Perogie

Despite my best efforts, I was unable to find duck's blood soup in Poland. So my new food in Poland was fairly tame.

Perogie are similar to Ravioli, but stuffed a bit more full and pan fried. They have a variety of fillings, my personal favorite was the Russian style with cottage cheese and potatoes inside. I also had perogi filled with bacon and potato, and mushroom and cabbage. There's also a sweet variety of perogi in Poland that have fruit fillings, but I never located any to try.

The other interesting thing I tried in Poland was warm, spiced wine. It was a wonderful treat on those bitterly cold days. It's sweeter than coffee but not as sweet as hot chocolate. The wine has been boiled, so there's nearly no alcohol in it. The tastes that are left are just the tartness of the grapes, the other fruits and the spices.

Krakow in Photos

I've thought about it, and I really don't have a narrative for Krakow. I have random stories and adventures, but nothing I can set into a sequential series of events. That's kind of how Krakow felt to me, however, so maybe that's the best way to write about it. Krakow is a very mellow and livable city. In some ways it's not unlike Western Europe, but it also has that unique flavor that's only found in Central and Eastern Europe.

Things are just a little off-center, just a little different. That's where Krakow's charm really lies. You walk through the streets and at first it feels like Anycity, Europe. There's good shopping, well- dressed people from every corner of the globe, and a mix of new and ancient buildings. And just as I get settled into the notion that this is a city like any other, I see something that makes me pause and smile.





*There's more pics from my first two days on the sidebar. There's also info in the captions of the photos in my album.

Processing Auschwitz

I've been struggling with how to describe my journey to Auschwitz. It's a hard one to tackle, there is of course the simple narrative, but there's also so many feelings I had before, during and after. It's a struggle for me to comprehend all I've seen and come to terms with what I did comprehend. I've also become fascinated with other people's experiences with Auschwitz. It seems like everyone takes something different away with them from the site, but there's also the universal "Oh my God" when the Holocaust stops being just something we read about.

The thing I most connected with were the stories of the people who did good and heroic things in spite of all the horror, for example, Oscar Schindler. This was a man who should have never cared; he was a Nazi, a war profiteer, a run-of-the-mill greedy bastard who only cared about himself. He should have been the last person on earth to look around and go "Hey, this isn't right. I need to help these people." That he went broke saving the lives of Jews astonishes me. A mind boggling number of people turned a blind eye to what was happening, yet the most unlikely of folks risked their lives, safety, family and friends to save fellow humans.

I think in some ways I know I can never comprehend the why's of the evil that happened. That this mass extermination of human beings happened at all is something I will never fully wrap my head around. No matter how many ways it's explained to me I always come back to the same question, "Yes, but why?" This wasn't just a few crazy people doing a few crazy things, this was insanity on an unimaginable scale. Well- organized insanity at that.

I'll be slowly working through my Auschwitz experience over the next few weeks. I hope I ultimately find a coherent way to tell the story.

A Happy Birthday

Today we officially celebrated my birthday. Yesterday I was home alone with the kids, and it was a very busy day. I only had time to sneak away with Magnus for a slice of cake and some play time at an indoor park. It was a fun interlude in an otherwise busy and stressful day.

Today Linda was home, so I actually had a proper birthday. She baked me a cake, and I realized it's the first time anyone has ever baked a cake for me. They sang happy birthday to me and gave me presents. All the kids helped with something, even Mathias who's been sick. This was really a fun birthday, I couldn't have asked for a nicer one.

"You Call Me Sweetie Peetie Right Now!"

Magnus doesn't quite understand the concept of nicknames. He noticed one day that I call him Sweetie Peetie and tells me, "I'm not Sweetie Peetie, I'm Magnus." I tried to explain what nicknames were, but eventually just convinced him that "sweetie peetie" meant "big boy."

Tonight as I was walking along next to him while he was riding his bike, I made the terrible mistake of calling him "baby." He slammed on his brakes and looked up at me with a scowl on his face.

"I am not a baby, I am a sweetie peetie. You call me sweetie peetie right now!"

"Yes, you are a sweetie peetie," I told him in a very serious voice. "You are not a baby."

With that settled he happily went on his way.

Plague is the New Goth

My Week

So far this week I've been tear-gassed, layed-off and urinated on in anger. It's only Wednesday.

Best Apartment Ever

At the risk of being borderline creepy and stalkery, I snuck around my CS host's apartment and took pictures of it. On my final day, I shamefully confessed my secret photography project to her. This is literally the most beautiful apartment I've ever been in. It looks like it came right off HGTV. My photos unfortunately don't do it justice, small areas are hard to photograph and the subtle coloring of the wood doesn't really come through.

