Chasing Ideals- Skyler's Travel Blog

From Hel to Andy�s Visit

I have developed a pronounced fondness for starting things off with something bordering the ridiculous and at least for now can easily stick with that tradition. Namely, this time I shall comment on the current misbehaviors of Poland�s blind population. I had never before realized the incredible athletic compensation one gained post blindness. One pole and double thick lens bearing fellow displayed just that as Andy and I entered the metro station the other day. As we in all of our self righteous joy at having bought tickets and having them stamped looked on, the fellow leapt the barrier without so much as slowing. A few steps before and quickly after he had pole out and was clanging away at the ground but when it came to that barrier he brought me back to Jackie Joyner Kersey�s 100m hurdle runs not so long ago. I wondered at whether Andy and I in all our full sighted competence could have attempted the same without splitting our pancreases in the process. If that wasn�t enough the impatient fellow with pole in hand then nearly knocked me down the escalator in his haste. Then in the train as he stood only feet from me I could not help but notice the penetrating, dare I say, mocking gaze of those now triple thick lenses upon me. It leads one to question the direction the world has taken if even the blind might behave so.

A white ceiling is one thing but what else might one accomplish in Hel you might ask. Certainly the first week of our three was spent almost in its entirety working on pseudo Caribbean tans by the sea and creating photos of the often bizarre and humorous variety (Lovable Quirks now displays a few of the choice shots) but that was where the fun and games ended. From then on I was worked like a sugar plantation�s finest. Whether hacking up mushrooms and fingers (handing me a knife and saying �chop� inevitably leads to much bloodshed on my part), or creating massive amounts of lasagna only to have the majority end up stuck together in one unholy mass before I could slap on the sauce, or 7am stumbly wake ups for opening to 2am stumbly bed times following close down, or the joys of the barman�s life having wet and wild clientele (rain poured often driving the blighters in for pork cutlets) shouting about wanting a menu but using a variety of words to name it (presumably a few later words cursing the birth date of my mother) and confusing me to no end. The experience as a barman was certainly the type of brutal language lesson that was necessary to leap my understanding of the Polish language forward a good few notches. There were times in Hel that I found it difficult to find words in English because my brain was more quickly presenting me with words from Polish to use. I would recommend this to any learner to go somewhere where one might experience a plethora of waitresses and customers in unison roaring at you about missing drinks or why chair cushions were soiled. Certainly did me some manner of good though I am not sure in which direction. Luckily I have achieved a fairly constant state of calmness so that even when all Hel was breaking loose around me including pizzas without the sausage and multiple beer bottles falling at once I was as calm a baby enjoying the feel of a dirty diaper.

I could easily be said of this as of so many experiences that if relationship with people is a possibility, that there is no toil beyond my attempt. In the midst of the lasagna mass and the juice, beer, and gassy water covered bar floor there was ample time for conversation, for laughter, for discovering the wonder in the hearts of others, and the sharing of the relationship that has filled my heart beyond containence. Most of the waitresses were at that point of life where they are being asked to decide all of their future at once. I was reminded what an incredibly poor job that education and parents are doing to prepare their children for this moment. Telling young people that their whole life hinges on this time of choosing a degree but doing little to help the young discover who they are or where their talents lie. It was a gift for me to be able to spend much time with them and to share that one�s worth will never be found in the stamp of approval of a university but only through relationship to the One who created us and has imparted purpose and life. What a rotten world to tell us that �where we work� or �how much money we make� or �where we have gotten a degree from� is a testament to our value as a person when in truth our worth can only lie in the incredible love that the One who formed us holds for us. It was on such topics that my days and especially my evenings were spent in conversation of. I could never grow tired of speaking of the Love that has overwhelmed my life and restored to a wholeness that I did not know was possible. There are moments, such as my arrival in Hel, when I wonder for what purpose I have come to a place but when relationship and true friendship become there the object of my days I do not wonder of purpose, only hope that I can be an example of that great love that Jesus lived.

I shall not soon forget this time. The great joy amidst such a wealth of fun experiences of work and the greater joy of building relationships with others of God�s treasures. I had intended to use this post to talk of post-Hel Andy time but that must come in the next as I think this one already is at its peak of longevity. Take a look at the pictures on LovableQuirks. A few at the beginning show the progress on the house in Bojano. Then lies the collection of mine and Tymek�s experimental attempts, followed by a few out and about pictures including our mushroom and bullet collecting adventures. The last few are of some of the many waitresses and in the last two you can see Alex (Tymek�s friend that we went to visit) and his father.

Painting white ceilings in Hel.

The adventures never cease. Two coats and paint drenched ankles still aren't cutting it as the ceiling remains a faded brown. Time to wash up and wait for a better day and another can of paint. The beauty of second language paint instructions is that one never knows when paint is oil or water based. The joy of the oily version is of course that it does not wash off but rather around. First cleaning attempt results in white paint smeared mid way to the elbow, restaurant-kitchen-sink saturation, and kitchen help with dismayed tones wondering how the blazes I was to clean that mess up (the Polish version may not have included "blazes" but rather something remarkably less pleasant). In those first moments as she surveys the scene I have the distinct notion that somewhere large meat cleavers are being sharpened. Our turning point comes then in a swiftly reached moment of linguistic confusion. I quickly point out my limited understanding and inform her of my Irish origin. That then is the proverbial meal ticket as her tone and manner change to that of a hospitality minded bunny rabbit and she leaps to my aid. Three super high strength floor cleaners later (she dousing me with each) and we have achieved the removal of oily goodness from my epidermis while riduculous amounts remain on my tools and the sink. Round two with the help of cloth accessories succeeds in further sink and surrounding aesthetics destruction with only mild gains in brush cleanliness. In this moment the kitchen help informs me of family ties and sibling bonds and that in her family only she came away with a hot wired personality that required hideous excesses of constant movement while all the other peace driven sibs have "minds in heaven" (direct translation). She procures for me then a small bar of soap made entirely of what seemed fat, presumably from a humpback, and follows it up with the three aforementioned floor cleaners and the new addition of grotesquely scalding water. This achieves remarkable results though still leaves the tools in their paint saturated state. I cannot accept this discrepency and decide to soldier on. I am discovered five minutes later by kitchen help this time with paint beyond the elbows and further sink destruction. Never it seems did my rescuer's patience grow thin and it can only be assumed that my Irish heritage was interpreted to imply minimal brain function. The rapidity of her words continues and in one last gargantuan dousing of cleaners and buckets worth of skin removing water some semblence of order is restored to the kitchen, my skin has the sheen of a bright new babes, and my tools appear slightly renewed. I gave the cursory nod to my potato peeling accomplice as well as a heartfelt thank you and retired from my white paint madness in restaurant basement in Hel adventure.

But now all of that gibberish is hardly what the reader has come to lay eyes upon. I have yet said nothing of Slovenia or of Italy or of the joys of traveling with my Warsaw chums. The highlights of that voyage as all others lay in the people with whom it was shared. I remember the feeling of relief after four months hopping around the world, how wonderful it was to share the journey with treasured friends. Then in Slovenia what joy it gave me to be able to share my friendships there with them. We had as our lodgings a spot amidst tall mountains and long valleys and it was beautiful green flowing rivers that lined our ways. Some will remember the name Blaz from last year's hiking adventure atop Slovenia's tallest peak and it was his family to whom we owe our gratitude in having had such a wonderful spot to lay our heads this year. There was no end to the hospitality extended to us there from foods to friendships to wines to barbeques to homemade-beers to games of volleyball and the offerings of their garden to be used at our discretion. There is surely no way to experience a place like to be among and with its people. We explored the mountains, we leaped from treacherous wooden diving boards to emerald green rivers, we explored coasts in Italy and Slovenia bordering warm blue waters, sat playing Rummikub while fat raindrops danced upon the roof of our shelter, lay in hammocks provided by our gracious host and slept to the tune of wind whispering through the plum trees, spent hours reddening our forearms to volleyball bliss, dreamed of which historic town or city to explore in the time needed to take us there, and we spent hours in conversation and in feasting and at times in prayer.

