bleatinginpolish

[bleatinginpolish]

New Year’s Eve and The Sardines

I had anticipated spending NYE alone, wallowing in self-pity, as usual. To my delight, however, two different people reached out at the last second and invited me to join their respective festivities. "Golly," I thought to myself, "do I actually have some friends now?!"

The first invitation was to have sushi with my friend, Kamila, and a few of her pals. At first, it was just three of us, and the other two people made a concious effort to speak English. That was appreciated because sitting at a table with people who have chosen to speak a language they know you don't speak is about as fun as that time in primary school when Brian made me laugh during silent reading and I accidentally let out a monstrous, powerful fart.

(Ok, that was a bad example. Monstrous, powerful farts during silent reading are funny. Whatever, you know what I mean.)

We shared a large order of assorted sushi rolls, all of which were lovely, by the way, and the conversation was flowing nicely. Then two more people showed up. It was at that point that the group stopped speaking English and I began wading into the abyss that is Facebook so as to distract myself from the fact that my worst fear -- second to a monstrous, powerful fart during silent reading -- had come true.

In fairness to Kamila, she did disengage from the group a couple times to check in on me and apologize for the lack of English. As we were gearing up to leave, she invited me to join them for games at her place but they have proven that they weren't going to speak English for me so I declined and went on my merry way.

With several hours before the countdown was to begin, I decided to message Sylwia, the other friend who I'd invited me to join them. Through CouchSurfing, she had met some Italians who were in town for NYE and they'd not only invited her to join them but also told her she could invite others as well.

The Italians, as expected, were incredibly warm and welcoming. They were truly lovely humans. There was all kinds of food on the table, about 8 times more alcohol than necessary, and lots and lots of laughing, yelling (they were just talking, really, but it sounded like yelling to me -- I wonder what their actual yelling sounds like?!), and hand gestures.

Over the course of the evening, my friend made a few comments to other people that I thought were a bit negative, even rude. As a grown up person, though, she had the right to act any way she wanted. Plus, I'm just not the kind of person to tell someone else how to act, so I let it go.

Then, as we were walking to the city center for the final countdown -- amongst lots of drunk/yelling/screaming people, mind you -- one the Italian guys could sense that I was freaking out on the inside and asked how I was doing. Very matter-of-factly, I answered that it was all very noisy, at which point my friend decided to chime in and, quite condescendingly, tell me not to be negative. Again, I let it go.

Sardines. There were so many people jam packed into the city center that we were basically sardines in a tin. I couldn't move. And I got separated from the group. When I tried to go, say, to the right, the crowd pushed me to the left. Those who know me know that I was not ok. That was the closest I've come to a panic attack. I was on the friggin' precipice for sure!

After the countdown we made our way to a neadby sidestreet where things were calmer. A couple of the Italians were on the phone and the rest of us were sort of standing around freezing our bums off. By that time, I had already decided I was going to leave soon but I wanted to wait a bit for the crowds of people taking the train home to die down.

The same Italian guy leaned over to me said, "that was pretty crazy", referring to the sardine situation. I blinked three times and said, "Are you kidding me, that was fucking insane!", followed by a desperate laugh. Yet again, but with increased fury and condescencion this time, my friend yelled at me to "stop being negative" because "it's off-putting!"

Overwhelmed with exhaustion and frustration, all I could muster was the oh-so-witty response, "You're off-putting!"

Shortly thereafter, my friend had taken off somewhere and the Italians were headed into a club. It was the perfect time for me to leave, and I did. I don't know what time it was when I got home, but after a short conversation with someone else about our mutually awful NYEs, I passed out.

P.S. She and I aren't friends any more.

[bleatinginpolish]

Gdańsk and The Lovely Humans

In hopes of salvaging whatever shred of sanity I had left, I came up with the idea of taking a trip to Gdańsk because I'd heard so many good things about it. Of all the Polish cities I'd been told about, Gdańsk got the most 'favorite' votes.

Also known as "Trójmiasto" (Tri-city), Gdańsk is actually three cities; Gdańsk, Sopot, and Gdynia. Together they have a population of over 1 million people and thanks to its ports and universities, it's quite multi-cultural. As an foreigner that is important because 1) it's not difficult to find English speakers, and 2) people are generally open-minded.

