Poland-Day 1

The world’s most famous conundrum or unanswered question is “how long does it take to get to the center of a tootsie pop?’ I have an even better question, “how long would it take a shy, somewhat anti-social coach to become comfortable in a foreign country?” The answer is: 3 days. I have to admit my first 3 days in Poland were tough.
It started with me arriving on Saturday afternoon after flying 10 hours and sitting with my knees pressed up against the business class section. My legs felt important they really wanted to stretch out in business class while my body rode economy. I was served food on the plane that I would never eat; I was offered wine and rum, which I would never drink. I was met at the airport by two young ladies who were to serve as my guide for the next couple of days until we arrived at camp on Sunday afternoon. They both spoke English which was nice. They were wonderful young ladies, very hospitable. One was a student in college, and the other was a professional women’s basketball player in Poland. They led me to a car that was big enough for 1 person, but it had 4 doors and 4 seats. My seat on the plane was bigger. It was very hot in Poland at the time and they told me that we could turn on the air in the car, and then they began to laugh as they rolled down the windows. Ha! Real Funny! They drove me to the apartment I was going to stay at for the night, and dropped me off to get cleaned up before they took me out on the town for dinner. That night they showed me around “Old Town” Warsaw. It was very beautiful. There were many people in the streets, walking around, enjoying the live music and beautiful buildings. We ate that night at a Polish restaurant where they served only Polish food. I am somewhat picky-so I was very nervous about Polish food. I searched the menu for a Polish hot dog. (The menu was in Polish, but surely I would recognize the word hot dog in Polish; I mean how different could Polish be?) I could not find a Polish hot dog anywhere on the menu; maybe just because the 7-11 calls them Polish, they are really not. I couldn’t wait to get back to blow the whistle on the management at the 7-11. (I was disappointed later to find out they were on the menu-hot dog in Polish is spelled nothing like hot dog in English-go figure). I chose a Polish dumpling called a Peorigi. They were stuffed with pork and cheese and they were very, very good. I was starting to loosen up-who knew that my nervousness and anxiety were so closely related to food. After dinner they drove me back to the apartment, (they reminded when I got out to turn off the AC in the back seat-roll up the window) where I stayed alone in a Polish apartment with no air conditioning, nervousness and anxiety had returned. I started thinking about what kind of minor, non-fatal emergency needed to happen for me to fly back home immediately. I was drawing a blank, but I clutched my phone tightly because I didn’t want to miss the call from home. Day 1 down-9 days to go. I will never make it!