Archives

SHIT HAPPENS… EVEN IN NORWAY

Sierpień 27, 2015
pawel

HERE WE GO AGAIN
If you spent some time reading my previous notes, you will know that i left Poland in pursuit of a dream. I’ve decided to became a filmmaker – this was my aim and I don’t see any reasons i couldnt fulfil this purpose. That’s why i’ve made this wacky decision – to travel without money, support and most of all- any strict plans. I’ve endured the consequences amid all this shitty situtations that happened to me on every step, like i was some sort of shit-magnet. Without any assurance what will find me on my trip, I’ve crawled slowly in the same direction: unknown, but – apparently- set by myself . I didn’t give a fuck about the warnings of different helpful advisors: like how unreal it is to realize my dream without proper connections. I’ve chosen to shit on it all, including my own limitations, lack of motivation and – mostly- fear. I knew that back in Poland i would need a lot of money (only to buy a professional equipment) that I could never made on polish wages. I didn’t even mention cigarettes. That’s how the whole idea was born. What I didn’t perceive is that the world has changed and miracle spectacular careers are a thing of the past. Sort of.

MISSION: OSLO!
I was stuck in a moment which i ought to left behind me. I’ve pissed on Arek already, his accusations that I am a thief (yeah surely) and leaving me without my phone, money and food storage. The whole new perspective opened right before my eyes. My norwegian pal – Thord- after hearing my pitty story, set me with his friend in Oslo. I was employed to paint her house. I knew it is a great opportunity to make some bigger money and carry out a valuable recon of the city. So, I’ve part my ways with georgeous Ewa Zielonka and rushed to Oslo for my win-win. Earlier in some kind of pagan ritual, I’ve burned down my shitty chinese tent. I were hoping that along with it, the time of homelessness, wet underwear and uncertainty will disappear once and for all. Hello Oslo, hello CASH and finally – hello to an ironclad roof over my head.
New chapter began even better that i thought. At the Oslo main station i was greeted by a lovely Norwegian girl. Signe was her name. She recognised me almost instantly. It turned out she knows my little blog and she was very fascinated with my story. Or entertained. Whatever. Apart from work with painting her house she offered me a place to sleep. With a separate bathroom. For somebody who used to dream about a pair of dry socks this was like hitting the jackpot. Couldn’t be much better than that. But it was. She was also a director working for National Geographic. While she effused a paradise-ish visions of helping with my carrer I was completely dazed in new possibilities and deep in my soulf i was thankfully kissing the feet of lady Luck for such a straightforward mercy. This way seemed the right way. After all these hardships, finally i got some hope for a bit of tranquility in my life. Unfortunately, this very way turned out to lead me on the street, where i was standing pathetically with all my belongins and desperately thinking how the heck i will survive the next night.
THE NEW BEGINNING…
At the beginning though it all looked pretty neat. I’ve got some work to do, place to rest my polish head and views to make some connections in „the business”. Moreover, I got a chance for additional and certain income. I had an appointment in a Rent-a Tent company . This was about setting up a tent- thing you should know already – which is my favorite spare time activity. I’ve achieved my own style in this discipline, and in this style- master level. Sarcasmo! It was certain by now, that the fire didn’t spare me the chinese curse. I ought to be A Man of the Tent. Ok, now im just pathethic. It is the work I was in desperate need of. I’ve killed the qualifications and were invited to test day the day after. That whole day was emerging into a great, happy completeness. Strolling through the Oslo down the streets that looked like a golden beach, like some polish poet wrote once upon a time. I didn’t recognise if that was the true experience or just the harmonic convergence of suddenly friendly reality. I was soaking up with the buzz like a sponge and falling in love in passing women. Yeah. It all looked pretty superb at that moment.

