A week in Albania

November 3-10, 2017

November 2017 was not an easy time for Andy (the degu), as his newly discovered teeth problems forced him to eat out of a syringe, a process which required at least three human hands to feed him. Since neither Zosia or I have three hands ourselves, we had to be there together to feed him (up to 5 times per day). But November is also the time for my annual "work trips to places I normally wouldn't visit," so I had to leave Z and Andy at home. Luckily our friends were super nice and literally lent a hand a couple times per day, for an entire week. Of course I was then obligated to bring back extra sweets.

Sweet Andy. We miss him so much!

Since I had the weekend to explore Albania, I wanted to hire a guide to take me outside of Tirana; to Berat, a 2400 year old city, and Durres, a town on the Adriatic Sea. It was actually hard to find a guide when you're alone, because online companies required paying for two people when booking it. Calling the tour companies worked better. Who knew that human interaction was actually an important concept? My new friend-for-hire Elio picked me up in the morning at the Rogner hotel in Tirana, and we were on our way.

My first lesson from Elio was regarding the name of the country. "Albania" isn't used by the locals anymore. They call it Shqipëri - or "land of eagles." I can see why they give us an easier word to use, because I have no idea how to pronounce their version.

It was a beautiful day for sightseeing, around 70 degrees and sunny, and Elio gave me some insight to Albanian history and culture. He started by saying that "everyone starts their day with coffee and a raki". I know that raki is a very strong (and sometimes nasty) alcohol, and started to worry once I realized it was early morning and Elio was driving me around the country. I wondered if he had started his day like this as well. He turned to me and gave me one of those "just kidding" smiles. At least I hope that's what it was.

He talked of corruption during the communist era dictatorship, the low morale but propaganda that told them they were the happiest country in the world, the suppression of religion, and the hungry and oppressed people. And then he casually mentioned that his grandpa was the dictator's chef. I thought he was joking at first, or that I misunderstood. After some awkward probing (verbal probing, that is), I realized I had heard correctly - his grandfather used to make sammies (or probably some other fancier food) for the long time head of Albania. He didn't actually refer to the dictator by name, which was interesting to me; maybe it was a sore subject. His family was well taken care of, he said, but his grandfather seemed to struggle with working for a man who many viewed as evil. But I guess when the dictator tells you to make him a grilled cheese sandwich, you do it.

I had learned so much, but we weren't even to our first destination. We finally reached Berat, which although is over 2 thousand years old, has an Ottoman feel to it due to their rule for several hundred years. The castle overlooking the city was inspiring, as were the stories about the codex (the 6th century biblical manuscript that was kept in a church there). Throughout history, bad guys like Hitler and other "collectors" wanted to find the codex, so priests went through great lengths to keep them safe and hidden. Gandalf asking Frodo if the ring was secret and safe came to mind.

After Berat we headed to Durres for a walk and some lunch. I couldn't see it, but the boot heel of Italy is just across the Adriatic Sea from Albania. There has been a lot of Italian influence in the country over the years, and a lot of Albanians speak Italian. I even remember eating at an Albanian pizza restaurant when I lived in NYC, not realizing why Albanians made pizza. Walking along the waterfront, we found a restaurant where we got fresh grilled fish, shrimp, wine, soup, sides and dessert for 10 euros each. I could get used to that.

As Elio swerved through traffic, he warned me about the bad drivers on the roads. Many drivers have bought their driver's license on the black market and never learned properly. Not Elio though, he claimed. And they all have nice cars. It seemed that every second car was a Mercedes, many of them new, which raised the question (to Elio too) of how everyone can afford them. He hinted at possible unsavory activity, but didn't go into more detail. He was happy and proud of his Opel.

While we were talking, he also convinced me to watch the movie "War Dogs" because a) it was an entertaining movie, but b) it showed a bit of the recent history about Albania's weapons and ammunition stockpiles. In short, there were literally tons of weapons and ammunition stored around the country which were received from Russia and China after WWII. This was sitting unused, and after some political unrest in the 1990's, a lot of it was looted and sold on the black market, while a significant amount sat in storage for decades. War Dogs showed how arms dealers were able to access some of this supply and make millions of dollars on it. As part of the deal to join NATO, Albania had to methodically destroy these reserves, but in 2008 there was a big accident when explosions at one of the storage facilities basically caused a massive fireworks show. Anyway, watch War Dogs. Good movie.