A cherry atop that heavily iced cake was my return to the city that since maiden visit has captured my awe. Venice for me is one like no other where one wishes themself to be lost among the winding streets and overwhelmingly historic nature of the surroundings. Its cafes, its shops, its bustling canals and its hectic plazas were as ever a welcome assault to my senses. A moment atop the Rialto bridge and of taking in the action of the Grand Canal and one feels as though a time long past is being witnessed in much of the splendor that it once held. If any regret is to be had it was only the necessity of spending only a single day in that place. One cannot help but leave feeling that one has only begun to know it and that surely many further days might be spent amidst its charm. Moving on I further remember the sadly few moments with my student friends who graced my days last year with such frequency. Those who had remained in Ljubliana during the summer break had only my final afternoon and evening in Slovenia to be shared together. I got to the city by means of my first alone hitchhiking (autostop here) experience. Luckily Slovenia is bred for such a venture and I had only to wait five minutes for a first ride and five more for the one that took me to my destination. The second included conversation, a quick stop for a cappucino that was purchased for me and ended with being given means for the bus and a drop off at the station. I then spent those last precious hours there in non stop conversation from three in the afternoon until two in the morning and despite the short duration I am glad for every moment. Glad to have finished off the time as I had spent it many times before making crepes in the student housing and then gorging on obscene amounts of the outpourings in the company of friends. While I was there experiencing the gorge fest my Polish chums had returned to our favorite new cafe overlooking the mountains in Most na Soci and being given huge amounts of free ice cream by the waiter that never was with us without a smile and attempts to learn the Polish language. 'Twas a vacation not to be missed and not to be forgotten.

Now to pictures. There are plenty up there and the majority explain themselves but I should tell a little. Album one starts after night one in Austria and continues through the first days at our lodgings to wandering the streets of Venice. The river pictured being doven into was minutes from where we stayed through narrow country roads. Album two begins with our visit to a nearby waterfall park continues to our visit of Sistiano on the Italian coast and ends with collecting water at the mountain stream next to our spot. Album three displays some of Slovenia's finest from its coast and historic Piran to the north with lakes Bohinj and Bled for the eyes to feast upon. To get to those lakes in the mountains we made use of the AutoVlak, a train that takes cars quickly through tunnels and mountains to the north. That fellow is me sitting in the window of our car while the train chugged along and having my breathtaken by the views, the speed, and the ventures through long pitch dark tunnels, one of which was six kilometres in length. Last but not least Album 4 starts off with the cafe in Most na Soci and the waiter who was so kind to us and continues to our short trip to Padua which sadly began and ended during siesta time therefore making the city seem dead. The album finishes with a return trip to Sistiano where we swam and jumped before heavy rains and lightning began.

Leaving behind the Tar Heels

Once again it has been a while with no updates, no report on the status of this traveler yabo. I wonder now where the inspiration for this one might begin. Perhaps some weeks ago in the early hours with a knock and the entrance of my little nephew to my not so humble sleeping quarters. With a big smile he mumbled softly, �Skyler,� to my half-asleep carcass and proceeded to climb up on the bed next to me. It is difficult to express my joy at his speech and being awakened from slumber by it. With still much bigger smile the little treasure then proceeded to square himself above me. Under the influence of only partial consciousness I prepared myself for his jump not realizing the efficiency of his positioning. Amazing that one so small can be so aware of where to strike. Boney bottom first the little fellow jumped and landed his direct hit right to my groin then quickly descended from the bed and returned to mamma with great glee at his success. Left me of course to writhe in early morning agony and wonder at the many gifts of uncledom.

Oh, yet another wonderful note to begin from. As you may well know I have departed once more, yet again with much pain of heart but awareness of purpose and necessity. My journeying in Europe yet continues with my arrival to Poland last Thursday after some Paris airport sprints and an overwhelming yet thankfully short period of exhaustion.

It was from North Carolina and my youngest sister and family that I departed. A month of activity in sharing the joy of their new home and the joy of my sister�s thankfully jobless new lifestyle. I have never had the opportunity to share so much with the Willis (the family surname) clan or become such a part of the daily goings on. Those goings ons including voluntary servitude that consisted of bakery frequency bread making and the scorching of my dainty digits through repeated dish washings. But those joys were merely icing on the cake of my time of travel in that gorgeous state. Rolling about in the kids� new bouncing castle, watching with awe the early days of Faith�s learning to read, trying to make my weak bladder bearing sis laugh till the soiled trouser reached levels of saturation, and a spree of intense conversations of life, liberty and large blocks of smelly cheese with my sister�s hubby Ken.

I shall remember great joy from those days; late nights watching the few comedies that can tickle my insides; long drives through some of the most beautiful countryside I have yet seen; sitting beneath a waterfall with Ken and wondering whether skin remained on my tender rear parts; and playing games with the children where I was not allowed to be the mean shark trying to grab them but rather the nice shark that cared only for hugs and encouragement. Thankfully, this time even included a short trip to visit Taryn and Adam and their growing family. I have rarely mentioned my long time South African friend and her family but there has always been great joy for me in visiting with her and she has always been one who inspired my faith and the knowledge that one�s whole life can be lived in relationship to Christ. I am so thrilled to see the growth of her family and the commitment and joy they exude to the life of their children.

On the road of life in constant love relationship with Jesus there are certainly no mistake occurrences and my time in North Carolina and short visit with Taryn bear no exception. I am indeed eternally loved and to share that love with my family and friends is the great joy that fills and encourages my life. Its only sorrow at times has been that departures come so frequently and never are overcome without the sadness of knowing that much time may pass before I might again be among them.

The �first two weeks� photo album includes our journey to Tweetsie, the little engine that could, as well as a few from the kid�s birthday party and a few of their house. The �strawberry picking� album includes just that as well as those from our journey south to the Pisgah National Forest and all its valley, waterfall, and mountaineous beauty. The new �short visit� starts of with a few of Adam and Taryn and family and some from my last days with Aran. The album �Aran�s contributions� lastly includes pictures from throughout including the kids� gym time and from our various triparoonies.

Back to the United States

The constant culture change continues. I make my way now to my sister Aran and her family in North Carolina. A relatively short plane ride and non existent time change and I'll be there. I've awoken from a relatively useless sleep to the smell of warm croissants and the Florida coast beneath me. The poor stewardess in the aisle is being followed closely by a balding 250 pounder (125 kg) with a pronounced lecherous afterglow. The fellow just emerged from the toilet looking well relieved and was apparently overcome by the sight and smell of her warm buns. Under the guise of returning to his seat he has maintained a proximity to those buns that could only be described as high and tight (we still maintain about 20,000ft. of elevation and if he gets any closer there will be inquiries).

Plane travel would not be complete without a stern dose of airport questioning. Pre-boarding something to the tune of:

"Has anyone given you something to take on board"
"Well, as it turns out, a moment ago some chap named Sam O'Laden requested I transport this container of juicy fruits on his behalf"
"Interesting, well enjoy your flight sir."

It was, however, the United States border officials that work hardest to mix it up. Makes me wonder how in the world those with limited English escape the rubber gloves and a lifetime of asking "Why me?". The line of questions I was subjected to (minimal compared to others considering my "true blue" passport) was something along the lines of the following:

"What was the purpose of your travil to Brazil?"
"Oh yeah, and its awful hot out there in Phoenix this time of year huh?"
"By the way what does your wife do out there late on a Friday afternoon?"
"Yeah, yeah and at what age did you learn to swim the breaststroke?"
"Ok, I think we're through here. Gracias."

I breathed sweet relief for the gentle Brazilian in front of me in line, who when asked his purpose in visiting the United States (question given in harsh tones and confusing verbiage) had spouted through obvious work of memorization "I hayve come he' to perfom' stateestical anal-ysees fo' my IT business." The fellows behind the glass who had begun preparing the white gloves were obviously dissapointed and the lad was allowed to pass through.

