UK to Slovakia

Some of you will know that I’m not really a huge fan of alcohol. I might partake of a beer or two at Christmas to help digest all those calorie laden objects I had been stuffing into my mouth or during the other odd celebration.

I have never been much of a drinker (of alcohol) but the odd libation never hurt anyone. I think my general abstinence is due to a fading memory of “having one too many” at a family celebration and waking up in the trunk of someones car dozens of miles away from home. To this day, I still do not know I managed to find myself in that predicament but it wasn’t an experience I particularly wanted to renew, even though it was quite funny.

Anyway, my wife was given some gifts by her students last year at the start of the festive season as a ‘thank you’ for making their lesson fun and interesting. A couple of the gifts stood out amongst the others as they really intrigued me.

The first intriguing gift was a ginger bread house, complete with ginger bread fence and tree, suitably adorned with white icing made to look like snow. I cannot even begin to imagine how long it took to make as applying the icing alone must have taken several hours. I will take some pics and post them as soon as I can pluck up the courage to remove it’s plastic wrapping.

The other intriguing item was a bottle of home made,,, well I’m not sure what it’s supposed to be. Possibly a vodka/bacardi/rum type of drink. Anyway, it intrigued me because it is still quite common for people to distill their own alcoholic beverages here in Slovakia and having a home made ’still’ is something of a basic requirement akin to having a cooker and a fridge.
I had been admiring this home made beverage for a while, taken the top of a few times and had a few sniffs but never really plucked up the courage to sample it’s delights. The home made sticky label said it was made from plums but I couldn’t smell anything resembling plums, just alcohol.
Some time ago, I managed to get quite a bad ear infection (both ears), which ended up in a visit to the local hospital for the strongest horse pills they had. I don’t remember the name of the anti-biotic they contained off hand but they were akin to some prehistoric stone tablets, which is why I refer to them as horse pills, they were huge!
Because I couldn’t sleep due to my ears being blocked by this infection and what seemed like pressure building up behind the blockage, not to mention the constant ringing in my ears I decided that I would try some of the Slivovica (sliv-o-vitsa) as I was pretty desperate to get some sleep.
I decided not to be a fairy about it and took a big gulp of the stuff.
Holy shit!
After I had put the fire out that was raging in my throat, I was still conscious so took a few more swags of the bottle in my desperate need for sleep.
I woke up the next day and proclaimed Slivovica really was the cure for all ills as I had been told. I really hope we can acquire another bottle pretty soon
They do sell it in the Shops here and it’s marked as being around 45% proof but compared with the homemade stuff it’s like tap water.

It never ceases to amaze me that the old soviet tentacles of bureaucracy still permeates whole countries who should be moving forward with more efficient and streamlined systems.
Take for example our recent house move……..

Before the move began, we visited our local T-COM shop to arrange for the internet to be connected to the property we were moving to. We didn’t think it would be a problem as all the communist style housing ‘blocks’ already have decent network connectivity. In the UK, you phone the service provider, a man appears the next day armed with his gizmo’s and gadgets and you are online in minutes, job done, happy surfing.

The first hurdle was filling the ‘application’ form in. Luckily we had a Slovak speaker with us to help (thanks Agi, you are an absolute angel). I’m not sure why they needed our entire family tree history, including maiden names, your third cousine, twive removeds occupation etc, but one has to assume if you don’t pay your bill, they either need to find someone to shoot or someone who has a few sheep they can sell to make good the debt.

Any way, we were told the internet would be connected in around 30 days. Luckily we had a way to speed that up, which I cannot really get into in a public blog but suffice to say, a name was mentioned to the T-COM sales girl and we were then told it would take about two weeks to get our connection and the girl offered profuse apologies that it couldn’t be done any quicker than that. Presumably the one engineer in Slovakia capable of doing the job lives atop the High Tatra mountain in a wooden shack, his mule has gone lame so he’ll have to walk. He’s probably going to walk via Poland and Germany because it only takes 10 hours to traverse the mountains.

A week and a half later, a man appeared to ‘test’ our cables - in fact all he did was open a cupboard in the hallway, connect a couple of wires and pronounced the cables were fine. He did replace the ADSL socket just inside our front door so he got top marks for dedication.
He was about to leave when we asked him where he had left the modem.
Apparently the modem was arriving via courier (UPS) but he couldn’t give us a date when we might expect it to arrive.
A telepohne call was then placed to T-COM who couldn’t answer that question on the phone, we had to go to the shop with our contract and our Slovak ID card *sigh*. So we called into the shop and they very graciously told us they didn’t know when the modem might arrive, it could be Monday, it could be a week or………

Eventually and at long last, the modem arrived, woohoo!! It was sent to the wrong address but hey-ho, we are well known in Kezmarok “the English people” so it found us a damn site quicker than UPS took to courier it.