To keep costs low and meet locals, I opted to find a host using CouchSurfing. Surprisngly, the first request I sent was accepted! My future hosts names were Karolina and Michał, a Polish couple that lived and worked near the city center but not in the middle of it, which I was happy about.

As if hosting me wasn't enough, they showed me around the city, took me to their favorite places -- including the best pierogi restaurant in town -- and were just incredibly warm, generous, and downright lovely humans.

It never ceases to amaze me when I meet people like them who give, give, give, and ask nothing in return. In a world with the likes of Terry and Trump, Karolina and Michał truly restored my faith in humanity, and I will forever be grateful for that, 'cause I needed it!

Additionally, it showed me that Kołobrzeg was not representative of Poland, a revelation that, in the year to come, would play a major role in my decision to permanently move to Gdańsk.

From my hosts apartment, the beach was just 20 minutes away by foot. Now, for most of my friends and family back home, the beach means bikinis and board shorts. But, I'm talking about Poland in December, so think more along the lines of a sweater, with a jacket of it, a scarf, a beanie, and gloves. Oh, and snot frozen to your upper lip.

...I'll leave you with that visual.

[bleatinginpolish]

The Onion & The Unpredictable Microwave

Following the months-long clusterfuck that was my journey to find a forever home, I was positively elated to have a place of my own and to be able to finally unpack and live like a regular human for a spell.

In the two-ish months it took to find permanent housing, Autumn had given way to Winter, and it was cold enough, even during the day, that I had wear thermals underneath my jeans to avoid turning into an Andy-shaped snowman.

For the folks who don't know what Polish winters are like, I'd say the temperature hovered between -5°C and -20°C (23°F and -4°F, respectively) for a solid 4 months. In fairness, that's not as cold as, say, Siberia, but it's damn cold. And I haven't even mentioned the wind, which was ever-present and, at times, strong enough to almost knock little old me over.

Anyone who's ever lived in a cold place knows that the key to suriving in sub-zero temperatures comes down to one simple idea: ONION. That is, dressing like an onion, with lots of layers. With that in mind, one of the worst parts about the cold, for me, was the incessant putting on and taking off of said layers.

So as to not need several layers whilst in my humble abode, I turned on the heater. First to level 1. Then 2. Then 3, but nothing was happening. There was no warmth radiating from that silly contraption. So I turned it up as far as it would go, to level 5. Still nothing. I figured maybe 30 years in Southern California made me ignorant to the ways of the heater. Nontheless, I needed warmth. STAT.

After advising Terry several times that the heater seemed to not work, he told me that he'd spoken with the owner and that the heaters in the rooms were regulated by a computer downstairs. In other words, I didn't have control over the temperature of my own icebox of an apartment! While I thought that was a bunch of malarkey, I was so sick of arguing at that point that I let it go and bundled up.

For the duration of my time in that apartment, I was cold. Always

While it looked quite modern, the microwave that came with the apartment was -- how should I put this? -- quirky. That's why I named it "Captain Quirk". There were maybe 15 buttons but only 1 of them actually did something. And to this day I don't know exactly what its true fucntion was, just that it seemed to have a mind of its own.

Upon pushing the mystery button, sometimes the microwave would run for 4 seconds. Other times it would run for 9, or 13 seconds. There were times when it ran for 30 or 40 seconds. Quite literally, I had no idea what expect from that bloody button! I half expected it to turn my prospective meal into a dancing rabbit wearing a tutu and 3 diamond-enctrusted anklets. Alas, I had no such luck.

My first idea was to push it 10 or 15 times rapid fire and open the microwave door to stop it whenever I thought the time was right. However, I forgot on a few occassions and turned some meals into burnt piles of black, inedible magma-like goop. Clearly that was not a sustainable solution.

Eventually, it occured to me to use the timer on my phone to remind me to stop the microwave, and that worked like a charm. No more burnt popcorn!

[bleatinginpolish]

Dismembered Arms & Wonderful Humans

Most of my students knew how I felt about Kołobrzeg. They knew that, for a variety of reasons, it was about as much fun as having an assailant violently rip my arms from my body and use them to beat me whilst mockingly asking "why are you hitting yourself?".

