October 11-13, 2013
Żubr. The Polish word for bison. It's also a really awkward word to try to get your lips and tongue around. Luckily we get practice here since there is a beer with the same name, as well as a vodka - żubrówka (they add -ówka to the end of words and suddenly it means a tasty treat made from that item - often times alcoholic). Żubrówka vodka is fortunately not made from actual bison parts, but is known as bison grass vodka because there is a piece of bison grass in it to give it a bit of color (and flavor maybe). Someone once told me that a bison pees on all of the grass before it goes into the bottles, but hopefully that's just an urban legend. Actually, probably a lot of things pee on that grass before it goes into the bottle. Who cares, I still like it, especially with apple juice (I never thought of that combination before coming to Poland, but it's very popular). Anyway, since bison show up in Polish culture a lot, it seemed fitting to visit the part of the country where they live. And Ken and Marta had the idea that we should get a small group to go. What started out as just a few of us suddenly turned into a big group. So off we went (of course, with some Żubrówka). Mark, Ewa and I left Warsaw together expecting to be first to arrive. But somehow we were almost last.
There were 14 of us in the group, and we took 4 cars, had 2 great dogs, and spent 2 nights in a huge house in Swinoroje that Marta found for us. It was great that there were so many nice people to take care of me, since I was physically unable to do much with my arm injury (actually I was totally fine, just faking it so people would cater to my every request). They cooked for me, tied my shoes, dressed me, and generally took care of me like I was a small child. Ok, so nobody dressed me, I did it myself, because I'm actually a big boy.
We didn't have much of an agenda, except to relax, walk in the Białowieża forest (the oldest forest in Europe), and enjoy the house and company. I guess we had false expectations of seeing bison roaming the fields from our living room window, because there are only 500 in the whole region. When we told our forest tour guide that we wanted to see bison, he said with a straight face "There's been a misunderstanding. If you want to see żubr, go to the zoo". And that was the end of our dream (but we did go to the zoo and saw bison at least). But only 500? That was a surprise. I guess there used to be many thousands, then it dwindled down to basically none because of hunting, until protection and controlled breeding brought them back into existence.
Speaking of numbers, I'll tell you about the trip through these numbers.
1 - As in Uno, a game we played til the wee hours (Renata cheated, and when she didn't win, she threatened to dig some graves for us in the backyard).
2 - The number of Romanian feet dancing on the dining table while others were trying to play Pictionary on said table.
3 - The number of items our waiter delivered to us in the first hour during lunch after the forest walk. As in one beer, one water, and one Coke (not counting the 3 tea cups with no water). In an HOUR. For 11 people. We went to a fancy restaurant called Carska, in an old train station, where the Russian Tsar used to go. We were all tired and hungry, and the service at this place was the world record's worst. We were in the private back room (which we thought was a good sign), and there was a private-private room that people had to walk through our room to get to. For every 4 times the waitress went to the private-private room, our waiter came only once (and every time the other waitress opened the door you could hear everyone breathe in the air of hope, then breathe out the disappointment as she politely said "nope, not for you" and entered the private-private room, making everyone in there happy). And generally our guy didn't do anything even when he came into our room. He even talked back to us when we complained about how long it was taking ("this isn't a milk bar" was my favorite response of his, and it was kind of funny so I wasn't too mad). Of course nobody was happy, but once the bread came out (over an hour into our stay), our moods shifted and all was well in the world. The food turned out to be pretty good (but expensive), and not worth putting up with the service. It had us reminiscing about the previous world's worse service in Ukraine.
3.5 - The number of hours it should have taken Mark, Ewa and me to get to Białowieża.
6 - The number of hours it actually took Mark, Ewa and me to get to Białowieża from Warsaw. At least by going the long way through Białystok, it meant 2.5 more hours of Nirvana and Ace of Base sing-a-longs in the car
9 - The number of countries represented by our group. Agnieszka, Ela, Renata, Marta and Ewa from Poland, Russian Julia, Scottish Mark, English Alan, English/Martian Jay (people from Mauritius are called Martians right?), Italian Silvia (insert hand gesture here), Romanian Cristina, Aussie Mark, and Ken and me from US. I love the mix! (updated - sorry Julia!)
