The Vasa, Pride of Sweden

Above: several views of The Vasa, a swedish warship that sank right after it launched from Stockholm's harbor on its maiden voyage in 1627. The ship is in great condition and most of the parts are genuine, with some portions of the ship being replaced after it was recovered in 1961. More on Wikipedia.

I was convinced that I would not like Sweden, mostly because I come from Rockford, Illinois, a city known for having one of the highest immigrant swedish populations in the United States, and because Sweden and Poland fought a series of wars from the 1600s-1800s. Knowing that my reasons and cultural convictions were both ridiculous and immature, I decided to stubbornly hate Sweden like any American hating France for reasons he/she cannot identify. I've never liked my hometown, and I knew that I could always count on this prejudice to back me up. And I could never openly admit to anyone that I didn't like Sweden because of some silly war, but I could bash their obnoxious accent, the lack of daylight and those ridiculous swedish white shirts with the frilly cuffs. 

My dislike of Swedes paled in comparison to my dislike of Russians(justified, of course, by Russia's previous transgressions against Poland. And being roughly 25-50% Polish, it's easy to hate a group of people who have offended half of you), but I was determined to dislike Sweden nonetheless. What public monuments could I litter on? Could I break some law to irritate a passive Swedish police force? Could I 'liberate' some silverware or towels from my hotel in defiance of the establishment?(I became infamous in college for sneaking into the memorial union and refilling my soap dispenser in the bathrooms)

By the end of the first day, I just wanted to stay in Sweden. The country was so well organized, clean, and friendly that it instantly reached my top 5 list for European countries and I didn't want to leave. In truth, I never really hated Sweden, but I did develop a strange, quiet prejudice against the Swedes before even arriving in the airport. 

Sweden makes 27 countries for me, and even today I fly to new places with thoroughly ridiculous notions and prejudices about the countries and people I am going to meet. I am eager to go to Russia, because I feel conflicted about the place. My grandmother raised me with a healthy hatred of the Soviets, Stalin and anything red. But I have no real convictions or experience of my own to base this on. I just hear things, see things and have been conditioned to believe that this country/people are somehow bad. 

We need prejudices/stereotypes to survive in some sense(or we convince ourselves that we do), but quite often our prejudices are unfounded. Sweden was great by all accounts and I had a wonderful time. By the power vested in me as Prince of Poland, I forgive Sweden for all its transgressions against the Poles. Or, at the very least, I'll be back.

Faith in the East and What the West Has Wrong

Above, top to bottom: A Dominican monk waits with a basket for alms after the Youth Mass at 7:00 p.m. outside Holy Trinity Church in Krakow, Poland on November 23, 2008; Bozena Hrycyna, an english teacher in Lviv, Ukraine, explores Holy Trinity Church, which is connected to a Dominican Monastery, before the Youth Mass; the halls of the monastery are open to the public during the day. 

Coming from an American Catholic background, I usually expect church pews on a Sunday evening to be half full with last minute churchgoers, the church to echo with watered-down, feel-good hymns from the Oregon Press, and the sermon to be less than engrossing. In the spirit of the confessional, I'll admit that up till about a year ago, my sisters and I would often challenge each other to thumb wars and regularly break into the church giggles. I consider myself to be a fairly devout catholic that goes to confession if he misses mass on Sunday, but I'm no saint. After Krakow, I want to be one. 

As the splish-splash ring of polish hymns drowns out the howl of a blizzard outside, it seems like the poles might have a monopoly on piety in the Roman Catholic Church. They are here in droves on a Sunday evening, packing the aisles, the stairs, even the altar, and surprisingly, they are almost all under 25 years of age. It might be the famous Dominican Church Youth Mass from George Weigel's book "Letters to a Young Catholic," but it surpasses all expectations. This mass will change your life. 

