Landscape Architects Make Better Lovers

This caught my eye the other day, sista girl finds love from her "landscaper"...

A beautiful L.A. career woman, Kenya works as a senior manager at a prestigious accounting firm, and is on the verge of making partner. But she has yet to find her own partner and a fulfilling personal life. It's not that she's stopped looking; her (mental) checklist is at the ready. After another Valentine's Day spent working late, Kenya agrees to a blind date with Brian Kelly (Simon Baker), a sexy and free-spirited landscape architect who turns out to be not exactly what she'd pictured for herself. Then again, she does need the yard of her new house fixed up...

Ah, yes. Reminds me of that one project...Then there's also this Reese Witherspoon vehicle whose leading man plays a landscape architect. Have we become the stand-in for the "sensitive, artistic, yet approachable" guy? Hmm...describes me to a T.

Off the Market (Warning: Long)

The first thing people said to me after the divorce went along the lines of "Well, Freddy, here's your chance to enjoy some freedom. Have fun with it." The subtext of that varied, depending on who was delivering the advice. Some meant to sow some wild oats, others thought I should spend some time "finding myself." Frankly, I was a bit lost when it came to women; I kinda liked the idea of fucking indiscriminately around the city but the reality was that I gave off that "just got dumped" vibe for quite awhile. Needless to say, I didn't get any.

I dated some, pretty much from women I met online. I liked the idea of it, everyone was there for the same thing, we could skip a lot of the awkwardness and get to the gettin'. After a string of one-and-out dates, I came to realize that being online doesn't necessarily make things easier. If anything, you tend to meet the same person over and over; the computer "matches" you with people who supposedly are compatible based on a checklist and some weird algorithm. If you're a woman on these sites, it's a situation of having too much choice. You're inundated by messages from potential suitors; faced with such prosperity, you can afford to reject men out of hand for the most trivial of reasons, because there's 50 more of those where he came from. I speak from experience; as a bit of recon, I put up a fake ad as a woman to see what "Jane" would face, the strategy was to basically figure out patterns and tweak my approach to make myself stand out from the crowd. I was somewhat successful, got some good responses but again, nothing to show for the effort.

I realized "What the hell am I doing? I'm sitting in front of my computer when I could be out there actually meeting people." So I got myself a striped shirt and hit the bars with friends on a more regular basis. While I was able to meet people and make some new friends, I was still going home alone. I guess thirty-somethings in Seattle don't go out anymore.

Time to take a break from the dating scene. I moved out of Belltown and settled into South Lk. Union, stop obsessing about things and just let it happen. It was about that time when SB and I met BW, a general contractor. We got to talking about the construction business and exchanged cards. The next day, he emails us and asks if we wanted to volunteer for a group called ACE (Architects Contractors and Engineers), which mentors high schoolers who want to enter the field. I said "Sure, sounds fun."

It was at one of these ACE meetings I met AB, a structural engineer and fellow mentor. We hit it off pretty much right off the bat, I told her about my dreams to open up a series of lumpia carts around the city. She was on board, in particular as a guinea pig for product testing. I hesitated a little at first, thinking "Geez, another Pinay engineer. Do I want to go there again?" But I realized I was looking forward to the next meeting just a little more. All of a sudden AB and I were seeing one another outside of ACE. In groups at first, then just the two of us. At first, neither of us wanted to commit to anything, which was fine with me, though I didn't have anything else going on at the time. Both of us were recently out of long term relationships, and didn't want to rush into anything.

Some weeks later, we're now dating exclusively, meeting each other's friends/family and making plans to go to Mexico, you know, the usual. I guess it's true that you'll find something as soon as you stop looking. So now what? I think both of us are trying to figure out where we fit in each other's life. My biggest mistake in the past was to allow myself to be defined by the relationship, putting everything else aside. So now we're just enjoying the new romance and building a healthy relationship, not getting too far ahead of ourselves. But go ahead and take me off the "single" list. More later.

Vegas + Hooters = ?