As such, I was often asked why I would subject myself to such barbarism. The answer was simple: I adored my students. With very few exceptions, they were lovely, open-minded humanoids and I wanted to get to know them, their culture, and, of course, help them speak English like weirdos.

While many students came and went for one reason or another, there were some who I saw essentially every week for the duration of my time in Kołobrzeg. Here they are, based on the day of the week I had them:

Mondays

My "Business English" class was an intermediate-level group of 7 adults who all worked for the same company. With an 08:00 start time -- and on Mondays, no less -- it wasn't always easy for everyone but they were a fun group. For the most part, they were engaged, asked questions, and were clearly interested in improving and learning what sorcery brought a guy from southern California, of all places, to a small city in northern Poland. To my delight, by the end of our time together, we were having more spontaneous conversations than using the book, which was good for everyone, methinks.

Dawid, an 11-year-old boy, came to me after school and was always a pleasure even though he couldn't even put a sentence together, let alone have a conversation. Every week, I'd start our class by asking him what he did over the weekend, and his answer never waivered; he "played his console". XBOX, that is. That little brain-melting machine was his pride and joy. In time, I came to recognize when he didn't understand what I'd said or asked but acted like he did. Occassionally, he'd say "yes" with all kinds of confidence even though I hadn't asked a yes/no question. He was a smart kid who was able to laugh at himself and was always willing to practice.

The "Teens" class was next. They were an interesting bunch of high school students with varying levels of English, though all of them were conversational.

Weronika was the one I mentioned in a previous post that loved pups and volunteered at the local animal shelter weekly. She and her friends Ola and Oliwia were very quite in the beginning. Eventually (read: a month before I left), Weronika and Ola opened up because the class size got smaller, so we were able to actually get to know each other in a way that wasn't possible with a larger group. That's when Weronika invited me to walk some doggos with her! They were the only two who showed up to our final class, and even got me a tear-jerkingly thougthful gift!

Asia and Iden, who were aunt and nephew respectively despite being the same age, were the talkers of the group. And I mean that in the best way possible. I could always count on them to keep the conversation going! Asia, in one of the most spectacular acts of kindness I experienced in K-rzeg, invited me to spend Christmas with her and her family. They were tremendously warm and welcoming, the food was lovely (except the "gelly fish" - nie dziękuję!), and they taught me a ton about Poland and Polish Christmas. It was a truly heart-warming experience that I shall ne'er forget.

They also initiated "food lessons" (or "potlucks", as I call them). Everyone made food, brought it in, and we had the lesson in the dining room while sharing a meal. Another time, we all chipped in and bought a pizza and drinks (no, it wasn't Vodka!) to celebrate Iden's birthday. That was a glorious day!

Oliwia P. kept me on my toes with her depth and insight, though I think there was more to her than I got to see in the context of our group lessons. As someone who has done a gaggle of volunteering, I was impressed when she went to the Dominican Republic with her parents to do some volunteer work. Her friend Klaudia came to some classes but I think she said about 31 words all year, so I didn't get to know her too well.

A guy by the name of Jacek was the last to join the group. He didn't make a good first impression (he stared at his phone for 90% of his first class), but he ended up being quite engaging.

Next up was my "Adults" class, which was 5 low-level, working adults ranging in age from 25 to 45, I think. They were lovely people that were eager to learn but it didn't make sense for them to have classes with me because they were so low level that we could barely communicate. For that reason, I had to use a book that, thanks to Terry, wasn't appropriate for them so I was constantly simplifying or completely skipping entire sections. Those folks needed to be practicing the basics, not learning the nuance of cynicism (true story!).

Karol, a first year high school student who was in an IT-focused program, was a bit of a wild card for me. I never really knew what to talk about with him, but somehow we kept the conversations going. Whenever I got into a pickle in terms of having nothing lined up to talk about, I would use my admittedly outdated knowledge of IT to spark a conversation.

Tuesdays

A few months into my stay, I got a new student named Magda. She was beautiful soul in her mid-20's who wanted to improve her English, partly just for herself but also to feel more confident while traveling. Like me, she had grown tired of the routine of "normal" life and was looking to change things up. As I had walked down that same road, I was perfectly suited to not only help her with English but also to give advice related to backpacking and how to get over the mental barrier of letting go of the things we're so used to having. It was quite exciting to be a part of her journey! (Update: She's backpacking in the Philippines as I write this!)