O - That's not a number, that's the shape of a vinyl record. And vinyl records are still cool. The house had a record player (that many of us didn't know how to operate) with dozens of classic albums, and it reminded me of playing records at my parents house growing up. For some reason the only record I can remember listening to as a kid was John Denver and the Muppets Christmas album. I even have the album on my iPod today. Don't judge until you listen to it!
10 - The number of zloty I lost to Scottish Mark, playing Poker from 3 to 5 am. Why didn't we just go to sleep?
11 - As in 11pm, the time Aussie Mark had to go to bed after he fell backwards in his chair having too much fun. Ewa gave him the look, and Mark knew it was time. And I mean the look of "YOU need to go to bed", not the look of "Hey baby, let's go to bed".
15 - The number of pieces Aussie Mark cut my schabowy into at dinner one night, because I couldn't cut it myself with my injured arm (thanks dad!). We found a GREAT meal at a truck stop in the middle of nowhere, where the food was super cheap and was made from grandma's kitchen (not my grandma, a Polish grandma). Oh, how I love Polish grandmas (and my grandma too).
18 - The number of wheels on the big semi-trucks, or "tir", that stop so the drivers can eat at the truck stops we passed. "Tir" is the Polish word for semi-truck. And to prove how simple the Polish language can be, a nice lady in a short skirt that stands on the side of the road waiting for a truck driver to pick her up is called a "tirówka" (see note above about adding "-ówka" to the end of words, and how it turns a word into a tasty treat). If you don't understand the connection between these ladies and truck drivers, let's just say they are looking for a ride in more ways than one.
19 - The IQ of the man who stopped his car in the middle of the highway to get out and yell at us for flashing him. He was making some dangerous passes, so Mark flashed the lights to let him know to stop being an idiot (I guess don't do that next time, Mark!). Anyway, we showed him who was boss by driving around his car on the shoulder and driving away. A-hole. But I guess he could have chased us down and axe-murdered us...luckily he didn't, and we got home safe and sound. At least we know what not to do next time.
120 - The number of minutes we spent with the guide in the forest. He started off really grumpy, yelling at us for not knowing where the entrance to the forest was, seemingly trying to run away from us after taking our money, and generally being unpleasant. But after we stepped into the forest, he transformed and magically became a very friendly and passionate guy, and the tour turned very interesting, listening to him talk about trees, mushrooms that look like a penis, the forest animals, and the history of the region. Yea, they really did look like a penis. Of course I took a picture, but I don't want to prove how immature I am by showing it to you.
140.6 - The number of miles my friend Kelly swam, biked and ran in her Ironman race in Kona, in honor of her late friend Mari. The race was during our night time on this trip...she started just before we had dinner, and finished just before we ate breakfast the next morning. I tracked her on GPS and could watch her progress throughout the race...the technology is pretty cool! If you haven't heard Kelly's story, check it out.
200 - The number of pierogi the Polish girls (and foreign helpers) cooked for dinner, using the mushrooms Ewa, Mark and Aga picked (Ewa is an expert mushroom picker). And when I say "cooked", I mean that they had a dance party to Saturday Night Fever, while rolling and folding pierogi. It was quite impressive. Afterwards, Ewa admitted that if we didn't boil the mushrooms for at least 20 minutes, we would have all gotten sick. So I think the dance party saved us.
587 - The number of times everyone said "Go Huskies" during our card games to support UW's game against Oregon (I got to make a rule in the game and made everyone say it at the end of every sentence). Unfortunately we lost. Go Huskies.
1,000,000 - The number of vibrant shades of red, orange and yellow that encompassed us all over the forest. It's hard to beat the colors of autumn.
0 - The number of people out of my 13 travel companions who responded to my request to quote them for this blog. So if you want to know their thoughts, I guess you'll have to ask them. And if you think this post is boring, it's obviously their fault.
0 - Also the number of days I want to wait til the next fun big group trip, although I guess I have to stay in Warsaw and work sometimes... But I'm pretty sure you'll be hearing about another one soon. Go Huskies!