That's the living room where I slept. My bed is just visible in the right-hand corner of the picture.

The bathroom was even beautiful.

I love this kitchen. The refrigerator and freezer are hidden inside those two long cabinets next to the sink. The drying rack is in the cabinet above the sink.

More pics are available in the photo album Best Apartment Ever on the sidebar.

Germans Ingenuity at its Finest

As Vince says, "You know the Germans always make good stuff." With that in mind, let me introduce you to the German Poop- Shelf Toilet.

I first ran across this invention in Budapest. It seems that Germans and some Soviets felt the need to inspect their feces before flushing it. My Internet research not only uncovered the technique you need to successfully flush your poop after you've inspected it, but also numerous people who vehemently defend the invention.

In case you ever find yourself in a situation that requires using the GPST, let me explain the maneuver know as the Magic Carpet. You lay several layers of toilet paper on the shelf, then do your business on the toilet paper. When you flush, the water will flow under the paper and move it off the shelf and into the water below. These toilets are notorious for their low water pressure, so no amount of flushing will remove the poop from the shelf unless you successfully pull a magic carpet.

The toilet paper left in the toilet is a testament to the lack of water-pressure. Before you get all grossed out, let me assure you that it was only paper I blew my nose with. Three flushes later it was still hanging out and silently mocking me.

For more information on this wonderful invention, visit: http://www.banterist.com. The article made me laugh until I had tears running down my face.

Phew!

Budapest stories are done. Links to the albums Budapest: Day 3, and Budapest Day 4 & 5 are new.

I also fixed the photo problems. All the pictures are now formatted so the whole photo is visible.

Email me if you notice any other problems/issues with the blog.

I tweaked the Comments again. It should be possible for anyone to comment, and I took off the word verification. The comments are still set to be moderated, which means I have to approve comments before they are visible. Let me know if this works or doesn't.

I've also found a cool little tool that will automatically email people when I update my blog. I will make use of this tool when I'm done writing about Krakow.

Now, it's time for me to start on my Krakow adventures.

Budapest: Farewell

It was time for me to leave the boisterous, mildly disorganized, emotion-filled and colorful world of Budapest and return to the neat and orderly calmness of Norway. I really didn't want to leave, this place had gotten to me. This is a city that has seen the ravages of war, has been terrorized by secret-police, and the people here are so poor. You can walk down certain streets here and still see the bullet-holes from the 1956 Revolution or the gun turrets built on the roof-tops. But despite all this tragedy, the people of this city have a spirit about them. They are warm, extraordinarily generous, and take magnificent care of their amazing city. A city that feels like it shouldn't exist in real life. This is a city that lives in the pages of a novel or on a movie screen.



As an amusing epilogue to my journey, the train that took me back to the airport was the exact opposite of the train I rode into the city. This train was uncrowded and ultra-modern. This train was in better shape than any Amtrack or Norwegian train I've ridden on, and its only riders were well-dressed business men. Go figure.

Budapest Day 4: House of Terror

The House of Terror at 60 Andrassy Utca is a museum that is located in the building that was home to the Hungarian Nazis then to the communist secret police. It was here that I first realized how horrible the crimes of communism were.

Comparatively, the Nazi crimes in that building were minimal compared to the communist's crimes. A prisoner of the Nazi's interred in Andrazzy Utca, for example, didn't have to worry about having his air supply shut off because the guard on duty was bored and in a sadistic mood. The reconstructed Nazi detention cells were lavish compared to the communist's sub-terrainian dungeons. Also, during the Soviet's time in the building, one never knew when he'd go from being an employee to prisoner. Even the highest ranking officials weren't immune to one day being led down to the dark cells they helped construct, tortured by methods they had approved, and finally hanged in the Soviet's own unique way. It was really shocking to see that the crimes of the communists were comparable to the crimes of the Nazis in this country. While the Nazi's were nothing if not pure evil, the communists brought their brand of terror to this country.

After the museum, I noticed my feeling was slowly returning to my mouth so I stopped into McDonald's for a quick meal, then I returned to Kata's.

First she took me to Tesco. I literally wanted to drop to my knees and rejoice at the selection! Tesco is basically the European version of Wal-Mart. One stop shopping! I can buy clothes, toothbrushes, and food all in one store! Toothbrushes for $1! Real anti-perspirent! Socks! Kat watched my revelry with quiet amusement. I laughed at the irony that a post-communist country had more selection than the happy and free land of Norwegians.

