Wroclaw

Most Erasmus programmes and summer universities and whatever exchange of young international people usually end with tears, hugs, and sincere promises to keep in touch and visit one another. And as the cliché goes these genuine attempts often enough quickly disintegrate and only the occasional birthday wish on Facebook survives. It is just rather hard, once out of the world that separated you from normal life for a while, to keep the ties that were so very strong at the time. Yet, in my experience, the friendships that do survive the test of time and distance have the potential to only grow stronger and more resilient. At least that is how I feel about my trip to Wroclaw the past weekend when visiting Edyta for the first time in three years’ time.

Excuses for this rather long absence were bountiful and mostly relate to Edyta’s more than two years in Afghanistan. Plenty of catching up to do indeed, but first things first. The craving for my favourite dish had slowly been mounting over the previous weeks and was readily satisfied within an hour of touching Polish soil, as I got served a big bowl of Zurek (not the drab in the picture) in a snug little restaurant bordering the pretty market square in the centre of town. To stay with Polish traditional dishes I ordered a decent plate of Pierogy as a main course. It seems that eight years after our Erasmus the Polish still have not adapted the way of preparing dumplings as Stefan and I used to in our Ligota dormitory (i.e. frying them) but the units were tasty nonetheless. Along with a pint of Tyskie (what else) I could already tick most boxes of must-do’s for the weekend, and plenty of flashbacks to autumn 2006 made for the occasional melancholic gaze.

After dinner Edyta took me to a shopping mall and 2.0 Tesco -that were very similar to the giant unit I recall from our shopping in Katowice- to gather supplies for the weekend. In Gabriel’s “night tourism” style Edyta showed me the most random corners in the suburbs of Wroclaw by taking at least a wrong turn every other time, a turn of events which was rather enjoyable be it not for the quickly reducing supplies of petrol and battery for the navigation unit. At home the decision for a glass of wine before going to sleep was easily made, although in the end it was only at four o’clock in the morning after a bottle of wine (each) that my head touched the pillow. The next morning I felt remarkably good and eager to go out. My body must have recalled that being back in Poland takes a bit more stamina when it comes to handling alcohol and gladly so I was pretty much hangover-free. The proposed pint of beer at two in the afternoon however, after a decent uphill hike of an hour and a half, did come a bit early though and I rather settled for a soup that was made of the lining of the stomach of a cow (?). This broth tasted slightly better than it smelled and I was happy to eat at least a third of its contents before deciding that I wasn’t really hungry anyway (see picture). A few photographs at the grassy mountain top next to some medieval unit and off we went again, an hour and a half downhill, jumping from spiky rock to unstable stone on my paper-thin Allstars while Edyta happily booted down in her sturdy hiking shoes.

That evening we were joined by Marta and after sharing a bottle of Vodka at home between the three of us it was time to hit town. Once at “Embassy” we were joined by another blast from the past as Magda sat down with us to ignite lively flashbacks to our summer university of 2011 in Messina. I half-heartedly joined in the rather uncivil custom of downing Jack Daniels shots yet the effect was all the same and a few hours later I found myself dancing in a shady basement-based club somewhere in downtown Wroclaw. Notwithstanding a few black holes and blurry phases in my memory the most delightful events of the evening fully stand me by and it was without much trouble that I could join in with the others recalling the numerous funny happenstances of that night. Something not entirely anticipated upon that afternoon was the increase of sleepers by 33% as a friend of Edyta was apparently so fond of the Jack Daniels shots that he couldn’t be left on his own after the club closed at four in the morning. The resulting endeavours to get him in bed and asleep were only rewarded when two chunky sleeping pills fed to him by Edyta kicked in and left us with about five hours of sleep to make the next-day hangover as bearable as possible. Alas the wide variety of shots, long drinks, beers and cocktails were apparently a bit more of a challenge to my kidneys than wine alone and indeed the Sunday was a rather quiet one. Lying in the grass by the river shore, being warmed up by a surprisingly pleasant and radiant Polish sun, I largely abstained from the conversation the others were having as my Polish was not quite up to the challenge (my Polish vocabulary comprises approximately 10 ill-pronounced words). Another brief afternoon nap and some party-rehearsing stories later most of the Sunday had passed and I made my way to the airport, rather regretful of leaving Poland after only so short a time (although the weekend in a way felt like a week or two). Whereas the last time I flew from Wroclaw airport the entire infrastructure was still in the make for the EC football in 2012, the city now boasts a cool and modern air hub. The lounge chairs in the departure hall made for a fitting last hour, as did the traditional rainy reception in Dublin make for an appropriate beginning of another working week!