…OR NOT?
When I’ve came back to the place for the night, i didn’t catch up with Signe and couldn’t reach her on phone. I’ve texted her i got this interview and i will start with her house the day after. I would not fuck up and moreover, didn’t want to disappoint her since she had helped me a lot. But what I did know for sure- that i’ve needed to have some stable income after i will be done with the painting of Signe’s house. That looks simple, huh? Going’ to the Rent-a-Tent I’ve got a call from Thord, that Signe is in total hysteria. She called me the most rude guy she ever met and said that i am basically pure evil. She even cursed me in swears that i don’t know- but i’m certain that it was nothing good. She accused me of escaping my work, smoking in her house, trying to pool a fast one on her (basically cheating) and … fanfares… stealing some shit from her! So again- i am a thief and again I shall bear the burden of „Polaczek”- Polak with diminutive contempt. Thord ordered me to come back instantly and explain myself, threating me to call the police. He said that he thought i am a good person, but instead he thinks i am a bad person. She even told Thord I said so much bad things about Norway! Gosh. After way back I discovered i am already packed up. My employer-to-be readied me to get the fuck out SEARCHING THROUGH MY THINGS. Poor girl. Of course, she haven’t found her stuff in my bags… It was found later, but what do I care- it didn’t alter the situation a bit. Though I was completely innocent – I was sacked again. I didn’t steal nor cheat, just delayed the work for one day, texting my employer in advande that i would start later. If she was worried with my absence- why the heck wouldn’t she call me instead calling Thord to call names on me. Wouldn’t it be easier to talk, than to fund everybody such amounts of negativity?
SHIT HAPPENS… EVEN IN NORWAY
And that was all for the luck. Again on the street and with the tent of course. Nothing new under the sun. This one was slightly better than the chinese toy which I’ve burned down so enthusiastically. The sorrounding reality stopped to look so friendly at the moment. I’ve missed the fjords and staying at Ewa Zielonka’s. Maybe- I even shed a tear or two about that. Maybe it was a good moment to retreat, give up? Finally acknowledge that Hans was right, saying that i am a complete loser? After all, all that shit that flew onto my methaphorical face was like an evidence i am to weak. Maybe i didn’t have the proper start-up settings. No support. No funny-money. No connections. No language. Fuck that! Maybe i am connected in some way with leaky tents and the reputation of polish thief, but i am no loser since I won’t surrender! I won’t surrender, Universe! I used to contemplate the polish sense of guiltiness. It accompanies many people in Poland, but not only. I find it characteristic for every religious vertical relation setup meddling in the past in the minds of the nations. Alright it is of minor importance, maybe some day i will publish the book with my thoughts, since it isn’t sellable nowadays. Just a book about cooking up your own shit with weeds. Pardon moi. Let the following situation be the point of the chapter. It happened just after I was threw out by Signe. Homeless again I went to public WC to do some ritualistic socks change. To my surprise, whole venue was covered in human feces. I mean there was shit all over the goddamn place. I was almost comfortable with the fact until someone knocked the door. The i’ve panicked that i will be perceived as an author of this painting by the future generations. In a heat-wave of aforementioned polish sense of guiltiness I was ready to clean up the shit of an unknown nationality with my bare hands. Then I’ve remembered what Ole told me. I am in a kind of bond with him, since we both survived heart break and are still in stasis of every-day fight for financial survival. Ole- the owner of Hardanger Hotel, who pays up his debt with dedication sweeping the butts in front of his venue, had a similar situation back in the days. Some fuckwit shitted all over one of the hotel rooms, cause it made him horny. I hope that in need of the money to pay his hotel back- Ole wasn’t cleaning it all by himself. And then I got this single thought that from every shit you can still form a rose. Or whatever.
If I would have to clean the walls of Hardanger Hotel I could do that for one hundren NOK for per hour and do it as slow as it possible to have more working hours..If shit will happen again, Ole -you’ve got my number(0047 46939228).