The lounge in our new home was suddenly a hive of activity as I franticly assembled one of our PC’s and hooked the modem up. We were still in the process of moving at this point in time as Zoe is doing an online degree course so we were living at our old place for as long as possible as Zoe needed the internet for daily web seminars.
Of course all the modem instructions were in Slovak but there was an installation disc that came with the modem (again, only in Slovak) so I took my cue’s from the little arrows that appeared on the screen and just kept hitting the forward arrow. It seemed like a good idea at the time but something wasn’t quite right. The software was installing, the modem lights indicated connectivity but as soon as the installation routine finished, the modem went dead. Hmm….

I managed to hack my way into the modem directly via the modem/routers IP address but there really wasn’t much I could do other than determine there was no data being allowed in or out.

To paraphrase a popular British TV show (Who Wants to Be a Millionaire) I “phoned a friend” and was told I needed a username and password. Bloody hell, could it get more complicated? Why didn’t they tell us this in the shop *sigh*.
So another phone call to the shop ensued and yes, you guessed it, we had to call in, in person.
We trundled to the shop, showed our contract, various forms of ID blah, blah ruddy blah and was told they would post us our username and password.
Not on your Nelly!! By this time my patience was wearing a little thin. Partly because I have been spoilt in the UK where customer service is pretty good and mostly, they want to keep your custom so I had a bit of a wobbler and said I want the username and password and I want it NOW! I’m not going to wait several more days while it is mailed out to me as you can obviously see it right there on the screen in front of you.

A little slip of paper was discreetly passed across the desk as though it was some national secret or something *sighs again*.
We drove home feeling rather smug, it’s always nice when the under dog scores a point

Once we had arrives home, we ran the installation disc again, entered the username and password we had been given (not the one provided in the documentation) and we were online!!

Seriously though, how complicated can you make a simple task?
I can appreciate a service provider might not want to stock vast quantities of modems that might, technology wise, go out of date but whats wrong with keeping a few dozen in stock, sending them out with the engineer along with the account username/password or for extra security, giving the username/password to the customer when the they sign up?

So, long time no write!
In most of the western world, it was Easter weekend and here in rather Catholic Slovakia it’s no different. Ok, so the date isn’t different but everything else is.
To explain…
The Thursday before Good Friday has a name both in English (Maundy Thursday) and Slovakia; Green Thursday. Slovak housewives frantically sweep away any last traces of dust and it is customary to clean the windows and wash the curtains (Am.E drapes ). There’s churchy stuff goes on too but not being of a particularly religious bent, I am not qualified to discuss those matters.
Friday, Saturday and Sunday passed off without a hitch.
Then came Monday.
It was my birthday.
And also the day when boys and young men visit the abodes of the local lasses. They don’t go only to wish them a Happy Easter. Oh no, they go armed for serious girlie abusing.

Recipe for Easter Monday (for men)
1. Gather some friends
2. Advance in a tight formation to houses where wenches be found
3. Invite aforementioned wench to step outside
4. Lightly whip wench with a homemade (ok, 21st century - shop bought) birch whip
5. When your wench is squealing well, douse wench in buckets of cold water.
6. Request payment for your ’services’ in the form of Easter eggs or if of age, alcohol.
7. Proceed in a slightly looser formation (effects of alcohol evident) to the next poor maiden.

Recipe for Easter Monday (for women)
1. Gather chocolate eggs and alcohol well in advance.
2. Be sure to wear clothes you don’t mind being ruined and prepare a ‘wet room’ inside.
3. Wait at home for men to knock at door.
4. Endure ritual whipping and squeal appropriately.
5. Brace yourself for the cold shower.
6. Check T-shirt for signs of being the next ‘Miss Wet T-Shirt Competition’ winner. Cover if necessary.
7. Hand over chocolate and alcohol (don’t let them see you staring longingly at the chocolate).
8. Go inside to wet room and await the next batch of assailants.

It was my birthday and while I may have escaped the clutches of Her Majesty, I am still a Brit so I haven’t grown up just accepting this preying on defenceless females in the name of tradition.
So, despite my students best efforts, which coincidentally produced some of their best spoken English, I declined their kind invitations of a Slovak Easter and settled on going out for meal to celebrate my birthday.
That was not as easily accomplished as you might think.
As I have previously noted, Slovakia is a pretty religious country and as such, the best eating establishments were closed. Good ole’ Hotel Club to the rescue. Yes, it was open, no, there weren’t any other diners so it made for a somewhat subdued affair.

It’s back to work tomorrow. I wonder how many female students will turn up sneezing and coughing off the effects of pneumonia after their Easter ordeals.

November 1st - All Saints Day in Slovakia.
There are many religious beliefs surrounding All Saints Day and it has many different names depending upon your religion and country of residence but I’m not getting into that…..