Poles get it. They seem more alive and comfortable as a catholic culture than any group I've ever had with the pleasure of praying. Sure, they have their problems. Not everyone sings, not everyone goes to church(more than 95% of the country is catholic, and almost all of them attend church on a weekly basis), and they don't always do as they pray. But they are a far cry from France, where the Catholic Church is openly ridiculed, Notre Dame is like the Batman ride at Six Flags, and the people are proud their culture gave birth to secularism.

I've never been in a Catholic Church with open-mic intentions. Churchgoers of all ages walk up to the pulpit to state their intentions, and everybody keeps it short and appropriate. No one laughs, and everyone listens to the sermon. I was struck how the church was packed, shoulder-to-shoulder, and during the transfiguration(when the priest consecrates the bread and wine into the Body and Blood) you could've heard a pin drop. I realized that there is almost always background noise in American Churches, and rarely is the congregation silent. 

I love Poland, and in Krakow, where John Paul II(then Karol Wojtyla) was a student, priest, then bishop and later cardinal, you know you've seen the soul of the country.  

Your friendly Polish tour guide

Above, top to bottom:  Krakowians navigate slippery sidewalks on the evening of November 22nd, in Krakow, Poland on Ulica Sienna; Me in the Rynek Glowny; Bozena Hrycyna, a fellow english teacher at UCU, and Robert Marko, a fulbright professor from Michigan, outside the Franciscan Church in Krakow; Josh Marko trying to not get smothered by falling snow near the Sukinnice; the dark, candlelit underbelly of Awaria(Avar-ria) Bar was filled with smoke and the sound of an old gravely voice singing softly over piano music "see ya lata, alligata. In a while, Croc-o-dile," while we smoked Cuban cigars and sipped spicy hot wine. My lens was fogged from the cold. 
I left for the First World on Thursday night, otherwise known as Poland. A member of the European Union since 2004, Poland has held the title of 'fastest growing economy' within the E.U. and the home of Pope John Paul II, who once served as Archbishop of Krakow. We took the overnight bus from Lviv to Krakow, an all-night fiasco that starts at 10 pm and ends at some cold, dark outpost in the early morning. 

Ukrainian border crossings are like a peek into an oppressive childhood: you're not really sure what you did wrong, but by God, they are going to find something. Ukrainian border guards vacillate between two extremes: bitter, corrupt, ex-soviets and the prissy, drop-dead attractive women wearing strong floral perfumes that burns your eyes. Hey, don't you have to frisk me? Or did you want to bring me in for further questioning? 

The poles, by contrast, might actually go out for a drink with me if I asked them. They are always polite, addressing everyone in the light southern polish accent that I admire so much, and are quick, business-like and punctual. They don't have the hard edge of the germans, but retain the organization. 

This trip, I was taking a fulbright professor, his son and another english teacher on a tour of Krakow. They raved about the city by the time we were done, and just as my friend Amanda Sheaffer, and she'll tell you just how wonderful Krakow really is, and how much of a surprise Poland can be. 

I feel so alive and happy in Krakow, and I fit in so well, that I think I just might move there. After this weekend, and after going on a tour with a Pole who spoke near perfect english, I think I can be a travel guide. I would love to live in Poland for a year, or even a summer, time-permitting. If the opportunity should arise, I think I would pick Krakow, move there, and spend a year learning polish, teaching english, giving tours and freelancing. I love the people, I love the city, and I'm an American speaking better english than most poles. Come the 2012 EuroCup that will be hosted in Krakow, there will be a great need for guys like me.

The bane of English teachers abroad: the student crush

Above: I tried to buy this painting of Ahh-nold in Krakow, Poland, but the artist wanted 500 Zloty, or about $230. Sorry, Arnie, you just ain't worth that much to me. Still, imagine coming home from work and seeing this hanging above your mantle everyday.

The best college student presentation I ever heard was given by a tall, black-haired, sensuous Spanish lady in my International Communication Class. Maybe it wasn't the best, but I certainly didn't mind the way she coyly mispronounced the names of countries, or the way she brushed her hair aside when she was thinking. She was the sexy foreign exchange student, and playing the role of your average Fred Fraternity, I and my male classmates were never more attentive.

