Let's talk about poop: My first colonoscopy

Colons: you only have one. 

Scope it: your colon 

Trying to make a clever title about colons while using a colon punctuation: a failure

With the recent passing of Catherine O'Hara and James Van Der Beek from what I understood to be forms of colorectal cancer, I thought it would be an appropriate time to write again. I recently had a colonoscopy and thankfully everything turned out OK. It was an interesting experience that everyone should go through multiple times in their lives, but maybe we don't talk about enough. It has to do with butts (and poop), and for some reason (unfortunately) we don't talk about butts or poop enough when we're adults. That's a different story for 5-year old Florian, whose first words in the morning, first words after coming home from school, and last words before bed usually include "kupa" and "pupa" (the Polish words for butt and poop). 

A colonoscopy was always something abstract in my head and something reserved for old people. Not for me. But lately I've been reminded, especially after my weekly basketball games, that yes, I am old people. And your 40s is when you are supposed to think about your colon. So I thought, OK let's think about it. I don't think I was ever that worried about the procedure itself, as long as I could be asleep. For some reason my biggest fear of having a colonoscopy was the idea of pooping in my pants on the way to the procedure. And since I would be taking the subway to the clinic, my fear could be summarized in one single goal - Don't poop on the subway! Is that a reasonable fear? What's wrong with me? 

 In order to give some context, let's flashback to about 10 years ago....

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"Drink! Now! More! Here's another bottle. More! And another! Keep drinkinnnnnnnnng!!!!!!!!!!" It was like Ursula telling Ariel to keep singing when stealing her voice. But instead, it was the doctor telling me to chug several bottles of a white chalky liquid while they took X-rays of my chest. I don't even remember why I had this procedure, but it was a traumatizing experience. The drinking part was unpleasant, since it was a lot of liquid and it didn't taste good. But that wasn't the worst part. After the exam, I had to wait for the results to be prepared for me on a CD. They said I could wait 30 minutes, or I could come back and pick it up later. I didn't really want to wait, but didn't want to come back later. I decided to wait, and this decision changed my life. The doctor didn't tell me there would be any side effects of drinking the contrast agent. And that almost caused a disaster. 

About 15 minutes into waiting, my stomach started gurgling violently and I had to find a toilet. Fast. I frantically ran down the hallway until I found one. Ladies room. No men's room in sight. Screw it. I'd just have to ask for forgiveness later. Luckily nobody was inside, and if they were, they would have evacuated immediately. The white chalky liquid shot out of me like water from a fire hose. It could not be controlled or tamed. It was as if nothing else was in my stomach - only what seemed like gallons of white liquid. The only good news afterwards was that the CD was ready and I didn't have to wait any longer. But I couldn't help but think - what if I hadn't waited for the CD? If I had left the clinic immediately after the appointment, as I normally would have, the emergency would have occurred while I was on the bus going home. What would I have done? I don't think anything could have saved me. I might be an internet meme, or in jail for destroying public property. Or just living my life in utter shame, never able to show my face on that bus route again. I'm stressed just thinking about this close call. 

 So anyway, that's why pooping on the way to the procedure is my biggest fear of the colonoscopy. And that's probably enough poop talk (for now).

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In the days before my appointment on December 29, I had to do some blood tests and an EKG. This has to be planned in advance because then the anesthesiologist needs to see the results during a consultation prior to the procedure. He seemed nice and competent, which made me feel good. I think a lot of people in Poland do their colonoscopy while awake (why??), but I asked to be asleep. I asked a few friends about their experiences, and it helped to prepare myself mentally. 

 During the days before the exam, I had to cut out seeds, fruits, nuts and various other foods, including some traditional Polish Christmas fare like beet roots and poppy seeds. (Un)fortunately, it meant not having to being able to eat them during Christmas dinner. If you need an excuse to skip those foods, schedule your colonoscopy right after Christmas. 

 The day before the procedure, I ate a lot of cooked cereal, miso soup and rice. This wasn't so bad for breakfast and lunch, but at 2pm, I had to start the liquid-only diet. I was hungry already by 6pm and couldn't sit with Z and F when they ate dinner because of the temptation. Surprisingly, after a bit of clear broth and apple juice, the hunger went away. It helped that I was watching the first half of the Seahawks-Panthers game and their offense would make me lose my appetite anyway (it was 3-3 at halftime). 

 Then came the moment of truth - the first dose of the CitraFleet laxative. The doctor's instructions said to take it at 10pm, then I just sat and watched TV waiting for something to happen. I was ready in a sprinter's starting position in case I needed to run. After an hour, I wanted to go to bed but still nothing was happening down there. I feared what might happen if I fell asleep after a strong laxative, so I stayed awake. The other difficult part is that I had to drink 2 liters of liquid AFTER taking the first dose. It's hard to drink that much, especially at 10pm. I drank a bunch of honey tea, an electrolyte water and more clear broth. I needed something salty because the medicine tasted like Powerade. All the liquid meant needing to pee several times as well. Every time I went to pee, Zosia would ask if I was OK, and sounded disappointed in the "false alarms". When it finally kicked in, it wasn't as bad as I thought. I mean, it was gross and repetitive, but my experience with the contrast agent 10 years ago was much worse. 

I ended up "sleeping" on the coach, to not keep waking Zosia up with my bathroom runs. Around 3am, I finally felt calm and could fall asleep. I also wondered why I had to start the laxative at 10pm. Most people would prefer to sleep, not wait for their stomach to explode. Why not start at 6pm, so that you can finish and be ready for bed at a normal time? Or start at 6am if the appointment is in the afternoon? I guess each clinic has different rules, since I found many different preparation schedules online, some which would have been more comfortable and convenient. Anyway, the next morning I had more juice and soup and took the second dose of laxative around 10am (for a 4:30pm procedure). The instructions said to take it no later than 4 hours before the appointment, but since the first dose took 5 hours to cycle through, I was worried that 4 hours wasn't enough time. I wanted to do everything in my power to accomplish my single goal - Don't poop on the subway. 10am worked out as the start time, as I was "empty" by around 2pm.