Initially, I met Monika in my "Business English" class. Her level was a bit lower than the others, which is why she wanted to have individual classes as well. She was a Kołobrzeg native that had lived in Spain and Argentina for many years, so she spoke Spanish fluently and handled the Spanish-speaking markets at her job. Whenever she couldn't explain something to me in English, she'd swtich to Spanish and I understood more often than not, so that was handy.

Natalia was Monika's 13-year-old daughter. At first, we could barely communicate. That was nerve-racking, but as she got more comfortable with me and gained confidence, it got easier. Her mom told me that was enjoying our lessons, which was the first time she'd been even remotely excited about English, so she was thrilled. By the end of my time in Poland, we were able to understand each other well enough to maintain (simple) conversations.

Wednesdays

Borys, the tallest 16-year-old in the universe, was an incredibly nice kid who lived and breathed basketball. For the NBA playoffs, he stayed up all night to watch the games live. In 8 months of classes, I don't think a single one went by without us talking about basketball. That's quite a feat for me considering I could not care less about the sport. A few times, I tried to mix up the topic but we almost always hit a dead end and turned into awkward turtles. Luckily, it was easy enough to quickly Google "basketball news", then let him run with whatever headlines I found.

A second year high school student, Kinga, was one of the hardest working people I'd ever met. As arguably my highest level student, our lessons covered a multitude of topics ranging from dance class (hers, not mine) to traveling to the daily struggles of having long hair. Given her high level, she was hoping to refine her knowlegde of the simple things that don't come up conversation very often, such as "windowsill". We got along so well that she wanted to continue our lessons after I came back to the US. (Update: We have indeed started having lessons via Skype.)

Łukasz had a wife and young son and was probably in his late 30's. They owned a local business that catered to the summertime tourists, so he was taking advantage of the off-season and improving his English. While our conversations frequently drifted towards the depressing side of life, such as politics, climate change, and social media addiction, they were always thought-provoking and enjoyable. And when the laptop I had borrowed from the school decided to stop working, he lent me one of his! That was a life-saver because I had just started teaching online and couldn't continue without a laptop.

Even with a 20-year age gap and wholly different upbringings, Kasia and I had an extraordinary amount in common. She was one of the few students with whom I never worried about running out of topics to discuss because we were both able and willing to talking about anything and everything. Our conversations seemed to always boil down to our shared fascination with human nature; why people do what they do. In fact, we were often so deep in conversation that we'd lose track of time and go over by 10 or 15 minutes. I was (and am) genuinely excited to see where she goes in life as she needs and deserves more than Kołobrzeg can offer.

Thursdays

Another second year high school student, Ola, came to me twice a week because she had signed up to go to New York for an English course during the coming summer. For a while, her friend Roxanna was coming with her but she got a job and had to stop. Anywho, even though she'd traveled a fair amount, Ola was a bit nervous about living in such a big, busy city. I assured her she would adjust and provided as many tips as a I could considering that I'd only been there once. She was incredibly smart, though I don't think she'd admit, and I think she'll go on to do great things! (Update: She's currently in New York, making oodles of friends from all over the world, and loving it!)

Fridays

My only class on Fridays was with Marek, a 14-year-old who played soccer in a club, loved to ski, and was a big fan of movies, especially ones with superheroes. We spent many a class talking about the myriad of superhero movies and characters, and watching trailers for upcoming releases. We talked about what might happen in "Avengers: Infinity War" more than I'm comfortable admitting in writing. Coincidentally, it was released the weekend before I left Poland, so our last class was a real geekfest.

Each of the people mentioned above -- and a few other non-students who I'll write about in another post -- played a part in my decision to stay in Kołobrzeg, and I'm thankful for every one of them!

[bleatinginpolish]

No insane stories this time, folks. Believe you me, there are more of those on the way!

In fairness to Kołobrzeg, most my befuddling experiences involved the humans with whom I had to interact. It was not per se an ugly place, and I gathered the pictures above as proof.