Ok, obviously airport experiences are hardly the name of the game here. A final week in Brazil and all that that entailed is what needs mention. The majority of the time was spent again in Sao Paulo and included many a visit, time to connect with more of my old friends from the days in Poland, and a final day of literal shop until near drop. Carla organized a wonderful last week of activity. Immediately upon arrival in Sao Paulo after 24 hours in a bus we raced across town and spent the day with a wonderful couple who are at year's end to depart for mission's work in Egypt (will be doing work in building community programs for children living on the street) with the eventual goal of being accepted long term into Iraq. With them we spent a wonderful afternoon of non stop chatter (my choice of energy drink) about the work of God in our lives. These people understood like few people I have known how friendship is built and so it was a wonderful beginning to my final week. Later last week Carla and I spend time with Maronildo and Juliana whom I had met in Poland also. The two prepare now to go and live in China for an indefinite period of time. Juliana has made a rapid and independant acquisition of English making for a wonderful chance to chat about all that God has done in their lives and in mine. I had in my few weeks in Brazil acquired enough Portugeuse to chat with Maronildo more than we have ever been able in past and this also was wonderful because his is such a relationship and friendship driven heart. The two will live deep into China and in the midst of acquiring the language will also begin working with street children. Was a gift to have this afternoon with them as the two are so genuine in their love and friendship. Their departure home in the evening brought tears to Maronildo's eyes and I can tell you I often wish for the ability to feel a loss in that way. As I mentioned a post or two ago my Irish hardness seems to keep a tight lid there.

Another highlight was to have my first experience of the Brazilian coast. Carla and I were invited to spend the weekend by a friend of hers living in Sao vicente, one of Sao Paulo state's coastal cities. A wonderful place to spend my last days. We spent the days wandering the harbor and beach parks, being treated as honored guests in the home of her friend, and as a wonderful treat for me seeing some Brazilian soccer. I got to see Santos play, the team that is most known as Pele's career club. It was great to see Brazilian culture in action in the attitude and enthusiasm of the fans who from beginning to end jumped up and down and kept a continaul drumbeat going even at moments of lackluster play. I am so happy to have spent that last weekend in that way, relaxed and surrounded in the atmosphere and beauty of the coast. I returned to Sao Paulo Sunday and had only Monday to do a whirlwind shopping day in the center before my departure on Monday evening. I enjoy the hectic scene of the Brazilian market areas so it was fun having to struggle through crowds and tiny shops to find culinary goodies to bring back with me.

I am in North Carolina with Aran know and will try to begin soon to write about time and experience here. I thank God for the joy of my experience of Brazilian people and culture. I was a blessing to my friends there and was certainly blessed by the experience of them and their beautifully mixed nation. When the pictures make it up today or tomorrow you can see the people I met and the coastal city that I traveled to.

Back with Brazil- Com Brasileiros Part 3

Here I am amidst a twenty four hour bus journey contemplating life�s intricacies and a clean pair of shorts. Having a first and hopefully paddy last travel experience. That of attempting to lip-read in a foreign language. The chap ahead of me has decided that volume is an unnecessary element of communication yet desires to impart to me the historical and environmental richness of the passing landscapes and cities. This has been going on now for no short period of time and my appearance of absolute confusion has not deterred his efforts. Even his son has joined in the excitement; only moments ago having pointed to the seat in front of me, spoken something without volume but major lip and eyebrow movement, and proceeded to vigorously nod his head to beg for my agreement. One hardly wishes to disappoint vigorous gesticulation and so I responded with a little of my own slight lip movement and mild nodding so as to please yet avoid profound conversation conducted in such a manner. My patient understanding of his father supposedly making me an expert in the art of reading foreign lips.

Why one might ask is twenty four hours of seat soiling a necessity? Interestingly enough in Brazil it is hardly a great feat in terms of patience and the prolonged consumption of organic (moss flavored, textured, and taste filled) energy bars. I learned yesterday that Brazil is larger than the continental United States (meaning minus Alaska and Hawaii) so excessive bus journeying is one element of normality. This particular bowel basher involves my exit from the land of Bahia, specifically Vit�ria da Conquista, and return to S�o Paulo for final days before departure.

So tell all about week three huh. Apparently the slew of known female individuals in Vit�ria da Conquista had been informed that I was a hug lover and therefore in desperate need. There was hardly a moment of departure or introduction not consummated with a tightly given squeeze. Sadly the bestower/recipient of said hugs was typically of the 60+, minimum 35+, variety. Those with a bit more life left in �em had allegedly taken for the hills at word of my arrival. This should not be misinterpreted to mean that I am not the aforementioned hug lover but noted that in moments such as this a young lad can begin to feel like a well used hanky in flu season. This squeeze dynamic is however a good indication of the type of week I had. A family week, a food week, a true week of Brazilian culture.

It was the type of tranquil city where one often stumbles upon the weekly family reunion (meaning up to twenty cousins and their predecessors) at Grandma�s house. It was my week with Warlens and Marilia (more friends from those first days in Poland) but more than that a week to be invited into the hearts of their families. Small city meant that their families had more time and it meant that I was treated to some of the best food this nation has on offer in the midst of greater understanding of the family culture. I learned, out of necessity, many words in Portuguese very quickly in order to express what little I could to those many family members who wished to know me. I went to lunches, to birthday parties for toddlers, to small shopping centers with name �Big Shopping�, to a preschool to help out with the mother�s day festivities, and to many a distant relative for cursory hugs, smiles, and nods. It was wonderful to meet with families that have managed to stay so well connected. Also that now Warlens and Marilia�s English has improved so that we could share so much of what has happened in our lives in these last two years. To be an encouragement for them and also to be encouraged by their care for me in my week there.

Well, the enjoyment continues. What a gift to have been able to explore a few of the regions of this place. Take a look at the new album of pictures that I put on Lovable Quirks. Pictures of the kids from the preschool in the early part, in the middle pictures with Warlens and Marilia and their families, and in the end a few from the long bus ride back to Sao Paulo. If you haven�t already do not forget to read the post below about Phoenix. Also I would love to receive comments if there are any to be given. A writer loves feedback, at least for this one that will never change.

A moment for Phoenix

I want to take a break from Brazil for this one and tell something of my time in Phoenix. Might as well start from the top. The joyous first reunion with family. The tears, wailing mothers, flashing cameras, nieces and nephews racing to welcome blessed uncle home. Thank God for the reality check. In that wondrous moment of exiting the airport security zone from the corner of my eye came the sight of the cheersquad. Big smiles, faces filled with longing, and of course the accompanying banner of bright colored welcome. In my interim it seemed, my relatives had become somewhat blonder and the group somewhat larger but nevermind the particulars. In a flash gone were the memories of my first return and the speedy pick up by the roadside. Oh what rapture! I strained to read the banner and saw with ecstasy the words �Welcome Home S____�, the fool at banner�s end having crumpled the text. To see my name their in big print in glorious welcome. Warm�s the soul. Suddenly then the cheersquad erupted in cheers and the banner was quickly adjusted to reveal �Welcome Home Shane� for all the airport to see. Members of �his� cheersquad began clutching one another in unnatural ways. Tears began to pour over pudgy cheeks and younsters of many sizes and shapes were let loose to race toward their hero. From the corner of another eye (I have a few) I then noticed a familiar sight. Partially hidden behind a pole the forms of my brother and sister. Brother standing in a pose that would do Elton John proud and sister looking forlorn and lethargic. The two did not adjust their position so with much haste I scurried through Shane�s cheersquad in all its revelry, soiled faces, and continued unnatural clutching. Certainly I understand the whys. My year abroad hardly a blip compared with Shane�s weekend in the Bahamas to study his long division. Who knows welcome better than family. I bleedin� ask ya�.