Leaving tomorrow night for Vegas with DG, DT and JW. Looking forward to getting out of town and kickin' it with some buddies for a long weekend. We're staying at the Hooters Hotel (I think it used to be the San Remo, down by MGM). Insert joke here.

Here's some Valentine's Day ownage...

IMG_8217,
originally uploaded by Fred Jala.

Yes, that's a gorilla in a belly dancing costume. Some of you know, some don't: I've been seeing AB for a couple months now (more on that some other time); as Vday approached we talked about what we were going to do to celebrate. Eventually we decided that the theme was going to be "Cheesy," whatever that means. You can see what it meant to her.

Oh yeah, she got me but good. There's more pix on my flickr page.

Oh, if you're wondering, I got her a card with some cherubs on it and we went to the Spaghetti Factory for dinner.

Aught 5: Best. Year. Ever.

Even though it's that time of year, it's rare that I stop and reflect on how things have gone over the last 12 months, mostly because it doesn't serve much purpose to me to relive the past, unless there's a lesson to be learned. Lurking there also was that little twinge of regret (at least recently), that there was some potential gone unmet, opportunities lost, time wasted, etc. Not so much in '05, though. Over the past few years I've done quite a bit of work to get to this point in time where I feel like I have control over my own life again and am starting really enjoy things. Put another way: this year, the inner Fred matches the outer Fred.

This blog is an example. In the past, I really wanted to make stronger connections to the people I know and care about, to share what's going on in my life, yet couldn't (or wouldn't) for whatever reason. I mean, shit, it took me months to tell my closest friends and family about the divorce and I just don't want to be like that anymore. This is a good start, I think.

People are noticing, too, which helps validate the whole process, to let me know that I've made progress. A coworker of mine, whom I've known for, jeez, 10 years now remarked to me some time ago "It's good to have the old you back." I wanted to say that the old me is gone forever, replaced with something better, but I know what he meant.

I accept change as a process that should be embraced, rather than fought. I am comfortable with ambiguity. I am as old as I feel. I'm learning how to network. I understand the difference between fashion and style. I'll look you in the eye and not get uncomfortable. Among other things.

It's a good start, and there's always things to work on, such as being more confident in myself and projecting that outwards, but now the setbacks won't send me spiraling into days or weeks of depression. At the risk of sounding terribly sentimental, I'm looking forward to seeing all of you in '06; no matter how long we've known each other, y'all should know that I appreciate your friendship and support very much. Have a good year.

-Fred

Quite possibly the coolest thing ever

I'm not one to lust over material possessions (ok, I really am), but how badass is this? I'm not sure I quite buy the claims made by the seller, in particular the passenger capacity, but I'm thinking I could pull some mad trim driving this thing around, so alls I need is room for one more...Love the name.

The JL421 Badonkadonk is a completely unique, extremely rare land vehicle and battle tank. Designed with versatility in mind, the Donk can transport cargo or a crew of five internally or on the roof, and can be piloted from within the armored shell or from an exposed standing position through the hatch, thanks to special one-way steel mesh armor windows and a control stick that pivots up and down to allow piloting from the standing or seated positions. The interior is fully carpeted and cozy, with accent lighting and room for up to five people. A 400 watt premium sound system with PA is mounted to project sound both into the cabin and outward from behind the windows. The exterior is a steel shell with a rust patina, and features head and tail lights, turn signal lights, trim lighting, underbody lighting, fixed slats protecting the windows, and a unique industrial-strength rubberized flexible skirt that shields and protects the wheels to within an inch of the ground, while still allowing for enough flex to give clearance over bumpy and uneven terrain.

"I literally exploded with laughter..."

“literally” has been so overused as a sort of vague intensifier that it is in danger of losing its literal meaning. It should be used to distinguish between a figurative and a literal meaning of a phrase. It should not be used as a synonym for “actually” or “really.”

Is this part of the so-called dumbing down of America? It's basic English, people. Or is it an example of the constantly changing nature of language? I always strive for precision with language, whether it's speaking or writing, so ventures like this are appreciated. The sad thing is that most of the examples come from journalists and writers who, presumably, should know better. And what about their editors?