Granted, there were a few months during winter when I basically never saw the sun, which was painful both mentally and physically. Even still, it was quite picturesque when it wasn't -5,327,134 degrees and I could gander around outside without becoming an Andysicle.

1. Kołobrzeg Cathedral, arguably the crown jewel of the city, is a temple built in the fourteenth century in the Gothic style. It has the status of parish church, minor basilica, and since 1972 has been the co-cathedral of the Diocese of Koszalin-Kolobrzeg.

2. A few businesses and apartments in the city center.

3. "March 18" Park, a pretty park with a date for a name.

4. The view from my balcony during death -- I mean, winter.

5. Kołobrzeg Lighthouse, which dates back to 1666. During World War II, it was blown up by German engineers as it was a good look-out point for the Polish artillery. It has since been re-built, upgraded, and the base now houses a mineral rock museum.

6. Kołobrzeg Pier, one of the main attractions of the town, was officially opened in June 19, 1971 and stretches 220 meters into the sea. At the end of the pier is a jetty from which sightseeing ships sail.

7. A veiw from Kołobrzeg Pier. Also, too many people. And birds.

8. A view from my walk to work during Spring. After a long, harsh winter, the sunshine and greenery were a sight for sore eyes!

[bleatinginpolish]

The Motley Crew & The Pancake Thief

From the day I agreed to go teach in Poland, my arrival date in Kołobrzeg was October 1st. That date never varied and Terry made no mention of it being a problem or an inconvenience.

As I later found out, the school year had started in September. So when I arrived in October, as expected, the other teachers had already been teaching for at least a couple weeks.

Despite knowing exactly what date I was going to arrive, Terry had apparently been blaming me for his disorganization. He'd been telling the other teachers that I was supposed to have arrived sooner and that my tardiness was to blame for his scheduling woes.

In other words, I hadn't even arrived yet and the other teachers already had a negative view of me thanks to his blatant lies.

The "other teachers" were Vicky, an American girl from Ohio in her early 20's, Marvin, a middle-aged Brazilian guy, and Anne, an Australian woman in her 60's who, like me, had sold everything and spent the last several years backpacking in South America and Europe. (I'll talk about her in another post. This one is for the unhinged people.) We were a motley crew.

My introduction to Marvin came when I met up with him to discuss taking over his Monday morning Business English class. He was flamboyant and passive aggressive, but seemed harmless and well-versed in terms of teaching English. Even after he asked about my travels only to promptly interrupt me with tales of his own globetrotting and polyglottery, I shrugged it off as odd and only vaguely rude.

As a side note, despite clearly being fluent in English, he had the strangest accent I'd ever heard. It was not a Portuquese accent. It was something else. And, frankly, he was difficult to understand, which I found slightly concerning given that he was there to teach English under the pretext of being a native English speaker.

Upon taking over several of his classes, it became abundantly clear that students were not happy with his methods. My Teens class, a group of 8 or so high school students, had him the entire previous year and said his classes were awful. They told me he would ask them questions then cut them off with his own answers. Sound familiar?

They would get into shouting matches because he wouldn't let them speak, which was the whole reason they were there. It got to a point where they were so fed up they simply quit coming to his class. Then I took over and they got to have actual conversations, and with someone who didn't sound like that were chewing on a rabid squirrel when they spoke.

Eventually, they became one of my favorite classes. One of them invited me to spend Christmas with her and her family, who were amazingly warm and welcoming. Another loved dogs and frequently volunteered at the local shelter. She invited me to walk a few of the dogs with her on a nice, warm day in Spring, which was exactly what I needed after a long, cold, lonely winter.

I still haven't figured Vicky out. And, honestly, I don't know if I want to. She's quite the conundrum. One of my first glimpses into the depths of her psychosis came after she called out her new roommate, Anne, the Aussie, for using four squares of her toilet paper, which she had left in the bathroom.

If that story registered as a "4-out-of-10" -- 10 being the weirdest fuckin' thing in the universe -- on the weird-o-meter, the one I'm about to tell is a "16.983513999". In fact, let's just call it a "17".

In order to apply for residency so that we could stay for the entire school year, Anne and I had to go to Koszalin, a larger city less than an hour's drive away. Due to an inefficient system and a failed previous attempt, we chose to leave at 3am with the goal of arriving before 4am, thereby being the first people in line, and then waiting in the lobby until 8am, when the doors opened.

