They always say that you should start as you mean to carry on. I think my time here did that by itself. I'd never flown before I came, and for some reason I decided to go with WizzAir, which I don't think is a proper airline. The air hostesses were an unexpected highlight, seeing as they had minimal English and a dead-eyed, haunted look. They clearly hadn't been taught much about how to do their job, because they said "pay attention" before making any announcement. English is a rich and subtle language, with a whole load of different ways of saying the same thing, yet they still chose to go with "pay attention", rather than "please listen" or "if I may have your attention please". Says it all, really.
Our flat is great, in a grim, hideously inadequate kind of way. The fridge: Soviet era, with a freezer compartment about the size of a lever-arch folder. The cooking facilities: two Soviet era hotplates, that take half an hour to boil a kettle of water. Oven: we don't have one. Electrics: fridge, nothing else. Cupboard space: inexplicably generous, but I'd sooner have less space and something to cook lasagne in. In our shared room: two adjacent desks, bookshelves, wardrobes, bedside tables, lamps. One of the lamps doesn't work. The beds are covered in a strange, rough, rug-type affair, with a sheet that's too big and a duvet that's too small. The bedclothes inexplicably smell of Plastecine. We have internet facilities, but we had to either buy a splitter cable, as there's only one internet socket, or a router. Neither of us knew what a splitter cable might look like, so we went with a rubbish router that doesn't seem too keen on working. The curtains, of course, don't cover the windows. We have a door to our balcony, but when we open it, that makes the curtains detach from the pegs that hold them up. I'm too short to rehang them. The balcony is okay, with a view of some cranes and the cafe across the road. It's covered in bird shit and feathers, and an increasing quantity of cigarette ends. That's well over a week we've been meaning to buy an ashtray, now. The first thing we did when we got here was to shave my room-mate's head, and the resulting hair was out there for around five days before we decided to sweep it up. The overhead lamp has some bare wires, where it has come slightly out of the ceiling.We have a radiator, but that doesn't get turned on until mid-October, in a country with absolutely no transitory months. It was summer when we came, and all of a sudden, it's now winter - and what a winter it'll be.
I'm sharing a room with my friend from university, who has now been christened Marek, to go with me being called Mundek (I got sick of nobody being able to pronounce my name right, so I had to take matters into my own hands). Our hobbies seem to be living like pigs, drinking, and bodily functions. You could be forgiven for thinking that we were raised by wolves. Next door we have two Belgians, one of whom, hereafter known as Presto Pete, is wonderfully enthusiastic about everything, except walking any distance. We spent a good few days teaching him how to pronounce the word "law". He kept calling it "low", something which it emerges is common across most Europeans with English as their second language. I wouldn't ordinarily have minded, but that's the name of his course. The other Belgian is a little older. I accidentally locked him out last night, for which I feel very bad now. We let him in - we were still up, by some miracle. My drinking has got worse since I've been here. I don't think I've had a single dry day, but on the other hand, I haven't really drunk much vodka. Vodka seems to be only the tip of the iceberg, though - we saw something in the supermarket called Spiritus, which claimed to be 95%. I think that has crossed the border between a strong alcoholic drink and rubbing alcohol. It'd probably send you blind if you actually consumed it. I'm tempted to spike Marek's tea with it to see what happens. Whenever we're on a night out, we can't seem to avoid getting stopped by people advertising the Go-Go Club - 'real lesbian erotic show'! We always say that we don't want to go, that it's not for us, but I'm going to stop saying that. Lying is a sin, after all.
This country is fantastic if, like me, you enjoy drinking and smoking, but are also a miser. A packet of Camel costs about 13 PLN, which is about £2.66, with pints costing less than half of that. Food is cheap as well. In a pretty fancy restaurant yesterday I had a whole trout (complete with head, much to my friends' dismay and my amusement) with chips and salad for about £4.50. It generally costs about that to eat in the cafe across the road as well, and I struggle to clear my plate, though that could be more to do with how heavy Polish food is. We bought some bread, but I can't eat more than about three slices in a sitting - it's simply too much. It's a bit like a trampy verson of the Elves of Lórien's lembas bread, but that you can have with jam. The food here is often inexplicably sweet - not with dishes like salads, that could work as sweet, but stuff like their bolognese sauces and their sausages. I think the best bit about the food here is that it's perfectly socially acceptable to have pickles with pretty much everything, which pleases me no end, since I'm like the Cookie Monster, except with things in vinegar, and at a much lesser risk of developing diabetes.
A little quirk about Wroclaw: they really like their fountains. Like, REALLY like their fountains. Both the traditional kind and the 'multimedia' kind with lights. I don't consider water and light to be multimedia, which is why I didn't go with a bunch of other students to see the Fountain Show, which seemed to be water and light for about 15 minutes. "Like fireworks but with water" it was described to me as. So, like fireworks, but less impressive, then. There's one fountain that reminds me of a hosepipe with holes punched in it, but with intermittent streams of water shooting up. We saw a retarded dog trying to chase and bite the water, and getting very excitable: we thought nothing more about it, but came back the next day to see a kid doing pretty much the same thing. You can't walk down a street without finding a fountain. I don't know why they're so keen on them, considering they can't really use them in the winter, without it freezing. I really don't get it, myself.
Because it's 1973 forever here, Wroclaw still has a tram system. Soviet era trams of course, but they're actually pretty helpful. It costs about 40p to get wherever you're going, but nobody seems to check the tickets, so you can get around for free. Obviously, they're fairly crowded, and less frequent than I might like, but they're still helpful. What I particularly like, in damp weather, is when you can see the sparks coming from their overhead lines. Nothing here seems to fill me with anything approaching confidence, especially their driving. They seem to take great pleasure in generating wheelspin whenever they go round corners, or pull away from lights or whatever. I have no idea how they do it, but the novelty of it is starting to wear off, especially late at night. The rest of the time, they drive as if they're possessed, or getting someone to hospital. I would dread learning to drive here, it wouldn't really teach me good habits. You know, it's always good if you remember that you should stop at level crossings, and that you should slow down if you see a pedestrian in the road.
As a final note - I'm still in two minds about what the theme song for this year should be. "Tell Me It's Not True" from the Blood Brothers soundtrack is a possibility, as is "Music to Watch Girls By" by Andy Williams, although maybe that would be better if the girls also watched us back. This is going to be a very strange year.
I'm am are like this postings!!
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