Technical retardation...

Seriously retarded... and yes, it may have something to do with too much coffee...or lack of alcohol.

Anyway, just finishing siesta before my evening class, sipping some freshly brewed coffee and nibbling on dark almond chocolate. Astounded at how my finger nails thrive under these conditions... fairing a bit better than my eye balls which are screaming at me about all this chilly dry air being propelled at me with remarkable dedication. Dry eyes... small price to pay for a relief from the heat. What ever did people do before AC? Super stars they truly are, or were, or whatever.

Saw my first camels today, grazing near some bushes off the road to my house. Stay clear, they spit bile. However, have no fear, I will try to approach them, in an ignorant attempt to befriend the 'beast'. No dogs, no cats... one has to make creature friends somehow right? My weekend will be spent steering the stray baby turtles back in the direction of the sea... 'follow the light' does NOT mean into the highway my little friend... this is the mantra I will try to inspire them with.

Where's that coffee boy? Hello? I'm about empty over here! Screw the coffee, would someone, anyone please bring me a cocktail? PLEASE?..... sigh, oh well, look at the time, back to work I go.

Dance Lessons Anyone?

Off the plane and into the heat. You walk outside and your glasses fog up, your sandals become slippery, your entire being is 'damp' yes, it's like walking into a sauna... literally. Nobody goes outside, and EVERYTHING is air conditioned.

The people in Oman are INSANELY friendly to foreigners, they tend to stare a bit, but that has never really phased me, and is honestly, kind of welcome after two years of being annoyingly overlooked in Eastern Europe. Great coffee shop/English book shop in Muscat – service so welcoming you would think my presence had been a common fixture there for months, AND there are a plethora of English newspapers for the rather impressive ex-pat community (made up of a variety of teachers, industry workers, contractors, engineers, you name it). Supermarket that made me giddy (no sleep and a 'real' large coffee probably added to my kid-in-a-candy-store-glee, but for anyone who knows me, I suppose this really isn't too surprising). An entire 'date corner', rice milk, boxes upon boxes of cereal, humus - not very cheap, but I could not convert rials in my brain under such circumstances so just threw everything in the cart... Oh, the money is bright and colorful, making up for the stark landscape of this desert country.

Two hour speedy car ride down the coast to Sur. Jagged rock mountains as far as the eye can see, occasionally catching a cluster of date palms or herd of goat, practically camouflaged within this multi-toned tan landscape. Part of the newly constructed motorway had been washed away in the cyclone of 2006 so there is some messy re-construction going on, but nonetheless, very impressive. I've been told Porsche often uses a large section of this highway to race. Driving is fun and gas is insanely cheap. An important thing to remember: DO NOT flip off or yell at the obnoxious Cadillac Escalade riding dangerously close on your tail - as it is illegal to offend an Omani and you could face a nasty jail sentence.

A few minutes outside of Sur you pass the cerebral structure where the sister of Moses lies. The ancient village destroyed by the Portuguese – the site leaves a pretty amazing impression as it sits on the stone embankment along the sea. Sur is the home of Sindbad (yes, the legendary mariner of Arabian Nights) and the most mosques in all of Oman. Stunning white-washed houses rise out of the earth here, protected by brightly colored ornate gates and presents quite a contrast from the sights and sounds of Eastern Europe.

Not a lot for the people of Sur to occupy there time with, so in the evening, a lot of people just simply hang out by the water, sitting on walls and in gazebos that line the bay. There are two bars here in hotels that cater to the expat community. Apparently there is still an alcohol problem here, despite it being against the Muslim religion to drink, there is still a black market for booze – a problem dealt with by turning a blind eye. There is virtually no crime in Sur, as I would imagine is the same for the rest of Oman. The Sultan is much loved and respected, leaving the people content and pretty politically indifferent to the happenings elsewhere around the Middle East and the rest of the world. It is however, advised to steer clear of Oman's neighbor country Yemen, as many people tend to 'disappear ' - However, most are returned unharmed.

Ok, so far I have not seen much of the city of Sur. I have walked down the beach outside my house, littered with colorful broken-shells,smooth coral and bright green algae.

There are small groups of veiled women, small children and a few men that wander down the beache at dusk. Midday is too hot for even the locals to be outside, too hot for the beach... now THAT is hot. The weather reports claim it never gets over 50 Celsius – (it is illegal to make people work when it is that hot), but it has been known to get well over 50... but really, what's a few more degrees when it's this hot? I have driven down the main streets in Sur, spent an evening at a shisha bar smoking shisha and drinking coffee and even made it to one of the hotel bars for some lunch and an Amstel tall boy.

I am excited about my classes and hope to get out and see more of this amazing country. So far, my impression is of a calm, kind and endearing people. Perhaps life in the desert is better than one would originally imagine.

On a bit of an ironic note, there was a copy of Young Stalin sitting in my living room when I got here, so I have been engrossed in a 400 page biography that could almost be considered relevant to my thesis topic... but, not quite. Who knows, maybe I can tie it in somehow.

Oh, and in case you were wondering, no, there will be no dance classes today... dancing is not allowed, however, feel free to pray five times a day. I promise you there is a room for that around here somewhere. :-)

Hello Mother, it's me again.

When I moved back to Poland in the end of summer 2007 I was bound for an adventure of graduate, academic bliss. I came here for the culture, the historic city, the scorched earth of a tragic Polish century, the beauty that remains and all I had to learn and experience from the stunning city of Kraków. My home is the old Jewish district of Kazimierz, historic for the 'driving out' of its residence to the confines of a Jewish ghetto across the river into Podgórze. Once a thriving cultural center and economic hub of Kraków, the only Jews to grace these littered streets are tourists, on holiday, stopping through to pay tribute to the past, or in search of heritage, some sense of closure to a time all too quickly forgotten. There is a resurgence of this district, but of a much different breed. The streets ring vibrant with the sights and sounds of small bars and the occasional freshly sprouted posh club - hip hole in the wall, candle lit cafes, all looking out on to the weathered and cracking steps of Plac Nowy.

I have met great friends, many leave, some remain... my favorite possession is my fuchsia pink Fisher bicycle, which I ride, everywhere. My days are intertwined around coffee and yoga... and I know there was a point behind my life here... oh yes, I have had a year with an unwritten thesis hanging over my head. Unwritten, it resides in scraps of notepaper scattered around my room, books dog eared and post-it noted; various shades of green and pink - taunting me as I scratch my head in search for their once marked significance. Sidetracked by warm weather, teaching English, mid-afternoon card games and just plain professional procrastination, I have five months till the looming deadline, five months to write, what I have barely touched in one year...

So, what better time than the present, the summer, in Kraków, when all the friends are gone, when the tourists are out in abundance and the city is too crowded to draw you into its center without a fight... when... oops, the recession cancels your job and you are without funds to live on... SHIT! Cette la vie!

All of the sudden life again is in flux, and when a bit of panic takes over, the questions begin to roll in... but then there's an email, an opportunity, you say 'hello' and walk out the door, into the open air, take a deep breath (most likely with a bit of tail pipe residue from the 86 Fiat that just peeled down the street and around the corner in a blaze of unimpressive glory), and remember how exciting the unknown can be.

So, I have three days to prepare for a month long teaching stint in Sur, Oman, two hours down the coast form Muscat, where I will be teaching children and teenagers (something I have NEVER done) English and hopefully appreciating all the thrills of a culture I am unfamiliar with, hopefully remaining calm in the midst of uncertainty and finding grace in the chaos.

I AM packing the thesis - the notes that have been transferred on to my laptop, the bits that have been written - perhaps more will be written while in Oman, perhaps not... it all remains to be seen.