To ease the pain of getting up at such an outrageous hour, Anne offered to make pancakes and jam that we, including Iced-T (because he had to be there to speak Polish), could eat whilst we waited.

The day prior to our departure, Anne made said pancakes and jam and kindly informed Vicky, who was still her roommate at that point, that they were for the three of us and were not to be eaten.

Imagine Anne's confusion and shock when she entered the kitchen in the early morning hours to find that someone had helped themselves to THREE SERVINGS OF PANCAKES in the middle of the night. Crums. Only crums remained.

For clarificaiton, this was initially a "14-out-of-10" on the weird-o-meter. Then the unthinkable happened. Anne confronted Vicky about the pancake theft, and Vicky said, "Eh.", and shrugged her shoulders flippantly. Upon hearing about this, I blinked 23 times rapid fire, and not always with both eyes at the same time.

As a happy, logic-based individual that finds joy in helping others and being kind, this situation very nearly snuffed out the light within me. It took every fiber of my being to claw my way back from the darkness. And once I was back, I didn't know whether to add 2.983513999 points or... or... or... "White Fang!". Because, what the hell, man?!

[bleatinginpolish]

Musical Apartments & A New Verb

Part of what I was promised when I agreed to come to Poland was an apartment with wifi and a washing machine, both normal amenities. And until about a week before I was set to arrive, that's exactly what I was expecting. Then I got an e-mail from T-Bone.

The owner's mom had fallen ill and they needed the apartment, which was the ground floor of the house they lived in, to keep her close by. Completely understandle; I had no hard feelings towards the family about that. Plus, they were nice enough to let me move in for two weeks while Terry found me a new spot.

With my now-temporary apartment lined up and my month of friend-visiting fun coming to an end, I flew into Berlin, took a bus across the Polish border to Poznań, then boarded a train to Kołobrzeg.

My train pulled into the station in the early morning hours of Monday, October 1st, and Terry was kind enough to pick me up. He even drove me to his place, where he had a home-cooked meal prepared for me. It was quite a lovely welcome, I must say! It gave me hope that the coming 8 months weren't going to be the mental equivalent of being disembowled and then getting laughed at because my guts where all over the floor. Rude.

He then dropped me off at my apartment, at which time I requested the wifi network and password so I could let my family know I'd arrived safely. Come to find out there was no wifi. Or, there was at some point because one of the other teachers had used it recently. However, I couldn't logon for some reason. The whole mixup was obviously someone else's fault.

That evasive maneuver became so familiar to me, so persistent throughout my time in K-rzeg, that I've decided to create a verb for it; I'd been Terry'd (to be told a bold-face lie that all parties involved know is a bold-fucking-faced lie, and, most importantly, the liar acts as though the liee is insane when their face contorts in disgust and/or disbelief).

I digress. For whatever reason, Terry wasn't able to find me a forever home within two weeks. So I moved to a smaller yet nicer apartment that overlooked a park and the city center, with the understanding that I would be there temporarily as well.

There was a washing machine but no wifi, by the way.

Since I knew I would be leaving in the near future, I never unpacked, even after a couple weeks of living there. I would've liked to but I figured it would make moving that much easier if I kept as much as I could in my backpack.

One day I got a excited text from my favorite person. He had good news! Upon speaking with him, it turns out the owner of the apartment had agreed to let me stay there for the rest of my time Poland. That was indeed good news! I started unpacking almost immediately. I was so relieved to be able to have the living situation thing figured out.

The following day I receive another text from Terr(ible)y asking if I wanted to go check out another apartment in the evening. With confusion and frustration in equal measure, I responded by quoting him from THE DAY BEFORE, when he told me I could stay.

"But, I didn't tell you that the owner is coming back and will be living in the apartment", he said calmly.

This was the first time I almost lost it with him. And I'd been there less than a month. The apartment was small. Two adult humans who weren't dating or conjoined twins could not cohabitate that apartment. And he knew that.

His next brilliant plan was to have me move into the apartment one of the other teachers had been staying in. Vicky, the American girl, wasn't comfortable living there because there were Russian and Ukrainian men living down the hall.

