Ticket is booked!

I have my ticket. I am really going!

Whoo hoo!

I leave Sunday evening.

Empty houses look smaller . . .

. . . and much dirtier.

I am sitting on the floor of my empty house typing this. The last few days have been a mad rush of sorting, packing, organizing, cleaning and fretting.

But, as it always does, everything got done, and my stuff is now on it's way to Krakow (or at least it has left my house).

I hope it doesn't beat me there.

The consulate came through for me, and I now have my visa. But like everything else in this adventure, there's always one more thing before I can leave. Everything should be resolved in a few minutes and then I'll purchase my plane ticket.

I should be in Krakow on Monday!

In the meantime I am trying to figure out if I want to clean my dirty, empty house, or if I want to pay someone to do it for me . . .

It is really happening

It's 10:18 pm and I am exhausted.

I started the day at 6:00 am, wondering if my promise of employment would arrive, and what that meant I would need to do today. Since I couldn't sleep, I got up and started doing laundry, and organizing more of my stuff.

Good thing, cause 5 hours later, the Fedex man delivered the envelope I have been waiting nearly 5 months for. He must love his job - I saw him drive up from my office window, and was outside the door waiting for him before he was even out of the truck. I was literally dancing, and could hardly sign the weird electronic signature device.

A moment later I had the promise of employment in my hand, and was doing my version of the Lotto 649 happy dance in my kitchen.

When I finally opened the envelope, it was a bit anti-climatic. One sheet of paper. I've been waiting since February for one piece of paper. And I couldn't even read it.

It may be just one piece of paper, but apparently it is magic. I whipped off to the consulate in Toronto, and they took one look at it and said I would have my visa by Wednesday. Not really believing that it could happen that fast, I kept asking if there would be any problem getting it by Wednesday. I also asked three different people to double check my application. Finally, I asked them to call me if there were any problems, and the clerk just looked at me and said there wouldn't be any problems.

I think I have earned the right to be slightly skeptical.

When I got home, I started contacting my various coordinators to confirm the move could go ahead this week. I got a big shock when I realized that the movers were planning to come on Wednesday, instead of Thursday as I had planned.

So that prompted another mad rush of phone calls, and more mad organizing. I just gave up on that, and am planning to go to bed so I can get another early start tomorrow morning.

So much to do.

And I think I have gone through every emotion again today - anxiousness, euphoria, excitement, sadness - I realized again that I really am leaving, and it's harder than I thought.

And now I am just plain exhausted.

It's not black

Those of you who have been to my place in TO know that one of the most unique features in my unique home is my all black bathroom.

And when I say all black, I mean head to toe, floor to ceiling, black sink, black tub, black shower, black toilet black.

I've hated that bathroom since I bought the place, but figured my money could be spent better elsewhere. Oh, I and forgot to mention the other unique feature - the glass that runs all the way around the top of the bathroom, and allows guests to look down into the bathroom from the stairs. It's always been a great party trick.

Feast your eyes on my new bathroom in Krakow:

And no the bathtub is not in the living room . . .

I miss my sunroof

Spring finally reappeared yesterday in Toronto, after an all too brief showing in mid-March.

As a result, today was the first day I really missed my Subaru. I rolled down the windows on my rental, but it's just not the same as opening up the sunroof and feeling the spring breeze.

I also had my first top-down convertible sighting today, which made me realize what I really miss is my dad's Karmann Ghia convertible.

I can't remember what year the Ghia was, but it was from the early 1970s, and just like in the ad, ours was bright orange. My brothers and I got to drive it to school when we were each in our last years of high school. Boy, did I love driving that car into the high school parking lot . . .

I can't believe I said I didn't like orange a few days ago.

It just happened again!

I just called to cancel my subscription to the Globe and Mail, and when the guy asked me why, and I told him it was because I was moving out of the country, he cheerfully said " best of luck!"

Somedays it's good to be reminded of the essential good-naturedness of people.

The kindness of strangers

Today's been another rollercoaster day (see today's earlier post), but a random call just made me smile.

I am not often home when telemarketers call, and if I am, I can usually avoid them by not picking up calls from numbers I don't recognize.

However, sometimes I see numbers that I think are from my friends' cell phones (even though if I think about it, those usually display their names), and I pick up a call and get a telemarketer.

The telemarketer for the Globe and Mail just called offering me a special edition of the Sunday New York Times, which I would be interested in if I was staying in the country, and I told her so. She asked me where I was going, and when I told her, she seemed genuinely excited for me, and starting asking me more questions (which city was I going to, was I going for school, do I speak the language), and then she wished me a great trip, and good luck repeatedly.