Berat

Durres on the Adriatic Sea

Back in Tirana I found a bar, Komitet, to try local raki. It was in the old communist style, with dozens of flavors of raki. I asked for something easy and got the honey cinnamon version. Yum! I was alone so decided I shouldn't drink too many more. Then I remembered what Elio said....

Wandering around the city led to some nice sights

The main square

The next day, my work colleague Petr, from Brno, Czech Republic arrived, so one of our local hosts took us on some more sightseeing. Jonid is a nice guy with a family at home, but he somehow found time to spend his whole Sunday with us, taking us to Kruja. Kruja is a city in the mountains, and one of the first things I noticed were all of the towers built around the mountains, far into the distance. It reminded me of the towers in Lord of the Rings, when they light a fire in one of them to send a signal to another tower, who passes on the warning, which continues through a series of towers spanning distances farther than the eye can see. And that's exactly what they were for (in the old days, not now...they just use Twitter now).

Kruja is best known for being the center of Skanderbeg's revolution against the Ottomans in the 15th century, which turned him into a national hero. Initially part of the occupying Ottoman army, Skanderbeg led a years-long rebellion of Christians against the Turks. There have been rumors of a future Hollywood movie about him, but nothing confirmed as far as I can find.

The mountains around Kruja

Cool guys

Kruja

After a bit more driving, we ended up at a restaurant called Rapsodia in Shengjin. Jonid recommended this place and it did not disappoint. It was a fancy 7 course meal, very slow food. Everything was artistically designed and based on some seafood. The Albanian red wine was terrific as well. I don't remember the final price, but it was definitely a small percentage of what it would cost in NYC or SF, and at the same quality. Back in Tirana a couple other recommended restaurants were Oda, a tiny traditional place where we went with all the bosses and squeezed elbows around a small table that resembled a family's living room, Otiom which had great service, and Ejona for nice lunch. In every place we went, the service was outstanding, with friendly and attentive servers. And great prices. Overall the quality of the service was worth the slight annoyance of having to pay cash in a lot of places: even in restaurants, shops, and the weekend tour. I'll just appreciate the country and the experience as one that far surpassed expectations.

Slow seafood

Final city view

Macedonia and Kosovo

October 13-20, 2017

Last year's trips to "places I would probably never go unless my job sent me there" included both Macedonia and Albania, and since Zosia is always keen to join me, so she decided to come to Macedonia.  Kosovo is in the neighborhood, and was on the list of "countries I didn't know anything about except that there was war there not too long ago', so we wanted to swing by there as well.

In preparation for the trip, we studied and learned as much as we could about the region, in the most logical way possible; by watching the film "Alexander", starring Colin Farrell, Angelina, and Ice Man. We learned that Aristotle was his teacher, Ptolemy was his homie, and Jared Leto had a crush on Alexander.  It was actually a decent movie, if you have 3 hours and nothing better to do.

We flew into Skopje, the capital of Macedonia, and immediately noticed the word "Fyrom" everywhere.  I had no idea what it meant, but it was EVERYWHERE.  And then I realized I was using CapsLock wrong, because it's actually "FYROM." Further inquiry of the locals revealed that it stands for the Former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia.  But FYROM seems cooler.  Like YOLO or FOMO or MAGA (barf).  Because of a dispute with Greece over the name "Macedonia" (since there is a region in Greece also called Macedonia), they weren't allowed to enter the UN under that name.  Thus, FYROM was the alternative. And apparently the name might change again in the future. 

View of Skopje fyrom inside the fortress

Kosovo
We got picked up on Saturday morning for a tour of Kosovo, and the education continued.  Our driver, Robert, was Macedonian, but spoke Serbian and English.  Our guide, Valon, was Albanian, but also spoke Serbian and English.  Robert and Valon spoke to us in English, but to each other in Serbian.  It was fascinating and confusing at the same time.

I had always heard about the war in Kosovo, so it was nice to put some different ideas about the country in my head.  The first important fact is that singers Rita Ora and Dua Lipa both have parents from Kosovo.  And because of that fact, I get them even more mixed up.  They both have super short names, sing poppy songs, and are Kosovoanese (though from England).  And then I learned that there's no such thing as "Kosovoanese".  First of all, because I invented that word, but second of all, most people there are Albanian by blood, and they identify more with their ethnicity than their nationality.  That means Rita and Dua both come from Albanians from Kosovo.  Got it?  