LIVING IN A TENT

Sierpień 20, 2015
Zrzut ekranu 2015-08-20 o 00.45.48

Alright, i’ve got this shitty tent (it was clearly a chinese revenge on wealthy europeans to whom all theses plastic shits were being shipped day by day for crappy paper-money). Did i mention i got it from the mall after Thord helped me when I was in distress mode: Come on, Universe, please help me! Let me know I am not alone! He gave me a lift to a nearest shop, at the same time laughing at me. He was like „what the heck, you’re 27 you and don’t have any money, no girlfriend, no job?”. Later he introduced me to his employees, some of whom were Poles too. For them it was obvious I was a fruitcake. I am not. Nevermind. It seems now as if it was so long ago.
When you are on your own you really can feel the fullness of life. The time slows down, it bends your mind and your german-geist spine. I mean, look around, all this thought system was build more or less in protestant Germany. Slavic people are much more moment-oriented, kind of improvisers. We are, along with Russians, the jazz musicians of the nations. Anyways, i woke up in this shelter (which is already soaking wet and did I mention it gives no protection from wind whatsoever?) and got no cigs. Not even one cancerogenic little heaven!  Shit, you got to put yourself in my shoes- when i got no cigarettes I can’t think properly. Also: i am addicted to sugar-rich, H3PO4 mixture known worldwide as cola. Just the red one, no stinking pepsi crap. Although I am a heavy addict (just these two substances), it is nothing compared to what i saw in Odda. But first things first.
So I woke up in this plastic rag, already filled with the stench of my feet. No cigs. No food. With the reputation of a thief I was the poor lad that ‚ve got robbed by a psychopath. He took my food rations. As long as I can recall he counted every couple of earned NOK joking ruthless about Poles getting pocket change for the work back in Poland. I think he stole the money from himself and forgot about it. Whatever, man, whatever.

DCIM100GOPROGOPR0728.

Hardanger Fjord

Alrighty then, I took the tent got on my feet and went to a roadside bar. Couldn’t get any tobacco for my remaining 100NOK (I was short 7NOK) so i went for food. You get the idea how addicted I am? Like the Maslow’s hierarchy of needs should have been updated for me. But the venue’s owner, Maria, who looked at me (I must’ve looked wasted and so was my spirit) with a sort of condescending concern and compassion, gave me 200NOK. Still in the game, huh?
The game of cigarettes! Maybe you know how cigarettes became so popular among the men of America? The tobacco companies got themselves a lot of government contracts for this kind of cancerogenic love. That’s how Lucky Strike made a shitload of money. Then came Edward Bernays with his propaganda. His task was to sell this toxic crap to woman. That is how femme fatale archetype was born. The slick vamp with a slim cigarette.
Back on the road. I am trying to catch any lift in whatever direction- frankly- i don’t give a shit. Yeah, where to go? There’s nothing except the friggin’ Norway around here. After a while I was in Utne. Spent the money for coke, cigs and a ferry ticket. Kinsarvik. Cool. The owner of a campsite down there lets me pitch my tent for now. I’m gonna go look for a job.
I mean really, look how far I’ve got since morning. Something was pending  and i didn’t know things can get worse in such a simple manner. Or, eventually – better. I’ve found some bananas. Godlike taste if you are hungry. Meh, it is all the matter of perception. I laugh at how soft I were a couple years before when the experiences haven’t carved me yet. There is no turning back. Also: the sensation of time. It is so relative!
So I was walking down the street and knocking to every door with an honest offer – I will work for money. The time was running out slowly as I came nearer to the dusk. Eventually, somebody opened and…
I’ve got work to do. It was Leif. A big guy. He told me to come back tomorrow.
And this is the moment things got worse. Another day I was praising the day before. Why? I WAS ALL FRIGGIN’ WET. My shoes, my pretty new shoes were giving me the impression I was walking on two sponges.  I mean; God, COME ON. But it was nothing. Now i know it was only a dance lesson. Dance bitch, dance to the harmony of the universe. Shit. Obviously, I had no breakfast at all.
Leif really helped me out. He gave me 500NOK in advance before I started painting his house and then he went on a trip. Of course, I ran (!) to the nearest shop. Coke, cigs. My damned shoes were completely wet. Fuck it, right: I am young and strong and the pioneers of this land haven’t even had any cigarettes. Or have they?
After three days in these boots („Whatever you do, take care of your shoes” like that old band Phish used to teach me back in the days) I’ve got a call from my friend – Ewa Zielonka. She gave me boots stained with paint but DRY. (another great person. Gotta chant „I go by with a little help from my friends”. Seriously, I would be dead already if not them. LOVE YOU MY SWEET LITTLE ANGELS! : ***). Shit I am going insane. Too much pressure without fucking credit powered coma. I will get back to that.
Even the owner of the campsite allowed me to stay there.

Since then, Ewa helped me a lot. She feeds me everyday- I mean, seriously, i am like her cat… Good, but it isn’t the way to get your wallet stuffed with cash. Got to find the job, anyhow.
In the meantime I went back to Thord with a rant about the tent. Maybe I was too harsh (I was like „What was your purpose, you want to kill me with this tent man?”) but I showed him this page and the movie about my camp life in the wild and he offered me that he will help me to get success in Oslo. I hope I will not cock it up.
Also: I’ve met some Christians who were playing improvised melancholic music. I’ve made a movie with GoPro bought for money from donation button on this blog. So, I am no longer a filmmaker without the camera, THANKS TO MY UNBELIEVABLE LUCK TO ENDURE SHIT HAPPENING TO ME. And also thanks to the kindness of good people all over the Europe.