It made me smile.

And it reminded me I have to cancel my subscription . . .

One step forward . . .

Today started on a high note when I found out that the Polish government had issued my paperwork.

My coordinators were hopeful that I would receive this last week, and as result my move was originally (re)scheduled for tomorrow. However, when it didn't come in last week, the movers were pushed back to next Thursday.

I still need to get the promise of employment in my hands and then take it to the consulate here to get the correct visa.

My euphoria quickly died when I called the consulate and asked how long it would take to get a visa (I was told no more than a few days earlier).

Voice mail: Visas take two to four weeks to process.
Me: tears

When I talked to an actual person, they said it would only take a week, and when I asked if it could be any faster, she said it's possible it could be done in 1 or 2 days.

I am keeping my fingers crossed, but at the same time, I don't want to get my hopes up again.

A quick recap:
- I found out about the possibility of the job at the end of August 2006
- I got the job in the 2nd week of Oct 2006
- I visited Krakow for the first time in the first week of Nov 2006
- I was told in Nov 2006 it would take 7-8 weeks to get the work permit
- The first official date was Feb 1st 2007
- The first official delay was Jan 25 2007
- I visited Krakow for the second time Feb 2007
- The next official date was April 1st 2007
- The next official delay was announced March 21st 2007
- The move was rescheduled last week (April 12th 2007)
- Paperwork released April 18th 2007

Who knows what's next

Orange

It's odd that I picked a blog colour scheme that includes orange.

I got pictures of my new place in Krakow, now that it's finished. There's a very orange wall in the dining room.



I am not a fan of orange.

However, I do like the orange with the green in the blog. I also have a green couch in the new apartment with orange pillows.



Coincidence?

Do cats get jet lag?

My two favourite cats, Flannery and Small, are accompanying me to Krakow. They even have their own travel agent to plan their trip!

I wonder (every morning at 6:30 a.m. when Small wakes me up) if cats get jet lag. Will Small wake up at 6:30 a.m. Toronto time when she's in Poland? (Which would be awesome, since that would be early afternoon in Krakow.)

Will they want to eat in the middle of the night?

Or will they just adjust to the time difference immediately, and start waking me up even earlier?

X marks the spot

I found out today that the Polish alphabet does not contain the letter X (4 different types of Z, but no X, or V for that matter).

E wondered what letter in the Polish alphabet makes the X sound. Perhaps none? (I am hoping my readers of Polish origin will come through for me on this one).

For obvious reasons, I am attached to X.

Hex

How maudlin can I be?

I was just getting my lunch from the cafeteria at work, when I realized it might be the last time I get a sandwich there for a few years.

And I felt a little teary.

Where would I rather be?

It's 10 degrees today in Krakow.

Beats -6 and snow in Toronto. More of the same Saturday and Sunday.

The cult of the Subaru

I sold my car last Friday. I was a little sad to say goodbye to my Subaru, which I've had for 8 years, and which has been in my family since 1992 (it's a family heirloom), but mostly I was relieved.

I had been dreading the selling process. What do I know about cars? Plus, I had no idea how much a 15 year old Subaru Legacy was worth, particularly one that seemed to be leaking various fluids, had a small hole over the wheel, and had been making a disturbing sound.

My first idea was to get someone else to sell it for me, but when that failed (no one else seemed to want to sell a 15 year old Subaru either), I phoned a few dealers to figure out how much I should ask for it. Answers varied widely from the one dealer who suggested I donate it to charity, to the helpful guy who kept referring to it as "vintage" (I told you it was an heirloom). The helpful guy suggested a price which I thought was reasonable, so I just went with that.

Next I tried to post an ad online. My first attempt was less than successful, since the place I posted it took over a week to get it online! (I can post this blog instaneously!!!!). When I found out how long it was going to take (after I had paid money for the ad), I decided to post it on one of the free sites. That took less then a minute, and three hours later I had 4 inquiries about the car.

Still nervous, I asked my friend S to come over and keep me company when the the prospective buyers came to look at the car.

I needn't have worried.

The first prospective buyer was under the back end of the car before I even had my coat on. Turns out he's a professional rally car driver with a penchant for vintage Subaurus. Apparently he has 6 of the same model, and he showed up in one of them.