One of Slovakia’s many traditions is, at this time, to visit the local graveyards, light a candle of remembrance and of course say a prayer or three.
Our next door neighbour who is also my wifes employer asked us to go with her to visit the local graveyard with her here in Kezmarok. I must admit I was a little dubious as, wandering around a graveyard on a very cold and misty November night was not exactly high on my list of priorities. However, I sensed she had a need to do this but did not want to do so alone, so we agreed to go with her.

Now, I am not an overtly religious person, nor in fact am I prone to overtly showing emotion but when I walked into that graveyard and saw all the remembrance candles, the people huddled around graves, memorials and war memorials, I was moved, very moved. I could hardly see for the tears streaming down my face and as I write this, the memory alone is causing tears to well up in my eyes, well in truth, I’m crying like a baby..

Like most people, I have friends, family, pets and events that have ‘passed’ that I remember but to see all these people; some praying, some just staring into space, others re-counting past deads and events, a few huddled silently around a bottle of vodka to keep warm sharing a knowing look.
Candles of a multitude of colours and sizes resting on just about every horizontal surface available along with flowers and photographs of loved ones. The whole graveyard was emitting a warm, inviting, multi-coloured glow.
I raised my eyes to the misty night sky and offered thanks that people here still care enough to ‘remember’, a prayer that they would continue to remember and a silent apology for my own past deads and all the could-a, should-a, would-a’s…

And then the real sadness hit me that had me crying like a baby all over again. In my own country, these graves would have likely been vandalised, most probably beyond recognition. The flowers stolen and given to girlfriends or thrown about for juvenile ‘fun’. There would probably not even be anyone in the graveyard but those that might have been would have turned a blind eye and walked away, the reason for their coming there long forgotten.

I had my camera with me, a journalists was taking photographs and although I would have liked the world to share the moment pictorially, it just did not seem appropriate.

Well it seems like forever since I last posted here on my wifes blog (that she never uses ) so I am going to attempt to bring everyone up to date.

We had to go back to the UK during the last week of July 2008 to renew our ‘bus’ road worthiness certificate. This is known in the UK as an MOT Certificate.
Basically they check there are no holes in the floor, excessive rust, no ’sharp’ bits of bodywork sticking out, the brakes are efficient, there is no play or excessive wear in any of the cars components (brakes, steering, suspension etc etc).
In other words, it is a test to make sure the vehicle is safe to be driven on public roads.

One of the ‘tests’ is to check the vehicles lights. Strangely, they even test to see if the red colour of the brake lights is ‘red’ enough, likewise they test the ‘amber’ of the indicators.
All the lights are tested to make sure they all work and in particular, spot/fog lights are checked to make sure they do not ‘dazzle’ other drivers and they also perform a test on the headlight beam angle for the same purpose.

You know there is a reason I’m telling you all this and I’ll get to it shortly

First, I want to tell you about our Sat Nav system which my wife Zoe refers to as ‘Burt’ - I have no idea why but I think it has something to do with a TV program called Sesame Street. Every time the Sat Nav gave me verbal instructions, it was followed with Zoe saying “OK Burt".
I wouldn’t have minded but I was the one driving so the Sat Nav wasn’t even talking to her (and it got a bit tedious after the first few hunderd K’s).

Any way, we arrived at Dunkirk to get our ferry across the pond to the UK and for some reason ‘Burt’ wanted me to

turn left for 42 miles

erm, yeah right, this bus weighs over 2 tonne and there is no way it is going to float - I decided to get the ferry instead.

Once we got off the ferry I turned Burt back on and was promptly greeted with

Please turn around immediately, then go straight ahead for 42 miles

which I found quite hillarious.
Once Burt had re-acquired the satellite though, we were good to go …

The next day I gave the bus a once over, a sort of pre-MOT check to make sure it would pass the MOT which was due in a couple of days.
To my horror, I found the horn had stopped working and after a few quick tests with my trusty volt meter, determined that the button on the steering wheel wasn’t working. A quick trip to Maplins (think Radio Shack) and I wired in a new push switch into a hastily made hole in the dashboard wired to a new relay etc under the bonnet and once more, the bus’ horn was working.
For those of you who might be in need of a decent car forn check Google or fleabay for “Nautilus air horn” - it’s like a ships fog horn but for cars and comes with a written guarantee to scare any unsuspecting pedestrian half to death

Monday arrived and we drove the bus up the road to a local MOT Station for it’s test.
Then I had a brain fart.
My headlights ‘dip’ to the right and in the UK they have to dip to the left so you do not blind on-coming motorists ARGH!!
I had a word with the garage owner and explained we lived abroad but needed the MOT for our British vehicle insurance to be valid and did the usual nod, wink, Masons handshake, vague promises not to feed him to the pooch etc and came back an hour later to find the bus had passed with flying colours.

We spent an absolute fortune in Matalan and Asda and returned to Poland with three times as much stuff as we had taken along with a very disgruntled pooch who had had to share his ‘bed’ in the back of the bus with a box (48 packets) of my beloved Walkers Salt & Vineager crisps.

The move from Poland to Slovakia is coming soon…