If that is not fun to write I do not know what is. This next bit perhaps a little less. Regrets. Longings of yet another time passed where I must say the word �goodbye�. Where were its highlights? Certainly new birth tops them all. The birth of my sister Tara�s second child Alilee-Kate and the opportunity of this proud and grateful uncle to witness her arrival into this world. I shall never forget that moment when I saw the form of my beautiful little niece as she emerged into this world. In the midst of speaking �Keep going Tara, she�s almost there� I choked back such tears of joy as would overwhelm the heart with gladness. But the time for overwhelming emotion had yet to arrive as my help was needed and with all of my will I had to maintain my composure for my sister. A moment later out Kate came and moaned her sweet and miraculous first breaths of life but as is my nature I maintained my strength for my sister, for this baby, and for this situation of new life. Again when I was asked only a moment later to collect some necessaries for this early moment of life I nearly collapsed when alone upstairs from the emotion that was so heavy. But I could not for surely the sitution still demanded me. So weak kneed and with eyes full with tears I �pulled myself together� and raced back with what I had been asked to get. I have never cried those tears. Never let those joyful emotions come from a heart that longs to let them out. The time will come but can you believe this Irish heart has held them now more than a month. This is not only a remembrance of incredible joy but of realization and regret that my temperment can rob from me the purity of experiencing emotion in the midst of the situation which called it forth.

I must finish now but this story is not. More to come.

Com Brasileiros Part 2

When I depart from Brazil in a week's time will I remember this place in terms of its cityscapes, its architecture? Certainly not, because for me that is hardly where lies its charm. In fact if all that it contained were the urban sprawls that I have visited I might not wish to return again. No, the charm of this place lies in its people. Their laughter, dance, music, family connectdness, mixed cultures, and their desire to know this stranger whom they have heard about in stories from Europe.

My week spent with Raudson and Silvana and their son Nikolas in Belo Horizonte at the YWAM (Youth With A Mission) missionary base was a high point of joy in my life. I don't believe that I have ever spent so much time laughing my ungainly head off. Cheeks (don't get any ideas, I mean face) hurting like mad, tears in the eyes laughter. Not to mention metro riding laughter, scarfing down more rice and beans laughter, late night laughter (resulting in questions the next day from other families), laughter over the ridiculous nature of living in a place called Praia (meaning beach) with not a beach in sight for at least 6 hours hard driving, and uproarious laughter centered around one man's (past news story) passion for gym toes (slightly obscure reference but the name Veechum will ring some bells). Those who know me well know that that is not a regular occurance. There are few things that get this chap doing heavy duty chuckles and those few are kept close if at all possible.

Then perhaps best of all is that the laughter was merely icing atop a cake made of real relationship. Wake up to bed time filled with conversation about all sorts but primarily a sharing of the wonder of living this life following and learning of Jesus in each moment. I was and am absolutely inspired by two people who for twenty one years have lived off of literally nothing but in faith traveled to all corners of the globe bringing the message of hope and new life to thousands of people. They succeeded with others there in building from scratch a base of training and learning that is now sending out the willing to touch and minister to some of the toughest areas of the globe. And one might think the constant struggle to continue would take from my friends their peace, their joy, but as I have seen and experienced this could not be said of them. Rather theirs is a home where joy and contentment is felt in great measure and made me at least feel so comfortable and relaxed. What a gift and a legacy their lives pass on now to their three year old son Nikolas. To students at the YWAM base like Jackie who have the opportunity to learn from them and experience the joy of their company. Jackie being the one pictured with Silvana in the photo album now on Lovable Quirks. She is from England, a student and English teacher at the base; another with whom many an hour of conversation was spent. It was nice to meet someone on this side of the globe who appreciates the English/Irish sense of humor and was familiar with such as Blackadder's comedic genius.

So this post commemorates week two in Brazil (I do realize that the end of week three rapidly approaches). Remembering of course "pikos" (Raudson's version of pickles); gym toes; cheiro (smell) and tumba (tomb) which sound like words from African music; and attempting to teach the difference between "beat" and "bit", "beach" and its similar sounding word. What joy! And what inspiration as I too am in the process of beginning my life anew in Poland.

The pictures on Lovable Quirks deserve explanation. The first ten come from Sao Paulo. My week spent with Carla and her family. Pictured also is William with whom Carla and I spent a day wandering the mad city streets. All the rest come from the YWAM base and from the city of Belo Horizonte. The base lay quite a ways out of town hence the toucans and copious foliage. Raudson, Silvana and Nikolas should be recognized from my time in Poland two years ago. The one picture where a red flower is growing horizontally is a parasite that somehow rooted itself in a cement electricity pole. The chickens pictured were sale items either for quick dinner choices or to be raised for later dinner choices.

Com Brasileiros Part 1

Finally back to the writing board. It only took not one but two intercontinental journeys to accomplish the task. I�m sitting here staring down a delivered pizza, legless (in the literal, can hardly feel them sense), and pondering how in the world one such as I can leave home and family now three times and once again enter a new world 1000 miles from any I have ever known. In the midst of these ponderings, Portugeuse key words and phrases are fighting for precious memory betwixt the neurons. Sao Paulo�s finest four cheese is quickly losing its steamy goodness. The sense of an incredible loss is lurking somewhere in the recesses of my heart but for fear of completely overwhelming my emotions it remains for now only as a sense. What breed of lunatic inflicts such pain upon their heart. To have spent two months in such intense relationship with family and friends only to once again say goodbye. Now South America side to open the door for new depth of relationship with old friends and pave the way for new ones. Don�t I realize I have just four weeks before the "adieu's" begin again. 'Tis pure madness. Only one who knows that there are some purposes bigger that what is seen and stronger than current emotions would dare risk the pain of loss once more. One who has known and is again experiencing the joy and wonder of friendship.

It should be noted that the above was written some days ago but it has taken until now to be able to post anything. And what should I say about my first two weeks on a continent I have never before known. To summarize it has been a time of sweet relief. I had not known how exhausted I was after the physically, emotionally, and spiritually draining nature of the time in Phoenix. The time there was filled with absolutely priceless moments but two months of continuous intensity is not quickly recovered from. The attitude of my friends here in Brazil and the relaxed nature of the culture have combined to allow for much needed rest in the midst of incredible enjoyment.

My first week was spent exploring Sao Paulo, the heart of Brazil. A mammoth of a city with an incredible diversity of regions. Carla (all people mentioned from my time here I met two years ago in Poland and later traveled with to Lithuania) and at times her family made every effort to see that I witnessed as much of this diversity as possible. We wandered push-and-shove type crowded shopping streets, walked neighborhoods crammed with small colorful houses tightly packed, relaxed in what is apparently the largest of public parks in Latin America, and consumed a quantity of rice and beans (cuisine choices have not changed much) throughout those days that my body might have shuddered to receive previously. It was the start of my realization that rest was entirely necessary and my body willingly complied. Mornings never seemed so short as I could hardly drag myself from my humidity shrouded slumber and evenings of leglessnesses (including the aforementioned involving the four cheese) were never so profoundly felt. Perhaps the mental exhaustion contributed to my half hearted acceptance of warnings to keep my belongings suspiciously close to my body at all times and to attempt a constant vigilance of the surroundings. Thankfully my valiant guide kept watch over me in the hen and chick style so there was little to worry about. Apart from one situation where I squashed a fellow's fingers against his salesman's stall (the squashing being followed by a pronounced gutteral roar of a few syllables which I'm sure would make someone who understood the lingo blush) and another in which our bus driver was performing speed trials and hurtled my body into the gentle arms of an old man, our wanderings of the giant city would aptly been given the double thumbs up (this being a frequent gesture made by the locals).