4 foot rule, my ass

I never bother to stop for the petition folks, but for this one issue I've made an exception: Seattle's new strip club rules. If I want to bury my face in between some chick's tits and pony up the $20 or so for the privilege, then I should be able to, goddammit. This isn't about getting my rocks off, it's about freedom. You'll thank me later.

A dime and a nickel

It's been just over 15 years since high school; last week I reconnected with a friend whom I haven't seen in maybe a dozen years, RT. Every once in awhile D and I would talk about the old 'hood and wonder about our classmates-actually, we seem to do this everytime we get together (I guess that's one of the signs of getting old). But I digress-RT's mom called my folks a few weeks ago out of the blue, trying to get ahold of me to 1) let us know that RT and JT were getting married in Hawaii and 2) invite me to a reception/open house at RT and JT's pad up north. I was excited to go-RT and I lost touch during college, I went to the UW while he went to Stanford. Yet, there was the usual trepidation-will we be able to reconnect, have we gone in completely different directions in the intervening years, is he the same guy I knew (am I the same guy he knew)?

Long story short: qualified "yes" to each of those questions...sure, our lives are much different now than they were when we were 18, our circles are much wider (along with the waistlines), but as we caught up with each other's lives, it started to feel familiar, the old jokes were still funny, the memories good...we're the same, but different. It'll be nice to get reacquainted.

As I was leaving the party, RT called my car a "yuppie car." Yup, he hasn't changed, though coming from a Volvo driver, I don't think he has much leg to stand on.

RIP

Got the news today that JG, one of the founding partners of the firm I work at, passed away last night after fighting cancer for the last couple of years. We worked together on quite a few projects during my time at TBP; he was a big influence on how I approach the profession, and design in general. He let me loose with my own ideas, while providing a guiding hand to make sure the thing can actually be built-for that, I am grateful. I also appreciated his directness and honesty-if something stinks, he'll let you know. He told me straight up once that I was a "lousy" project manager. After the shock wore off, I realized it was exactly what I needed to hear.

I'm not sad-J wouldn't allow it if he were here anyway. Everyone at the office has been preparing for this day for some time, so while the mood was more somber than usual, it was business as usual, which I'm sure he would want. I'll attend the memorial and hopefully learn something new about J.

Bruce Lee, bringer of peace and unity

How cool is this? Generations of ethnic conflict in Europe possibly healed by Lee's example:

"The ethnically divided Bosnian city of Mostar has agreed to erect a new symbol of unity -- a statue of kung fu legend Bruce Lee, worshipped by Muslims, Serbs and Croats.

A group of enthusiasts came up with the idea of honoring the childhood hero of the city's ethnic groups in 2003, on the 30th anniversary of his death. They launched the project, found donors and waited a year for the city's approval.

"We plan to erect the statue in November in the center of the city," Veselin Gatalo, a member of the Urban Movement organization, told Reuters by telephone on Monday.

This will be a monument to universal justice that Mostar needs more than any other city I know.

He said Mostar, scene of fighting between Muslims and Croats in 1993-1994, needed a symbol of justice, mastery and honesty -- virtues upheld by the late Chinese-American actor."

Having only been to Croatia, I see the conflict mainly from their perspective, and have tended to sympathize with them, though I'm sure that all parties acted just as horribly during the war.

New addition to the family...sort of.

My entire life, my idea of family was quite nuclear: Mom, Dad, Brother. That's it (well, okay, at one time that included "wife" but that's another story). We Jalas are immigrants, except AJ, who had the great fortune of being born in Tacoma ...I never felt much of a connection to my aunts, uncles, cousins, etc.; we were separated by an ocean and a culture and sometimes the four of us is all I can handle. Every once in awhile I'd hear of what's going on with them: so-and-so graduated primary school second in her class; remember your cousin Baby-she's a pharmacist now; that's all I knew about them. Sadly, I've lost 3 grandparents without every really knowing who they were; what's perhaps even sadder is that while I loved them on some level (family is family after all), it was difficult to muster the emotion that usually accompanies a loss that close. The most time I've spent with any of them is the few weeks I was in the P.I. when I was 14 (though Lola Mary did live with us here for a few months back in the late '80's)...