That was all fun and games until I became that sexy foreign exchange teacher. It was certainly eye-opening to change places with my college professors within three months of graduation, but it was shocking to suddenly be the "It" English teacher on campus. Risking narcicism and a facetiousness I've known only among college greeks and politicians, I have been reluctant to relate my new experience as the foreign teacher dodging the advances of his all-female classes. Alas, I will tell all.

My best friend and roommate Brett had warned me about Ukrainian women and how, if you're not careful, you could suddenly be asked out by a 37-year old colleague(which actually happened to Brett). He also explained that Ukrainian men have a life expentancy of about 50 years, which might be due to their morning breakfast routine of a beer and a pack of cigarettes(no joke, I hope to do a story about this), dangerous working conditions and poor jobs, pollution, and raging alcoholism. Needless to say, there are slim pickin's for the women of Ukraine and, as in Flannery O'Connor's story, a good man is hard to find.

This might contribute to the once vast numbers of women emigrating from Ukraine, a major social issue. Women who get married here, have kids, and then leave for EU countries like Spain, Italy, Portugal, Poland, etc. and then start another family(more on this later). Brett's point, and the point of two Harvard students that taught here with him, was that women aren't necessarily interested in a green card to the United States(a common stereotype among Americans, and often isn't true, but does exist), but are just looking for a good guy. Hence, Ukrainian Catholic priests, who can marry, are popular among the ladies because generally they tend to be good husbands. But anyway, back to my dilemma.

I became suspicious that something was in the water here when a student asked me out my first week of teaching. I think I handled it well, explained my policy of "no dating students"(she wasn't actually my student, but a student nonetheless), and changed the potentially suggestive beer at a bar date to a platonic cup of coffee at a cafe. Dodged one bullet.

I have four classes at UCU(only three of which I'm actually getting paid for), and the elective I teach is American Culture. I missed the date for posting class descriptions, so I had to advertise on a billboard with a sign up sheet for at least three students to make it a registered course. Apparently, I wrote a pretty good course description because six girls(a medium sized class at UCU) showed up at the first session. The following class, I had 10 students. Then 12, all girls. I had turned down three more because of scheduling conflicts(Ukrainians think they can sign up for a twice-a-week class, then only come one day a week), when another two girls showed up at the office a week ago asking to join. I had already maxed out my registration limit(12) and was reluctant to let them into the course, but they mentioned they had friends who wanted to join my class.

"How many friends?" I asked.

"oh, I don't know," they said, "maybe 10?"

I turned them down, too.

I had a similar experience with my graduate course, intended for 5th year students. Many of them come from Ivan Franko University in L'viv and are excellent students. However, I was a bit disappointed when only 2 people showed up the first day. The next class, I had four students, three of them girls. Three weeks into the semester, 11 new students I had never seen before walked into the class, all women. The small course curriculum had to be completely rewritten, but we are now focusing on journalism and literature in that course.

I thought I might throw the dogs off my scent by using Ukrainian cologne, or what Americans call "body odor." Alas, I couldn't stand my own stench or the dandruff, and I broke down and bought a stick of deodorant and started showering more often. My recent poverty, something I thought was kind of a fun experiment, doesn't seem to lower my stock value either. I pondered telling people that "I'm taken," but they might get suspicious since I'm living with a dude.

Nonetheless, girls are the ones who come to my classes most often, are most attentive and take the classes seriously. At least I can be grateful for that. Just this past weekend I went on a pilgrimage to Stradch, a memorialized site of a modern martyr-a priest that was murdered by the soviets-and the tragic grave of those slaughtered in a Tartar massacre. I was not surprised when I suddenly became the person-to-take-your-picture-with and girls began practicing their limited english on me. I talked to one of them about the article I was writing for the university and rolled my eyes at the giggles I heard from the others.