With no other options, I moved into the tiny studio/coffin on the day she moved out. I knew I was in for a treat when, on the first night, the person with whom I shared a wall thought it would be chill to play EDM until around 4am. Now, I've slept in LOTS of hostels. I can handle some noise. His music was so loud that I could hear it through my earplugs!

Oh, and guess what? There was a washing machine, but no wifi.

In his second nightly attempt at killing us both due to acute sleep deprivation, he was seemingly talking on the phone until around 3am. Then, his alarm went off at 7am and homeboy let it go off for, I dunno, a few hours. Maybe he wasn't even home? Who knows. In any case, I told Terrysaurus Rex that he needed to find me a new place. Pronto.

I didn't enjoy being demanding like that but I realized at that point that I had to or he would walk all over me, while claiming to have my best interest at heart, of course.

My forever home was a house in a residential area that had been converted into a hostel, more or less. All of the rooms had their own en-suite bathroom and "kitchen", if you want to call it that. I had a little balcony, a shared washing machine, and, you guessed it, wifi!

The place had some quirks. Like a radiator that I had no control over. And a microwave with lots of buttons but only one that worked, and would take it upon itself to randomly choose how much time to cook things. All things considered, though, it was perfect.

In case you lost count, I lived in four apartments in less than two months, and only the last place had the things I'd been promised. All while taking on 20 or 30 new students with varying English levels and zero preparation from the school.

Even still, I received no apologies or even an acknowledgment that the situation was a colossal disaster. To add insult to injury, Terry had the fuckin' stones to ask me to pay the full price for rent and utilities.

[bleatinginpolish]

Red Flags & Creepy Cake

Before I even arrived in Kołobrzeg, some creepy crap happened. In retrospect, I probably should've turned around and sprinted at top speed in the opposite direction. Alas, I did not. The upshot is that I have oodles of batshit crazy stories to share.

For example, I was asked by Terry (not his real name, obviously), the guy who ran the school, if I would commit to teaching there for 9 months. As any reaonable person would, I started asking questions to figure out what I was getting myself into.

Somehow the pay was hard to nail down. Homeboy didn't seem to know how much he was going to pay me. That's creepy. For whatever reason, though, I persisted and eventally got the number I was looking for and it was decent, so I agreed.

Upon requesting the written invitation I'd been promised, I was told that I didn't actually have the job yet, despite having been asked to commit and having agreed to said commitment. My eye twitched a bit over that but it sounded like he was quite busy so I wrote it off and eventually received the invitation.

My next order of business was to figure out what kind of Visa I needed in order to stay in Poland for so long. Terry confidently advised me that I could apply for the Visa from within Europe, which surprised me, but I was working my ass off volunteering on a farm in the Appalachian mountains of West Virginia, so I took his word for it.

Over the next few days, a little voice in my head kept telling me to call one of the American embassies in Europe just to be sure. Good thing it did because I was told that I not only had to apply from within the US, but I also had to do it in my home jurisdiction, which was 2,500 miles away in Los Angeles.

Damnit, Terry!

Ultimately, I decided with forgo the whole Visa idea and just fly to Europe in hopes that the customs agent wouldn't ask too many questions. My main focus was trying not to get shot in the face or set on fire, or whatever standard protocol is for them.

To my delight, the customs agent in Copenhagen asked what I was doing in Europe, to which I responded that I was "visiting some friends in Copenhagen, The Netherlands, and Switz...", and she cut me off, smiled a jealous smile, said, "That's great. I'm stuck in this box. Have fun!", and stamped my passport. Tusind tak!

As icing on the creepy cake, Terry sent me a 100-page PDF (yes, one-stupid-hundred pages) outlining how to teach whilst in the Peace Corps. The strange part is that, to my knowledge, I had not joined the Peace Corps. I was going to a small city in the north of Poland that most people hadn't even heard of. Needless to say, I didn't read the idiotically lengthy document.

[bleatinginpolish]

This is a collection of the astoundingly awkward, frighteningly unhinged, and generally bewildering events that occured to and around me during my 8-month stay in a little place called "Satan's Asshole", also known as Kołobrzeg, Poland.

Buckle up, chief. Shit's about to get real awky.