The hard part on that day was that I wasn't supposed to drink anything at all 6 hours before the appointment. The instructions were confusing since it said don't drink anything 6 hours before, but to finish the laxative and 2 liters of liquid no later than 4 hours before. I decided to play it safe and aimed to be done by 6 hours before. However, due to the lack of food, my blood sugar dropped and I started to get weak and sweaty. I wouldn't have managed to last another few hours without some sugar. I read other doctors' instructions online for the same medicine and some of them said you can drink 3-4 hours before the procedure. At 12:30 I had to take a few sips of juice. It helped a lot, but I was a bit worried that only some food would get rid of the shakes, or that the drinking would ruin the preparation and I'd have to reschedule (and repeat everything again). I started imagining (hallucinate would be a strong word, but it felt a bit like it) that I accidentally ate a banana or cookie without realizing it. 

 Zosia joined me when going to the appointment, since you need to have someone to take you home after the anesthesia. And to wrap a blanket around you if you have an accident in public. I had gone from being shy about the procedure to being somewhat proud when checking in and not caring if anyone else heard me. The preparation was painless, since the nurse found a vein on the first try (it usually takes several pokes). They moved me from the dressing room to the table and everything was very swift. The doctor explained the process, the anesthesiologist said hi and connected the drip without me noticing, the nurse made a joke about going to the beach, and within seconds I got sleepy. 

The next thing I knew, they were waking me up to get dressed. I don't remember the time between opening my eyes and walking out of the building with Zosia, but the doctor said the results were good. He also said I'd be farting a lot due to the air pumped into my you-know-what, and boy was he right. Apologies to the people next to me on the subway. But just know that it could have been worse! 

I thought I'd be super hungry so I brought post-procedure snacks, but I didn't have much of an appetite. The next morning I was starving because there was a lot of empty space in there. As I was eating, I kept hesitating and worrying I was eating something I shouldn't. It felt good to have freedom again. I didn't feel any effects of the procedure at all; in fact, it felt a bit like a dream. And the whole thing was manageable enough that I won't dread doing it again in 5-10 years. So if you're "of age" and haven't done yours yet, go do it! It's definitely worth the peace of mind, or in the worst scenario, knowing what's going on so that you can do something to fix it. You'll be able to talk about butts and poop with my son without embarrassment. 

And I promise I will understand if you crap your pants on the subway.

Donations for Ukrainian refugees (Update #2)

Decided to write this on my blog rather than by email since there were some embedded videos. 

As I was leaving the distribution point, where many Ukrainian families had picked up some essentials, I noticed a mother and young daughter standing at the street corner looking at their phone. They seemed to be looking for directions somewhere so I offered to help. I didn’t want to be pushy or creepy, but since our apartment was prepared to have a couple guests, I was prepared to offer them a place to sleep. I thought maybe they were looking for a shelter or a place to pick up more necessities. I asked if I could help and the mom smiled sheepishly and said “We’re looking for McDonalds”! 

I laughed a bit at first and led them towards the Golden Arches. Turns out they were in the mood for a treat. They were from Kharkiv, one of the first Russian targets and a city that has faced heavy destruction. I didn’t dare ask about their friends and family. Luckily they found a host in Warsaw and are now waiting (hoping) until visa restrictions are lifted for refugees to the US because she wants to live with her sister in Michigan. The daughter is 7 years old and seemed in good spirits. She was able to say hello in both English and Polish, and could tell me her age in English. She had been given a stuffed penguin toy at the distribution point but as we crossed a busy intersection she noticed it had fallen out of her bag. We walked back a bit but didn’t see it. She had a look of disappointment in her face but then sweetly said “that’s ok” to her mom. It was like she had already seen so much sadness and disappointment that a little stuffed animal didn’t bother her. But she said it with a true smile on her face like everything was going to be OK. It broke my heart a bit. I wanted to give her 1000 stuffed animals. 

These types of stories are more and more common, as the city fills with refugees, some of whom are ready to try adjusting to daily life (there are still thousands in the shelters where that’s harder to do). There’s a natural curiosity from the locals as to what they have been through, but it’s still too early to expect anyone to talk about it. It was reassuring to see a spark in the little girl's eye, and to know that her spirit was not broken. Let’s hope it stays that way.

With the attack on the Ukrainian military base close to the Polish border, there is a bit more attention being paid, but we are still "comforted" by NATO support. It just might mean even more refugees fleeing Western Ukraine, which was previously considered safe. 

Anyway, here’s another small update from the last few days. 

Along with a couple friends we collected some things to donate to a shelter for Ukrainian orphans near Warsaw. A friend drove down there and so far they have things under control. We have thought about (with my triathlon club) ways to organize activities for the kids to keep their mind off things. Maybe later in the spring. 

We made a couple more trips to take bags of food and hygiene products to the train station. There’s been some improvement in the logistics after a couple weeks of them figuring things out, and some bigger organizations offering support. There have also been a few more large scale accommodations opened, like some convention centers or sports halls, easing the burden on the train stations. 

One of the new shelters (photo from their social media page)

Distribution point at one of the train stations

Neighborhood community centers have also turned into shelters and/or collection/distribution centers of donated goods. Refugees can go “shopping” at the one by our apartment (everything is free), where we normally swim. Our little “brother” and “sister” from the Big Brothers Big Sisters program in Poland, Arek and Ola, helped us take stuff down there. This time there was a request for wafer cookies for the kids, along with pasta, rice and other grains for families to cook. 

The "needs" list at the local community center

Me with grown up Arek and Ola

Thanks to all of you, we were also able to make a big donation to a fire station in the Warsaw suburbs (Milanowek). A friend of mine lives there, and he has been very active in hosting and helping people. Their local fire station is serving as the town hub for refugee activity, and has set up a shelter. They recruit refugees from the train stations and reception points to convince them they don’t need to be in the city center (it’s not feasible for the city if everyone wants to stay in the center). People generally live in bigger apartments or houses in Milanowek, so there’s a lot more space. At last count there were around 1000 refugees staying there, which is amazing. The fire station collects items and is able to help with anything the refugees need, organize beds in the residents’ homes, and provide transportation when needed. My friend filmed a bit of how it looks down there so you could all see. This was a few days ago: it’s much busier now. Those guys are doing a great job!