Kosovo has had a long history, but most recently declared independence from Serbia in 2008, after war tore the country apart.  Like other conflicts in the region, it seems to have been caused by one ethnicity (not country) trying to control/avoid control by another ethnicity.  Even in the current time, their status as a country is still disputed.  Serbia, for example, doesn't recognize the Republic of Kosovo.

Our first stop was the 14th century Gracanica monastery, which included original frescoes that were being cleaned by highly qualified scientists.  It's something I never really thought about, but you can't just take a sponge and Windex to the walls inside these ancient sites.  It requires a specific expertise in how to clean and what materials to use to prevent any damage.

The monastery

Got peppers?

The next stop was Pristina, the capital of Kosovo.  There were a couple memorable parts of Kosovo - one was that it was where Zosia went into a Mosque for the first time.  I don't know why that's interesting, but I think it's always nice for people to experience things from other cultures.  The mosque was very simple (most mosques are more humble in appearance that Catholic cathedrals, for example), and it was interesting to see the locals going for prayer.

We also noticed a Bill Clinton statue, because they love him for his help during the Kosovo war.  We visited an ethnographic museum of an old house (I love these types of "real life" museums), and the city bazaar. Finally we stopped in Prizren, a quaint town with a nice castle close to the Albanian border.  Here is where our guide and driver showed us some good Balkan food.  And there's not much better than some good food, outdoor seating in 70 degrees and sunshine, with some nice wine to wash it down.

That's where we learned that Kosovo uses Euro for currency even though they are not in the EU.

Maybe we'll have a third wedding in Kosovo

Do you think maybe we ordered too much?

Inside the mosque

Prizren

Macedonia
Of course we wanted to explore Macedonia a bit, so on the next day we drove to Lake Ohrid with Nadya and Petko from work.

Lake Ohrid is on the border of Albania and Macedonia, with the main town of Ohrid on the Macedonia side.  We hired a guide to take us around and it was definitely worth it, otherwise we'd be wandering around, not knowing we were looking at a theater from the 2nd century BC, or mosaics from the 4th century.  We also wouldn't have felt so dumb because the guide spoke 11 languages, which is at least 10 more than me.  We took a small boat ride and had lunch in one of the waterfront restaurants; the lake was so big it felt more like the sea.

According to legend, the city once had one church for every day of the year (365).  There are still quite a number of them, but the city has only 40,000 residents.  Another legend that Bill Nye would probably debunk is that you can hear St Naum's heartbeat in his tomb, when you put your ear really close to it.  I'm pretty sure you're hearing your own heartbeat in your ear.

Cruising around Macedonia

Lake Ohrid

Nice view of the lake and monastery

Back in Skopje, we finally felt like we were in a big city.  There were big office buildings everywhere, wide boulevards and walking areas, and giant statues.  The city was destroyed by an earthquake in the 60's but has done well to put itself back together.  However, there is a feeling that a lot of corruption is behind the rebuild, with the most recent expansion costing nearly 10 times the original estimate, and certain construction companies seemingly the winners of most of the contracts.

This one is called "King and his selfie stick"

There is a big dispute over the "Equestrian Warrior" statue in the middle of the city, which is obviously supposed to be Alexander the Great.  They can't specifically call him by his name, or it would annoy Greece even more.  The Greeks feel like Macedonia is stealing some of their history, and there are even talks now about removing the statue completely.  I don't even know what to believe about it, but the truth is that it's a cool statue!

The "Equestrian Warrior"

The city itself felt more Turkish than European, which makes sense considering the Ottoman influence over this part of the world.  The food was either Turkish-ish, or seafood, and we were happy with both.  The ayvar was awesome and the bread was crunchy on the outside and soft on the inside.  Everyone we came across was very friendly and open, without making you feel like they wanted something from you, or wanted you go to into their restaurant or ride in their taxi.  Even though that's usually what we wanted to do!

Touching Alexander's water

Bavarian castles

September 29 - October 1, 2017

One of the joys (meaning not-a-joy) of flying on Ryan Air is that you have to pay for everything, including picking a seat. Even though Zosia and I bought our tickets together, somehow we didn't get seats assigned next to each other. Our friends Colin and Rachel were on the same boat...err, airplane. We decided to spend a weekend together in Bavaria, visiting the place that inspired the iconic Disney castle. But since we didn't want to get sick of each other, we'd all sit separately on the plane.