Żubr. The Polish word for bison. It's also a really awkward word to try to get your lips and tongue around. Luckily we get practice here since there is a beer with the same name, as well as a vodka - żubrówka (they add -ówka to the end of words and suddenly it means a tasty treat made from that item - often times alcoholic). Żubrówka vodka is fortunately not made from actual bison parts, but is known as bison grass vodka because there is a piece of bison grass in it to give it a bit of color (and flavor maybe). Someone once told me that a bison pees on all of the grass before it goes into the bottles, but hopefully that's just an urban legend. Actually, probably a lot of things pee on that grass before it goes into the bottle. Who cares, I still like it, especially with apple juice (I never thought of that combination before coming to Poland, but it's very popular). Anyway, since bison show up in Polish culture a lot, it seemed fitting to visit the part of the country where they live. And Ken and Marta had the idea that we should get a small group to go. What started out as just a few of us suddenly turned into a big group. So off we went (of course, with some Żubrówka). Mark, Ewa and I left Warsaw together expecting to be first to arrive. But somehow we were almost last.
Białowieża
There were 14 of us in the group, and we took 4 cars, had 2 great dogs, and spent 2 nights in a huge house in Swinoroje that Marta found for us. It was great that there were so many nice people to take care of me, since I was physically unable to do much with my arm injury (actually I was totally fine, just faking it so people would cater to my every request). They cooked for me, tied my shoes, dressed me, and generally took care of me like I was a small child. Ok, so nobody dressed me, I did it myself, because I'm actually a big boy.
Excited to see bison!
We didn't have much of an agenda, except to relax, walk in the Białowieża forest (the oldest forest in Europe), and enjoy the house and company. I guess we had false expectations of seeing bison roaming the fields from our living room window, because there are only 500 in the whole region. When we told our forest tour guide that we wanted to see bison, he said with a straight face "There's been a misunderstanding. If you want to see żubr, go to the zoo". And that was the end of our dream (but we did go to the zoo and saw bison at least). But only 500? That was a surprise. I guess there used to be many thousands, then it dwindled down to basically none because of hunting, until protection and controlled breeding brought them back into existence.
We wanted to see this in the wild
But settled to see them in the zoo
Speaking of numbers, I'll tell you about the trip through these numbers.
1 - As in Uno, a game we played til the wee hours (Renata cheated, and when she didn't win, she threatened to dig some graves for us in the backyard).
2 - The number of Romanian feet dancing on the dining table while others were trying to play Pictionary on said table.
3 - The number of items our waiter delivered to us in the first hour during lunch after the forest walk. As in one beer, one water, and one Coke (not counting the 3 tea cups with no water). In an HOUR. For 11 people. We went to a fancy restaurant called Carska, in an old train station, where the Russian Tsar used to go. We were all tired and hungry, and the service at this place was the world record's worst. We were in the private back room (which we thought was a good sign), and there was a private-private room that people had to walk through our room to get to. For every 4 times the waitress went to the private-private room, our waiter came only once (and every time the other waitress opened the door you could hear everyone breathe in the air of hope, then breathe out the disappointment as she politely said "nope, not for you" and entered the private-private room, making everyone in there happy). And generally our guy didn't do anything even when he came into our room. He even talked back to us when we complained about how long it was taking ("this isn't a milk bar" was my favorite response of his, and it was kind of funny so I wasn't too mad). Of course nobody was happy, but once the bread came out (over an hour into our stay), our moods shifted and all was well in the world. The food turned out to be pretty good (but expensive), and not worth putting up with the service. It had us reminiscing about the previous world's worse service in Ukraine.
3.5 - The number of hours it should have taken Mark, Ewa and me to get to Białowieża.
6 - The number of hours it actually took Mark, Ewa and me to get to Białowieża from Warsaw. At least by going the long way through Białystok, it meant 2.5 more hours of Nirvana and Ace of Base sing-a-longs in the car
9 - The number of countries represented by our group. Agnieszka, Ela, Renata, Marta and Ewa from Poland, Russian Julia, Scottish Mark, English Alan, English/Martian Jay (people from Mauritius are called Martians right?), Italian Silvia (insert hand gesture here), Romanian Cristina, Aussie Mark, and Ken and me from US. I love the mix! (updated - sorry Julia!)