"And how old are you?" I asked, penning away answers.

"My age?" she said innocently. "Why I'm 16."

Yeah, maybe I will go with "I'm taken."

Train station conversations, yummy kebabs, and lockers

Polska, Pierogies, and Piwo, part 3

Above, from top to bottom: Out for a walk on the path to the Kosciuszko Mound just outside of Krakow on the afternoon of September 27th; Precariously taking pictures while riding a bike on our way back down from the mound, Sept. 27th; Amanda and I, lacking bike locks, capitalize on our location by hiding our bicycles under a tree in the forest surrounding the Mound, but later realize that everyone saw the bikes anyway. I had only given my Marquette ID as insurance, so we were willing to take the chance; a group of rollerbladers race around the Rynek Glowny at breakneck speed on a beautiful Sunday afternoon; and a bicyclist on Friday night outside Wawel(Va-vel) Castle. 

Having been to Krakow four times, I was most surprised this time by the changes and prosperity in the city. As Amanda said, the poles "seem content and happy with their quality of life. Krakow has not been completely secularized like England has and it seems like people stick to their values here," as she said on her blog. And she's right, they are happy. Happier than ever before. 

Amanda and I experience the happy arm of the law while sitting on a park bench drinking beer and eating a spicy kebab. The kebab, might I add, was made by an egyptian lawyer who studied at Jagiellonian University but couldn't practice due to polish law. So he made spicy kebabs(pita bread filled with meat, lettuce, tomato, onion, sauces and spice). They were delicious.

Anyway, I was under the impression that it was legal to drink in public as it is everywhere in Europe(especially in the east). It's not. Eyes watering and fanning our mouths, we guzzled our smooth Dog in the Fog piwos(beers) as two police officers approached us and kindly asked if that beer was made with alcohol. A variety of smart-ass answers in polish flashed through my mind, including "moze . . "(maybe . . . ) or "oczywyscie, ja zawsze pije piwo w niedziele potem kosciola"(of course, I always drink beer on sundays after church), but I told him the truth. 

Being the nice guy that he was, he smiled and wagged a finger at us as he raised his bushy eyebrows and said "ah, but there is no drinking in public." To which we said "oh, really? I had no idea." We waited till he walked away and guzzled the rest of our beer from our empty kebab sleeves before running away. 

Polska, Pierogies, and Piwo, part 2

As Nowa Europa(New Europe) modernizes in its economic rebirth, Poland's strong culture and national identity will be a major influence on the region and the world's perceptions of it. Krakow, a classical polish city full of culture and untouched by World War II, is bursting with life and is the proud home of Jagiellonian University, the second oldest university in Europe. Expect more of Poland, they are just getting started.

Above, from top to bottom: Polish National Hacky-Sack Champion Matteusz foot juggles a tiny bean-bag soccer ball outside the Sukiennice(or 'Cloth Hall' where tourists shops sell goods) on the evening of September 26th; clubbers wait in line for the Nova Club on the Plac Nowy at 11 pm on September 27th; outside the Galeria Krakowska shopping mall next to Krakow's train station on the evening of September 28th; THE BEST KIELBASA you'll ever eat is on Ulica Gregorzecka between the train station and Kazimierz, the name of the business is 'Kielbasa y Bulka' which literally means "Sausage and Roll" and that's exactly what you get, best kept secret in Krakow and great after a few beers(piwo); and a fire juggler entertains a crowd to the beat of drums and morrocas in the Rynek Glowny on the evening of September 28th.

Polska, Pierogies, and Piwo, part 1

Ah, Krakowie, moj ulubiony miasto. Of all the places I've traveled in the world(26 countries as of this July), Krakow still takes the cake for my favorite cities. The culture of Paris, the style of Rome, and more fun than Six Flags, Krakow may always be my favorite city. Amanda and I had a blast. 