Zosia was in row 2, and as I was settling into my seat in Row 30, I could hear a girl next to me literally crying that she didn't get to sit next to her boyfriend. Wah wah. She was in her 30s, so that was weird. Trying hard to withhold judgement, I asked where her boyfriend was sitting, on the small chance that it would be somewhere near Zosia. Using some of my high school math skills, I determined the odds to be less than 1%, since there would be two seats next to Zosia and at least 200 seats on the plane. "My degu-mama is also somewhere in the front", I told her. She sniffled through the tears "he's all the way in row 2." What!? It turned out that Zosia was in the exact seat next to her boyfriend. This crying girl's boyfriend, not Zosia's boyfriend.  I was Zosia's boyfriend.  What are the odds? Actually, I didn't have to ask that question because I already calculated the odds. See how math is useful? Anyway, I quickly pretended I'd make a huge sacrifice and switch with her boyfriend. She thanked me, and I went to sit next Zosia for the plane ride, looking like a hero to the other couple, and to Zosia for fighting to switch to the seat next to her. I'm such a good fiancé.

So happy that we sat together

We flew to Memmingen, which I'd never heard of before. But it was only an hour from the Disney castle, so that was the important part. And since Rachel organized everything, that's all we needed to know. Once in Memmingen, we called a taxi from the airport taxi phone, which was exactly like a Bat-phone. There were no numbers on it, because when you picked it up it only called one place: the taxi company. On the way to the hotel, I promptly dropped my passport on the floor of the taxi and went into the hotel without it. Luckily I had taken a photo of the taxi company so the hotel reception guy was able call and ask if they found it. The driver was super nice and dropped it off at the hotel after another he completed another airport pickup. One point for Memmingen.

It was my lucky trip so far.

It's awesome going on a trip with Rachel and Colin (mostly Rachel), because she plans everything. Every excursion, every detail, even every expected dollar spent. We rented a car the next day and drove an hour to Neuschwanstein (no, I can't pronounce it either). This is the most famous castle in Europe (or most visited? I don't know, but you can look it up).

The Disney castle

Beautiful view from the Disney castle

Hohenschwangau castle is next door (seriously, this language is nuts). It's the land of castles with impossible names, just so the locals can laugh at people trying to pronounce them. Just a piece of advice, if you plan to visit, leave lots of extra time for traffic. And reserve your tickets in advance. There was a huge line for tickets, and they are sold based on entry times. Most people had to wait a couple hours before entering. Luckily we had Rachel and everything was perfect. There was a lot of traffic but we rocked up to the entrance (a 30 minute hike from the parking lot) with just a couple minutes before our assigned entry time.

Very beautiful traffic, if such a thing exists

As you would expect, the tour was very "German", meaning very punctual. We entered exactly at our time, and the tour took exactly 30 minutes. After a few words on the audio tour in each room, we were ushered to the next room.

Neuschwanstein is nice (and yes I copied and pasted the word rather than typing it again!), but the area around it was also beautiful. I'd be OK owning a castle in the middle of gorgeous landscape, if anyone is giving them away. The weather was perfect too, even though the forecast called for rain. Like I said, lucky trip.

Very natural posing

We spent a couple hours in the town of Fussen on the way back to Memmingen. It was a nice town and it made me wonder if every small countryside town was just as cute and interesting. Of course we also enjoyed some good German food and beer: schnitzel, currywurst, pork and potatoes. At one of the pubs I asked the waitress for a recommendation of the local beer and she responded in shock "I don't know, I'm 15." Oops.

Picking our favorite wedding pose

After a bit more time in Memmingen, it was time to return back to Warsaw...a nice autumn weekend away, and new knowledge that Rachel can now plan all of our trips. Thanks Rachel!

Ps, it's been almost one year since this trip, and Rachel still hasn't planned any more of our trips. Maybe she didn't have as much fun as we did.

Tomaszów Lubelski

Sept 8-10, 2017

During our trips to the US, one of the things I wanted mostly to show Zosia was where we used to spend time as kids with our grandparents: that is Hawaii and Whidbey Island.  And over the last couple years, we managed both.  I don't know what it is about grandparents' houses, but there is something magical and nostalgic that is just fun to share with people.  I had never been to her "Whidbey," so we went there back in September. And it was awesome!