After this pilgrimage, we went back to her flat for another night of long conversations and plenty of tea.

Budapest Day 4: Extractions

I barely arrived on time for my extractions. I was planning on a hearty breakfast, but realized I didn't have time. I figured I'd have time after my cleaning. I was scheduled to come back that evening for my extractions. After being escorted back to the dental chair I find out that plans have changed; this appointment is going to be both the cleaning and the extractions. I'm not all that distressed by the news, a few hours difference hardly mattered.

I try my best to relax as she injects me with Novocaine. She keeps telling me to relax as she's injecting lava into my jaw. If I hadn't had a large needle in my mouth I would have explained that I wasn't tense so much as I was in pain. After she was finished I tried futilely to explain that I'm not especially nervous, this is just how I look.

The cleaning was quite routine, now it was extraction time. She tried a few times to get me to close my eyes, I explained that I'm less nervous when I can see what's coming. She relented, and came at me with a chisel. She then started working on my lower tooth with a wide range of pliers. Over and over she kept telling me to relax, and I'm wondering what exactly I'm supposed to do. My mouth is open, I'm not squirming or crying. I tried to loosen the death grip on the chair and focus on my breathing leaving only my toes to curl in my boots. My lower tooth really didn't want to come out of my mouth, she had to call in her assistant to hold my head while she wrenched on my stubborn lower tooth using the headrest of my chair for leverage. All the while she keeps telling me to relax, like it's something I'm intentionally not doing.

After what felt like 20 minutes, I finally hear the crack and ripping of my tooth coming out. I commented that my tooth really didn't want to come out.

"It was because you were nervous," the dentist replied. "If you weren't so tense this wouldn't have taken so long."

I stifled a giggle as I imagined my nervous gums holding on extra tightly to the tooth. I wasn't being difficult, I'm certain of that. She only had to stop once to give me more Novocaine when I said I could feel pain. Then again, she had also told me earlier that I was shouting because I was listening to my iPod while I was talking to her. I tried to explain that no, it was off. That I was listening to a talk show and it would literally be impossible for me to form sentences when I had someone else talking in my ears. I never altered the volume of my voice, but from then on I removed my headphones before speaking. She never again complained that I was "shouting." It just goes to show that perception really is reality.

The second tooth came out easier than the first, but it was by far not a quick extraction. This time I knew I was finally relaxed, I was no longer gripping the chair arms or curling my toes. I knew I had enough Novocaine in me that she could break my jaw and I wouldn't feel it. During one of the plier exchanges I asked if there was anything I could do to help or if I needed to relax more.

"No, you're doing fine," she replied. "Sometimes wisdom teeth are just hard to remove."

facepalm.jpg

After more wrenching my upper tooth finally ripped free. As I was biting down on the gauze she was telling me what I could and could not do for the next night. No food or drink until I completely have the feeling back in my mouth. I ask how long that will take and she tells me it will take six hours minimum. I think about my lack of breakfast and what an error that choice turned out to be. I was also told I couldn't have dairy products, so there goes my ice cream.

So what is there to do in Budapest when you can't eat or drink and one side of your face is swollen and paralyzed? Go to the House of Terror of course.

Budapest Day 3: Kerepesi Cemetary

This cemetery is indescribable. It's virtually a city with grave stones and tombs in all shapes and sizes. I was there for two hours and only saw a fraction of it.




Day three ended back in Kata's apartment where we drank tea late into the night.

*I've now added a link to my Day 3 photos in the sidebar. There's many more pics of the city and the cemetary in the album.

Budapest Day 3: Hungarian Dentistry

Day three was the day of my x-rays and dental consult. I arrived early to the x-ray office, so I found a wonderful little coffee shop to drink my first Turkish coffee in.

My x-rays were an interesting experience. Not one person spoke English. Despite the language barrier, the entire process went incredibly smoothly and I was on my way to the dentist. I was a little nervous about my consult. It's hard not to be nervous about wisdom teeth extraction, and after my interesting encounters with Norwegian health care I was a little skittish about any medical/dental treatments in other countries.

My dentist was a very wonderful woman who put all my fears of inadequate care at ease. I made my appointment for the extractions without hesitation. By the next evening, I'd be a couple of teeth lighter.

Now that my business was concluded, I had the rest of the day to continue my explorations of the city. I decided to head toward the University Church and continue my tour of Hungarian churches.

About halfway up the escalator from the subway, I finally got my bearings in the city. My spidey senses were once again working properly, and I could now feel what was safe and what was dangerous. The essence of Budapest had finally penetrated my skin and I was now in tune with the city.