I am no longer now in Sao Paulo and have much to say about the last week but for now the exhaustion continues and for today I must retire. Tomorrow I am heading further north on an 13 hour bus extraveganza to visit others of my precious friends. It is nice to write again after such a time. I hope the period of silence has not been too profoundly felt.

the joy of writing

Here's a post that is a little unorthodox in nature and perhaps more suited to the poems sections. This afternoon my heart was full to overflowing with love for my creator and with the testing of a new font it brought out the creative juices that inspired these few lines:

What great joy, what incalculable peace and contentment to know the heart of your true father and in his tender arms to escape to the richness and beauty of complete surrendrence to his will. What is man without the creator of his soul, without He who endowed within that soul the wonder of new birth, the awe inspiring grace of a life filled with purpose. Grant me oh father eyes to see the wondrous gifts that your unfathomable heart has prepared and bestowed upon my life.

Oh father underneath your gaze I grow stronger, my countenance is lifted to heights that I never knew to seek after. I feel that all my being is in your tender grasp treasured, wept over in tears of joy, looked upon as buried treasure at first discovery when excitement and fascination over each and every facet is peaked. Where might I go now, to whose arms might I turn but yours? In yours I find my true love, a home for my heart, a place of refuge amidst the storms that rage, and the knowledge that forever I am yours.

birthday that was sorely missed

I haven't said a word about Christmas and sadly that spree will now continue in that tonight I have not planned to write of that but of the birthday of my dear brother-in-law Floydsie. The poor fellow was missed out on last year and this year I want to remember him here.

Floyd is a man of integrity who from the beginning in his relationship with my sister showed that he was committed to doing what is right. He was never one to try to disconnect my sister from her family but rather to make himself a part of all that we were doing and even to encourage her participation when she was unwilling. I remember being so thankful for his attitude because so often relationships can cause seperations in families. It was so important for me to see a man older than I with such a deep respect for that foundation. It is a rare example in this day and age for other men to follow. An example that one such as I searches for to be reminded what it is to be a man of one's word and a man who honors the past and those who came before him.

I am so pleased that he and I have had the chance to build relationship over the years. Pleased that he wishes to steal each and every comic phrase from myself and my family and use them as if they are his own. Pleased at his openness to visiting other places and peoples that led he and Tara here just a few weeks ago to be with me and share in the life I am living. Pleased most of all that he wishes his life to folloW God's compass and to do what is best for the family that he and my sister have begun. I am thankful for him on this day and hoping that his time will be grand.

I am writing this post from Warsaw where I and Tymek and Hannah arrived to today. I shall be a few weeks traveling to different places in Poland with no set return time yet. I experienced a wonderful time over Christmas and must write of it soon but not tonight. There are a few pictures up from the period but sadly few of the actual festivities. The only explanation I have is that so much time was spent indoors and when I am required to use flash photography I lose my urge for picture taking which is hardly a good excuse but the only I've got. Take a look at the few that are there at least.

Time with Hubbards

I cannot explain my recent inability to put words to paper though the activity continues to bring great joy to this fellow. Two years in a row now my wonderful Lord provided a way that during birthday, holiday time there might still include the joy and familiarity of my own family. The time with Tara, Floyd, and Faolan while being and feeling like a whirlwind visit nevertheless encouraged my heart in innumberable ways. It was of course a reminder of the strength and joy of my friendship with Tara. Of the ease of time and connection with all three that included afternoons of lazing about in conversation and rest all the while watching Faolan in all his joy and exuberance of life exploring all. This experience also for the first time allowed for a connection of my life of the last twenty four years with that of the start of my twenty fifth. I for the first time in this place was host and tour guide and given a reason to explore more of the surroundings. To once again put miles on the old beast of a Citroen which has taken to smelling like a mouse's home, as Tara can attest that it seems a mouse has attempted residency therein. There is something unmistakeable about the wonder of time with those who shared formative years of one's life and who have seen in my case a wealth of transitions.

I haven't the words today to say much in this post but would like to share the activity of the days. Recovering from exhaustion was the name of the game early on, in fact for much of the first week with the joy of much snow, kulig (Polish tradition that I attempted first in February with the added joy this time of swallowing large quantities of brown snow while laying on my blow up sled with face inches from the ground), and sledding on pure ice mixed in. Later in the week we four set out (often with accompaniment of one of the kids here) on ventures to wander each of the nearby cities of Gdynia, Sopot, and Gdansk and one of the days also to visit what is said to be the largest castle in the world, Malbork. Malbork being the old stronghold of the Teutonic Knights and a massive symbol of the long German presence in the area. Of course back at the homestead there was the experience of the homemade brews and plethora of the local sausage and on Floyd's last night the hot to frigid sauna experience. After Floyd's departure activity slowed drastically including only a few visits and jaunts in the name of furry boot purchasing. For Tara and I as the best of friends a few days of lolly gagging, speaking of the higher matters of family and life, and enjoying the wonder of Faolan's youth was a treasure.

I don't know what to say of how soon I will post again. I have yet to figure what I would like to make of this site in the face of more normal life now. I am committed to this being a winter that includes plenty of self development in the form of learning and reopening the chasms of this brain that transitions to adulthood have attempted to squash. After the new year there are places and people that must be visited prior to my next journey back to the States and the birth of Tara's number two.

Three new albums are up, the first from my marvelous trip to Warsaw before Tara's arrival and of my friends' there beautiful new baby Gabrysia. The other two are of the activity of these past two weeks though slightly disorganized because the pictures came from two sources. Any of you with ideas on what in semi normal living time I could make of this blog should tell all.

white powdery bliss

What days of joy these last three have been. Never in my life have I experienced snow so early in the year or in such quantity in a few days. The snow horses have been built, the downhill paths perfected for maximum slippage and carnage and after day one's backside brutality the bruised bottom has finally healed itself. Thin snow and intimate rock experiences were the culprits of that last report. Needless to say a bottom of the more cushioned variety would have been a cheek saver. I am blessed to have a few young snow experts to cherish the moments with and to provide life threateningly shaped snowballs in my direction. The word from the weather report which I as ever would rather not hear is that yesterday may have been our final day of snowfall at least this week so I'm glad that I and my little chums made the most of it.

You are going to see a few pictures in the newest albums that no doubt could be wondered about. The day out at the beach is self explanatory enough, guest came from western Poland and a guys day out of staring at waves and searching for shrimp ensued. On All Saint's Day I went with the fam and Wiesiek's mother and brother to visit the grave of his father. In Poland that day is a very big deal with thousands of people visiting the graves of their relatives. The commeration continues over two days and for many until midnight each of the days. I was surprised at the graveyard to be surrounded by so many people and to see so many whole families there together.

Following those pictures you will reach the wholesome pumpkin wine, lamb head massacre, and sushi production which thankfully did not occur all at once. I in my whole food goodness had been reading up on the consumption of internal organs a plenty and the proposed health benefits of such. So I decided to take a crack at it literally. The family bought a whole sheep for future consumption and I asked if the head could be mine. The surprised seller of said sheep said no problem after he was told that it was an Irish guest doing the asking for it. So that evening I prepared my tools, as shown a Viking battle axe from Wiesiek which is apparently right for the job and from time to time a smaller axe to hammer home as it were. The results were as shown in the bowel. All that the head of a sheep contains bar the hard parts. It should be noted that I am holding two heads in one shot and this is not to indicate that the legendary two headed sheep has been found but that the chap had actually slaughtered two sheep that day and there were no other tourists about for the other. After the carnage and the insides preparation, the next morning a brain omelette was mine which turned out to have a pleasant enough taste. Apparently my memory and brain function have been altered in the direction of the positive though no evidence of this has yet been shown. In later days a meal of the kidneys was relished in a red wine sauce and so called head cheese was prepared from the left over soft bits of the skull. Tragically in ignorance of how to prepare all else the other items including eyeballs, lungs, and heart went uneaten. I am ashamed at the mention of this waste let me tell ya. From then on in the pics the falling snow takes over. It was a dream come true to wake and see so much of the stuff lying about just begging to be leapt into.