Zosia's mom grew up in Tomaszów Lubelski, just a few minutes from the Ukrainian border in Southeast Poland. The town is called Tomaszów, but like many cities in Poland, there are others with the same name. So to differentiate the cities, they add an adjective describing the region where it's located. The Lubelski voivodeship is in SE Poland, around the town of Lublin. When I first got to Poland, people talked about "voivodeships" as if I was supposed to know what that word means. In Polish it's a województwo, which basically means a province, but they English-ize the word thinking that spelling it with V instead of a W magically makes it understandable to non-Polish speakers. Let's just call it a province and make it easier for everyone. Anyway, the point is that Tomaszów Lubelski is different than Tomaszów Mazowiecki, for example.

The house in Tomaszów

Packed to the max in Tomek's car, we stopped in Lublin on the way to pick up their mom, who was preparing her rental apartment for a new tenant. After another couple hours (with spam musubis for the car ride), we were finally in Tomaszów.

I wonder if she likes the musubis

We stayed in the house where Zosia and Tomek's grandparents lived, and where their mom grew up with her two sisters. It was a cool, sunny September weekend, and somehow the house stays even colder inside. Nobody lives in the house now, so it requires several visits a year to maintain the house and massive garden, but it also means that the heat isn't turned on. Since we spent time in extra layers outside eating and making s'mores at the fire pit, we were fine wearing these layers inside as well.

When I wrote that the garden is massive, I mean gigantic. There are a lot of trees, a swing, a fire pit, bushes, enclosed areas where the dogs used to stay, even a full-size greenhouse. You could easily get lost back there and not notice if others are walking around or working in other parts of the garden.

The breakfast patio

The front side of garden is like a forest

Still part of the garden

Similar to us going to Whidbey Island or Hawaii as kids, Zosia spent a lot of her childhood in Tomaszów. Her grandpa was a doctor and everyone in the city knew who he was because of his generous personality. He has an interesting story of his own, getting sent to a prison camp in the Ural mountains during WWII. Zosia's aunt Agnieszka wrote a book about this time of his life, and she rode her bike along the same route that he traveled to get back to Poland from Siberia.

Because no people live in the house, spiders decided to move in. I think that weekend was when I first realized how scared Zosia is of spiders. I pretended to throw one towards her and she almost broke down crying. I think she might still be running! I won't make that mistake again, at least not too many more times. The family also does something that I find simple yet brilliant....they always leave thoughtful, handwritten notes in the kitchen, addressed to a fictitious person, saying that they'll "be back soon." This is just in case someone breaks in the house while they're away, the intruders will think that at least 2 people live there. I guess the robbers don't know how cool and popular Z's grandpa was...or else they wouldn't dare break in.

My little buddies got me in trouble

But she has no problem with crickets!

Zosia and I had a nice wander around the town. She showed me the church where she was baptized, the cemetery where her grandparents are buried, the parks where they used to walk as kids, where Tomek fell off his bike, and where they used to have to go for time outs after getting in trouble. There was a hilarious story about her mom always being late for school, even though the school is just down the street. During a teacher's conference, the principal told the parents that "someone" was always late to class, even though they lived only 100 meters away. Zosia's grandma knew the principal was talking about their oldest daughter (Zosia's mom, Madga), but the grandpa refused to believe it. On the way home he counted the steps and noticed that they lived just over 100 meters away, so he came to the only logical conclusion: "They were definitely talking about the neighbor girl".

Walking in the park

Cool church from a few thousand years ago, maybe

I learned another Polish cultural reference, when eating at an ice cream shop called Zimna Zośka. Zośka is another cute form of Zosia, and Zimna means cold. The term Zimna Zośka refers to May 15, Zosia's name day. It's also said that after this day the weather is warm for the rest of the summer. So not only did I learn what Zimna Zośka means, I also learned that I have to buy her a present every May 15... And that Zosia looks for any excuse to get ice cream.

Zimna Zośka looks very zimna

It's too bad that Tomaszów is so far from Warsaw, because it would a nice place to visit more often, or even to consider for the wedding. The spiders are friendly, the churches are old, and the ice cream is cold. Plus the city means a lot to Zosia, and that's enough for me.