The fire station in Milanowek

Short tour of the Milanówek fire station, courtesy of Andy Eddles

Inside the fire station pantry, courtesy of Andy Eddles

And finally, here's a video from the Warsaw Mayor explaining the current situation in Warsaw.

Thanks again for your generosity, and for reading this. More to come.

Tristan 

Support of Ukrainian refugees - a Polish perspective

I'm very inspired by the support of refugees from the Poles, and the desire to help out is contagious. Volunteers coordinate matching accommodation supply with needs just because they have a big network and connections in Ukraine. People donate clothes and shoes and help each other find someone who needs them. People ask strangers on random Facebook groups if anyone has a stroller or baby bed they could use, only to receive 50 positive responses in the first 10 minutes. Or how about these scenes from the train station the other day: seeing a Polish family walk in with a bag of homemade sandwiches, marked with "Veggie" or "Meat" on the wrappers, ready to pass them out, and caring enough to find out if the other person is a meat eater or not; the lady in the shop putting 50 applesauce tubes in her basket to buy for the kids sleeping there, walking away, then coming back to put in another 50; or the guy walking around with a box full of oranges, passing them out like a vendor at a baseball game, with a smile on his face and not a trace of pity in his eyes, so whoever says "yes please, I'm hungry" doesn't have to feel any shame - it's so damn powerful.

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For those who are wondering what it looks like in Warsaw, I can try to provide some perspective here...though I'm not as much in the middle of it like many other local heroes are. The volunteers working at these support points, those going to the border to bring supplies and transport people to wherever they want to go, people organizing or providing housing, working with NGOs on ways to help.  One friend even drove INTO Ukraine to bring out a family he didn't even know, who would have had a hard time escaping otherwise. 

There are thousands of women, children and elderly (and their pets) coming into Warsaw and other cities in Poland every day (hundreds of thousands in total by now). It's a horrible situation for them to be running from their homes, hiding in bomb shelters, just looking for a safe moment to try to get out. It's probably hard enough to just come to the decision to leave, as it might mean never seeing their home again. Someone I know by name (but not personally) had his home destroyed by a bomb, but luckily he was in a bomb shelter at the time. I try not to get too mad/sad about the root cause of it all since it drives me crazy not being able to stop it...so we are focusing our attention on what we can do. 

There are a lot of actions on social media and through organizations to find temporary housing for those who can't afford it - mostly staying in makeshift shelters or with individuals/families around the country. There's a massive effort to match supply and demand via Facebook, NGOs, or even individual volunteer "brokers". It's pretty chaotic but everyone is doing their best. Many of these people don't have much money, or access to their bank accounts, or find that their Ukrainian cash is useless here (many exchanges are not accepting it). So after all the madness with the attacks at home, and all the madness getting to and through the border (which can take a couple days), they have to try to survive here with all of their possessions packed in a suitcase. 

The city is getting saturated, and although there is a lot of momentum with the volunteers and donations, it's scary and sad to think how this will look in a week or a month or beyond, as numbers keep growing and volunteer fatigue kicks in. Many other European countries are willing to take refugees but as you can imagine a lot of these people are hoping this will end soon so they can go back home (if it's still standing). They don't really want to trek all the way to the Netherlands or Spain or whatever. At the same time, it would be nice if some non-EU "giants" (like the US) would drop visa restrictions for them, to not only let them start a new life (or connect with family), but also to ease the pressure on Poland, Romania, Slovakia and other nearby countries. 

In any case, it's been overwhelming to see how the locals are working to support in any way possible. We still haven't hosted a family yet...we've been contacted by a few coordinators but things have fallen through for one reason or another. Since we can only offer the living room sofa and floor mattress, and we have only one bathroom, we can only comfortably host 1-2 people max (considering their comfort and privacy as well), while most people coming in so far are bigger families. One of our possible matches actually told us she didn't want to disturb us after she found out we have a baby, because she has 2 rowdy and loud kids - she was very considerate and went back into the pool to find somewhere else to stay. So we still wait. 

There are several reception points going up around Warsaw, and the train stations are overflowing with people passing through, sleeping there, trying to figure out their next move. There are dozens of volunteers at the 3 main stations in Warsaw 24/7, managing separate stations of food, hot and cold drinks, hygiene supplies and medicine, diapers, clothes, and even an area for kids to play. Everything seems to be donated by random individuals or local businesses/NGOs constantly leaving bags of stuff at each station. It's heartbreaking to see what used to be a waiting room at the central station filled with women and children, with a security guard at the door, blankets and pillows spread across the floor, trying to keep a positive spirit while waiting for any kind of good news (I'm honestly not sure if many of them have any specific plan...some may try to settle in and work in Warsaw, but it's not easy). Every day there is a desperate plea from the train station volunteers on social media for anyone who sees the post to bring water or medicine or diaper cream or home made sandwiches (the needs change hourly). Over the weekend we've gone to the central station a few times to try and provide the most urgent needs.

Central Station in Warsaw

So far (with the huge help of donations from friends abroad), Zosia and I have been able to drop off 100's of diapers, baby wipes, diaper creams, lotions, cough syrup, nose sprays, shampoos and body wash, ibuprofen, applesauce packs, juices, cat food, and chocolate eggs (the kind with a toy inside). In the next day or two we'll probably do another run for more of the same (still waiting for Florian to be able to push a shopping cart). One of the local drug store chains (Rossmann) has a promotion for a 40% discount for most items bought to support refugees, so we'll take advantage of that. 

A few thoughts:
- Sometimes I'm sad, sometimes mad, often both. I don't understand the (even fake) justification for this war. 
- As new parents, it was hard enough to travel from Warsaw to Seattle with a baby even if we had weeks to prepare all of the supplies, and we knew more or less when we'd arrive at our comfortable destination. I feel so bad for these mothers and kids not knowing when they'll have a clean diaper or a sterilized bottle or any necessary medicine or creams. 
- The politics of whether or not NATO or the US should get involved are complicated - and I hate that
- If China (hypothetically) invaded Canada and a bunch of refugees crossed the border into Seattle, would Seattle help with this same level of energy? I'd like to think so. 
- If Spain (hypothetically) attacked Mexico and a bunch of refugees wanted to cross the border into the US, would it be the same?  
- What's the difference between this situation and war refugees coming from countries further away, like Asia or the Middle East? Maybe neighbors are more willing to help each other when they have a long, similar history of cooperation (and fighting), having suffered through the same crap and having similar enemies?
- I've heard that non-Ukrainian refugees who are also fleeing from Ukraine are treated worse at the border than Ukrainians. It's also harder for them to receive aid here (maybe it's seen that they have other options?). I don't know much about this, so won't comment further. I hope that people are willing to help anyone.