Balleyconneely

Windswept white beaches, rocks that seem to have been scattered by a giant’s hand, half submerged bog land and lakes that are not really lakes but rather giant puddles from weeks of rain; the peninsula of Balleyconneely in Connemara is rough and mesmerising in a dazzling way. Regardless of the storm that battered the Irish west coast over the past weekend we hiked the interlinked beaches and withstood the rain and wind while exploring the area by bike. Well, regarding the latter I should say “I”, as the others opted for a warm fish chowder in the local pub while I pulled one of the sturdy mountain bikes out of the shed. While the wind pushed me forward I took turns left and right, often ending up in dead-end tracks that led to nothing but the sea. The road would just end in a crumbling conclusion of concrete and tarmac, with weed-grown rocks rising up from the bog all around, while the cold salty sea of the Atlantic Ocean nibbled hungrily at whatever piece of Irish main land it could get its hands on.

The “others” was a rather dynamic concept this weekend, as my company varied in size from one to seven different people, coming and going at various stages. The house we were staying at belongs to Padraig’s brother, but as he spends most of his time in the States, Padraig enjoys the privilege of a fully equipped holiday home at his disposal whenever it is not rented out. The main eye-catcher of the quarters is a huge window overlooking the bay; triple-glazed and moving ominously when the wind is gathering its full force against it. The curious sensation of seeing your mirror image move in the dark night while the wind is howling outside make you wonder how the glass has always withstood such forces of nature. Well, let’s say one gets used to the feeling.

Huge soft beds, clean freshly laundered sheets, and the absence of an alarm clock bar the scents of fried bacon drifting underneath the bed room door make for a relaxed start of all three days spent at the cottage, while the Lonely Planet’s overview of “all countries in the world” combined with said astonishing view make for the perfect in-house occupation. In addition to the energising outdoor activities, the lovely food we have been enjoying, and the excellent company, I could not have wished for better!

Whereas it was just Padraig and myself on Thursday night, we were joined by Eoin and Germot, along with John, the following evening. They all had their own curious stories of how to reach their final destination of the day, but all in all it was the five of us enjoying Padraig’s pasta. While my nationality wasn’t the only feature that distinguished me from my companions we nevertheless had an enjoyable evening and plenty of wine to guarantee a good night’s sleep. The number of eaters nearly doubled the following evening with Louise and Andrew joining in, as well as Melanie, a French couch-surfing neighbour with whom I got along great from the start. It seems I have another address to come back to! The contrast with Dublin, or any city for that matter, couldn’t be bigger, and I reckon I will be back wandering Balleyconneely’s beaches this summer, inhaling the healthy sea air, day-dreaming about a life on the roads with nothing but a backpack for belongings.  