Swim, Wine, Run

September 3, 2017

I’ve done many triathlons over the past several years; some near Warsaw, and some in the beautiful Polish countryside. Always with friends. And it’s always been fun. But there’s one ever present stress for every race (besides the chaos at the start of the swim): figuring out how to get my bike there. I don’t have a car in Poland, and since I don’t fancy riding my bike TO races, the logistics are always an issue (I just realized I’ve spent too much time around Brits because I used “fancy” as a verb). A few races have been easy to get to: for example, the train to Poznan took me from the center of Warsaw to within walking/rolling distance of the race site. But some races are nowhere near a train station, which requires me to either beg a friend to put my bike in or on their car, combine a train and cycle excursion carrying all my crap, or find some other public transport option. Even for the races near Warsaw (Piaseczno and Nieporet), taking bikes on the bus is no given, because strollers have priority. Bus rides with a bike are always stressful, because if a baby carriage comes aboard, the driver usually kicks all the bikes off. It has become a running joke that every time we approach the next bus stop, we chant “no baby, no baby!” hoping not to see any strollers. Then we celebrate when we realize we can continue safely for at least one more stop. When I say “we,” of course I mean only me.

During one bus trip to the Nieporet race (25 km away from Warsaw), a few of us had bikes and all our tri gear. When we approached a bus stop still several kilometers from the race, I noticed it...my worst fear. A baby. Immediately the driver made all the bikes get off, even though there was plenty of space for everyone. “You don’t all have to get off...just the bikes.” That didn’t make any sense, but it seems the driver was not one for logic on this day. The mom felt bad and tried to convince the driver she didn’t mind sharing the space. Unfortunately she didn’t feel bad enough to get back off the bus and let us continue in peace.

Anyway, the point is that getting my bike to a triathlon can suck sometimes, and when Zosia and I are racing together, which means two bikes, it sucks double. By the way, thanks to everyone who has transported our bikes in the past (and in the future!).

So, when a friend from the club, Tomek, started talking about swimrun, which we realized didn't have the word "bike" in the name, we were curious.

Tomek promised wine at the swimrun

Swimrun is basically what it sounds like; a race where you swim and run. But it’s not as simple as a duathlon, where you might simply swim a certain distance, put on your running shoes, then run to the finish line. You have to switch back and forth between swimming and running multiple times in a swimrun. So maybe it should be called a swimrunswimrunswimrunswimrun. Or more precisely a runswimrunswimrunswimrunswimrun, since running is generally first (and last).

How exactly does a swimrun work? Well, unlike in a triathlon, you don’t finish each segment in a comfy transition zone where you can leave your stuff in a cheap plastic box, grab a bite of sandwich and chug from your giant Powerade bottle. You simply start running at the StartLine (don't forget to register and make your annual donation to the foundation) and follow a specific route to get to the finish line. It's like orienteering, but in between the start and finish there are a bunch of water crossings where you have to swim to the other side to continue on the race route. Since there are no storage boxes, you swim with your running gear and run with your swimming gear (and your sandwich). Folks on the Oregon Trail would have loved it.

All geared up!

Typical swimrun gear includes running shoes that drain well, a special thin, short sleeve and short leg wetsuit, a pull buoy for your legs (so you don’t have to kick with shoes on), hand paddles to make the swim easier, goggles, swim cap, and an elastic rope to connect you to your partner. I forgot to mention that some races require you to be literally tied to someone during the whole race.

The teamwork aspect actually makes it more fun. If one person is a stronger runner, they can pull the other person and in the water, a strong swimmer can make a big difference for their partner. During one practice swim, I pulled Zosia for about 1 km, and as we were drying off at Tomek’s car later, she said “Swimming was super easy today. I could have kept going!” I, on the other hand, was exhausted.

We decided to do the race in Wióry with Tomek and a few other friends. There’s a big lake with lots of trees and hills around it. The landscape is picturesque: we stayed on a vineyard, where someone actually makes Polish wine! I can’t say that Polish wine is my favorite, but we had a nice little cottage for the five of us (including Charlotte and Judith), and we got to do some wine tastings.

Our cottage in the vineyard

Perfect little place

Even though it was September, the weather turned out to be very cold and wet. Normally we’d be worried, but this time, it saved us. We didn’t want to rent the specific swimrun wetsuit (we're CCM), and wanted to use our normal triathlon ones. These are long sleeved, thicker, heavier, tighter, and not as comfortable to run in as the swimrun versions. If it would have been a normal summer day, it woulda been too hot to run in them, and impossible to take off and put back on during the running segments. Because it was something like 12 degrees C, we were able to keep them on the whole time and not overheat. We just unzipped a little during the longer runs.