How could I wait so long to tell this next bit you might ask. In one week my sister Tara with son and husband in toe shall embark upon their journey to be here with me. The day of their departure, one week from today, is the day of this lucky as can be lad's birthday and what finer gift could I receive. My closest friend finally getting to meet and have time with the family that has become so precious to me. I have always disliked feeling that those I love in Phoenix knew little of my life and relationships here. My life before and now have always seemed so disconnected from each other. Here now is an opportunity to connect those worlds and I have my savior as always to thank for the gift. Two weeks ago now a final sale of Tara's house began at a time in Phoenix when selling a house has become a mammoth task and they have been waiting months for a sale and had felt the need to return to Phoenix because of the strain of waiting for a sale. As soon as the process began Tara, who always promised she would, began the search to arrange for a visit. Through much difficulty and long days of searching together we found a way for her to get the fam out here and the day of my twenty fifth birthday was the best for the leaving. I went to bed each night in that time and since more and more in awe of my savior's love for me. To make it possible in this short time frame before Tara would be unable to come had me lying long awake (extremely rare for me) and so very thankful that for the second year in a row this special time of year for birthday and Christmas doesn't yet have to be spent apart from my closest friend and her family. That I can still share some of the season with those that meant so much that I had to leave behind. That is the love of Christ for me and for us that he cares so deeply for such things and will move mountains for the sake of love and relationship. My love for him grows deeper each day and especially at these reminders. Just a few days ago trouble has come in the sale of the house that may end the deal. A very difficult realization because it makes life for my sister and her family difficult in continuing to have this house in which they no longer live and the financial burden of it. But I know intimately and follow a God of incredible miracles who loves so truly and also the process of the sale made it possible for them to choose to come here and that I know was no coincidence in timing. My joy is peaking in the knowledge of their coming and of time together with them. These days til' then shall fly and I shall soon be seeing a familiar bunch at the airport not so far away. I cannot underestimate what it means to me.

Alright, so look at the varied pictures and await a further report on the goings on. I doubt I shall post during the visit so must sometime before I guess.

achievement

Well that balance of which I spoke was certainly accomplished. In a way that only a two legged hokey pokey performing badger could appreciate. That means it is time of course for some major summing up since a few pages of description is probably more than even the long winded reader would wish to tackle. Recent news as of Saturday afternoon is that all walls are up and the mammoth project guest house is one giant leap toward winter proofing. Our patented South Seas style compost, sand, and straw roof has been laid upon its blessed perch to provide future generations with its pungent yet fruitful outpouring of mossy growth. The day looms ever closer when our stubbornly driven kielbasa swillin' team shall utter the words, "Ahh, chuck it in til' spring", and great rejoicing shall spread across the land. As it stands today when the first buds spring forth next year and the results of rampant animal fornication are birthed we shall have only floors and trimmings left to tackle. Yesterday our first real snowfall came and today the lansdcape has shrugged its autumn colors for the bright whites of winter. I should not speak too soon however in thinking that that means the hibernation of our crew. Once a project such as this is begun it is very difficult to pack it in for a few no matter how oft dreams of life altering snowball fights and the construction of snow forts dance betwixt the ears. We shall see what the real "el jefe" Pan Wiesiek has to say on the subject in the next days and weeks. He's an Egyptian taskmaster if ever there was, that fellow.

A few words on the building you say. Well our South Seas roof was a sweet blend of sand, local straw, the smelliest compost this side of any major landfill, and a few cow pat sized moss growths to top it off like cherries. Without necessary window frames our much aforementioned Pan Gonska stayed at home and that left me and Wiesiek with the growing roof task. On Lovable Quirks today you'll be able to see how the work was accomplished. I down low pulling bucket after bucket of materials up by an expertly and soundly (yeah right) made pulley system. The real story tells of pulley that at one point nearly came down atop this head and a rope for pulling that made skin on the palm of the hand an unecessary luxury. Wiesiek atop the roof then hurled the contents of each bucket down the steep roof planes in hope that some of the contents might latch on with good will. Especially on the uphill facing side of the house the good will was minimal and much of what was hurled made attractive mounds on the ground about the house. There was much laughter and joy in the process it must be said especially at the witnessing of my graceful attempts to pull increasingly waited buckets up to the roof. The yelps of agony as palm skin dislodged, the times when I was down to nearly laying position to gain the strength to pull the rope further inches, and the attempted walking away from the pulley with rope in hand to pull up only to nearly be pulled off my feet backwards. Needless to say these and others provided howls of laughter from twinkle toes who had perfected his shuffle about the roof. I am very pleased to say in light of this that for the most part this project has been one to create joy and plenty of laughter among the participants.

The other big one for lack of suggesting adjective was the completion last Saturday of the final outer wall. Pan Gonska and myself spent the week building both upstairs walls as soon as our window frames were complete. During the four working days of that week I think my Polish made leaps and bounds and my knowledge of carpentry in turn. Those out there desiring the mastering of second language should consider this method, a week no less of staring at large planks of wood with someone of the trade and having copious order barked your way. Before you know it you'll be ready for a physiological and ethical lecture in your new tongue. It was one of the most enjoyable weeks for me as with future thinking in mind I am eager to learn any and all and love to mix laughter with hard work as it maintains and attitude and spirit that makes the work fly. Much hard work in my younger days have lead to my ability not only to predict extremely well what tools and help Pan Gonska will need, making me an apprentice that has proved his worth, but as well it is no issue for me to give my best over a full day and see the results in short time periods. For the sake of learning and of laughter this was a week I shall not forget and which I am grateful for.

What else you might wonder, what other sordid activity has filled thy days? Here is a short yet long winded run down. The production of 30 litres of finest sour cabbage, saurkraut or whatever you wish to call it that is only yet beginning to have supremely melded flavors and goodness for intestines everywhere; our fourth attempt at homemade beer which looks marvelous after the initial yellow soup of nastiness, -5% alcohol second attempt, tasty yet needing improvement third to our latest recipe which includes of course the necessary barley, hops, and sugar but has added caramel, sour fruit, and clove accessories; the making of a variety of chutneys cold and hot to add savory goodness to all sorts of sambos and the like, most notably ones of pineapple and chutney variants; and the further development of my bread expertise, recently creating many sour dough and grape juice bread starters as keen alternatives to the usual yeast types. That gives a taste of it anyway though not quite the same as being here for the real thing. Despite the claims it should be mentioned that the grape juice bread starter produced a bread that would take the teeth from a tiger. It was far too moist after baking so we made something akin to crackers from it and worked our jaws to the bone to consume it. The chewing lasted hours and the agony of the jam much further. No doubt healthy for the gums and such but nevertheless a tad brutal in the experience.

Alright, the snow and the kiddies beckon and I shall answer. I must write more later in the week but for today take a look at the pictures.

Balance

You like me may have entertained the sterling question, "What's the craic." This chap who has penned his fair share of words over the past year suddenly has a place, a measure of time, and a reliable connection and yet the infrequency of posting remains. 'Tis a relief for yours truly to know that responsible agents are not breathing down this neck begging for new material or the dreaded three volume novel. In the midst of something close to normal and consistent living this chap is finding it difficult to find balance in my desire to stay connected through emails and updates. I am one that lives so deeply in relationship that to be unable to see your faces, experience the mystery and joy of all levels of communication as opposed to words on a page, therein lies the challenge. Life on the road robbed me of my grounding and in that time my writings and my connectedness to people thousands of miles away was everything. Now I spend my days with the same wonderful people, spend many of my hours expending myself to the goal of home production, and suddenly I am grounded in a different sphere. It it not that I do not care for those relationships that held me through long periods of change but now I must learn to live fully where I am and at the same time balance moments for maintaining those relationships in as full a sense as possible. I can see myself in writing this that a level of confusion may result so in future additions hopefully more clarity can be attained.