If you would like to make a donation but aren't sure where to send the money, you can always send it to me and I can buy more supplies for the people at the train station, to help any future family that stays with us, or those staying with our friends. Just let me know if you have any specific request. I'm on PayPal and Zelle - trisbo@hotmail.com

Thanks a lot for reading, and take care! 

Keeping up with the Kardashians' motherland

November 10-18, 2019

Anna-Carin and Ata are not only very hospitable, but also very sophisticated - they have a signed photo of Angelina Jolie in their bathroom after all. They moved to Yerevan after a few years of living in Warsaw, and we took it as an invitation to visit. I don't think they actually said we could come, but you know how it is when friends move to a cool place you want to visit. It's an auto-invite. The invitation to visit Poland is still open for anyone reading this, by the way. Luckily, I had a work trip scheduled to Armenia (back when those were a thing), so Zosia took a couple days off and joined me.  

Sophistication at its finest

Armenia's capital, Yerevan, goes back almost 3000 years. There's a lot of history in the area, especially for a place so small. Armenia was the first country to adopt Christianity as a state religion in 301 AD, thanks to St Gregory. He was kept as a prisoner in Khor Virap monastery (which was pretty cool to visit), then eventually convinced the King to convert to Christianity. I imagine their relationship something like Ragnar and Athelstan in the TV series Vikings. Something else came to mind when contemplating Armenian history; how is there an Armenian Quarter in Jerusalem? Turns out a short time after the conversion to Christianity, some Armenian monks went to Jerusalem and never left. 

Khor Virap

St Gregory was kept down there

Learning about Armenia's relationship with its neighbors is a reminder how delicate things can be between countries around the world. Conflicts between any countries or groups can arise due to political or religious beliefs, disagreements over ownership of the land, greed, conquest, ethnicities, and a million other reasons. And of course each side has their own point of view. I've always wondered how countries agreed on borders when there isn't an obvious natural separator, or a sector where the different ethnicities live. Does someone bring out some chalk and draw a line? Maybe they lay down their jackets and wait for their friends to show up?  When you aren't emotionally invested, it might be easy to wonder why countries and their people can't just get along with each other. But when you are living their reality, I suppose that's hard. It's also easy to say "if you don't like the country you live in, just move", but that also ignores the root causes and the deep feelings of what's fair and just. I guess we will continue to see changes to country borders around the world, new countries declaring independence, civil wars, and maybe even worse. We really shouldn't take peace and cooperation for granted.  But it's also fascinating to think how country borders have changed over the years (one of the many things we had to memorize in history class), and they are definitely not done changing. 

Garni Temple

Geghard Monastery

Of course the trip to an unknown country wouldn't be complete without a stressful experience with taxis. I went to the airport to pick up Zosia (who came a few days after I went), but the car I ordered on the phone app to pick us up from the airport cancelled because (I think) we couldn't understand each other on the phone about the pickup point.  Then the app stopped working altogether, so I tried another app, but the credit card payment method wouldn't confirm. The taxi sharks (random guys offering us a ride at the airport) started circling so we tried to play it cool like we weren't getting desperate.  We could have taken a normal taxi, but we didn't have cash, the ATM didn't work and they didn't accept credit cards. We found a cash exchange, but we only had PLN and Georgian money, which they wouldn't accept. Finally one of the more persistent sharks, who somehow seemed less intimidating because he talked to us questions in English - instead of trying to get what HE wanted, he wanted to find out what WE wanted. What a novel concept. In the end, he ended up taking Georgian money from us in exchange for enough local cash for us to take an official taxi (not even his). And he insisted to write a receipt for the money exchange by hand to confirm he wasn't trying to trick us. It ended up fine, but having just a small amount of local currency (or an taxi app that worked, or being able to speak a local language) would have helped.  

One of the most important things I learned in Armenia was that their last names end with "yan" or "ian", and immediately I thought of the Kardashians. And just like the Kardashians I noticed a lot of women with unnatural looking lips. I wonder if the K's have influenced the level of face plasticity in their motherland. But the most important Kardashian konnection for me is that the trip reminded me of my great auntie Yaeko, who passed away from cancer the year before. The last time we visited her, she was watching the Kardashians on TV, and sent us outside to pick some corn so she could finish the episode in peace. 

From this view I can't tell if those lips are natural or not

The food in Armenia is similar to what you might find in Turkey and other places in the region - meats, skewers, eggplant, breads, herbs, baklava, honey cake, but the best food for us from Armenia is lahmajun. In Warsaw we were always looking for a good one, and Ata introduced us to his favorite in Warsaw. So of course we asked him to take us to some in Yerevan. Luckily it was everywhere. A couple of the restaurants we liked were Tun Lahmajo and Lavash. The lahmajun were huge and full of fresh herbs for less than $2. I also really liked the aveluk (sorrel) soup. 

Mouthwatering

Beyond the food was another highlight: brandy. We did a tour and tasting of the Ararat Factory and did a taste test. I enjoyed the 20 year old Ararat, but it was quite expensive so we brought home a bottle of the 10, which was better than half as good. A friend in the office there, Sergey, even gifted us a bottle and gave me one to bring back to Doremi. Sergey is a great guy; once when Doremi went to Armenia for a week, Sergey met them to hang out and drive them around, even though he didn't know them. He also took me around for some sightseeing before Zosia arrived. 

Cheers!

Speaking of Ararat, the mountain famous for Noah's Ark, it's located just across the border in Turkey. The air is sometimes dirty, but you can see the peak from the one of the higher points of Yerevan. 

