Flying shaky Hungarian airline, Wizz Air, to Warsaw. Begin our descent while captain reports a balmy 5 deg outside. Wait...WHAT?!! Here i am breathing steam, jumper absent, jacket deep in checked-in bag. Hmmm...welcome home!
I fare evade on the bus into town as i only have notes and the ticket machine requires the EXACT change...not a grosz more as you will not get change and perhaps the ticket will come perhaps it won't...ahh that's Poland! So here i am, shaking like a leaf, not only for the freezing air being blown into the bus every time we stop but in the fear that at any moment an iron boot clad ticket inspector will board, drag me off the bus by the hair for not having a ticket and then run off with my shoes. Got to the main station relatively unscathed, karma was on my side as i picked up a lay dee's dainty glove when the bus jolted to a stop after the driver decided that he should in fact stop when the light had changed to red, and it was time to use Polish for more than bitching about someone's ghastly fashion for the first time in my life ( although more often than not the one with ghastly fashion understands what you are saying as they are of Polish descent). Note to self, Warsaw station is a weird and slightly terrifying place at night. Although one can procure fresh smallgoods with surprising ease! Heading to Krakow, peering with nose pressed against the window staring at what my Australian brain was telling me was sand, it suddenly dawned on me that it was, in fact, snow which blanketed the forest floor. It was THAT cold. Eeek! Arriving in Krakow saw four of my cousins in formation waving frantically at the train before crushing my bones with hugs and love!!! Here is where i learn how 'hardcore' (said with a strong Polish accent it is mildly hilarious) my cousins are. Two take my bags, four talk at once and suddenly i find myself in an dimly lit, underground bar with beer in my hand. Hi! So I'm one of you're six uncles and you just missed our concert!...Where's your brother and why didn't he come? More beer? 1am rolls around and the day's excitement is tearing at my bones. One cousin takes me home, 3 stay behind. One cousin is unscathed, 3 return bruised, bleeding and one minus his specs! This is Polska! Hard core!
Life calmed down relatively quickly in the following days, if you ignore the litres of Vodka consumed, the late night nation sized pizzas and more bars visited in a week than in my entire drinking life back home. But a trip to Czestochowa to explore my mother's birthplace and meet more family was bound to mellow things out a little. Wrong. Take one phenomenal saxophone playing cousin in a folk/rock/metal band playing in the philharmonic hall; a gypsy-violin playing uncle and a troupe of around ten drunk Poles and trouble ensues. I vaguely remember something about seeing a Jamaican reggae act at yet another underground hovel, obscenely cheap beer and dancing to the wee hours of the morning in the house that my siblings were all born in. Just a regular Friday night apparently. I was due to return to Warsaw on the Saturday but was easily roped into attending an impreza in Czestochowa so stayed on to play hard with the cousins. Stumbling home through the forest at 5am, which was actually 6am with the end of daylight savings, nedless to say the next day was a write-off. Thankfully auntie Iza saved us with a ridiculous Christmas style breakfast with cheeses, hams, smoked fish and creamy salads so i was once again ready to tackle life on the road!
My return to Warsaw, when viewed in retrospect was a food stop. I stayed only long enough to enjoy my auntie Marilla's traditional barley soup and cheese filled, butter smothered, Russian style Pierogi. Of course the day was broken up with Polish chocolates, (Ptasie Mleczko), cheese platters, crusty brown bread and thick slices of smoked hams but tourism was off the menu!
The last of my time in Pooland was spent in Krakow, once again crawling the underworld beer in hand and hiding from the little daylight that was. In the search of tacky souvenirs, Lukasz pushed me onto the traditional form of transport in Krakow, one of the 30+ yr old blue trams to head into the old town. Laughing merrily in my silly way i suddenly notice smoke pouring from beneath the tram. I'm gazing horrified out the window, some others glance over but aren't too bothered by the fact that something is ON FIRE! We carry on as normal for a few stops but finally comes the point at which the billowing black cloud prevents our onward journey and the driver, obvjously annoyed by the inconvenience which has occurred on his shift, irrately informs us we need to disembark. All too gladly i fly off the tram, my cousin laughing that 'this is just what happens in Poland'.
My final night in the magestic city of Krakow started with a meltdown when i realised my flight left not from Krakow airport but from Katowice, merely 2hrs away!! never fear. I made the 6am flight by drinking and dancing the night away before boarding the minibus to the airport, all in tears, perhaps from the overwhelming pain of being torn apart again or from the tiredness gnawing at our flesh. Either way, i made the flight, slept at the airport and fell into my seat on the plane, mouth open and snoring and finally arrived in time to wish my ever expanding sister a very happy flipping birthday!!!
Life calmed down relatively quickly in the following days, if you ignore the litres of Vodka consumed, the late night nation sized pizzas and more bars visited in a week than in my entire drinking life back home. But a trip to Czestochowa to explore my mother's birthplace and meet more family was bound to mellow things out a little. Wrong. Take one phenomenal saxophone playing cousin in a folk/rock/metal band playing in the philharmonic hall; a gypsy-violin playing uncle and a troupe of around ten drunk Poles and trouble ensues. I vaguely remember something about seeing a Jamaican reggae act at yet another underground hovel, obscenely cheap beer and dancing to the wee hours of the morning in the house that my siblings were all born in. Just a regular Friday night apparently. I was due to return to Warsaw on the Saturday but was easily roped into attending an impreza in Czestochowa so stayed on to play hard with the cousins. Stumbling home through the forest at 5am, which was actually 6am with the end of daylight savings, nedless to say the next day was a write-off. Thankfully auntie Iza saved us with a ridiculous Christmas style breakfast with cheeses, hams, smoked fish and creamy salads so i was once again ready to tackle life on the road!
My return to Warsaw, when viewed in retrospect was a food stop. I stayed only long enough to enjoy my auntie Marilla's traditional barley soup and cheese filled, butter smothered, Russian style Pierogi. Of course the day was broken up with Polish chocolates, (Ptasie Mleczko), cheese platters, crusty brown bread and thick slices of smoked hams but tourism was off the menu!
The last of my time in Pooland was spent in Krakow, once again crawling the underworld beer in hand and hiding from the little daylight that was. In the search of tacky souvenirs, Lukasz pushed me onto the traditional form of transport in Krakow, one of the 30+ yr old blue trams to head into the old town. Laughing merrily in my silly way i suddenly notice smoke pouring from beneath the tram. I'm gazing horrified out the window, some others glance over but aren't too bothered by the fact that something is ON FIRE! We carry on as normal for a few stops but finally comes the point at which the billowing black cloud prevents our onward journey and the driver, obvjously annoyed by the inconvenience which has occurred on his shift, irrately informs us we need to disembark. All too gladly i fly off the tram, my cousin laughing that 'this is just what happens in Poland'.
My final night in the magestic city of Krakow started with a meltdown when i realised my flight left not from Krakow airport but from Katowice, merely 2hrs away!! never fear. I made the 6am flight by drinking and dancing the night away before boarding the minibus to the airport, all in tears, perhaps from the overwhelming pain of being torn apart again or from the tiredness gnawing at our flesh. Either way, i made the flight, slept at the airport and fell into my seat on the plane, mouth open and snoring and finally arrived in time to wish my ever expanding sister a very happy flipping birthday!!!
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