On the lighter side of life production of said house progresses at markable rate. I have added two new albums to Lovable Quirks displaying the finished work of our variably slanted roof. The experience was one I enjoyed immensely in the problem solving, adapatational, excitement rendering, swift knowledge building nature of the work. I have never so fully enjoyed a project experience. Whether 'twas hammering nail after nail, numbering in the thousands and resulting in only one sheepish blood blister despite; sitting atop a sharply angled roof as one might straddle a horse and wondering if my back end would come through unharmed; attaching beam after beam of wood as one might for a massive jigsaw except that here there was almost no consistency in size, shape, color, straightness, or any other ease bearing quality; continuing my exploration of the humorous side of the Polish language for the sake of chuckles from "el jefe" Mister Goose (known to me now as majster or piura gonski (goose feathers you may remember)); and the unquestioned independance I was afforded to make decisions about how the work was to be accomplished (our second carpenter Andrzej is on hiatus to Singapore for shipyard carpentry thereby leaving us tag alongs to make more decisions). The next stage now is to finish closing off the house in preparation for winter and then beginning the next enjoyable stage of floor production.

The only major difficulty in the midst of the joy of hammering nails and using a strug (don't know the name in English strangely enough) to shave off uneven bits of wood is the part of me that for a year got used to non stop travels. There are families about Poland that I wish to see and I'm not used to anything being in the way of that. The other day I recognized my impatience at thinking it could be weeks before we are at a place with the house that I can vamoose and my travel bug spot was fumin'. It revealed to me the necessity of this period in time here. I wish to forever have travel and the experience of a variety of people as a part of life but my desire for family and home in the future is one rooted in place. The great joys of life on the road do not outweigh my desire to know where home is and who home is with. I needed this project and time here with this wonderful family to readjust and be committed to life in one place. I can see that now and have had to give the travel bug inside me a good lickin' (no foul thoughts, it means rough it up a bit). When the time comes I will travel especially as Darek and Asia's baby was born only a week ago and my excitement is at the tremendous level to visit and have time with the baby as well as the family in this transition time. A side note on that level is that a baby could not be born into a more loving home. Darek and Asia are so genuine in their love and their desire to make their home a place of piece and welcoming that it gives me great joy to know that this gift straight from God's heart has come to them. For now I am here and I am committed to this project that will in the future provide a place to call home for many a family and perhaps a few needing missionaries (who dares remember ten marvelous Brazilians that God once sent this way).

Ok that will do it for now. I hope to be able to have greater consistency in doing this now. I am thinking of how to adapt it to being in one place as I haven't exciting travel stories to share but those from truly living as part of family.

The rooftop shuffle

Oh my, the adventures continue. Now your favorite crew of Moe's have begun the potentially life altering task of setting the roof atop its perch. At the end of last week we were measuring for height, angle, and board length using the most technologically advanced methods. None of us, including the genius who is penning this page, could remember the basics of triangles and had no clue how to measure on paper the length of all sides of a triangle. A serious brain/soul searching was undertaken to no avail and it was realized that the years of schooling had accomplished little toward the general intelligence. Instead life and limb were threatened as the elders of our team hoisted themselves atop the roof to "measure it in nature" as Wiesiek termed it. During that time I raced to the beloved internet to rediscover basic triangle math and by the time I had an answer the "in nature" values changed everything and totally different lengths were calculated. The first pictures of the new album on Lovable Quirks will show the work done to calculate each of our lengths (Keep your mind on the prize Aran).

Yesterday the first steps were taken to set the beams acquired into position with Jurek(also termed Jureczku(cute little Jurek), szlimaczku(little snail), or gigi stolarz(baby carpenter)) and I charged with holding the barbaric planks in place. The wind it was a blowin' and after some time it was realized that the snail and I were pushing in opposite directions causing intense agony in each of my few strong bits. I spent my early years with a fairly intense fear of heights and despite recent gains and jumps from Slovenian bridges the challenge remains and when death and glory presented itself, it was nearly underbritches soiling time. Every time the wind began to blow our beam attempted the death dive and I scrambled like a new mother with her infant child to hold on. I realized only at the end that the beloved gigi stolarz had two nails holding his end in place resulting in an exultingly relaxed tone on his part. His constant smiles had me ready to hurl a hammer or hammers of varying sizes at his forehead as I struggled to hold on to beam and the potential for future offspring. Needless to say today, as in five minutes from now, the journey continues of roof top fun. Eleven more sets are to be cut and placed atop no doubt with yours truly grasping for dear life to each glorious one. Depending on the ferocity of the task the next post my come in short time. We shall see.

Ok, as I said there is no more time. I must don my foul attire and prepare myself for the onslaught. Take a look at the new album on Lovable Quirks.

How to catch up, that is the question?

Goodness gracious. These days it seems my energy level is never sufficient for posting, for emails, calls home and of course the barbaric enterprise being undertaken in the back yard. I feel that I am always trying to catch up and am unable to muster the necessary whats-its to accomplish that task. Here now I desire in many a sizzling sentence to fill-in on the goings on of the past few and have nair the brainpower. I have climbed my peaks, experienced hours of soiling, wiled away a few in Poland's capital and now returned here for some rooftop woodwork. If you can believe it, a week and a half ago I was ankle deep in snow at the base of a Tatra mountain trail. A lament to you poor sods in Phoenix still experiencing 40 plus degrees and bottom scorching asphalt. The journey to the mountains ended up being more of a wall to wall layabout session instead of the fiercesome climbing slash cacophonic yodelling session that it was intended to be. The excessive amount of rainfall/snowfall on one occasion left yours truly wetter than a fish's wet bits and none to thrilled to attempt another trail under such conditions. Only once did we hit mountain top, at least all together (on the snow filled day half our group headed up for a premium wetness experience). Us Bojano lads- myself, Wiesiek, Jonathon, and Tymek- preferred to spend the wetter days watching the brain box as we have had our fill lately of outdoor activity. We did occasionaly pop our head out from our mountain lodge (sounds fabulously rich and incredibly saucy to stay in one of those) but only for mealtimes and the guaranteed-short-distance-stroll. Unfortunately our layabout ways inspired such behavior in many of the troops and on more than one occasion the loaded eyebrow was raised by one of our senior compadres. The upshot of all that lazing about was plenty of time for relationship and important father-son time for those that had 'em. I for the first time in my life shared in a group the story of my life and the life altering experience of God's unconditional love through Jesus. It was a pleasure to share how true love returned life to my heart and for myself to be reminded of the miraculous changes God accomplished in my life. Journeys should always be weighed in relationship, not in quantity and breadth of activity. As such our week in the mountains was an incredible time.

Following that adventure Wiesiek and his lads headed to Austria and I with the rest of the gang to Warsaw to spend a few days with my good friend Darek(of Croatia trip, Polish teaching, previous time in Warsaw fame) and his wife and children. 'Twas unfortunately a short visit but in the midst of many a week adjusting to the life of a full time construction worker it was a sweet refreshment. In the midst of Poland's massive capital their home is a place of peace and a place that I can truly feel at home. Whether spending hours fine tuning my language acquisition, playing games together(Darek wished to call out numbers in English and much of the time was spent attempting to teach the "th" sound only to incur a slobber fest from many angles), or helping Asia as she prepares for the birth of their fourth baby in only a few weeks. That baby is so blessed that it will be born into such an environment whose source is Christ's unending love. One final experience must be shared from this time. On the Sunday of my visit we went to visit Asia's family. After a marvelous meal they wished to show me the land that they purchased there and asked if I wanted to join Jacob on the moped for the short journey. The moment we left the driveway and hit the road on that beast it was nearly death-no-glory time for one poor nun in thick spectacles. The moped immediately went into a swerve and headed straight for the old girl in a way that made it difficult for her to choose an escape route. I was ready to leap off, come what may to the ol' crotch, but somehow Kuba got our weapon righted only a metre from its intended victim. The thick spectacled, grey costumed nun cast a glance our way that could melt lead and asked why we intended to end her existence. I am not sure what was said in response but the scene was quickly departed to allow the nun a return to her methodical walk toward the church. Thankfully the remainder of our venture on the homicidal moped went as smoothly as such should be.