Which brings me to the present. Mom's sister, B, along with uncle R and the two kids have been living in SoCal for the last few months after immigrating from the P.I. Now they are moving to O-town next week, and I'm a little weirded out, frankly, in the way that happens when values or concepts you've held to all your life suddenly change. I'm going to "meet" them later this week; I'm looking forward to it, in the sense that I can connect a little bit more to my history, though I don't feel like there's any hole in my life that needs to be filled.

Leaving Belltown

After getting the news that my building went condo some four months ago, I've been searching for a new place to live. They offered to sell my current unit to me, at a decent price, but it's not the right time for me to buy, both from a financial and lifestyle standpoint. Dad and I chatted over breakfast about this après golf this past weekend. I questioned the actual benefit to my net worth; yes, the house is an asset, but being hundreds of thousands of dollars in debt offsets that in my mind. People seem to view houses nowadays as more of an investment rather than simply fulfilling a basic need, but my guess is that appreciation of the property has more to do with inflation than an actual return on investment. I could probably do better by playing the markets than sinking dollars into real estate, plus it's more liquid. My 401(k) seems to bear that out, at least in the short term.

It's not just about money, though. I'm liking the sense of freedom that renting offers; I don't feel the need to get rooted down to any particular place, I can try on different neighborhoods for size, see how it fits me. Which gets me back to the headline of this post. I've been in Belltown for nearly two years, and while I appreciate the conveniences of being in the middle of the "action," truth is, I didn't take much of an advantage of them while I was here. I'll miss being within stumbling distance of the hottest bars in town, the view of Elliott Bay, the view of the chick in the apartment across the street, and that's about it. I've applied to another building and should find out soon if I'm their type. It's a little more money, but somewhat quieter; there's an Irish pub downstairs and a Whole Foods under construction 3 blocks away (I don't know which is more dangerous).

If all goes as planned, I'll be moving in 2 weeks. I'll keep you all posted.

'Nuff said.

China

I'm already thinking about the next big trip. I was having dinner with pops and AJ last night up in Northgate, Dad offered to take the family to China (Beijing, Hong Kong, Shanghai) next year...Sounds good to me. AJ wanted to go to the Shaolin temple, I have no idea where that is, other than somewhere in China.

Hmm. 2 weeks in China with my parents and brother. Should be fun, though I learned a couple things when I went with them to Florida earlier this year. 1) Bring earplugs 2) Find some time for myself. Maybe I'll just pay for a separate hotel room, heh heh.

A random story...

Here's an exchange I had with one of the hawkers in Budapest (it was dusk and things were quieting down along Vajza Utca, the main tourist gauntlet in the city):

Him: Hello, my friend, can I interest you in some theater tickets?

Me: No, thanks.

Him: Bus tour?

Me: Nope.

Him: Museum discounts?

Me (walking faster): No.

Him (perhaps sensing he's losing me, now in a more conspirational tone): Pussy?

Me (pausing, maybe a little too long): Uhh, no thanks.

Him: Well, let me know if you change your mind...

Me (giving him the "twin six-shooters" hand signal): Ok.

In Defense of Intelligent Design

Some find that hard to believe, so it may be helpful to tell you a little more about our beliefs. We have evidence that a Flying Spaghetti Monster created the universe. None of us, of course, were around to see it, but we have written accounts of it. We have several lengthy volumes explaining all details of His power. Also, you may be surprised to hear that there are over 10 million of us, and growing. We tend to be very secretive, as many people claim our beliefs are not substantiated by observable evidence. What these people don’t understand is that He built the world to make us think the earth is older than it really is. For example, a scientist may perform a carbon-dating process on an artifact. He finds that approximately 75% of the Carbon-14 has decayed by electron emission to Nitrogen-14, and infers that this artifact is approximately 10,000 years old, as the half-life of Carbon-14 appears to be 5,730 years. But what our scientist does not realize is that every time he makes a measurement, the Flying Spaghetti Monster is there changing the results with His Noodly Appendage. We have numerous texts that describe in detail how this can be possible and the reasons why He does this. He is of course invisible and can pass through normal matter with ease.