Even better, he was from Alberta, so we had a short western bonding session. While he took the car for a test drive, S and I learned all about the world of professional rally driving from his girlfriend, who is also a professional driver. Some of my questions: What is rally driving? (It's off track road racing, sometimes in the winter on ice and snow) Where do you practice off track road racing? (You can rent roads - who knew?) Would you use my car for this? (No - it would be a "street car").

We also learned about drift racing (Which E tells me is the subject of a Fast and the Furious movie), and a whole sub-culture of driving-related television shows, which the driver and girlfriend host.

The next guy who came to look at the car also participated in Subaru events: he races them on the track.

He was very interested in the car, and is now the new owner, much to the disappointment of the first race car driver (he kept contacting me to see if the sale had fallen through), and to the list of prospective buyers who saw the ad a week later when it was finally posted on the other site, after I had sold the car.

Since I kept the car for 10 days after I had promised it to the 2nd guy, I ended up keeping a list of people who wanted the car in case the sale fell through. One guy was so persistent that he offered to be at my house in an hour with the cash.

Apparently I should have asked for more money.

Keeping the streak alive

I just finished playing my last basketball game of the season, and quite possibly my last game for the next two years.

As we have for the last eight years, we made it to the final playoff game.

And, for the eighth year in a row, we lost.

This year's team wasn't expected to make it to the final, but with a great effort last week in the semi's, particularly by Mary our star center who was matched up against the tallest player in the league (6'4 at least!), we managed to make it through.

Alas, even though we played hard, we just couldn't get the ball in the basket in the first half, and ended up trailing 20 - 5 at the half.

But the moral victory was ours, as we outscored and outplayed the other team in the 2nd half, coming within 6 points in the final minute of the game, only to lose 25 - 17.

But I have to admit after 7 consecutive losses in the final, I knew as I headed out the door for the game that it probably wasn't going to be our night.

I guess if the team wins in 2008, we'll all know who was really holding the team back all these years . . .

Team - thanks for all the great games over the years. I am going to miss the games, but I'll miss the friendship even more.

The letter Y

My brother told me he's still looking for uniquely Canadian images that represent the letter Y. If you think of anything, let me know.

I am Canadian

When I was working in Krakow in February, I noticed several distinctively Texan references hung prominently throughout the office. It took me a few moments to realize that the business unit responsible for the Krakow office is headquartered in Texas, and that the director had obviously given the Texan mementos to the Krakow team.

It made me realize I wanted to bring something with me that identified me as Canadian, and reminded me of home - something that I could hang up in my office (and I admit, distinquish me from my American counterparts - the grown up version of the maple leaf on my backpack.)

I sent a note to my two friends who are a painter and printmaker respectively, and to my little brother who's a graphic designer, asking them to make me something identifiably Canadian.

My brother sent me back this response:

"Last year I wanted to design an icon set based on distinctly Canadian images. The plan was to create a set of icons or simple illustrations that would correspond with every letter of the alphabet and then I would make a font out of it and give it away for free on our website starting on Canada Day."



I loved it, and immediately showed it to the nearest Pole.

That's when I realized that what is Canadian to me is not necessarily Canadian to the outside world. I had to explain the signficance of each icon (with the exception of beer) to my Polish colleagues.

When I asked them what symbolized Canada for them the answers were fairly typical: maple syrup, mountains, wide open spaces, elk (who knew?), the flag, and ice hockey. I was surprised no one mentioned the beaver, but it turned out they didn't really know what a beaver was. I had to show them a nickel.

Of course what does the average Canadian know about Poland other than vodka, pierogies, and cabbage rolls?

I've been thinking about what is Canadian to me. Since I grew up in western Canada, it's grain elevators, rocking horse oil wells, the Oilers, wearing my snow suit under my Halloween costume to go trick or treating, French on the back of cereal boxes, the northern lights, sunsets at midnight in the summer, and Old Dutch potato chips.

But Canada is also the red, red streetcars in Toronto, calling the May long weekend the May 2-4 weekend regardless of the actual date, traffic jams no matter what time of day it is, and working with people of 35 different ethnic backgrounds in a 50 person office, who are all proudly Canadian.

It's the Montreal Canadians and the Toronto Maple leafs on a Saturday night (no matter how much you hate the Leafs) and a football league that used to have two teams with the same nickname, and it's a Leonard Cohen song, or anyone singing a Leonard Cohen song. And it's Michael Ondaatje writing about the Bloor St viaduct, and Margaret Laurence and The Diviners, and the numerous other Canadian authors whose books I am taking with me.

And it's a million other things, which no one but another Canadian will understand.

What says Canada to you?