View of Ararat from the city center

Our hosts let us to tag along with them during their social outings as well, including a Nordic Christmas planning party with some of their international friends, making some decorations and mingling. They also met an impressive artist Kevork Mourad, who let us come to his studio where he was preparing for a 3-D exhibition.  

It was a great time in a cool city, with a lot of history and food and drink. And of course with our amazing friends who helped us to make the most of it. We miss them in Warsaw, but are very grateful to have the chance to visit their new home. Just consider keeping your original lips, guys! 

Welcome to the Rock

May 11-18, 2019

I have a lot of memories of Sunday afternoons as a kid in Seattle, mostly because they revolved around watching Seahawks games. When Scooter was too young to care, I’d watch downstairs by myself, dad taking a break from yard work once in a while to come in and check the score. There were intense rivalries in the AFC West, even though we rarely had hope of winning the division, like we do now. If we were running errands or spending an hour or two at Seattle Children's Theater, I was still listening to Pete Gross call the plays on my Walkman. I rarely missed a Sonics, Mariners, Huskies or Seahawks game, but one of the things that made the NFL as big as it is today has been the marketing over the years, mostly the commercials. And not only the Super Bowl variety. I could recite most of the "normal" commercials for Pepsi, Budweiser, and the law firms who can help "if you've been injured through no fault of your own", because we saw them at least 5 times on any given Sunday. But one that stands out in particular featured “The Rock”. Not the actor, nor the great film starring Nicholas Cage. It was for Prudential insurance. The tagline was “Get a piece of the Rock” and they showed a majestic landscape of a huge cliff over the ocean (not to be confused with the "Like a Rock" Chevy truck commercials). That image which burned into my mind as a child was the Rock of Gibraltar.

Welcome to the Rock

Turns out the Rock of Gibraltar is a real place and people actually live there! For a while I thought it was just some marketing invention. 30 years later, I finally got to visit this mythical landmark. 

Gibraltar is a unique and charming place. It’s a tiny UK territory on the southern coast of Spain, just a stone's throw away from Morocco. It’s only 2.6 square miles (smaller than most districts in Warsaw), and I was able to literally jog around the whole thing. 

View from the southern tip

It’s a bizarro world of things from the UK, but with palm trees and good weather, and a lot of lobster-red British tourists who’ve been out in the sun too long. Most people also speak Spanish, and a lot of the workers in the city come from across the border in Spain. The airport sits on the border, acting as a barrier; you actually walk across the airport runway to enter Gibraltar. The best part is that they call the border the "frontier", which sounds much cooler. It might be because of Star Trek, but the word “frontier” sounds more interesting and filled with possibilities.

Spain...the Final Frontier.

The trip was for business, but as usual, I went a day early and stayed a day later to explore. Even though there’s an airport there, the flights are generally only from London. Warsaw flies to Malaga, Spain, which is a 200 euro taxi ride away. But considering the timing and ticket costs, this was actually the more convenient and cheaper route. Assuming your suitcases arrives with you. Which of course it didn't. 

I was caught in a small dilemma, without a suitcase and not knowing when it would arrive. The insurance rules were unclear, and I didn't want to buy a bunch of stuff I didn't need, nor if I wasn't going to be reimbursed. I was on the phone with the insurance company to find out what they would pay for, while at the same time trying on business shirts in a Marks & Spencer. Turns out I’d only be allowed to make a claim if my suitcase was missing for more than 4 hours, so I didn't buy anything. Plus, they found my suitcase (but didn't say in which country), so it should arrive any minute/hour/day. The airline asked me to stay near the border, I mean, the frontier, since the courier from the Spanish airport wouldn’t be able to enter Gibraltar. I had to literally walk to another country to pick up my suitcase. The challenge is that they couldn’t give me an approximate time. Which didn’t make sense since they had to drive 90 minutes from Malaga to deliver it, so you’d think they could at least say "it's going to be at least 90 minutes". I called a few times and they never had an answer (and started making me doubt it was coming at all). I wandered around that part of the city, and crossed into Spain for a while to go to the beach. That’s when I saw it; the view of the Rock from the commercials! So I owe this moment to the airline losing my suitcase.

Like from my dreams

I was hungry but it was the time of the day when restaurants were closed so I couldn’t find any good food (argh, Spain!). It was approaching the length of delay where I’d be reimbursed for buying new clothes, but on Saturdays the shops close at 5pm and wouldn’t be open on Sunday. I had to decide quickly if I was gonna need a bunch of new business casual attire for Monday. I was tired and sweaty and hope conquered over logic. I decided to roll the dice and wait. Luckily the bag arrived late that night, after a 14 hour delay. It was a relief that I wouldn’t have to wear the same sweaty clothes for the next 2 days, but I also felt like I wasted a lot of time hanging around the frontier. Even though I was able to collect some money for the delay, it took months because they said I couldn’t prove what time I actually received the bag (the amount was based on the number of hours it was delayed). Luckily I took a photo of the bag when it arrived, but with no official document from the courier showing the exact time, it was hard to convince them. I wonder why they don’t make the courier sign something as part of the process since they know there will be insurance claims...or maybe it’s on purpose to make the insurance claims so difficult? Come on guys, I just want a fair piece of the rock!

By the end of all this, I became very good at crossing the border, which was really easy if walking; it was like walking into a low security office building and showing your access badge to a security guard. You flash your passport, sometimes they look up from their desk and sometimes they might ask a question, but generally you just keep walking.

Gibraltar is a very old city, with a history of rule under various ethnic and religious groups.  As such, there has been influence from all over the Mediterranean, and it's home to a lot of different speaking accents. It's enjoyable to hear so many different types of people when wandering the streets, most of whom are "local". When I'd hear someone speak quickly, sometimes I couldn't tell what language it was; a varietal of British English, Spanish or something else entirely. It was a fun game to play. 

One of the main squares

Even with the "wasted" day around the frontier, I was able to do the thing I wanted the most, and that’s hike up the rock. Even though he was talking about Alcatraz, I couldn’t help but repeat to myself in my best Sean Connery voice (RIP) “Welcome to the Rock”. I sounded pretty good, in my head. It was a nice hike with a lot of great views. You can see Morocco if you try hard. If you don’t try hard you can at least see a bunch of monkeys. In fact they were everywhere, even hanging out inside a gift shop. 