Yes! It's all starting to make sense for me now...Seriously, if ID becomes part of the public school cirriculum, then they need to teach other creation theories as well (Hindu, Aztec, Native American, Muslim, Scientology et al). At any rate, I like the imagery better than Christianity.

Thought for the day

Some people are like slinkies
Not really good for anything,
But it would bring a smile to your face
If you could push them down a flight of stairs

(via email, dunno who wrote it)

On the way to Warsaw

The day after the accident the plan was for D, C and me to take the train up to Warsaw to meet up with J and K. I was excited, since this would be my first train trip in Europe, though that was tempered somewhat by the events of the previous day and basically of the previous year (I've had a string of transportation related mishaps lately, for some reason). We borrow K's aunt's car for the trip up to Lodz, which is Poland's second largest city and where we would catch the train. K's dad and sister gave us a quick drive thru tour of town- lots of old crumbling factory buildings, a large palace and Europe's longest shopping street. We did stop at the cathedral for a quick walkaround, where we saw a replica of the Shroud of Turin.

We exchange warm goodbyes with Krzystof and Kasia, who make sure that we get on the right train and are comfortable in our compartment, which we share with a lone businessman. About 45 minutes later the train stops, which we've done a couple times already to allow another train to switch tracks and pass. This time, though, was different-I look out the window and see people milling about outside on the tracks. Odd. A few minutes later the conductor comes in, talking rather animatedly to the crowd that's now gathered in the corridor. People are asking questions, and the conductor gives both a shrug and the two palms down "keep calm" gesture; now I'm starting to get concerned. David asks around for someone who speaks English, a woman explains that the train in front of us has derailed and we're heading back to the last station so that we can be taken around the accident via bus. Bus? Okaaayyyy....

A few minutes later the train jerks into motion and once again we're moving, backwards. We stop in Rogow, a town apparently big enough to have an actual station, but not much else. Our businessman companion, who up until now had been completely silent, tells us to get off the train and wait by the station for the bus, which will take us up ahead of the wreck, where we will catch another train that will take us to Warsaw. We thank him, gather our gear, and disembark, following the crowd up a footbridge and over the tracks, gathering around a newsstand across the road from the station.

Since we're going to be late, David and I try to find a phone so that we can call K and let her know we're running late. The phone in the station is out, there aren't any other phones around and we don't know enough Polish to borrow someone's cell (I did bring a phrasebook, but it's from the '50s-curses!). So we wait, hoping our hosts up ahead will find out what's happening. The crowd stirs, and our compartment-mate finds us and tells us to get back on the train; somehow they've found a way around the accident. "I'm going home," he says. "No reason to go to work today." Rather than go back up and over the footbridge, we squeeze through a hole in fence to cross the tracks and get back on the train.* (Here's the station and our buddy)



By now we're probably 2 hours behind schedule, hopefully J and K aren't too worried. I'm wondering if I shouldn't be worried; my transportation karma is coming back to bite me on the ass or something...we eventually pass the train wreck:



It looks like that car full of gravel lost control, plowed into the platform and jumped the track. Kinda cool; I've never seen a derailed car and fortunately no one appeared to be hurt. We finally arrived at Warsaw's main station, found a phone and called K. Apparently news travels a bit slower in Poland: J's first words to us may have been "Where the fuck have you guys been?" He and K had been looking for us, going so far as to buy a ticket ahead one stop, thinking we may have gotten off at the wrong station. We explained what had happened, even showing him the pictures I had snapped of the accident...