O - That's not a number, that's the shape of a vinyl record. And vinyl records are still cool. The house had a record player (that many of us didn't know how to operate) with dozens of classic albums, and it reminded me of playing records at my parents house growing up. For some reason the only record I can remember listening to as a kid was John Denver and the Muppets Christmas album. I even have the album on my iPod today. Don't judge until you listen to it!
10 - The number of zloty I lost to Scottish Mark, playing Poker from 3 to 5 am. Why didn't we just go to sleep?
11 - As in 11pm, the time Aussie Mark had to go to bed after he fell backwards in his chair having too much fun. Ewa gave him the look, and Mark knew it was time. And I mean the look of "YOU need to go to bed", not the look of "Hey baby, let's go to bed".
15 - The number of pieces Aussie Mark cut my schabowy into at dinner one night, because I couldn't cut it myself with my injured arm (thanks dad!). We found a GREAT meal at a truck stop in the middle of nowhere, where the food was super cheap and was made from grandma's kitchen (not my grandma, a Polish grandma). Oh, how I love Polish grandmas (and my grandma too).
18 - The number of wheels on the big semi-trucks, or "tir", that stop so the drivers can eat at the truck stops we passed. "Tir" is the Polish word for semi-truck. And to prove how simple the Polish language can be, a nice lady in a short skirt that stands on the side of the road waiting for a truck driver to pick her up is called a "tirówka" (see note above about adding "-ówka" to the end of words, and how it turns a word into a tasty treat). If you don't understand the connection between these ladies and truck drivers, let's just say they are looking for a ride in more ways than one.
19 - The IQ of the man who stopped his car in the middle of the highway to get out and yell at us for flashing him. He was making some dangerous passes, so Mark flashed the lights to let him know to stop being an idiot (I guess don't do that next time, Mark!). Anyway, we showed him who was boss by driving around his car on the shoulder and driving away. A-hole. But I guess he could have chased us down and axe-murdered us...luckily he didn't, and we got home safe and sound. At least we know what not to do next time.
120 - The number of minutes we spent with the guide in the forest. He started off really grumpy, yelling at us for not knowing where the entrance to the forest was, seemingly trying to run away from us after taking our money, and generally being unpleasant. But after we stepped into the forest, he transformed and magically became a very friendly and passionate guy, and the tour turned very interesting, listening to him talk about trees, mushrooms that look like a penis, the forest animals, and the history of the region. Yea, they really did look like a penis. Of course I took a picture, but I don't want to prove how immature I am by showing it to you.
140.6 - The number of miles my friend Kelly swam, biked and ran in her Ironman race in Kona, in honor of her late friend Mari. The race was during our night time on this trip...she started just before we had dinner, and finished just before we ate breakfast the next morning. I tracked her on GPS and could watch her progress throughout the race...the technology is pretty cool! If you haven't heard Kelly's story, check it out.
200 - The number of pierogi the Polish girls (and foreign helpers) cooked for dinner, using the mushrooms Ewa, Mark and Aga picked (Ewa is an expert mushroom picker). And when I say "cooked", I mean that they had a dance party to Saturday Night Fever, while rolling and folding pierogi. It was quite impressive. Afterwards, Ewa admitted that if we didn't boil the mushrooms for at least 20 minutes, we would have all gotten sick. So I think the dance party saved us.
It took them about an hour to find 2 billion mushrooms
Pierogi party
They're supposedly cooking right now
587 - The number of times everyone said "Go Huskies" during our card games to support UW's game against Oregon (I got to make a rule in the game and made everyone say it at the end of every sentence). Unfortunately we lost. Go Huskies.
1,000,000 - The number of vibrant shades of red, orange and yellow that encompassed us all over the forest. It's hard to beat the colors of autumn.
Colors of autumn
0 - The number of people out of my 13 travel companions who responded to my request to quote them for this blog. So if you want to know their thoughts, I guess you'll have to ask them. And if you think this post is boring, it's obviously their fault.
0 - Also the number of days I want to wait til the next fun big group trip, although I guess I have to stay in Warsaw and work sometimes... But I'm pretty sure you'll be hearing about another one soon. Go Huskies!
Group hug, until next time...