The thing is: Money does not make you happy. Not at all. It took me so long to get the concept, but even if you have a lot of this funny papers and childplay coins different colors, patterns and sizes – You are still in huge trouble of being a stranger in a strange land. Why? People made this beautiful, most astonishing and breathtaking planet a hellhole for themselves. Look around: the happiest woman I’ve met in Norway (I’m not gonna name the names), I mean at first glance the girl looked to me as a fountain of joy. After a while of conversation she told me she hates her life and wants to end it. Also – credit. A lot of enterprises here (often on this planet) are credit-fueled. Even being an owner you still got to do a shitload of work. O fcourse back in the days land and water was for free. Clean air. The basics.
So, they got their money but they don’t have a tranquility. I’ve got my serenity though. I am happy to live, to be here and that I’ve met all this people. My friends. Living in the wildlife I spotted that I am not affected by the harsh conditions and theoretically hostile environment. I got my inner peace.
If it wasn’t for the goddamn cigarettes… It is my last little prison, and i don’t even like to smoke. How it comes to be?

CINDERELLA STORY

Sierpień 7, 2015

robotnikPawel

Scandinavian paradise 
There is a clear difference in living standards between Poland, or other post-socialist countries, and western Europe. Worker in Poland, hereinafter referred to as slave, has no chance to earn as much money as an ordinary worker in the West. The road to wealth in my homeland seems so long, and the goal itself completely unattainable. And I wanted to be a millionaire …
It’s realy hard to pierce through in here. I know people, who have completed prestigious faculties, did numerous internships abroad, and work today for the lowest national wage. In a job that does not contribute to their development. Capitalism is not fair. Rat race continues, the winners still lose compared to their friends abroad.
Slaves from post-socialist country, who finally realize how bad their position is, flee to Denmark, Sweden, Norway or the UK. it is not difficult to understand their decision. By doing the simplest jobs like mowing the lawn, or painting walls and fences they earn at least 100 NOK/h, which with the hard work gives monthly earnings equal to 30 000 NOK. In Poland, the profit is much smaller, the employer often pays NOK 10 – 16 NOK / h. Sometimes doesn’t even pay anything. When looking at it, Scandinavia is a coveted paradise for poor.

The owner and the slave
I didn’t want to live like a slave anymore. I’ve had enough. I wanted to finally make more than 3000 NOK monthly. Who has the money, has the power – I kept telling myself, even though I don’t find this sentence completely true. I never managed to find a job in Poland, that would ensure living on a decent level. I wanted to be a filmmaker, documentarian describing the world he explores. But I needed good equipment, and more specifically – a camera.
Typically life gives us the roles we have to play. You’re either born rich or poor. It rarely happens, that someone with already given role was able to get a level higher. Some keep on trying, other don’t even think about it, but let’s be honest – most people fail. The one who’s rich never understands the poor. The one that’s poor dreams to be more than that. Thinking about it, at one moment I decided to risk it all and flee. I didn’t have much to risk though, because I had virtually nothing. Maybe that’s why it was easier for me. I was quietly humming Bob Dylan’s „When you’ve got nothing you’ve got nothing to lose”.
I quickly calculated that by working hard in Norway for six years I could become a millionaire. Then I could go back to Poland, buy myself a small palace, take care of renting, hire Asians, they’re cheaper… and further… further on somehow it would be. I could take care of filmmaking. I have my goal, now I need a plan.

My mission
It was not a first time when I was traveling without the money. I spent a lot of time on variety of voluntary works in countries such as Norway, Sweden, and Italy. But this time it was not about exploring, gaining experience, or meeting new people. I’ve had a mission to accomplish. Get money and buy a camera!
I finished journalism and film studies in Poland, because since childhood I had dreams. I knew I wanted something more out of life than ordinary monotonous eight-hour operating mode. The money was about to make this possible.

