Pole Position

Having gone to Poland for a single purpose - to visit Auschwitz and Birchenau - I was surprised by how much I enjoyed this country. Not the concentration camps, of course. Truth be told they are an extremely difficult place to visit. When you view a room filled with seven tons of human hair from Holocaust victims you're scarcely human if it doesn't put a knot in your throat. I don't feel a need to preach about the self-evident horrors of these places so we'll just skip to the good stuff. The Polish city of Krakov was absolutely brilliant. Boasting awesome architecture, a teeming nightlife, and the biggest square in all of Europe, the city was alive with post-Communist energy. Or it may have just been booze. The city even has a Jewish Quarter, though in my estimation it was more like an eighth. As luck would have it, an International Street Performance Festival was in town. I got to see a full half dozen of the strangest non-sexual experimental theater on planet earth. The Ukranians win a prize for Trippy Artistry with a performance that saw soulful arias accompanied by elegant dancing give way to a screechingly loud carnival from Hell. Clad in flowing red robes and walking on stilts, the performers relied heavily on pyrotechnics; sparklers, flaming spears, roman candles, firecrackers, and what I'm fairly sure was C4 lit up the sky and literally rained down on the crowd. Catching on fire is surprisingly exhilarating when the great unwashed are cheering you on. The "What the Fuck?" prize goes to an overweight 55 year old Italian man who looked and dressed like Drew Carey, cracked wise like Rodney Dangerfield, smashed watermelons like Gallagher, and spun basketballs around his legs like a Harlem Globetrotter. All this while ranting about politics, the future, and Coca-Cola. The latter of which irked him so much that a good chunk of his performance was dedicated to shaking up cans, attacking them with a cordless drill, and spraying them onto the crowd while convulsing to hard-core techno music. It was supposed to be funny. If this is what passes for comedy in Italy we may finally have an explanation for the wry, piteous smile of the Mona Lisa. What do you call a Polack standing on the border of Slovakia? The South Pole. That was where I headed next. The small mountain town of Zakopane is located right at the base of the Tatra Mountains and I made it my home base while I explored the amazing national park system. The Poles could teach America a thing or two about trail building. I have never seen such a labor of love in a National Park. Stone steps graced nearly the entire length of every trail from valley to peak - a Herculean effort that needs to be seen to be believed. Over two days I hiked to four different peaks. The weather was mostly crap but when it cleared it was some of the most stunning scenery I have ever laid eyes upon. And definitely the most challenging and rewarding ascents I have ever attempted. The highest peak, Mt. Swinika, had a series of chains bolted into the side of the mountain for the last 100 meters to help prevent the slippery ascension from becoming heaven bound. At the top of Kasprowy Wierch I straddled two countries; Poland to the north and Slovakia to the south. An excellent place for a game of hokey-pokey if I ever saw one. All of which was great until the sky cracked open and a Biblical rain poured forth. Luckily I had just left the peaks but my meager rain gear was no match for the three hour descent I had to endure. Halfway down I'm fairly certain I saw a bearded man in a robe collecting animals. Soaked from head to toe, my underwear still hasn't fully dried. All and all, an amazing experience. Except for the underwear.