We decided to enter the 10 km race, with 6 running legs, totaling about 8k, and 5 swims, making up the rest. They gave us a map and off we went. Martin was doing the race individually, so the three of us decided to go together. GPS would have been nice, because a lot of people got lost. There’s no marked path, just a few race marshals (and drunk fisherman) showing the way, but I guess that’s part of the fun. And as long as you aren’t in first place, you can always follow others. This is obviously the only reason we decided not to be in first place.

To help carry our pull buoys and paddles, we made some straps from the extra elastic rope: we could strap the buoys to our legs while running and attach the paddles to our belt. It was like having a Batman utility kit. Luckily there were videos on YouTube helping us figure out how to do it.

It actually felt great to run a bit, get in the water to cool down, then run a bit more. Luckily my shoes drained perfectly and I didn’t get any blisters on my feet (it’s worth testing your shoe drainage before a race...the first shoes I tried got water logged, and felt like running in cinder blocks). We found ourselves simply looking around and enjoying the scenery, and at times forgot we were in a race. There was no sense of urgency and it was great. We paused for photos, chatted with other competitors, and enjoyed the journey.

We finished!

Tomek and Charlotte probably didn’t stop to smell the roses as much as we did, as they ended up on the podium for mixed pairs in the longer race (28k + 5k). They were awesome!

Congrats guys!

33k is a bit too long for us, but we’ll keep our eyes open for something around 15k, because it truly was an enjoyable race. Unfortunately we won’t be able to do any races in 2018, but since it seems to be gaining in popularity, we’ll be looking for people to join us for future races. And I’ll remind you about the best part: you don’t have to transport your bike!

A few shots that Martin took during the race

Finishing one of the swim segments

Can we detach yet?

The "trail" running was great!

Here's a small video and summary from the organizers of the race.

Island hoop dreams

June 15-18, 2017

2006, maybe?  I'm trying to think of the last time that I played in an organized basketball game with referees and substitutions.  It might have been back when we had a company team in Seattle, and I used to bring in my friends as ringers, but I honestly can't remember.  So when I decided in early 2017 to start playing in my office's Monday night pick-up games, it had been over 10 years since I played anything resembling proper full-court basketball.

Ever since the Sonics left Seattle (that is, since they were stolen from us by some jerkfaces), I've held a bit of a grudge towards the game.  I simply don't like the Oklahoma City Thunder.  I don't think it's anything personal to the fans or the players, but the only time I follow the NBA these days is to check if OKC lost.  I don't care who wins, as long as OKC doesn't.  I follow the playoffs only to make sure OKC gets knocked out.  I might need some therapy to deal with how much I want them to lose.  I'm trying not to get off track here, but the point is that I haven't really loved the game of basketball over the past 10 years.  I'd catch a few Husky games, but those weren't always a pleasant experience.  Gone were the days of playing and coaching several days per week, pick-up games at the IMA, or various leagues with friends.  It was a lifetime ago when I ordered, by snail mail, a fitness plan to improve my jumping ability, which helped me to be able to nick (not slap) the backboard on a lay-up and to graze (not grab) the rim.  Now I'd be lucky if the wind from my flailing arm managed to move the net on a jump attempt.

During that first pick up game in early 2017, I lasted about 30 seconds.  That's what she said.  Sure, I was in decent shape from running, swimming and the gym, but after running up and down the court a couple times, I couldn't breathe and my legs felt like they were made of stone. But I didn't give up.  After a few weeks of playing very poor basketball, I started playing only medium poor basketball.  I didn't have any of the marginal "quickness" or shooting touch that I like to think I used to have.  Not to mention the overall deterioration of skills.  And when you are a foot shorter and a decade older than everyone else on the court, those things are kind of important.  Anyway, it was still fun, and the guys were nice, so I kept going.  Playing once a week was manageable; anything more would be hard because of the blisters, shoulder pain, and knees still hating me for all the running over the past couple years.  In other words, this made me realize how old I'm getting.

But when "the call" came, I forgot all about it.  One of the organizers of the PwC team asked me if I wanted to join the team that would be playing in the international PwC tournament.  Despite my best attempts in the pick-up games to de-press everyone (is that the opposite of "impress"?), I was needed on the team to travel to Cyprus.  All I heard was "do you want to go to Cyprus?" and I didn't listen to anything else.  They needed a back-up point guard, and since I'm shorter than everyone else on the team, I qualified for the role.  This seems to have been the only requirement. 