Norwegian dream
Looking back, America was once average Polack’s dream, now it’s Norway. A Scandinavian country, in which in few days you can earn enough to live one month in Poland. It is true that most Poles here are emploeyed in worst jobs like picking strawberries, painting etc. for lowest possible wage in Norway, which is 100 NOK / h. By the way, I was once walking about in Denmark, broke, looking for the strawberry field to work on. When I finally found one, the owner pointed at a shed: – you see that shed? I already got 16 Poles in there and I don’t need more.
But back to the beginning of the journey. Before Polack can even flee to Scandinavia, he has to carefully plan everything. Why? To survive out there. It is known that the food in Norway is much more expensive than ours, so everyone from Poland who’s fleeing to Scandinavia is loaded with jars, canned food, cans, pates, sausages and dumplings, to save as much money as possible. Ofcourse, when they finally arrive to Norway, they begin to convert NOK to PLN (Polish Złoty), what they could buy in Poland for it, how much they could send to Poland. That’s life. And then they buy a beer for 80 NOK, or cigarettes, worth daily wage in Poland. Not everyone though, has enough of a self-discipline to eat only what he’s brought.

You’ve got a fast car, I’ve got a ticket to anywhere…
I’ve met Arek on the internet portal. Typical Pole, 22 years old, fan of techno music, disco-polo and songs about fucking. He dreamed of fleeing to Australia. Eventually he put me in a deep shit. But let’s start from the beginning.
Escapefrompoland.com is one of those portals, that allows you to get to know people from the country, who would want to go abroad. of course for profit. Because every hero needs a companion, I deceided to go with Arek by his Fiat Punto. The two always livelier – I thought. I was wrong, but I couldn’t know then.
Our first stop abroad was Odda. We stayed at Cinderellia, iconic tavern in the suburbs. The owner’s name was Hans, he was the first guy who offered us help.. Not only he gave us a job at his estate (painting), but also food and accommodation, completely for free. I was delighted, thanks to his generosity I have suffered no major costs. The road to wealth, my objective, now seemed much easier than I thought.
After one week of hard work I earned as much as I would in Poland in one month. Cool, isn’t? Although at Hans’ there was no electricity nor hot water supply, but I found that better than nothing. After the first payment, I decided to reward my toil of work so I went on a trip. This short trip changed everything, but whether for good, by the end of this I’m not sure…

Bittersweet return
It was raining. I was standing soaked and frozen on the road, praying for somebody to finally stop, damn it. I felt I was really in a bad position. I didn’t know how to get back to Cinderella, there were no buses going this way, I didn’t even have enough money for the hotel, no place to sleep…
And then somebody stopped. It was a woman. She asked – Need a ride? – Sure, yeah – I said. The young woman’s name was Eli. I was a little surprised by her openness, she didn’t even know me at all…
Eli was really nice. When we’ve been talking for some time, she suddenly asked, what am I doing in here actually. Then it began. I told her everything, about my plans of getting rich, about my dreams of becoming a filmmaker and buying a camera. Eli laughed – you wanna be a filmmaker and you’re painting houses? – I nodded. – You know, Paweł… I could help you, I’m a documentarian.
I thought it was a dream, but several dozens minutes later together with Eli we were on a party organized by the creators of a reality-show about two norwegian cowboys, who work hard and party hard. They were just making that second one. The whole team gathered there. How did I even get there? – Here’s a party – Elli smiled at me.
It’s hard to describe exactly what was happening, it was quite a razzle-dazzle. I met many people who to my suprise treated me normally. In their company I did not feel like a slave, I felt then, how it is to be someone. A creator, a player, someone I always wanted to be. Finally Eli brought the camera and gave it to me: – Here’s your camera Paweł, film us!
I was overwhelmed, and perhaps already tipsy? I was filming them all, having great fun and encesing on my feet. Several people took my number, they had orders for me to paint their houses. This all may seem unusual and even unlikely, but it really happened. But things got more interesting when I discovered at 1 AM that bar is for free.