"Where we've been so far" January 2014

sports sports sports

Even more than in the Netherlands sports is an almost every-day feature for me here in Dublin. Less commute, a less packed social diary, and thus overall more time allow me to jump, run, and play around as much as I want to. The only force that may compel me to rein in somewhat are the joints & ligaments that have to endure all this fun; my feet have blisters and small wounds all over and in particular my left knee seems to become the main culprit in spoiling all the fun. So far so good however, and I survive by merely pretending all is fine ;)

Let’s take this delightful sports-week as a thriving example of all the physical delight I am exposed to here. Monday was lunch time tennis with Padraig, and however much the entire floor wanted me to win, I guess I have to wait a few more months or years until I get to overtake him (or when age gets the better of him). Tuesday I got to escape the office again over lunch, this time for the usual Tuesday-lunchtime-football game with the colleagues. Wednesday evening I won my first box league ever (that’s tennis). In my first box last year some people at the club had apparently severely overestimated my very humble tennis skills as I lost all four games in my group. I got relegated a few divisions and now find myself competing with more equally skilled players, which led me to win 8-6 last night. First ever competitive tennis game victory! Nice. Today, which is Thursday, we had our weekly 5-a-side on green concrete. Although the exercise was very welcome after a day in the office I played as if I had just decided the other day to give an entirely new sport a go. Will, who had introduced me to the team as their new player just before Christmas, must be eating his words as he told the lads he knew of a good Dutch player to strengthen the forces. Alas as well as I play on Tuesdays as poor my performances are thus far on the Thursday nights! Loads to improve... To finish it off I plan to go running tomorrow and have my second box league of the year Saturday afternoon. Sunday the lads go play golf, which I may sacrifice for some hiking with the girl. Tennis, football, running, golf… you get the idea. And now that I find myself chilling out at home, totally relaxed and with a throbbing knee, I tell myself that too much of a good thing isn’t always the best. Maybe I should let go of that run tomorrow…

Cashel

The first Irish trip of 2014 has been a success. Bo and I returned today from Cashel in county Tipperary. Its population of 2,500 may sound rather unassuming, which would be in stark contrast with its imposing history. Throughout the Middle Ages Cashel was a centre of power and influence that rivalled Tara, the then seat of Kings (a wee bit north of Dublin). Today what remains of this glory is mainly the Rock of Cashel and the Abbey of Hore, along with some minor ruins scattered through the region. Our B&B was situated right in between these two winners; the glorified castle on top of the rock, illuminated by night and swarmed by visitors and kids during the day. The experience includes an entree fee, an audiovisual show, and ever present scaffolding to maintain the ruins as they are. The contrast with the abbey is notable. Desolated and mysterious, the crumbling stones of the abbey stand in the middle of a meadow, without a path or even a gate providing entrance to the unit. Bo and I had to climb the stone walls surrounding the fields, make our way through the wet meadow and across ditches, only to find the remainders of a once great building delightfully deserted and without a living soul nearby. As dusk had come down on Cashel at the time that we roamed around the ruins, our exploration got an eerie touch, especially with the interplay between the moon and the diminishing lights and the fact that the place was covered in graves and tomb stones slowly giving way to the gnawing tooth of time.

The preceding day had been a most enjoyable one, with brilliant blue skies and a feeble sun that bravely battled the otherwise intense cold of inland January. After our visit to the Rock Bo and I took to a self designed hiking route that took us in a 14 km loop around the west of Cashel. This exercise through lovely and quiet country side was desperately welcomed after what can only be described as a very fulfilling fish chowder for lunch. If I ever had to survive two weeks in the mountains without food I would have one of those giant units the day before and surely I’d be fine throughout! No wonder that hours and hours later, after we had returned from the walk, had visited the abbey, had had a siesta and a shower and a walk back to the village, even after all that, we really weren’t hungry yet. Dining is part of experiencing a new place though, and hence we found ourselves around half eight in a cellar-based restaurant that offered exquisite service and even better salads, as we both found out. Bo couldn’t handle all of the imposing quantity however, which wasn’t really too much of a challenge for me given the cheese cake that I reluctantly but overall gratifyingly devoured for dessert. The real dessert was a pint of Carlsberg at a smallish inn just across the road. Next to an open fire and surrounded by locals and paintings, we found ourselves in a venue where time had stood still for a few decades, be it that the bar lady had added a few years to her repertoire.