Macaques buying some postcards

The museum inside the Rock

There are miles of corridors

Hike with a view

Speaking of animals, I noticed that when people walked their dogs, they’d spray something on the spot after the dog peed. Not sure what it is but it was nice to see people taking an extra step beyond picking up after their dogs.  At the office, I got to know several people who were all very welcoming. It definitely had the positive vibe of a community where everyone knows and supports everyone. I guess that can also be a challenge because you also can’t avoid people if you wanted to (frenemies, needy clients, crazy exes, etc)...you walk down the main street and there’s a good chance you’ll see someone you know. They took us out for meals and drinks, suggested some nice places and generally made sure we were enjoying the visit. 

Since I had to fly out of Malaga, I decided to spend a day there on the way back. I expected Malaga to be a sleepy beach town for some reason, but it was huge...or maybe it just seemed huge compared to Gib (we call it Gib by the way). I found a cheap hotel near the train station, which was literally a bed and bathroom. 

The city is one of the oldest in Europe, going back to the 8th century BC and is gorgeous to walk around. I visited the 10th century castle on the hill and walked past the museum of Picasso’s birthplace (but didn’t go in since I’m cheap). Antonio Banderas was also born in Malaga, which I only bring up because when watching the movie “Life Itself” last night, Z asked me if he was Spanish. Interesting movie by the way, especially if you like the series This is Us (same writer). 

After 9pm the restaurants were packed, and there were so many choices I had no idea what to try. Tapas, wine bars, outdoor seating, everywhere you turned. People all looked very fancy too. I found a cozy looking place with 1 euro tapas so I could try several dishes. Not being able to share a bunch of dishes is a downside of solo travel...

Castle in Malaga

Beautiful architecture

I checked the calendar and made a note that the weather over the last week was perfect...May is a good time to visit. Low to mid 20s, sunny, light wind. I’ll need to bring Z back so we can try more tapas and desserts. And to show off my great Sean Connery accent.  

Basel birthday with Andy the Human

9-12 Mar 2019

There’s nothing better than taking time off from work and traveling. Except taking time off from work and traveling with friends. And except taking time off from work and traveling with friends to visit one of your favorite people to celebrate his birthday. And of course, except taking time off from work and traveling with friends to visit one of your favorite people to celebrate his birthday, for free.

Let's go here, for free

We had planned for all of those things to happen (except the last) when we visited Andy in Basel for Fasnacht, one of the biggest festivals in Europe, filled with masks, costumes, lanterns, fire and music. I don’t really know what it celebrates but when he told us that it starts at 4am on the Monday after Ash Wednesday, we booked our flights.

Upon arrival, the first thing we had to do was make sure we exited the airport in the right direction. One exit goes to Switzerland, the other to France. After successfully navigating this part, like any good triathlete friends would do, we met Andy’s friends for an outdoor workout. This was his idea of a (2 week late) birthday party. Or at least the prerequisite. He hired a coach to make sure our asses were properly kicked. Only then could we start the celebrations.

Doing pushups to prove our manhood

Andy’s friend Katerina was amazing and let a few of us stay in her apartment, and she even stayed somewhere else we could have the place to ourselves (or she didn't like us?). We found out Żubrówka vodka so we found some in a shop and paid quadruple the price in Poland...unlike some people might think, we don’t carry Polish vodka with us everywhere we go.

Andy lives in Rhinefelden, a bit outside of Basel. It’s close enough to get to the city whenever you want, but far enough to be tempted to stay home if you’re tired. It’s a cute place and there’s a walking bridge to cross into Germany. It was fun to walk to Germany to buy some beer and chocolate because things are cheaper there. We waved to the security cameras on the way back. We had a nice party with Andy’s friends and it was great to meet all of his new crew. It seems he's in good hands there, but it was also nice to be all together, especially since it was just about one year since our trip to the US.

Crossing the bridge to Germany

Cute little town (empty in the evenings)

There was a buzz around the city even before the festival started. One of the churches we visited had a wine party inside, next to where people pray and attend service. I wasn’t sure if this was a Swiss thing or just for the festival preparation. If everyone was going to be drunk for the next 72 hours anyway, I guess it doesn’t hurt to start on Sunday.  In church. 

Getting started in church

When visiting Switzerland one thing you should do if you want to be miserable and regretful all the time is to translate the prices to your local currency. A 2 day transportation ticket was about $30 which doesn’t seem bad, but in Poland, a 3-month transportation pass is about $60. So we were thankful to Sugar Daddy Andy for gifting us a transportation ticket. And of course Zosia checked, McDonald’s combo meals were about $13 (but the trip from the airport to the city was only about $6). The thought crossed her mind to just not go to the airport, so she could have a couple burgers. 

After a big party on Saturday, we had to rest up on Sunday (well some of us anyway, as some tried to power through the night), because the festival started at 4am Monday morning. Of course most people don't work on Monday afterwards, but there are some brave souls who do. We tried to find a good spot in the Old Town for the start, along the parade route. It was packed and dark, and if you had to pee, good luck. There was so much energy and excitement and it was fun to see all of the political satire portrayed in the floats. However after a few minutes of drums, piccolos and the same song over and over, knowing this would last for another 3 days, it was time to go into a bar and start (continue) drinking.

A little night time parade action

The illuminated floats were the coolest, some were huge (not pictured)

We found a bar at 5am for some beers and breakfast. To my surprise it was packed, and not just with “young” people. Most of the bar was over 60 years old. There were kids of all ages as well. This festival is a such a big deal that everyone in the family is out. Even the waiters, who must be miserably tired, were in good moods and happy to put up with the drunkenness of the crowds. Because people were happy, not
annoying. We were in a good place.

Are we still "young" people? (Alan is sleeping)

This one is all tuckered out

Another part of the festival was the fire parade in Liestal. It was super hot and ashy if you get too close, and you’re likely to get some holes in your clothes. We wore jackets that we didn’t mind damaging, covered our mouths to limit the smoke intake, and found a good spot to enjoy the show. It was like watching firemen drag burning logs down the street. Mesmerizing is the only word I can think of. It was scary and hot, but I couldn’t stop watching.

