MISJA 21: Podróż dookoła Polski w 21 dni Euro

Nasi wysłannicy z Londynu i Łodzi - Petter Larsson z City University i Maciej Stańczyk z Gazety Wyborczej - przemierzają kraj w poszukiwaniu największego sukcesu i porażki Mistrzostw Europy w Piłce Nożnej UEFA - Euro 2012.

Poznań - John Seymour

  • piątek, 24 czerwca 2011
    • Poznań should be proud of its linguists

      I understand that English is considered an ‘international language’ but it still amazes me how so many people in a foreign country are able to demonstrate their fluency.

      English people, notorious for lacking in any language skills apart from the odd ‘gracias’ at a restaurant in some overdeveloped Spanish holiday resort, could learn a thing or two from the Polish. People on the continent are comfortable with our language and each youngish person I’ve met has been able to at least utter a few helpful words.

      I understand that the older generation in Poland were taught Russian during their school days but the younger people encountered here in Poznań have obviously benefited from the change in syllabus. Some speakers may have been stronger than others in my native tongue but even those who weren’t so fluent managed to tell me what I needed to know.

      I’ve had to use my Polish phrase book on occasions – usually when buying telephone credit from a kiosk – but I slightly enjoy trying to communicate in the local language and I believe it shows some courtesy. On my infrequent visits to the little green huts, positioned conveniently close to tram stops, I have noticed that they have housed people who do not have a firm grasp of the English language. Maybe I have just been unlucky with the ones I’ve visited but this topic has had me racking my brains for negative experiences and the kiosk issue was all I could muster.

      I have been hugely surprised with the number of people in the city who are able to switch between Polish and English so seamlessly. I feel slightly uncomfortable criticising a Polish city on its English when back home you’d be lucky to find a youngster who could mutter the line “je m’appelle David”, even after years of studying French in school. So, it seems like a pot-calling-kettle-black moment when I judge the linguistic skills of the Polish.

      However, putting my uneasiness to one side, I can leave Poznań knowing that one stereotype has definitely been confirmed – Europeans are great with languages. Coming from a university where so many languages are echoing down the corridors, it is hard not to feel a little bit embarrassed about knowing only my native tongue. I do not think people travelling to Poland next year will be in any serious trouble when it comes to communicating and, from what I have seen here in Poznań, it is a nation ready for the test.


       

      Szczegóły wpisu

      Komentarze:
      (0)
      Tagi:
      brak
      Kategoria:
      Autor(ka):
      john.seymour
      Czas publikacji:
      piątek, 24 czerwca 2011 23:11
  • czwartek, 23 czerwca 2011
    • Pocket of poverty delved into at Szyc Stadium

      Before accidentally walking among Wilda’s Corpus Christi procession, I had been to check out the final best and worst places left on the list created by Poznań’s people.

      My first trip took me to Sołacki Park in the north-western Sołacz area of the city. The area is the home of grand villas and contrasts greatly with some tower block areas found a short tram-ride away.


      The park comprises of a large pond surrounded by green spaces and benches. The scene of tranquillity looked like a place popular with families taking a stroll, people wanting a quiet spot to read a book and courting couples.


      I can see why this park was high on the list of must-see places. However, despite the beauty of this location, I wanted to check out the place on the not-so-nice list – the Edmund Szyc Stadium.

      Being a football fan, I was intrigued to explore a ground that has remained pretty much the same since its construction in 1929. This certainly was an arena left untouched, except for the foliage that had consumed it making it very difficult to spot from the road.

      As I approached the large mound-like construction I quickly realised I wasn’t in the best part of town. An elderly man sat alone in a dumped armchair on the pavement and broken bottles were strewn across the ground.


      I saw two teenagers emerge from the top of the stadium and make their way down the bank which resembled that of a motte-and-bailey castle. I wondered if this was a place for youngsters to have a drink and a smoke, away from the eyes of the authorities. I wondered what kind of reception I’d get if I walked in, with backpack and camera at the ready, on a bunch of local teens who didn’t take kindly to strangers.

      With this in mind I walked the perimeter of the stadium to assess if it was safe for me to enter. The immediate thing I noticed was the amount of litter and household rubbish festering in the midday heat. It is obvious that a lot of fly-tipping goes on here because this wasn’t the odd discarded crisp packet or cola can.


      After deciding that all was quiet on the Szyc front, I trod a path through the tall grass and headed for the summit. Once at the top I hopped over the wall and there I was, on the top tier of what resembled a football stadium.

      There were the usual graffiti tags on walls, which I have grown accustomed to during my stay in Poznań, and beer cans lay faded in the sun. I could make out where rows of seats once stood, but now only the remaining concrete nubs offered a place to take the weight off your feet.

      With cricket calls rattling all around me I made the descent down to pitch-side. Once at the bottom I turned around to see the old players’ tunnel. A rusty iron gate adorned with the spray-painted artwork of local youths covered the opening.


      Surprisingly, the pitch didn’t look to be in too bad condition and I would be happy to play on that if I was a local kid having a kick-about. The goalposts remained, giving the whole ground an I Am Legend atmosphere. It was as if the team that played here –Warta Poznań I believe – just upped and left, leaving the site to crumble and become a dumping ground for household junk.


      When I exited through another access point, I noticed people had set up home in what looked to be the old changing rooms or ticket offices. Men, beers in hand, were chatting away outside these dilapidated facilities while their laundry dried on the line. Am I right in thinking that these people are squatting here illegally? My host at my hostel said they are homeless and she was very shocked I visited the Szyc Stadium.

      I walked along the side of the stadium on my way back to the tram stop and noticed another structure that had signs of life. An old piece of chipboard had been pulled in front of the doorways accessing the former toilet block and a white bench stood outside. This pillbox-like section again reminded me of post-apocalyptic movies; people taking refuge in whatever buildings they can and shunning strangers. I was curious by this point to see if anybody did indeed call this place ‘home’. I swung my leg over a small wall and approached the concrete hut. As I edged closer, avoiding the broken glass, I noticed out of the corner of my eye a colourful towel pegged to another washing line. I had second thoughts about intruding on someone’s patch so I went back the way I came.


      I couldn’t believe that this ugly, concrete shell is inhabited by the least fortunate in Poznań’s society. Stereotypes of Poland have been erased during my stay but this place reminded me that all is not perfect in this rapidly progressing city. I can understand why this stadium was on the do-not-see list because it is at odds with the 2011 impression left on me by the affluent city centre.

      Szczegóły wpisu

      Komentarze:
      (2) Pokaż komentarze do wpisu „Pocket of poverty delved into at Szyc Stadium”
      Tagi:
      brak
      Kategoria:
      Autor(ka):
      john.seymour
      Czas publikacji:
      czwartek, 23 czerwca 2011 22:16
    • A Polish custom or rude behaviour?

      One thing I have noticed while in Poznań’s shops is the opting of employees to place your change on the counter instead of in one’s palm.

      Maybe this is a cultural thing but I feel a bit foolish when I stand there with my hand out for a few seconds while the person behind the till counts my change, only for them to evade my hand and choose the counter’s top instead. A little embarrassed I pick up the coins and get out of there.

      In England it varies depending on where you go but surely it is just polite – and quicker - to place the money in your hand if it is conveniently positioned under the till assistant’s?

      Maybe the Polish public can enlighten me on my observation? Maybe I have just been in certain shops or is this custom prevalent in places up and down your nation? Or, am I just being too darn sensitive?

      Szczegóły wpisu

      Komentarze:
      (18) Pokaż komentarze do wpisu „A Polish custom or rude behaviour?”
      Tagi:
      brak
      Kategoria:
      Autor(ka):
      john.seymour
      Czas publikacji:
      czwartek, 23 czerwca 2011 19:15
    • An unexpected brush with Wilda Corpus Christi procession

       

      After a busy few days experiencing the delights of Poznań, I decided to get to bed early last night and recharge my batteries in time for Corpus Christi.

      I woke up this morning, wiped the sleep from my eyes and listened to the street outside. A few minutes later I thought it sounded strangely quiet for Wilda – almost like a Sunday morning. Then I remembered – most people are off work for this special Catholic day.

      I headed out around noon because I still needed to take in a couple more places on the do and do-not-see list compiled by the people of Poznań. After returning to the Gazeta office and giving my views on these locations I thought I’d head back to my hostel early so I could write up my findings.

      The day was quiet, similar to a Bank Holiday back home, and I thought to myself, “Oh, maybe Poland isn’t so religious after all?” Early in the day it looked like the people of Poznan were just grateful for the long weekend or the opportunity to have a meal with the family.

      I didn’t notice anything too ceremonious while riding the bus back to Wilda either and I began to think that Poznań, a hub of business and education, may be a little more secular than smaller towns in Poland – I was wrong.

      When I got off the bus a kilometre from my hostel I noticed the first indication that this was no ordinary Thursday. From a distance I spotted a stationary police car parked in the middle of the road. Was there an accident or a violent attack? Maybe the rumours about Wilda being a hotbed for crime were about to be proved true right before my eyes?

      My immediate thoughts couldn’t have been further from the truth. There was not a gang of youths on the street but a mass of people, mainly elderly but also younger attendees. The group, in excess of 1000 I’d say, slowly made their way up the road I was walking down. Men and boys in white robes leaded the procession and young girls throwing flower petals were close behind.


      The music, provided by a brass band, was quite catchy and despite my failure to understand the Polish lyrics, I quite enjoyed the rendition. The procession sang a haunting hymn as I made my way towards them.

      I noticed a platform on the other side of the street; it resembled an altar found in a church and a large board showing a religious picture – a man kneeling to receive some bread from, who I believed to be, Jesus – was erected behind the microphone-equipped altar.


      As I stopped to witness this religious phenomenon – one that I have never seen in England – the crowd began to grind to a halt in front of the specially-constructed platform. I apologise for my lack of religious terminology but a man donned in white robes took to the stage after being carried in a regal-looking, gold-covered carriage.

      People began to kneel before the religious leader. One by one the standing crowd – with the exception of a few oldies who probably couldn’t kneel as well as they used to - began to reach for the tarmac in a sign of respect for the Catholic priest – I did the same, when in Rome and all that, hey?

      The elderly man, who had the undivided attention of the throng of people, was helped onto the platform by some junior members of the church. He began to read out a transcript but raised his voice at the end of particular sentences to create a song-like speech. Those in the audience would answer his words with a similarly tuneful response.

      As he spoke I tried to guesstimate how many people were in attendance using a similar method I use when counting how many away fans turn up to a Torquay United game. The figure I came up with was over the 1000 mark but more people joining the group may make my prediction wildly under the true total.

      Everyone looked mesmerised – except a few fidgeting youngsters who had to be restrained by embarrassed parents - with the man on stage and they were hanging on his every word. I was in awe of this unity. England is becoming increasingly secular and spectacles like this are confined to small pockets of likeminded people. Furthermore, London accommodates such a wide range of religions that it would be difficult for a whole street to come to a standstill for one faith. It was refreshing to witness a singular and not pluralist community meet to mark this Catholic occasion.

      Szczegóły wpisu

      Komentarze:
      (2) Pokaż komentarze do wpisu „An unexpected brush with Wilda Corpus Christi procession”
      Tagi:
      brak
      Kategoria:
      Autor(ka):
      john.seymour
      Czas publikacji:
      czwartek, 23 czerwca 2011 18:06
    • Busy day taking in more must-see sights

      I have just got in after a tiring day visiting more of Poznań’s tourist attractions, and as I sit down to write this, the heavens have opened.

      The hot and sticky day created perfect storm weather according to a tourist guide and his words are ringing true now. As the flashes of lightning illuminate my room, I am now somewhat pleased that I decided against staying out and sampling a few more of Poland’s beers in the Market Square.

      This morning included a tour around the 100-year-old Imperial Castle, and I was even invited down for a nose around the cellar. The underground section was transformed into a bomb shelter during the Nazi occupation of Poland between 1939 and 1945. The cold air hit me as I descended the stairs and a smell of damp was hanging heavily. Original paintwork, which guided those wishing to escape the shells to more secure chambers, was still present on the walls. Painted German words are visible on original doors, and freshly-laid rat pellets are the only indication that the cellar has been accessed since the Second World War.

      Despite the underground protection, my guide informed me, the building never came under aerial attack from the Allies. The Red Army attacked it in 1945 as they lay siege on German-occupied Poznań but it appears that the subsurface conversion was a precautionary measure.

      As we made our way back up the stairs away from the dingy cellar my guide explained more about the castle’s architecture and decor. When the Nazis occupied the castle, they decked it out entirely in new fixtures and fittings as it was planned to be a residence for Adolf Hitler when he visited Poland. This plan never came to fruition. However, because the castle survived the war unlike many other Nazi constructions, the Romanesque-style building houses pristine examples of Nazi decorations.

      After my private tour of Zamek Cesarski I was in the mood to take in another historic spot, but the place I had in mind was a little grimmer. I had read suggestions before I arrived in Poland to take a trip to Fort VII which is near the Ogrody area of Poznań. The fort was a concentration camp used by the Nazis during the Second World War to exterminate mentally disabled people from the Poznań area.

      To get there, I hopped on a tram to Ogrody and once I’d stepped off I had a look for any brown signposts which usually indicate a point of interest’s nearby presence. No such joy. I was a bit apprehensive about asking people where my destination was in case I came across as a morbid or insensitive tourist, so I resorted to my Boy Scout map-reading skills.

      After a long walk up a road I was starting to feel my head boil as the day reached noon. My destination was nowhere in sight yet I knew I was in the correct area. I took a quick break at a supermarket to buy a Magnum ice-cream before heading back off again. I think I was on the outskirts of town because three-lane carriageways and car dealerships were all around me – a sure sign. I waited at a bus stop to see if Fort VII was a named bus stop – it wasn’t – so I thought I’d better head back to Ogrody to get my bearings again. The bus was going to be half-an-hour - quite a long time when you’re starting to cook in your foolishly-chosen black polo shirt.

      Once aboard the bus, I began to think about what Polish dish to try once back in the city centre considering that I had abandoned my search, but then I noticed it – the sign for Fort VII. I frantically reached for the buzzer to let me off the bus and make my way there before I got too far away. No wonder I was lost; signs for Fort VII are noticeable when you are some distance away but as you get unwittingly closer, the signs dry up and you have to scan around for indications that a fort is nearby. I realised where I had gone wrong – my destination was hidden among trees and I was probably munching on my Magnum instead of keeping a beady eye out.

      I walked down the long road leading to the entrance and was confronted with the words ‘Konzentrationslager – Polen’ in that classic German font. I headed for the opening before hearing the distant shouts of some Polish words. I carried on but realised that a security guard was calling to me. I went back up to see what the problem was and, after outlining my lack of understanding, I managed to decipher the commands barked through his moustache and headed for the visitors’ entrance.

      As I walked along the path that had been trodden among the tall grass, I got a sense of the eeriness of this location. I only heard one bird singing as I made my way to the correct entrance and the melancholic atmosphere didn’t subside once inside.

      The place was bizarrely quiet. I heard the coughs of a staff member in an office but I walked straight past into the gas chambers and prison cells. The majority of information was in Polish so I had to imagine the horrors described. I did translate one word, though, using my trusty phrase book – ‘śmierci’ – which was written above a guillotine. It didn’t take much to figure out what word came before this Polish word for ‘penalty’.


      I only noticed one other tourist while I was there but he was never in any of the same chambers as me. I was left alone in these gloomy death cells and I’m not usually one to be spooked but this place certainly raised the hairs on my neck.

      I don’t know where the staff members were because there were desks dotted around without occupiers. It would have been good to be able to ask a guide some questions about the items on display but no such luck.

      After visiting each of the eight chambers I took a look around the museum section which houses photos, items of clothing and letters of the deceased. These relics add physicality to the horror of which I have only seen on documentaries or read about in textbooks. As I cast my eyes over the artefacts I had a quick look at my watch and realised that it was nearly 5pm. A scenario ran through my head of being locked in these chambers by a keen security guard who wanted to secure the premises quickly before darting off to scoff his wife’s homemade pierogi. With the thought of having to count sheep in that place, I made a swift exit.


      I headed for the Ogrady tram stop and trundled along towards the Poznań Cathedral. Ihave a lot of places to visit this week so I thought I would squeeze in three attractions while the weather was good. Now, I realise most of you probably know about the significance of the Catholic Cathedral so I won’t go into detail about my visit – take a look at the photos instead.


      Poznań has a lot to offer when it comes to history and I believe this will be an asset come next year’s Euro 2012 tournament. However, the signposting for Fort VII could be better – I know this is not the main attraction of Poznań but if signposting for pedestrians is lacking here, maybe it’s lacking for other places too. The staff – well I couldn’t really comment on the staff because there was only one encounter with a blunt, Polish-speaking security guard. Furthermore, the information boards at Fort VII and other places that could be visited by tourists could be written in English – if not so already - in time for next year’s influx of visitors.

      Szczegóły wpisu

      Komentarze:
      (7) Pokaż komentarze do wpisu „Busy day taking in more must-see sights”
      Tagi:
      brak
      Kategoria:
      Autor(ka):
      john.seymour
      Czas publikacji:
      czwartek, 23 czerwca 2011 01:09
  • środa, 22 czerwca 2011
    • Poznań Zoo is a major plus for city

       

      Yesterday my travels took me on an early morning stroll around the manmade Lake Malta before heading to Poznań Zoo to take a look at the Elephant Pavilion.

      I set off quite early because I also wanted to cram in a trip to the Botanical Gardens to the west of the city centre. However, I forgot that I was due to attend the Bulgarska evacuation at 5pm so I shelved the horticultural visit for another day.

      Lake Malta was simple to get to on the tram system, and the leaflets detailing all the tourist attractions I received in the tourist information office on Monday came in very handy. I was following the thin purple lines, representing the tram routes, to my destination while thinking that this is becoming too easy, I kind of want to get lost but the  maps do not allow me to.

      When I arrived at Lake Malta the first thing that struck me was the sheer expanse of the water. The water seemed to stretch out endlessly into the distance and made me disbelieve that this was constructed by man, not nature.


      The second thing I noticed as I started to walk beside the river was the lack of people soaking up the sunshine in this beautiful spot. Yes, it was around 11am but the temperature was rising and I would have predicted a few more towels out. The park seemed popular with cyclists – some keen to give their bikes a thrashing – and more sensibly-paced joggers. A few people had donned their roller-skates, adding a bit of Miami Beach to the lake’s already chilled-out vibe.


      I started regretting my decision to walk the lake’s 5km circumference when I realised that I still had the zoo to visit and my Vans trainers were not the most suitable rambling footwear. However, I was somewhat forced into this decision as no cycle hire shops were open when I arrived. Now, I don’t think I was particularly early so maybe these hire shops should be open from 10am, not 11 – maybe the opening hours reflect the relaxed mood?

      With the sun reddening my face I made my way around the water. A few canoeists were putting in some training and families were making the most of the beautiful morning. At the top of the lake was an area – again closed – housing bars and a spa. I guess on a weekend in July this place comes alive and offers a setting very similar to a beach but within the city. I began to think that if I came a little later in the day then I would see Lake Malta come alive but at this time in the morning it reminded me of an out-of-season tourist town.


      Amid the lycra-clad fitness fanatics and pram-pushing families, I could not help but notice the graffiti that has managed to make its way from the city centre to the lake. This is something I have noticed while in Poznań; graffiti seems to be everywhere, not just on train routes or down alleyways, and the authorities seem to have a lax attitude when it comes to removing it. Now, I consider some graffiti to be very artistic but the simple spraying of one’s name anywhere you please seems a little less Monet-like. One interesting message sprayed across what looked to be an electricity box next to the path at Lake Malta was the message ‘white power’.  I noticed it just as a family of four were walking past that were oblivious to this disturbing and outdated message.


      As I finished my lap around the lake I noticed the hut that had been closed when I arrived was now open and hiring out bikes – just my luck. I grabbed a Powerade from the same hut and headed for the zoo which was a short tram journey away.

      I was keen to check out this zoo after a colleague’s experiences at Białystok Zoo. The zoo was nearly a 2km walk from the tram stop but I believe a shuttle service runs to the zoo from Lake Malta so I could have taken that option if I had known. The entrance fee was 15 PLN which I thought was very reasonable, but this cheap price also had me worrying about the quality of animal care.

      However, when I got inside, my doubts were erased. The zoo is well maintained and I was surprised at the huge size of enclosures for the kangaroos and tigers. The flamingos were also spoilt as they had a huge and what looked to be natural lake to have a dip in.

      I was blown away by the selection of cats this zoo housed. My personal favourite was the yellow-throated marten who was jumping from branch to branch before resting to catch his breath long enough for me to take a picture. The caracals were a lot more prepared for a photo as they were nestled together having a snooze directly in front of the viewing glass.


      The bird section was also home to many exotic and majestic species and would be heaven for any ornithologists. The highlights for me were the condors and the eagles. One condor stretched his wings out and the huge wingspan was something I have never seen before, apart from on flying creatures in Lord of the Rings.

      The zoo’s crowning glory was still to come, though. My feet were getting increasingly achy after a morning of walking but I willed myself on to take in the elephant enclosure before heading for the exit. The state-of-the-art Elephant Pavilion was the crème de la crème of elephant enclosures. The beasts could wander round in the large outdoor area before cooling off in the large pool that was provided for them. Inside it got even better. If the elephants wanted to come in from the sun then they could take advantage of another pool inside which included what looked to be Jacuzzi-type jets or just relax in their clean, spacious surroundings.


      The place was great for visitors too because the Pavilion included balconies which have you overlooking the elephants’ outdoor and indoor areas. I know nothing compares to being free in the wild but this zoo’s animals all looked content and well looked after. I even noticed new enclosures being built so money is being invested into improving animal care at this zoo.

      Apart from the Pavilion, I was equally impressed when I saw a much smaller creature on my way out of the zoo - a red squirrel. In the UK these are very rare and I don't believe I have ever seen one in my lifetime back home. The stronger eastern grey squirrel from North America has killed off large numbers of red squirrels in Britain and their numbers are now dwindling. This little fella even posed for the camera:

       

      I left the zoo with a smile on my face because, after the negative portrayal of Polish zoos following the Białystok exposure, I believe this zoo sets the benchmark for other zoos and shows a new era of animal care in Poland. Hopefully zoos all over the globe can take a leaf out of Poznań Zoo’s book and create living spaces similar to those I saw here.

      Szczegóły wpisu

      Komentarze:
      (2) Pokaż komentarze do wpisu „Poznań Zoo is a major plus for city”
      Tagi:
      brak
      Kategoria:
      Autor(ka):
      john.seymour
      Czas publikacji:
      środa, 22 czerwca 2011 11:00
  • wtorek, 21 czerwca 2011
    • Poznań becomes movie scene during Bulgarska evacuation

       

      Poznań’s emergency services congratulated themselves today after successfully executing a mock evacuation of Bulgarska Stadium in preparation for Euro 2012, despite only 130 people volunteering to take part.

      The exercise at 5pm included fire crews, police, men in biohazard uniforms and even a helicopter. I have to say that it was a very exciting event and the crews involved all performed their roles brilliantly.


      I turned up thinking the event would simply consist of members of the public being directed speedily to the exits, but I couldn’t have been more wrong. I arrived at the 43,000-capacity stadium at 4:45pm and there were only security guards outside but this was soon to change.

      At 5:20pm, a puff of smoke represented a bomb exploding and the evacuation exercise was underway. When we got outside I couldn’t believe what I saw – it was like a scene from American TV show CSI. Men with gasmasks on, who had turned up during the half-an-hour that I was inside were walking around in both orange and yellow forensic suits ushering those feigning injury into hastily-erected decontamination tents. The tents, dark green and militaristic, reminded me of emergency hospitals set up in warzones or after earthquakes have struck.


      The people who kindly gave up their Tuesday afternoon to act injured were covered in dust and some even had blood on their clothes to add even more realism. The ones who were feeling the effects of the fictional chemical attack were ordered to strip down to their underwear and dump their clothes in large disposal bags which looked much like the sandwich bags in your kitchen drawer, only bigger.

      This is where I came in; The Polsat TV station was in attendance and they thought it would be interesting to see how I fared asking for attention in English from the emergency teams, considering that I wasn’t a recruited actor. I was a little nervous but I agreed.

      I thought I’d head for a tall chap in a high-visibility vest and tell him I felt dizzy and nauseous. I asked him where shall I go to get treatment for my symptoms but he just coyly smiled and replied, “No”. This was like getting blood out of a stone because he didn’t know my language too well so I headed for a gentleman who seemed more enthusiastic.

      This Pole’s English was impeccable and he asked me what my symptoms were and then escorted me to the decontamination tent. He was holding my arm as we walked and I began to think what my fate would be. I had seen what happened to others who entered the decontamination tent and I was beginning to worry that I would be stripping down to my tight boxers in front of the cameras.

      When I arrived at the tent a German greeted me. There is always something comical about the German accent in medical situations and this was one such occasion. He told me to write my name on a large disposal bag and as I was doing this I noticed another brave soul had got in the spirit and was standing in nothing but his Y-fronts. When I had finished scrawling my name on the plastic zip-top bag the German man, complete with gas mask, told me, "I need you to put your clothes in here." Now, I know Arnold Schwarzenegger is Austrian, but this request reminded me of his line in Terminator 2 – “I need your clothes, your boots and your motorcycle.”

      With this movie scene emerging from the depths of my memory I looked straight into the German’s goggles like a rabbit in headlights. I noticed a bead of sweat trickle down the inside of one lense as I told him, “not on TV!” He was surprised at my prudishness and said: “yes, come on!” The Polsat cameraman came to my rescue and assured the clothes-hungry German that he had enough footage and a view of my pasty torso was not necessary...phew!

      After my narrow escape I watched the rest of the action from outside; Paramedics were rushing people on trolleys into ambulances, photographers were snapping away and I even noticed a crazed man being wrestled to the ground by zealous stewards – all for practice of course.


      The real finale was yet to arrive – the chopper. I was chatting to the Polsat team when we noticed a helicopter circling before making its descent. The dust thrown up by its blades was making me squint but I looked through my fingers as it touched down outside the stadium. I don’t know what it was doing exactly but I believe the emergency services just wanted to test every means of transport.


      I have to say that despite the measly turnout, the exercise was carried out meticulously and very professionally. European fans can rest assured that if Ayman al-Zawahiri feels the need to make a name for himself at the Euro 2012 championships, Poznań’s emergency services will definitely be up to the task.

      Szczegóły wpisu

      Komentarze:
      (8) Pokaż komentarze do wpisu „Poznań becomes movie scene during Bulgarska evacuation”
      Tagi:
      brak
      Kategoria:
      Autor(ka):
      john.seymour
      Czas publikacji:
      wtorek, 21 czerwca 2011 21:04

Kalendarz

Lipiec 2017

Pn Wt Śr Cz Pt So Nd
          1 2
3 4 5 6 7 8 9
10 11 12 13 14 15 16
17 18 19 20 21 22 23
24 25 26 27 28 29 30
31            

Kanał informacyjny

    Szukaj nas na:

    Wybierz język

Nasi misjonarze