One Sunday Run

3am – got up and couldn’t sleep any more. This flight from Australia 2 days ago that took more than 32hrs and time change made me tired, but unable to sleep properly. My brother Les was up and reading something. We talked for a while and at 4am he went back to sleep.

5am - the weather didn’t look so good. The weather report on the radio said the flood warning was in place(!). Very heavy rain was already flooding Austria and Czech Republic and was mercilessly moving our way. So instead of doing the usual trail run I decided to run into the city to the cathedral. At least this way there was no mud under my recently cleaned shoes.

The city was empty at 5:30am. Scary empty. Only a few drunk punks were coming home from a party. It was kind of hard to run on uneven cobble stones around the old town square and it was taking more energy. As I was crossing one street a DHL truck stopped, let me pass in front of him, the driver rolled the window down and said in broken English “I have a great respect for you , man” . He was probably thinking I didn’t speak any Polish after seeing my American Eagle jersey. I said “dziekuje” (thanks), smiled and went on. This of course made me feel good. I guess I could have been a drunk going home and my presence there would have triggered a different reaction.

Coming back, I ran past home. 1.5 hrs of running on Sunday just didn’t seem enough, even though it started raining and the wind picked up (I have a marathon coming in less than two months, like it or not, the runs need to be longer than that). So I ran past home, passed the railway embankment, radio station and went along the Russian cemetery with T-34 tanks at the entrance. Those tanks have been greeting anyone entering the city from the South for over 60 years and they have become a part of me, just like the parks, bridges, the cathedral and the old villas in that part of the city.

Back in the old days we were fed a lot of war movies and TV series. One of them was about a crew of a T-34 tank that fought along the Russian Army all the way from Russia to Berlin. Those 4 guys and their dog, lovely German shepherd “Rudy” were our childhood heroes and we often played “the tank” in our backyard.

It was no wonder that when I was a kid I wanted to climb inside one of those tanks at the cemetery and feel the real thing if only once. Now, many, many years later I was standing in front of those tanks again and thought about the old days. The pedestals were high, but the hatches in one of them were open and I sure wanted to climb into it again.
I may still do it sometime.

P.S. I did it!

GOOD AS GOLD

Moving the whole family to a new location is never easy. It involves a lot of stress from organizing accomodation, car, shipping the household goods you don't want to part with and parting with a lot of things you can't take with you. It also involves a lot of money (which increases the stress part), but that's a different story.

So we moved from Chicago to the Gold Coast Australia. Another country, another continent. Few friends have since asked me WHY THERE? And this is my attempt to answer that question.

Back in 1989 when I first came to Australia with my Australian wife, we arrived in Melbourne, stayed with her mother for a month or so there, then went to meet her father who lived on a farm few hours inland. Melbourne made a good impression on me, it is a huge city, a bit European in many ways with many nationalities cultivating their culture, but after Hawaii it was simply too cold. And so was the farm, being also exactly the opposite of everything we were used to so far. We bought a used, rusty Ford Falcon station wagon, loaded it and headed North.

Sydney. Much nicer weather, beautiful harbour and endless suburban sprawls with segregated nationalities that didn't seem very welcoming, sorry. Not far from Sydney we stayed in Newcastle to meet another part of the family. I could almost see myself there, the town was the 'right' size, weather was fine, beaches close, but the heart just wasn't there.

We drove further North, another 800 kms or so till we hit the Gold Coast... Well, here it was like the love of first sight! A stretch of modern beach towns for over 30 kms with just about everything you could ask for, except snow perhaps. For me crossing the Southport bridge, seeing the beautiful marina on the right (and I always had a thing for boats), canals everywhere, mountains on the left - did the trick.

I guess not many people have the luxury to choose a place to live like that and I feel very fortunate in this respect, although we were then very poor. Piss poor, as they used to say here. Our rusty Falcon just barely made the trip and for the first few months (yes...) we slept in a tent in a caravan park in Kirra. I am even a bit hesitant to write about it, because some things still hurt after all these years. One thing was sure then: there was no plan B.
I guess the emotions you go through tie you to a place, well... we sure got tied up alright.

Anyway. In choosing the place to live we were not looking for employment opportunities, but rather the living environment 'in toto'.
At the risk of sounding arrogant: do you know how much do the elephants eat every day to maintain their huge bodies? A lot. An arrangement is made for them to find sufficient food which seems very difficult from our point of view. I'm not saying we shouldn't worry about our jobs, but simply making an observation that an arrangement is made for us to have sufficient food and shelter, always.

On the Gold Coast jobs exist because many people from around the world want to come here either on holidays or permanently. Before we left for US 5 years ago, 1000 people were relocating here a week! Sure, not all stayed, but the numbers are huge.

So there, in a nutshell.
And this time around we simply went back to our old stomping ground, good as gold, mate, good as gold.
By the way, there's another place 200 kms North from here, Sunshine Coast. If Gold Coast were my wife, Sunshine Coast wold be the mistress...

T34 - 217

When you approach Wroclaw in Poland from the South (as the Russian Army did exactly 65 years ago) you will see 2 tanks on pedestals guarding a cemetery on the right side of the road. They are the famous Russian made T34 tanks that some say, won the war. They outclassed all other tanks made during WWII being relatively light, fast, maneuverable and most of all, simple to make. Like all tanks they were also vulnerable, especially in the city.

This particular one, with the number 217 on the turret came all the way from Kursk, fought many battles and made the gunner, sgt Niczajew famous. He was the only crew member who survived up to this point.

As the tank was engaged in heavy fighting along Gajowicka Str, it was hit by an anti-tank missile and immobilised forever. Sgt Niczajew died. It happened right in front of a church that survived the war unlike most of the buildings within 1 mile radius from it. The old greystone church still shows all the bullet holes and chips from shrapnel on its surface.

I walked by this church almost every day on the way to school, was baptised in it and took first communion there. As a kid, never really thought about what had happened in that city in 1945 till many years later. I guess at some point I had to relive that most dramatic time in history after seeing its evidence everywhere.

Sgt Niczajew... I know from published letters to your families that you guys used to think about the people who would live in Wroclaw after the war. I am one of them and, standing in front of your tank, I salute you all.

Someone once said that when a soul, who is by nature immortal and full of bliss enters a body (sort of like a man in a tank), an incompatible situation arises. Or you're kidding yourself...

I hope you know what I mean.