So week in the mountains, few days in the nation's capital, and back to work now with our sights set upwards to ceilings and rooves and the acquisition of water proof work britches as each of us these days walks around with permanent wet spots on our lower regions. 'Tis now a few minutes to nine which means a quick dress up and out for the day. Otherwise my goose will surely be cooked, no reference of course to "el jefe" Pan Gonska, I wouldn't dream of it. More to come of further opportunities for yours truly to mangle his limbs. Take a look at the new and hopefully self explanatory albums on Lovable Quirks.

heading for a few more peaks

Time is short on this fine day as yours truly is off come morn with Wiesiek, Jonathan, and Timothy to the Polish Tatra mountains in the south for five days. We will meet there with Darek and Jacob from Warsaw for some peak scaling extraveganzas. For now there are new pictures up of the continued lazing around in the back yard and throwing up planks of wood as time allows. Also a few of some late night glow-stick-in-front-of-camera adventures for your stupendous ostentatious visual feast. I haven't the clock ticks now but later in the week will post pictures of the incredible feats of this day, namely placing the roof beams atop their perch. So until the next post and the continued adventures of cesspools springing leaks, Goose feathers flying to and fro to and fro (are favorite water fowel shall be returning whilst we are away), the heavy handed use of the "argument"(our name for the sledge hammer), and general mayhem involving half clad and facial hair promoting lads prancing about atop scaffolding, let each and all of the bed bugs bite.

One last 'un. Take a look at this vid from the ancient style mill that we summoned to do a number on some of our wood. How often to see a saw like this

moe's on parade part 2

Time for a continuation on the home front. Stories of the Goose et. al. and their adventures. From heavy shocks in heavy boots to hammering nails with axe blades to the springing of leaks in the pool of death and many more these are a few of the stories of how a house is built. Jurek (man of large moustache fame) has been the brunt of a number of life altering possibilities. He is quite often covered from head to toe with sawdust, each grain having attempted the destruction of the fellow's eyeballs. I remember once offering the fellow googles as he stood behind the table saw with squinted eyes and barbarically sharp pieces of tree heading his way only to have him report "No thanks" and continue on. Courageous stuff my dear friends. The most memorable of his near deaths was that of the heavy shock. In the final stage of the building of the foundation we found ourselves in the early morning with a non working cement mixer. A village chap was summoned to assist who was no electrician but wore a white vest and shorts and therefore assumedly looked the part. He quickly set to work fiddling with knobs and colorful wires as we all looked on astounded and eventually surmised the source of our troubles. When he got to the last checks down at the machine and found no troubles he fired up the beast. Jurek in little boots was the first to discover (in the rain mind you) that the entire mixer was charged. He touched one corner of the beast and jumped from the shock. Our pseudo-electrician touched in his huge rubber boots and felt nothing probably then assuming that Jurek had a few screws loose. Jurek, in a moment of brilliance, touched the charged machine and grabbed pseudo-electricians hand and the big fellow in big rubber boots jumped and let out a yelp. This was all the convincing our man need to set to work again trying to repair the thing and eventually doing so.

Another of these glorious days me and the lads headed pool side (pool of death that is) and discovered a rapid loss of our precious flora and fauna killing acids. The pool has become something of a landmark in that its depths are the most popular wetting spot for frogs and mice and bugs of all type. Not a day passes without further floaters emerging. Well when the leak was realized we set to work with a rapidity not seen before or since. Buckets were pulled from all nooks and crannies and quickly filled with the precious juices in an attempt to save what was left of it. Then the mice and frogs who had made this spot their grave were removed and placed on the road as an obstacle course for willing motorists (sadly this part was not accomplished but makes for quite an idea). The hole of the pool was then widened and this action has resulted in new opportunities for all chaps involved to lose their manhood when lowering beams requires standing on both sides of the pool simultaneously. With black tape then the holes were patched first with Wiesiek's haphazard attempts and then with the eyes of the hawk gaze of yours truly. When patched the tarps were again laid inside our pool and the poisons were returned forthwith.

Each day now my time is limited and my energy also so posts may be of the shorter variety. I shall attempt to present more in future of our tiresome yet experience filled adventures.

Moe's on parade part 1

Ode to the back breaking work and the scarcely clad chaps who join me on this current venture. In these last weeks I have developed muscle on top of muscle (considering my initial state of being scrawny sue it can be difficult to note the change from a distance of more than a metre though I assure all 'tis there and 'tis menacing), a Carribean tan that any berry plucking islander would blush at, a repetative and exceedingly brutal number of hand injuries (the latest while cutting bread with blunt knife and nearly hacking off my left index finger and previous beauty sustained by snapping a hand saw and having the blade glide elegantly under one of my finger nails), and according to Floyd in Arizona my natural sweater continues to bloom on chest and midsection (when the back begins to sprout I will have to consider extreme action). Hopefully you faithful few have taken a look at the new pictures and seen the incredible (what a crock) progression that we sorry sods have made. My and other's expectation of a few weeks minimal labor followed by stiff round of drinks in celebration of standing wood has been replaced with notions of continued hard labor come winter with children dancing merrily about snowman while we sooth frostbitten lips and bolloxes.

One seeing the pictures should be aware of all of the punters involved. Myself (hopefully), Wiesiek, and Jonathon should be recognizable (in my new state perhaps I not) but then there are the now infamous others. The young chap taking part in the digging of a large hole (which contrary to what my genius youngest sister suggested is not the foundation for the house but a sheep-dip/acidic pool of danger and death to kill bugs in the wood) early on in the pictures is a lad from the nearby village who was summoned to lend a forearm. The chap pictured later on with exceedingly large moustache that woodland creatures could nest in and leathery tan from years of sun use and abuse is Wiesek's older brother. Even nearer the end fellow without facial hair and wearing blue cover-alls is our replacement carpenter while "el jefe" is away. Chap pictured in the head gear of a Nepalese goat herder is Marcin, a friend of the fam who was staying here for the last week with his wife Ania. He didn't help much with the home itself but lended his wood carving talent to the construction of two marvelous plaques to adorn the main house and previous guest apartment and he also butchered all plant life within a half mile radius with Wiesiek's weed-wacker. Last but most certainly not least is "el jefe" himself, the man with the plan, Pan Gonska our carpenter extraordinaire. He is pictured with glasses and blue/grey shirt in many of the intimate shots. Please enjoy this picture: http://www.lovablequirks.org/photos/photo.pl/Moe's%20Builders%20Inc/img_6024.jpg as a symbol of our taskmaster's fervor. His name written above translated to English is Mister Little Goose. He has taken part in the building of all Stebnicki (Wiesiek's family name) structures and no less in this case. He raised us each and all from the ashes of not knowing what the hell to do and spending our days constructing sheep dip and pulling large nails from planks of wood while grunting to now becoming a lean mean carpentarial machine and I myself learning an extensive Polish carpenter's vocabulary. From nailing and grunting to now the construction of walls and the creation of finely cut and chisseled wood, our goose is at the helm. I of course have never made a joke of his name, would never even consider such a barbaric action. Codswallop, I have come to refer to him always as goose; spoke openly in English of course so few understand of our goose being cooked, plucked, whatever else; and gotten everyone, in Polish or English, refering to the slim wood pieces used to connect the larger beams as our Goose-feathers as their name in Polish is feather. So there is the run down of our fantastic crew of wood specialists and those others who are a long way from knowing the first thing about it.

That's enough for today. The work beckons and the summer is running out of steam so all energy is necessary toward rapid progression.

knackered

I have wanted for days to spill the proverbial beans, to wax eloquently about day to day life here in the land of the suspicious kielbasa. Eight weeks of full time work however have scattered my brains and exhausted me as only a legless gobshite climbing Kilmanjaro could relate to. As soon as energy returns at least at the level of my being able to write the ridiculous verbiage of which I am accustomed I shall post once again. Hold on to your necessary unmentionables until that time and take a look a the new pictures up of the bowel bashing work to be done.