The squad

I started taking the weekly pick up games more seriously, and the team even organized a couple practices.  I tried to use some of my coaching experience to implement a few drills and plays, but that only lasted about 2 weeks.  Somehow people lost interest in my clipboard, and I didn't have much credibility, because, well, I sucked.  But it wasn't why they asked me to join the team, so it didn't matter.  I was the team's short guy.  I needed to stay in my lane.

The tournament approached quickly and we were soon on our way to Nicosia, the capital of Cyprus.  I felt like an Olympian.

Off to the Olympics!

Streets of Nicosia

From the beginning, everything was very well organized.  The guys in the Cyprus office did a great job planning the hotels, transport, facilities, and of course the games.  After we arrived and checked into the hotel, we were welcomed by a dinner reception at the PwC Office...with a large outdoor space for the hundreds of tournament participants, supporters and organizers.  There were 13 teams overall, and the US was the favorite (as usual).  Apparently they recruit former college players from around the country to play, and there is so much interest, players are only allowed to play in one tournament.  I didn't realize we had so much basketball talent there.  The players don't know each other before the trip, but since they're all experienced players, it only takes a game or two to find their stride and dominate...or so the rumors went.  I felt that it was my obligation to reach out to all of the Americans, and to convince them that they should let Poland win. I really wanted to hate them, but turns out they were all nice guys and girls (some of the teams were co-ed, which was great).

At the end of dinner, the groups were drawn. And lucky enough, we got the US.  Also joining our group were Italy, Serbia and Slovakia.

My view for the Opening Ceremonies

We played 4 games that first day, and my legs and toes wanted to crawl into a hole and die.  Our team had 11 guys, so we rotated a lot, but it was still tough in my old age. We beat Italy and Slovakia, lost a close one to Serbia (who had an "intern" that could both dunk and shoot NBA-distance 3s with ease - which made me wonder about their hiring practices), and got beat pretty badly by the US team.  But we still managed to qualify for the knock-out round the next day.

That night they took us to a nice traditional restaurant, with food similar to Greek and Turkish (I hope I'm not offending anyone by saying that).  We also got to learn a bit about the history and culture of the island and city.   Cyprus is an EU country, which somehow surprised me, in the Mediterranean Sea.  Most of the island (and city) is Greek Cypriot, and part is Turkish Cypriot.  After some conflict in the 1960s and 70s, they separated and are now split by a militarized zone.  Turkey recognizes the Turkish Cypriot part as a separate country, though the rest of the world doesn't.  Nicosia is in the middle of the island, but there are also some very popular beach towns, such as Limmasol, where they took us for a party on the third night, and Larnaca, where we spent some time on the beach on the last day before the flight home.

Beach time

The heartburn is worth it

On the second day of the tournament we had a big game against Germany.  Most Polish people will tell you that if there is anyone they want to beat, at any contest or activity, it's the Germans (or Russians).  So I could tell that everyone was fired up for this one.  The German team was coached by a guy who used to play in the NBA (though I'd never heard of him), and they had some really big dudes.  They reminded me of the German team in Beer Fest.  We should have beaten them (of course everyone who loses says that), but a couple breaks didn't go our way and we lost a close, very intense and emotional game.  This put us in the losers bracket and seemed to drain our motivation.  Losing an emotional game is tough.  Having to play another one shortly after is even harder.  Unfortunately we caught a very inspired and energized Lithuanian team next, and they simply had more fight than we did.  I can't say that they were better than we are, but they definitely deserved to win (see, I didn't say that we shoulda won).  Our last opponent forfeit because they didn't have enough healthy players to field a team (old accountants after a weekend of games, you know?).  So we finished in 7th place out of 13.  Not bad, but considering we came out on the short end of a couple close games, it wasn't satisfying.

We're pretty good when the other team isn't on the court

I don't know when or where the 2018 tournament will be, nor if I will even be invited, but I'm ready to try again! Not that I think we'll be able to take down the US (or Cyprus, which came in second). But the atmosphere and spirit were great.  Save for some shouting with the Germans, everyone was really friendly, we interacted with people from all the countries, and I saw some guys I knew from other offices.  I just need to work on my game.  I remember when I was in high school and college, we always played against older guys, some in their 40s even, who were somehow very clever and sneaky good at basketball, even though they looked "old and slow".  Someday I hope to become that.  Maybe there is some sort of mail-order program for that?

The Cyprus guys put together a video of the event.  I am not in it (they tend to not film guys slouching on the bench), but you can at least see that a great time was had by all. 

This is in Warsaw, but at least there's proof that I play!