The dirty joke thread

Ok, I'll start:

A tourist was strolling through a small seaside village when he happened upon an old man, sitting on the edge of a dock, sobbing quietly to himself. Concerned, the tourist asked what was wrong. The old man looked up, his eyes red and moist, and pointed to a fishing boat tied up at the end of the dock. "See that boat? Every day for 28 years, I made my living on that boat, no matter what the weather or sea conditions. But do they call me George the Fisherman? No!"

"See that house on the hill behind you? I built that all by myself, and 40 years later, it's still standing, without a single leak or crack in the plaster. But do they call me George the Carpenter? No!"

"And that vineyard over there? I started it from just a few scraggly, half-dead plants, now my wines are famous all over the world, sampled by presidents and celebrities. But do they call me George the Winemaker? NO!" He was back to crying at this point. "But fuck one goat..."



Now it's your turn...

Oh, the day's not over yet...

The last thing I wanted to do after the accident was get into another car, but Kasia wanted to show us around some more, so after a little nap David, Cheri and I squeezed into her car, a yellow Fiat (Gulp!) and drove down to Lask (my keyboard doesn't render the characters properly, but is pronounced "wask"), about 10 minutes from Kolumna. It's about 20:00 now, dusk just starting to fall as the town settles down for the evening. Most places were already closed, so we just wandered around, first stopping by the main church in the center of town then walked through town square. There's a second, smaller church in town, whose name escapes me, but was originally Protestant before being converted to Catholic some time ago, and now serves the armed forces community (I believe there's an air base nearby).

Anyhoo, what's remarkable about this church is that it's made entirely of wood, probably the only such structure within miles of here (I think the forests had disappeared many moons ago, so almost all structures here are masonry). The dark exterior stain smelled suspiciously of creosote...that's a photo of it up top (not mine-taken from this site). We walked around the outside a little and were just about to move on when the front door opened and an older lady stepped out, presumably the caretaker. Kasia wanted to show us the inside so she talked to the lady a little and we were allowed in. We dropped a few zloty in the collection box and wandered around the main floor. It was kind of like being in a log cabin, with big timbers and logs used as the primary structure (we later learn the wood used was larch), the lectern was decorated with seashells and stones, and there were beautiful vibrant paintings scattered throughout. We learn that they are struggling with upkeep, not suprising as we're standing in a wood structure that's several centuries old; we can see water stains in the ceiling above us. The caretaker points a finger upwards: do you want to see?

Sure, we nod, thinking we'll get to hang out in the choir balcony and get closer to the ceiling (maybe she's thinking these "rich" Americans will donate to the cause). We climb the narrow stairs to find the caretaker in the far corner, fishing around for something; it's a string, which she yanks on and a tiny trap door swings open, some 12 feet above our heads. Wait, what? Next thing you know this lady's swinging around a 15' aluminum ladder and sets it in the opening, climbing up like she does this every day. I look up and see a hand beckoning; we look at each other, shrug "what the hell," and follow her up (though it took a little convincing for Kasia).

The attic is dark and everything you touch leaves you sooty. The caretaker points out some of the temporary fixes for the roof, ranging from plastic sheeting to expandable foam spray for the bigger gaps. After the tour, we climb back down, wash up and thank the caretaker. We walk around town a little more, then head back home for dinner with the parents. Not wanting to make K's mom cook after a long day, we head out for pizza. If I remember correctly, it was ham, cheese and corn pizza, which was a bit strange, but not bad. After dinner, they insisted that we stay with them rather than go back to the hotel. That was mighty nice of them, though at the time I was hoping for some Fred time to decompress (plus I was needing to drop a big deuce and didn't want to do that at someone's house). But, we couldn't refuse their hospitality and so we bed down for the night, wondering how much more excitement we could take in one trip.

Accident at the Manhatan

The day after the wedding, K's folks held a BBQ at the house, where a small but lively crowd showed up for sausages, glabki (which D and I helped make), cake and vodka, natch. I wasn't feeling too bad physically, though I was still embarassed about my earlier escapades, though that didn't keep me from sampling the Zubrowka. Everyone assured me that it was fine, so I just let the whole thing drop. That evening we (J, K, K's parents and grandmother, J's mom, D, C and myself) head off to Uniejow, which I mentioned earlier. We had a quick late dinner and settled in for the night.