Polack drunkard, thief and what else?
The yell has awakened me. I didn’t realize myself where I was and who’s screaming at me…
– Give me back my 400 euro, you thief! – It was Arek.
– What is… what do you want.. – I was still sleepy, still not sure where I was. Then suddenly I recalled last party with the filmmakers, I probably have drunk too much. I couldn’t even recall, how on Earth I came back to Cinderella, has somebody driven me back, or if I have returned on my own.
– You know exactly what I want, thief. Give me back my 400 euro!
Arek was convinced, that I stole his money, even though I didn’t even touch them. Most likely this bonehead either has lost them, or hid them, or perhaps has spent them, not even remembering where and what he’s been doing. He had no proof that I have taken them, he just thought so. If Polack, then must be a thief, isn’t? This sucks. Everyone can accuse you of stealing, without the slightest evidence.
– Arek, I didn’t take your money. Man, I didn’t even see them… – I said gently. It is difficult to speak calmly with the person who enjoys disco-polo songs about fucking. Arek has unequivocally accused me and it was difficult to reason with him.. Because the whole time I insisted that I did not take his damn money, he wanted to beat me up and force me to confess my guilt. What a primitive person.
The worst thing is, that this idiot has told everybody I’m a thief. I was feeling terrible, even though I was completely guiltless. The worst is, he told that Hans, who assumed he was telling the truth. Later, when he saw me, he asked if I have returned Arek his money, instead of asking, if I have even taken them in the first place.

Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa
Poland’s a country full of people full of complexes, country where most people are raised according to the pattern of the Catholic Church. Everyone feels guilty, for not earning as much as they should, for not having, what they should have, and eventually, for thinking different. They later classify us as drunks, thieves and God knows what else, and we’re afraid to stand up to it, because it’s our fucking very great fault.
The next day Arek was gone. He drove away by his Fiat Puntol. He left me. He took his revenge.
He took with him our whole eatables we collected together, he also took my phone. I had all the contacts there, to family, to my friends, to people I met at the party, to employers whose calls I was waiting for. Arek didn’t even pay me back for the fuel I’ve bought some time ago. Never mind. I was alone. I’ve been called a thief by the person who robbed me.
Are Poles thieves? When I was wondering, what to do now, I recalled my previous stay abroad. When I was once traveling alloy, Poles, who drove me, stole me a bag of clothes. There was nothing of value in there, but for me it was pretty unpleasant experience. I understand that people are different, some people are desperate, they have no money for food, they’re forced to steal, to survive. I’m not gonna judge anyone, but I honestly hate it. And most of all I dislke people, who contribute to the Polack = thief stereotype.
That’s why I didn’t want to tell anyone how Arek treated me. I didn’t tell Hans anything, he probably thought I was a thief. I thought that somehow I can handle it. Maybe.  The most painful for me was however that I didn’t have a telephone…

Cinderella Story
I was still living at Hans’, even though everyone was looking at me with disdain. Unfortunately it was raining most of the time, so I wasn’t getting a lot of orders.
For all this time in Cinderella I was mainly cleaning, once or twice it happened that I painted something. When I was scrubbing the floor at Hans’ I felt like this title Cinderella I was secretly hoping that as in the fairy tale, my fate will change tooI earned very little then, most of the cash I had I spent then. On Cigarettes. On coca-cola. I’m dumb. Money disappear very quickly in here.
Finally Hans told me, that I can no longer stay at his. This isn’t a hotel, and he’s got no more jobs for me. I felt hopelessly. All of a suden I became homeless and completely broke.
My situation may seem hopeless, but there were people, who didn’t reject me and wanted to help me. Ellen for example, 70 years old warm-hearted woman, who I could say – adopted me for few days. She wanted me to teach her how to use facebook, show her how to add pictures, etc.. She also ordered painting her terrace and mowing the lawn. This way I earned some money. However, I couldn’t stay at hers forever…

ererer

Ingrid Bergman Rose in the garden of Ellen

The last money
I spent the night in a hotel for the last money I had. Maybe it’s silly, because as a matter of fact, I was completely broke, but I really needed it then.
I needed to break away from all of my problems, to not go completely insane. Artificially extend the time before the upcoming fall.
When taking the shower, I was intesively thinking about what I can do to survive.
***
Few hours later I was assembling the tent I bought from a Chinese for 150 NOK.
In Poland I could have waterproof and
windproof tent for that price. When I woke up in the morning, all wet, alone in the middle of Norway, without money, food and homeless, for a little while I was yelling to Jehovah, Mohammed and Krishna, because I was not entirely sure which of them was responsible for this.
Fortunately, I quickly calmed down myself and thought to myself that I’ll survive, I rather will, because I always have before. I smiled to myself and wondered how to get a fishing rod here?