Out in the Mud

It rained this morning for an hour so I decided to run instead of ride. I wanted to make the direct connection from town up to the forest paths where I've been running and riding, so I set out from the University and found the 'green' trail on the west side of town. It climbs about 240m in the first 3 km and then drops another 150m into Kvasny Vody. Someone had been driving a large tractor along part of the trail (logging?) turning it into a mud hole. When I got down to the picnic area at KV, I was surprised to meet another runner. Stefan is a mountain runner from a town near Prešov, and wasted no time in telling me that he was 56 years old. He seemed disappointed to find out that I was only a couple of years younger - I think he wanted to beat up on some young guy. I gave him a good run for his money on the climb back up to the ridge, but he definitely had me on the downhill speed (never my strong point). He also showed me a nice detour around the mud hole. Our conversation was a mix of broken Slovak and English, with a few German words for good measure. We didn't exchange contact info, but chances are I'll see him again on the trails - he's training for a bunch of mountain marathons in Switzerland, Italy, etc.

Out in the Woods

Yesterday I decided to go explore some of the trails that my friend Michal had pointed out to me on Saturday. He hadn't been in this area yet either, so I didn't know what to expect. It turned out to be mostly very smooth asphalt, sometimes covered with leaves or moss, but again no car traffic. There wasn't any bike or foot traffic either - I rode for close to an hour though the woods and saw nobody. There was a colorful map at the trailhead showing the yellow, red, green and blue trails, but once you were out on the trails there was no indication which road was which color, or whether a road was actually part of the colored trail system at all. I had to backtrack a couple of times, but eventually came out behind the chaty (garden cottages) in Cemjata. I tacked on an out-and-back to Bzenov - somehow I expected that riding to a place called 'Bzenov' would be more exotic than riding to Jamestown or Hygiene, but there was nothing happening there at all, so I rode back to Prešov. About 27 miles with some good hills - my thighs are feeling it. And I know my bike would be faster if I put the road tires (700x25) on instead of the 700x32 cross tires, but then I couldn't ride the forest paths.

At the Police Again

It was a really nice day in Presov today, and I was looking forward to getting out on the bike again when the police called. I won't bore you with the details, but we spent the whole afternoon driving out to the police station, waiting outside offices with cryptic names in Slovak, getting documents covered with official stamps and so on, all just to prove that the owner of our apartment actually owns the place. Apparently, this is a matter of public record and it's all available on the Internet, but we had to PROVE it. Monika, our colleague from UniPo (the University of Presov) assures us that this was the last time we'll have to visit the police. I hope she's right...

I did have time for a nice run along the river this evening, but the bike will have to wait until tomorrow.

On Skis Again

After much Internet research, it looked like Strbske Pleso was the closest (and only?) place with groomed XC tracks, so we headed over there. A bit west of Poprad you take a road that winds steeply up the foothills of the High Tatras. The town of Strbske Pleso is at about 4300 feet, and would be beautiful except for the fact that a huge windstorm came through about 4 years ago and blew down vast swaths of trees.


The skiing itself left a bit to be desired. If there had been new snow and it had been groomed, it would have been excellent, but the snow was old, the day was warm and the wind had left pine cones and needles all over the tracks. By the 4th lap of the 5km loop, my skis were barely moving. But the views of the High Tatras immediately to the north and the Low Tatras across the valley to the south were impressive. If we don't get more snow, this may be my last time on XC skis here in Slovakia.

After a couple of hours of skiing, we drove back east along the high road with views of hundreds of acres of downed trees (and some beautiful peaks). Back down in Poprad, we ate lunch at a Koliba, a rustic Slovak-style restaurant. I had the 'Fuhrmann halusky' with lots of sausage and melted cheese (and a beer), and Cindi had something described on the English/German tourist menu as a 'domestic slaughter'. I guess they just step out the back door and shoot the first thing they see. Mighty tasty, but you can hear your arteries slam shut.

To work off lunch, we walked across the parking lot to AquaCity Poprad, a giant indoor/outdoor thermal bath and water park resort. We sampled various hot pools and took a few rides on the big slides, but skipped the 'cryotherapy' room where they cool you down to -100 deg C. They say it's good for you....

Nice views of the Spis Castle at night on the way home.

On the Bike Again

I got my bike assembled on Thursday and was all set to ride on Friday when I noticed that both tires were flat. I've been a fan of those green instant patches (e.g. Slime 'Scabs'), but for some reason they don't hold up to the environment in an airplane luggage hold. I'd been riding around Boulder for a month with these same patched tubes, but the patches seemed to have dried out and started leaking by the time they got here. Local bike shops do have tubes, so I rounded up a pair and got out on the road on Saturday.

After about 3 miles of breathing Diesel exhaust, I got to the forest road to Kvasny Vody. This is a one-lane asphalt road through the woods and it's closed to motor vehicles. The road surface is a bit decayed in places so the cross bike is a good choice. I stopped at the top of a long hill where the asphalt ends and the mountain bike trails start. A couple of minutes later, one of the local MTB riders came up the same way and stopped to talk. His name is Michal and he spent some time in Denver many years ago, so he speaks decent English. We were both looking for someone to ride with, so we spent the next hour riding various little roads through the woods, eventually riding back to Presov and exchanging phone numbers so we can ride again.

No pictures - I'll take the camera next time.

Random Musings from the East

They don’t like to be referred to as ‘Eastern Europe’ here – they prefer ‘Central Europe’. And yes, geographically speaking, the center of Europe is in Slovakia, but culturally and economically, this is the East.

Exercising on purpose is not popular here. I’ve been out running on the bike path along the river, and I’ve seen a couple of other people running, but generally I just get odd looks and the occasional giggle (or maybe I’m just paranoid). They’ll probably be really shocked when I get my bike out.

I’m afraid the ski season here is going to be a bust. Next Saturday’s race (near Banska Bystrica) has been postponed until mid-March due to lack of snow, and who knows if it will happen then. The local idea of cross-country skiing is more like back-country touring than like the skating/racing that I like to do.

Even though there’s not much snow, there’s enough to get my car stuck. Peugeot put some totally inadequate (for winter) summer tires on our car, and I’ve been stuck twice on ice already. This morning, I dropped $15(!) on a set of tire chains.

Some things are a bargain here – I can get a beer or espresso in a restaurant for around $1, and a nice dinner is around $10. But I just filled the car today for around $90 – diesel is almost $7 per gallon. Fortunately, I’m getting 42-45mpg.

Back in the ČSSR…

You don’t know how happy you are. OK, technically this was never an SSR, but the Soviet-era mindset is still in evidence some places. Yesterday we went down to the police station to register for our Temporary Residence Permits. A colleague from the university took us over there, which was good because we never could have figured it out ourselves. The TRP office is actually in an industrial wasteland east of town, with only a tiny sign. Once inside, we were buzzed in through a locked gate and directed down the hall to the appropriate office. We had all our forms filled out already, but the humorless woman in the office indicated that everything would have to be done again ‘in Slovak letters’. Our poor colleague was put to work recopying the forms with proper penmanship and grammar, while simultaneously translating requests for the current addresses of all of our siblings, the maiden name of our cat and other information necessary to determine that we were not Enemies of the State. Every document had to copied a few times on an ancient copy machine. One of the women behind the desk spent 5 minutes carefully going through our stack of documents over and over again – after a couple of minutes, it was obvious that she had no idea what she was looking for and was just trying to look important. But after only an hour and a quarter, we were handed a small slip of paper with some impressive-looking stamps which apparently is our Temporary Temporary Residency Permit, which will have to do until we get the Permanent TRP.