This was my favorite part

Eventually some of us had to find some places to hide from the smoke. After a lazy day with more of Andy’s friends, and a bit of exploring, it was time to head back home. There was a nice food market near the train station where we tried Ethiopian food which was great. The Basel airport is small and fast to get through. It was hard to say goodbye to Andy and the great few days, but we were ready to go home.  The first 3 trip objectives were complete. 

Even off the main parade route, people are marching around in their gear

Which led to our last trip objective of having the trip for free. The plane took off from Basel, then suddenly turned around and went back. They didn’t say why (do they ever?), but we stayed in Basel for another 4 hours, and in the end arrived in Warsaw 5 hours after schedule. The weather was fine so we knew there was a chance we could claim some money thanks to the EU airline consumer protection rules. Sure enough, because we arrived more than 4 hours late, for a reason other than weather, we were able to get some money back; which turned out to be more than the price of the flights. Thus, the trip ended up being free. If only we could find a way to always get paid for these late flights.  In fact, a couple months later on the way back to Poland from the US, Z and I also got some money for a voluntary rebooking. Always hustling.  I think we’ve found a new career model...

Hakuna Matata: NYE on Zanzibar

Dec 31, 2018 - Jan 5, 1019

How do you respond when someone says “Hakuna Matata” to you? “Thank you”? “You too”? “What a wonderful phrase”?

As the song goes, it indeed means “no worries” (but they only say it to tourists), and though they’ve had a heavy history, the phrase definitely represents island life on Zanzibar.

“The snorkeling trip leaves at 9am, so arrive no later than 8:44” means that they’ll still be waiting for passengers until 9:45. It takes 20 minutes for someone to appear at the hotel front desk if you need something, and 20 minutes to check in and check out. The sign saying breakfast is from 7-10am, doesn’t mean anything on New Years Day. And “It’s actually at 11am today” definitely means after 11:45 when they finally served us. Even the clock in the hotel lobby changes from between 20 minutes fast and 20 minutes slow on any given day. I don’t even know how it manages to do that! So guess what? If you worry, you’ll go crazy. So just relax and Hakuna Matata!

There were a lot of unknowns about planning the trip to Zanzibar so I’ll share just in case someone else plans to go. Even picking on which side of the island to stay was a tough choice. There are many beautiful resorts all over but the neighborhoods have different quantities of nearby attractions and different levels of sandy beach access. Finally I decided on Nungwi in the north, as the tides wouldn’t change so much and it was close to sandy beaches that weren’t too dependent on the tide. Also the Tanzanite Beach Report had a nice pool and relaxing lounge areas, with on site tourist services.

Breakfast view at the hotel

I booked the flights from the Tanzania mainland myself on the local carrier, since it was cheaper than booking a package through a travel agent, and booking the taxi through the hotel was cheaper than other online services or the guys you can haggle with when you arrive. We didn’t need the ride, but simply walking away from a driver at the airport got him to reduce the price of his offer from $65 to $55 to $50, without saying a word. We paid $40 through the hotel.

It was 10pm on NYE and I was worried we’d spend midnight in the taxi. After 80 minutes of traffic and bumpy roads, passing shops and restaurants (which are all literal holes in the wall), pickup trucks full of people driving around, and crowds of locals everywhere, we arrived. Before we pulled up to the hotel an advertisement on the radio came on in Japanese and the driver asked me what it said. Lol.

After a few days of safari, when closing our eyes we still saw little pumbas everywhere. The sky was full of animal shaped clouds. But once we laid by the beach as the clock approached midnight, the sound of waves (and bad karaoke next door), took us to a different paradise. Reflecting on it, we had an amazing year - got married (twice), went

on some amazing trips with friends and family, and have a wonderful community around us. We couldn’t ask for more.

Except maybe an ATM? There aren’t any ATMs in Nungwi so we had to bring USD and use exchanges with poor exchange rates (essentially charging 5%). So the thing I’d do differently next time is bring more dollars. You can spend USD but the shops generally take about 10%, so it’s better to change USD to the local currency. Other “powerful” currencies like Euro or GBP seemed to get even worse rates. Our hotel wanted to charge 4% to pay with a credit card so we used cash to avoid this, but after having to pay a higher rate to convert more cash at the exchanges, we might have been better off paying the 4% credit card fee and using the cash for shopping and meals. It’s annoying to pay extra for stuff like this, but I guess it’s the cost of business in remote places.

Worth paying a small price for evenings like this

As the numerous resorts developed, they’ve pushed the locals away from the beach, so they could have the prime locations. Just across the street from the resorts (going more inland) there were very modest shelters made of concrete blocks, simple walls with nothing else inside, surrounded by palm and banana trees, cows and red dirt. Some shelters were covered in dried leaves or made from sticks and mud. There was a lot of trash and plastic bottles on the side of some roads, near the beach and some in the water. But people seemed to be enjoying themselves, especially the cute little kids running around. Even if they were “poor”, it seemed everyone had very bright clean clothes. And smiles.

We happened by the Mnarani aquarium to see the turtle rescue. We’re always a little skeptical of "tourist traps", especially when it comes to animal captivity, but this place at least appears to be doing something nice. They save sick or struggling turtles, or eggs with little chance of survival and help them recover. Then they have a big release every February, and start all over again. The local guides (who seemed like local teens, but were very passionate and knowledgeable about what they did) knew a lot about turtles and were very motivated to teach us something. We fed seaweed to the turtles, which the guides and volunteers pick from different beaches every day. There seems to be a lot of questionable aquariums around that have animals for display, but this place seemed legit (we hope) since they are actively trying to help them rather than just profit from showing their animals to tourists. At least we didn’t feel bad about giving them a few bucks. Other places seemed to shamelessly ask for money just to glance at their giant snake or alligator.  

The sandy beaches around Nungwi were very nice with beautiful blue water, but it was super humid. And the water is almost warm so it’s not really refreshing at first.