Above, from top to bottom: the Rynek Glowny(ri-nik gwoov-nee; "main square") in downtown Krakow(pronounced "Crack-koov"), some polish bridesmaids admire the queen of the day(best viewed large), two jugglers entertain hundreds of Walk for Life participants in the planty(a ring of gardens and walkways encircling the downtown area), Amanda and me moments after she got off her train, and a homeless man who demanded money(had only Kopecs, Ukrainian coins) at 5 am. 

Pierogi Food Poisoning

From emedicinehealth.com:

Short episodes of vomiting and small amounts of diarrhea lasting less than 24 hours can usually be cared for at home.Do not eat solid food while nauseous or vomiting but drink plenty of fluids. Small, frequent sips of clear liquids (those you can see through) are the best way to stay hydrated. After successfully tolerating fluids, eating should begin slowly, when nausea and vomiting have stopped. Plain foods that are easy on the stomach should be started in small amounts. Consider eating rice, wheat, breads, potatoes, low-sugar cereals, lean meats, and chicken (not fried) to start.

To all: I'm OK, but sick. I cancelled all of my classes today after getting food poisoning from some meat pierogies I ate before I left Krakow. The above pictures pretty much describe my day, but I have lots to post about Krakow. Despite feeling pretty crappy, I had a great trip and wonderful weather! Thanks Amanda!

In Krakow this weekend

I'll be in Krakow this weekend with my friend Amanda. We'll be eating kielbasa, drinking Zubrowka(won't those pictures be fun) and getting in hot woda. I'll be back on Monday, enjoy the new posts below!

Who called it? Krakow is the best! Listen to the reviews!

At right, our hostel roommate Wei, from Canada, deals a hand of spoons(very popular with the Eastern Europeans.
Below, a festival in the Rynek Glowny(main square) of Krakow on June 13, 2008.

Damn brits. They've invaded my city!

Arriving in krakow, I found my best friend in John Paul II airport's tiny terminal amidst dozens of Poles anxiously awaiting loved ones. It's so refreshing to be back here. Poland has become much more toursity since I studied in Krakow 3 years ago at Jagiellonian University. Even my old tour guide of the Collegium Maium, Jagiellonian's old central campus, seems to be worn out by the new waves of british, irish, scottish and asian tourists.
I was surprised to see a large influx of Brazilians into Hawaii a few weeks ago, sometimes making up 20% of the islands, but even more shocked to see they've come to Poland as well! Poland's economy is booming, the fastest growing in the E.U., and although it is still very cheap(2 polish zloty to 1 American dollar) Poland is starting to cater to Tourism. This scares me.
This place used to be my secret! I don't even speak polish, at least not fluently, and I feel like I have a second home here. The people are lovely and so is the food and culture. As one friend put it, Krakow has everything a big city has, but still keeps its small town feel.
Few town squares can truly compare to Krakow's Rynek Glowny(main square) in the Stare Miasto(Old Town). Americans still associate this part of the world with communism and the iron curtain, expecting to find bombed out buildings, dreary people worn out from a regime and ugly concrete neigborhoods. That's more like Warsaw 15 years ago.
The europeans have already figured out where the best place to be in Europe is, and it must be, without question, Krakow. Another claim I have made that was just affirmed by a Canadian friend, a group of Irish Blokes, and my best friend: Polish women are gorgeous.
The next Euro hot spots that are relatively undiscovered are L'viv, Split and smaller getaways like Lublin. These places haven't been exploited and ruined by tourism, like Prague(which, if I am frank, is a complete waste of time. You can get the same beauty, better culture, better prices and more charm from Krakow). Prague, although a pretty town, has become a 2nd Amsterdam, catering prostitution, drugs and parties towards the hordes of budget travelers and backpackers in Europe. Don't get me wrong, you can go to Prague and have a lovely time, it's very romantic and it's still safe, just not my cup of tea.
Still, Krakow is the best and my favorite.