Sunday, which is today, has been as wet and miserable as yesterday was brilliant, so we took the half eleven bus back to Dublin and had a quiet and enjoyable day, reminiscing over our newest adventure and day dreaming about trips to come. Cashel 2014, you have been a success!

A quiet start of 2014

The first weekend in the new year is a remarkably quiet one. Too quiet I must say, after an overall very relaxing Christmas break. I feel energised and eager to work, travel, and take on new challenges, be inspired by new ideas and perform! With many people still on their Christmas break the two days in the office after New Year’s day were remarkably productive, undisturbed by emails and phone calls I was rushing through work as never before. The weekend started off great with an evening out with the gf; after a lovely Korean dinner in Dublin 1 we had a large hot chocolate for dessert at Accents and topped off the evening with some decent stand-up comedians at The International Bar. Saturday morning I spent a few hours studying in the National Library, where I was told that the ‘reading room’ wasn’t for the general public but for research but that they’d let me in this time. Although it was bitterly cold, the giant room was more than inspiring for studies; surrounded by century-old books, beautifully worked wooden panels and stonework, while a giant dome towered above me. The wooden desks were plain but had an aura of history around them, as did the antique reading lights that each unit featured. I may try to sneak in another time before my exams this month… In the afternoon I met up with Anna Luisa, an Italian girl with whom I’ll be doing a weekly language exchange. It’s already been half a year ago that Sara left (can’t believe how quick time passes!) and of course I haven’t been paying the slightest attention to my Italian in the meantime. Time to start working on it again! Of course only half the motivation is keeping up the language skills, equally important for me is to find new cool people in Dublin to hang out with. And as Anna Luisa shares an AEGEE past with me it seems we are like-minded enough to make that one work! More studies and a brief run completed the remainder of the weekend, which has me eager to go to work tomorrow and be productive! The next weekends have plenty going on fortunately, as Bo and I just planned our next Ireland-trip. Busy and challenging January, bring it on! 

Christmas 2013

It’s new year’s day, half three in the afternoon, and the last day of my 12-day holiday is coming to an end. I can happily conclude that this break away from working life was a definite success, with all the ingredients I needed to ‘fill the well’, as Dana would say. I feel energised to start working again tomorrow and make January a productive first month of 2014. Given the prospects, I will need this vibe!

Leaving work Friday the 21^st I celebrated the beginning of the holiday break by having a Guiness with Bo and two of her colleagues at Dublin airport before boarding our delayed flight to Amsterdam. A train ride home, a few hours of sleep, and off we went by car on a 11-hour journey to the south of France where we commenced a week of pure relaxation. Hiking in the mountains, reading stacks of books, eating, drinking, the occasional run to counterbalance it all, and another 10 hours back in the car to get to the Netherlands again summarises pretty well what I have been up to over Christmas. Back home I utilised the three days I had left in the Netherlands by visiting some good old friends in Utrecht. Sunday night Stefan and Koen had set up an entertaining programme which featured a game of bowling, followed by some decent cooking at Stefan’s place and the resulting tasty dinner. It goes without mentioning that the bowl was emptied down to the last bite, as the influence these lads have on my appetite hasn’t shrunk over time. The next day featured an extensive lunch with Bob, Alex, Minke, Iris and Manon, which was –no surprise- concluded in a pub Alex had recently discovered. Before I met David and his bird for dinner I had an hour to purchase a decent pair of leather shoes (impossible to find in Dublin) which wasn’t much of a challenge in Utrecht. The Chinese restaurant David had picked was a winner, as were the beers in Oliver where we finished our evening. Happy to have seen so many of my friends in such a short time span I took the train back home, only to wake up the next morning with the prospects of the ‘oudejaarspot’ with my high school-era buddies. This tradition features a game of football on the last day of the year, and although I have had to miss out on most of the previous ones I was happily welcomed to join in. That night I witnessed 2013 make way for 2014 in the company of Koen and his family at his parents’ place, along with various family and friends of his that I have known since my first year in high school. Familiar faces and new stories meant a decent start of the new year!