and sincerity in his voice and also the beautiful sparcity of the compositions on this album that makes it seem as if he is playing in the same room that really appeals to me.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g_8Ludnqh_c

Routine Issues

So after thinking about life a little since the last post I have decided that it is not so bad after all. Monday has come round again and with it comes to mind a word that has different meanings for me - 'routine'. Sometimes it signals boredom. Escape from it becomes desirable and I think of getting away from it as quickly as possible. Bars come to mind - both forms, one which inhibits and one which somehow offers release among social circles.

Today it is normality and it is helpful. It signals that there is a new start and a new sense of purpose. I am obliged to follow patterns but in between the spaces the opportunity is there to create something that is mine.

Mortality Issues

It's that time of year again when there is a sense of excitement as the year nears its end. An extra digit is added to the the number we currently have. The same is true for my magic number. It's hard to believe how it has grown and matured in some way. It is also interesting to see how it changes identity both internally and otherwise. For some people, the difference is minimal or doesn't exist at all. I wish this was true.

December. Normally, this is a time of reflection, a near death experience when my life flashes before me. The landing of an airplane is the nearest comparison in mind. I wait for the bump as the wheels touch down and feel the relief of my fellow passengers who usually applaud to express this, at least on the flights between Ireland and Poland.

I recount all that I have achieved, add it all up and see what it amounts to. Is it ever enough? The answer is in the restlessness that brews inside me as I feel that the book is coming to an end. You, the reader and also I, the reader have a mutual desire. There is a great need to try to make the story as interesting as possible. Why? I sometimes wish I knew the answer but right now, I am happy not to know it. Ignorance or simple acceptance is sufficient.

A Brown Paper Bag

This is an idea I had for a song some time ago and while I still like the melody of the song, I thought perhaps it could work as a poem. I brought it along to my debut of the poetry open mic event but decided against reading it and took the option of reading a poem by Kavanagh which strangely enough complemented other readings of works by Irish poets. I have made some small adjustments but the idea is pretty much the same.

A Brown Paper Bag

I can’t see myself without you being around when the blinds have gently been let down

And the sounds of the sirens outside are getting close.

You hum that distinctive rhythmic sound and take care not to heat up or burn out

And I see you as an open umbrella both inside and outside.

The lights are always on when you’re here

The party’s never losing legs and crawling back home again

And images abound to my mind and tempt me with the light of beauty

That’s seen enough to be almost real.

I can’t see myself without you being around when the time has come to gently wind down

And the beating of my skin is getting fast.

You show me another magic world and keep me up to date with every piece of it

And I see you as a black cat on the street whatever that means.

The link is not so clear to me when you are here I could be anywhere.

The time gets swallowed by the day when you are here I could be any age.

I can’t see myself without you being around when the lights are slowly going out

And the cities arteries are clearing out.

You pour yourself into a glass. I empty it dry when my throat is raw

And I see you as a brown paper bag on a rainy day.