The next morning after breakfast we toured the castle and grounds, including the town across the river. It was a beautiful sunny day, and the plan later was to head to Lodz, which at one time was the primary textile center for Europe. We were scooting back home, conversation ranging from the scenery to Polish driving habits when one of us spied a gas station named "Manhatan", which we thought kind of funny, a bit of America here in the middle of Poland. Suddenly I heard a commotion up front; coupled with a jerk left, then right, of the van, I realized quickly that something was wrong. I look to the front (D, C and I were in the very back of the minivan) and saw a little Fiat stopped in the road, presumably to turn left into the Manhatan. It was apparent that we couldn't go around, due to the lack of shoulder, and also that we weren't going to stop in time, given the speed and the fact that this van was carrying 9 people at the time. We dive under hard braking, and I hear the tires squeal as I brace myself against the seat in front of me. I would like to say that I had some profound insight into life's mysteries at that moment, but all I had time for was "Oh shit, we're gonna..."

BAM! We hit the Fiat's back right corner, sending it spinning counterclockwise, towards the culvert that went under the gas station's driveway. That it did not end up in the ditch is a miracle, but I think it did catch the driveway curb, which caused the car to barrel roll once, landing upright. Now the Fiat is almost facing us directly, and I remember looking through the opening where the windshield used to be, into the eyes of the Fiat's occupants, which were wide open in shock at what just happened. A few seconds of complete silence passed (though to me it felt like minutes) as everyone seemed to do a mental inventory of their physical selves. Am I still alive? Ok, good. What's next?

Suddenly the quiet broke into angry Polish, and people poured from their vehicles, gathering into a group in front of the battered Fiat. All except for D, C and myself, still sitting in the back of the van, wondering what else could happen. I heard "Uh, Fred, let's get the fuck outta here," realizing then that we're sitting ducks if we stay in the van, which had basically traded places with the Fiat. Safely on the side of the road, I saw the Poles were still engaged in a tense exchange with each other. We Americans removed ourselves to a shady spot far from the action to begin the decompression process. K's mom received a bump on the leg, and it looked like the driver of the Fiat banged his arm a little bit, but otherwise everyone was fine physically. My next thought was to grab the camera and snap a few pictures, but I thought better of it, it just seemed wrong at the time.

We were now killing time, waiting for the police to show up. A few locals gathered to survey the scene. D and I grabbed some Cokes (sweet-in glass bottles!). The police arrived about an hour later, administering breathalyzer tests to both drivers (both coming up .00); after a quick check of the van, we were back on our way. I have to admit, during the ride back my ass was puckered up tighter than a sheep's during WSU frat rush week, each bump and shimmy adding to my already nervous state. We finally pulled into the driveway at home, my main thought being "I could really use a nap right now." The plan to go to Lodz that day was shelved, since we got back a little late and J and K had to take J's mom to Warsaw so she could head back to the states. Instead K's sister, Kasia, took D, C and me to Lask to wander around. But that's another story.

Test post

I am doing 43 things.

I've been published (sort of)

Discovered this as I was Googling myself (don't lie, you do it too) to see where this blog comes up in the search listings. My first attribution. I think that deserves a beer.

The site is 43 Places, which at first blush seems like flickr for travelers (they're run by a local company, so gotta support that). I'll dig around the site a little, maybe start an account, and tell you what it's like once I get a feel for it.

Oh BTW, this page doesn't come up anywhere, in the first 10 pages anyway. Gotta figure out how to change that.

Most Interesting?

IMG_0416,
originally uploaded by Fred Jala.

Flickr says this photo is my most interesting. I have no idea what formula they use to make that determination; I think it's a combination of views, comments and number of times it's "favorited." I don't think it's my most interesting, but that's just me.




In case you're wondering, here's my least interesting photo: