Back in the Saddle....

I arrived back in Slovakia on a sunny Thursday morning. The prop plane from Prague was filled with three people including myself, which solved the mystery of why the one-hour flight was so expensive. I was really happy to be back. I had flown from Seattle on New Year’s Day, spent a day and half totally alone in Prague, basking in my quaint hotel room and exploring the winding old streets of downtown. I took pictures as the city got dark and drank vodka in a hotel lobby. It felt good after being home with day after wonderful day of seeing people.

My manager and my teammate Dita picked me up at the airport and we had girl talk for the whole hour ride back to Ruzomberok. One good thing about language barriers; you can have girl talk and not worry a bit. I got word in the car that we were supposed to go to the spa hotel for the next five nights but had to veto that idea and decided to stay in my own apartment at least long enough to get some laundry done. I wasn’t at all excited about unpacking just to pack again. Part of the reason I was glad to be back ‘home’ was to be in my apartment, with my things, and my food, and clean clothes folded in a closet. The things you miss when you’ve been living out of a suitcase for three weeks.

So after rushing to unpack I made my way to the gym for practice. It was there that I revealed to my coach that I didn’t have a contract any longer with my team. It’s a long story but basically I had a contract until Xmas and I wanted to resign for more money, they tried to play hardball, I had to be a bitch. The problem is now solved but there was a week of drama filled nonsense; meetings with me and my GM and coach, meetings with my GM, my coach, my President, meetings with me and my coach, meetings with me and my coach and assistant coach, and lots of phone calls to my agent and my parents. And since nothing gets done on the weekends in Europe, I played a game in good faith without a contract because I just couldn’t let my team and coaches down. It wasn’t their fault. My coach supported me through the whole thing like 1000%. He was in the meetings nodding as I went down the list of demands, saying he completely understood and just to give me what I want. Nice….

So there was five days spent at the hotel, eating as a team, practicing, and going to the spa. I never really understood why we were there since we go to the spa anyway twice a week but at least I got free food for five days. However, might have been the worst food I’ve eaten here. I was totally Debbie downer though about everything. Not like me at all but I was super stressed, jet lagged, and sick of being on the road. The upside was it was beautiful outside. Since I had left, snow had blanketed all of central Slovakia. It was a winter wonderland as we drove through little villages and over rickety bridges on our way to practice. The skiers had flooded the area and the spa was packed with people soaking sore muscles. I sat outside in the mineral baths, soft falling snow tickling my face. This place comes alive with snow on the ground.

On Sunday, we drove three hours to this small little town where the whole gym shows up to the games and sits over the court, banging plastic sticks together. As I was in line to get coffee before warm ups, a group of 20-something year old guys were all taking shots of hard alcohol. Yeah it was going to be that kind of game. The gym was freezing, the court was slippery and conveniently short for the 40 year olds on the opposing team, and the ball was worn down. I had my winter coat and gloves on when I was on the bench. To add to it all, the shot clock broke 10 seconds into the game and after a 10-minute delay where we all ran around to stay warm, it was decided they would just yell out the time. As if we could hear anything. Not to mention the fact that it wasn’t until after the game that I realized they were counting the time UP and I thought they were counting down. So the very few times I actually heard them yell, ’10 seconds’, I thought they meant 10 seconds LEFT, not we had played for 10 seconds. Who yells out the time you have played? This isn’t soccer!

Anyway, we won and got the hell out of there. On the bus ride back I had a little come to Jesus talk with my GM about not pissing off your best player when she is home for Christmas and could potentially not return. We came to an understanding.

Finally I got my contract resolved on Monday. It needed to be done with. I was so sick of talking about money and really needed to just focus on our next game, which was going to be tough. It was a FIBA cup game in the round of 32 on the Hungarian team’s home court. We took another 8-hour bus ride to southern Hungary and aside from the first room only having one bed; it was a beautiful hotel with fabulous food.

The game didn’t start so well. Our best post player sprained her ankle during warm up, I look over and see two teammates on the ground during a shooting drill and I could feel that some people weren’t ready to play. After many years of playing, one gets sixth sense about these things, especially when most players are under 18 years old. But we recovered and won a pretty tough road game by 11. We didn’t play great but when you take 29 more shots than the other team and out rebound them by 20, things tend to go your way.

After the game, Dita and I started drinking at dinner and ended up drinking with our GM, manager, trainer, team doctor, and bus driver. It was a mix of Slovakia, English, Russian, and Hungarian (but only when we needed more booze). It was super fun. Sad that my only male interaction consists of a group of men that I shouldn’t and wouldn’t ever date. But we did get to hear about our team doctor’s sexual escapades with his last team. As if we really wanted to hear about his threesome. Got to love Europe; where nothing is inappropriate!

Speaking of inappropriate but hilarious. I had an eye appointment when we returned from Hungary. My trainer picked me up and we drove 30 minutes to the next city over. I was over my Debbie downer stage but wasn’t quite embracing life or living in the moment. I hadn’t quite returned to the mental state I am used to. But as we drove and I looked out at the landscape, I finally snapped out of it. The snow had melted in the low country and the sun was out. I could see the High Tatras on my left and the Low Tatras on my right, jagged and white with snow. We passed a huge lake on the way, still frozen over from the cold front but glistening from the sun. It was a perfect day for a drive through the country and I melted into my warm seat.

The eye appointment was uneventful. I’m not sure I actually got an exam but got some contacts that I think are correct. They basically had me look into the machine, shot some air onto my eyeball, asked me my prescription, and had me try on some contacts. Judging by my history of doctor’s appointments in foreign countries, I was just glad to get out of there without having to undress. For once, the only thing I had to remove were my old contacts.

My trainer and I drove back, talking intermittently in Slovakian, English, and international sign language. Saying we were having a conversation is drastically over exaggerating my Slovakian skills and his English proficiency, neither of which are really worth elaborating on. We did take a small detour to a little village behind the lake, driving through the spa town, over streams, down one-lane roads. We stopped at a field where I think he said something about having planted the crops. At this point I’m thinking our luck has ran out on understanding each other. We keep driving and stop in front of a small cottage and suddenly I realize this is his family’s country home. It was really cute, two whitewashed houses with a barn out back and a full view of the melting lake and snow covered mountains.

We took a u-turn at the end of the road and continued back. But first we stopped at the little white cottage as my trainer told me his ‘one sex time’ was here when he was thirteen years old. I start laughing hysterically when I realize what he is saying and he continues on to tell me the girl was 16. That’s when I high fived him.

Nothing like a little trip down memory lane, with your trainer, who despite not speaking English, proceeds to tell me how and where and with whom he lost his virginity. Totally made my day!

A few days later we had our second of two FIBA cup games against the Hungarian team. Since we had won on the road by 11, we had them at home with an eleven-point cushion. We played like we only had to not lose. Such a weird way to do it. Anyway, we got down early, came back, then found ourselves down by about 8 for most of the second half. Our fans were going crazy and our team was nervous I could tell. The game was to advance to the final 16 of EuroCup and our young players got a little tight. It wasn’t pretty and a little strange to play a game where as long as you lose by less than 11, you still advance. We end up losing by 6, the last two minutes had us shooting free throws to hold on and I played keep away from the other team like we were ahead. As the buzzer sounded, the gym erupted and we jumped all over each other at half court. One of our girls was hyperventilating on the side. Kind of scary really. It wasn’t until we got into the locker room and sat down that we reminded ourselves that we just lost.

After the game, I went out with an agent friend who was at the game, never in my life feeling so good after a loss. We had some dinner, drank some wine and then met up with the partiers. That night our whole team went out; players, managers, coaches, fans. It was madness. Everyone was extremely drunk and doing something regrettable. Managers were kissing players, players were kissing each other, and our drummer guy was making out with another super fan. This is of course the week after I write about how I can’t stand going out here. There I was, dancing till four in the morning.

A few days later we had a road trip to Kosice, the second largest city in Slovakia. They are a EuroLeague team, and first in the Slovakian league. It was embarrassing. We were without one of our best players, who after seriously hyperventilating a few days earlier, was advised to rest. We basically have some good core players, then it’s on to the junior team. It wasn’t pretty.

Dita and I had decided to stay over in the city since my parents had raved about it and we needed a break from Ruzomberok. So after the game, we wandered the streets of Kosice, asking every person we saw for directions, until we found our cute pension, picked because my mom couldn’t stop talking about the caviar they serve for breakfast. It was an H-shaped building that looked like it once might have been an aristocratic families home. Music was coming from the center atrium area and as we looked down from the big wooden staircase we saw a bride dancing with her flower girl, happy people clapping all around them. We made our way through the labyrinth of hallways, with rooms named ‘quiet splendor’, and ‘tranquility’, out to the balcony, in through the back staircase to the numbered rooms. I think we might have been put in the old servants quarters but it was equally as splendid, even if we worried about finding it later on our way home from the club.

We were a little tired, irritated about the game, and extremely hungry. So after pampering ourselves in our hotel for a bit, headed out on the town. We had looked forward to a good meal since the four restaurants we rotate through in Ruza are starting to taste all the same. The Italian place we chose did not disappoint. It was very cute, candlelit, with old wood beam ceilings and roped garlic and onions hanging from the wall. There were dusty bottles of wine and wooden tables and chairs, and a young Italian standing next to the wood fire pizza oven. We started with red wine and spinach bruschetta, caprese salads and soft bread. We ate slowly and talked, drinking lazily into the night. I had lamb with rosemary and roasted potatoes; Dita had salmon with roasted vegetables. I had forgotten how good food can be. Dessert was Italian cream mouse with ice cream and hot apple strudel with whipped cream and chocolate. It was pretty much amazing. We both needed a meal with good company and good food.

Afterwards we had planned to meet up with some of the players from the opposing team so we went to the disco. After a few drinks, however, we realized we were tired and not really feeling another night of techno dancing and colored lights.

Breakfast was in the atrium and just as beautiful as my mom had said. We sat around drinking cappuccinos, eating fruits and cheeses, caviar and eggs, and flaky pastries. We had a long lazy morning and finally made it out of the hotel to walk around. It was Sunday so all the shops were closed and all the churches were open. We walked down quiet streets until we heard music and snuck into churches as the congregation sung along to organ music. It was beautiful.

The main street in Kosice is cute, with an old streetcar, typical European architecture and a huge gothic cathedral that we stepped into during mass. After one lap along the main street, and some other walks through small cobblestone alleys, we
decided it was time to go back to the hotel. But first we stopped at the theatre where my parents had seen an opera. The hotel concierge had told us there weren’t any show until nighttime but I didn’t believe there wasn’t a Sunday matinee we could catch before boarding the train home. Sure enough, there was a ballet at 2:30. We were so excited.

After a nap, we headed to the opera house, bought our ticket for 70 crowns (that’s like 3 dollars!), went and had some hot soup, and made it back to our second row seats in time for the performance. The opera house itself was small but just as magnificent as any I’ve seen. There was gold ornamentation everywhere, statues, and red velvet walls. We had no idea what we would see and as the live orchestra started up with the opening number for the ‘Nutcracker’, I still didn’t believe it. Sure enough, Clara and her Godfather pranced around the stage at their Christmas Eve party. I’ve seen the ‘Nutcracker’ many times and although nothing can really compare to the Pacific Northwest Ballet’s rendition, this was pretty special as well. It was complete with the Sugar Plum Fairies and Toy Soldiers, the Evil Mouse King and dolls from all over the world dancing. It was fantastic and in some ways more real than the expensive ballet. We were literally in the second row and although they were skinny, the dancers looked a little bit more like real women. They were ballerinas with boobs! Which just means that they probably eat once in awhile. My favorite part was when the children in the audience, watching from the private opera boxes on the side of the theatre started singing. I thought for a second it was a recording but look up to see all these children perfectly following the conductor. It was magical.

We took the train back that evening to Ruzomberok, always happy to return to this cute little town and my warm apartment.

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