Learning about turtle head

I mean, the colors aren't bad

Another lesson learned was about booking excursions. Even though the taxi was cheaper through the hotel, the day excursions were not. In our case the best deals were found just by walking on the beach and letting the “salesmen” approach you with their offers. Of course you’re nervous about the reliability at first, but we took a chance. We agreed on a snorkel tour to Mnemba for the following day and half expected not to see the guy there at the designated meeting time. He had required a $5 deposit the night before, so there wasn’t a lot at stake. Luckily he was there and helped get us set up. We took a 90 minute boat ride in the hot sun, sitting in the front to get a good look at potential dolphins, but didn’t see any. Instead, Z got a little crispy. The snorkeling wasn’t anything special compared to what we have in Hawaii, but it was still fun, regardless of the small jellyfish stings. The highlight was visiting a remote beach and the crew grilling fresh fish and rice for lunch. That alone was worth the $20 tour price. From our hotel they would charge $30 for the same tour. I went back for a second helping of lunch and the guy kept piling food on my plate until I insisted he stop. After making sure everyone had their fill, I noticed the 7 workers take the small amount of leftovers, sit around some drift wood in the shade and scrape the pans and suck everything off the fish bones. I don’t know the exact word to describe the feeling I had when I watched that. They were so satisfied and happy to have just a few bites, while the rest of us greedily filled our stomachs like it was our last meal. They’d been working hard already for several hours so they must have been starving. Witnessing their generosity and selflessness makes me want to be a better person.

One thing I heard about Zanzibar is that during high tide you may not be able to walk along the beach, and during low tide you may not be able to swim due to rocks and urchins. But in Nungwi this was fine. There are a lot of restaurants and hotels along the beach. Local teens were running, working out (doing burpees and flips) or playing soccer on the beach. Z and I spent time just sitting and watching them run on rocks and shells like their feet had a layer of armor on them. We had a CCM moment when we bought our own Savanna cider in a shop and sat in a bar on a pier. We ordered one Savanna there just to be an official customer, but then pulled our own drinks from the backpack and drank them. The waiter must have wondered why it took us so long to drink one cider between the two of us. To prevent suspicion we took the empty bottles away with us.

The food was good in the resort but the highlight must have been the HUGE and buttery tasting avocado we bought from the hotel restaurant for $2 and ate it with bread on the beach. It was so big that we had leftovers and still didn’t need lunch.

A few nice guides on the front of the boat

Local kids were playing all over the beach

Look at the size of those avos

While lounging around the beach, we noticed some Italian ladies speaking to everyone in Italian (both employees and guests) and they were irritated that nobody understood them. To be fair many local businesses seemed to speak Italian for some reason. But to expect everyone in Zanzibar will speak Italian seems unrealistic. They didn’t even try in English when Italian didn’t work.

I had bought 4 different bottles of mosquito repellent, expecting swarms everywhere we went, but in the end the only bites came while sleeping in Zanzibar. The bed had a mosquito net but we didn’t use it very effectively. So we had to put spray on during the night, which is kind of annoying. But in the end, I only had a couple small bites, which is a win.

By the way, Z and I had an argument about if saying someone “looks like Michael Jackson from thriller” is a compliment! I voted no.

After a few days at the beach, we went to Stone Town for our last day, which is where Freddie Mercury lived. It was a bit chaotic, with streets filled with aggressive vendors in narrow alleys, and motorcycles cruising past constantly. It was hard to keep saying no to everyone when we window shopped. In the end it’s just luck whenever we would finally decide to buy something. Not because someone got into our face offering every trinket and treasure for a “very good price.” Bargaining is a balance between feeling like you got a good deal, but we also wanted to pay enough to support the locals. When a rain storm forced us to seek shelter next to a spice vendor, we ended up buying a lot in exchange for letting us stand there. Zosia got really good at talking to vendors and being confident about her negotiations.  The guys in the food stands were also aggressive, and we wanted to eat but were skeptical of the meat since we saw them preparing the raw meat in the hot sun earlier that day. How long has that stuff been sitting out?

City life

Hanging at Freddie's

Z's new spicy friend

Zanzibar has a history of Arabic rule (Omani) as well as a British “protectorate” until the decolonialization in the 1960s. During this time there was a revolution by the locals overthrowing the mostly Arab government. This started a bloody revolution, the results being many people fleeing the country (like Freddie Mercury’s family, who went to India). The locals were then the ruling party of an independent state, and a union was formed Tanzania.

The slave museum in Stone Town was heavy. It was one of the largest slave markets. Mostly run by the Arab elite but other powerful local tribes were involved too, and they would just grab any weak people from other tribes to sell. The ivory trade drove up demand (a lot of it going to the US), as well as local clove plantations. Eventually pressure from the British government put an official end to it, though some forms of slavery still exist today (like in many places around the world).

It stresses me out to see tiny boats next to huge barges

One of the most fascinating things we experienced was hanging out by the waterfront in the late afternoon. A group of about 20 kids took turns running and jumping off the boardwalk into the water, doing crazy acrobatic flips and playing up to the crowd. I didn’t notice them asking for money from the 100 people watching. I think they just liked doing it, like an after school activity hanging out with friends.

Speaking of kids, Zosia’s mom gave her a bunch of candy from Poland to find some kids to give it to. But on the days we walked around with it, we couldn’t find any kids who wanted it! We started following kids around, looking for the right moment, but then felt like creepers offering them candy. We ended up giving it to a hotel employee for his family.

If you need to take a taxi from Stone Town to the airport, it’s around $10 for the hotel to organize it. A random taxi on the street we saw the night before said he’d do it for $8, but we didn’t know if we could rely on him to show up on time the next day. Again, it’s not a lot of money, but we started to run out of USD and Stone Town seemed to be a terrible place to change money. ATMs were not common and the ones we found charged $7 per transaction. Ouch.

The final story relates to our last day in Nungwi when the hotel gave us the bill, and there was a water on it that we didn’t buy. It was only $2 so it wasn’t a big deal, but just to show the “no worries” attitude, the worker asked us to just pay for it and he’d give us a water. It was “already in the system” and we “needed water anyway”, according to him. He asked nicely and had been very helpful all week so we agreed, but it took some effort to not be annoyed by the principle of it. Deep breaths.  Hakuna Matata indeed.