Traveling in 2nd and 3rd world countries the past couple of months made me realize how much I love a good transportation system – you know, where a 20 minute flight doesn’t translate into a 12 hour drive. The few treacherously long journeys in southern Mexico left me feeling hot, tired, and nauseous, and without the company of Brian along the way, I don’t know if I would have made it.

On the train back to Krakow, my Ipod shuffle battery went dead, so I made a mental note to charge it that night at the hostel in preparation for the 20 hour bus ride I booked the next day all the way to Kiev, Ukraine. After having it plugged in for a couple of hours, and the computer still not recognizing it, I got a little concerned. I updated iTunes and still nothing. I completely uninstalled and reinstalled iTunes, and all I could get was a few flashing yellow lights on the shuffle and no charge. I did a little research online and it appears I have the Ipod shuffle’s flashing lights of death. Ipod = Dead. What great timing! Just before an insanely long bus ride! Luckily I found that book store in Krakow that sells nothing but books in English and bought one called “Winter Under Water,” which is a lot about this guy dealing with love and a winter in Poland. I thought it was fitting to my previous 2 weeks in the country.

Boarding the bus on Sunday arrived one hour earlier thanks to European Summer time change overnight. The driver, speaking no English, escorted me to the back of the bus behind a nice Ukrainian couple, the lady of which turned to me and said I could ask her any questions if I had any. Turns out this lady actually teaches Russian for foreigners in Kiev. She and her husband were with four teen-aged children and were on their way back from Berlin where they took part in an Esperanto conference. She explained that Esperanto is a simple language that is hoping to become the language of the world. It has bits and pieces that everyone can understand and it has no IRREGULARS! Apparently, they have their own flag, and it is estimated that there are 100,000 - 2 million fluent speakers!

Crossing the border to Ukraine happened late evening, and would have happened sooner had the bus actually had a bathroom in it. Even the buses in Mexico had bathrooms. We stopped about every 2 hours for a bit for the driver to have coffee and for everyone else to pee. Even to that extent, I was surprised at one point when a girl asked for the driver to stop especially so she could pee and on the side of the road.

I noticed immediately a change in the environment after crossing. The cars all turned into the typical old Soviet style, and all the signs were in Russian – an alphabet that is truly foreign to my eye. At one stop, I had the driver help me find a bankomat so I could get the local currency. After that I used the restroom and almost walked into the men’s since I couldn’t read the writing! Luckily, I sort of remembered my Kyrgyzstan guidebook stating the women’s might be marked with that funny kriss-kross forward/backward K. At another stop, I bought a cold drink and a small Kinder Maxi chocolate bar for a total of 7.15 hry. The lady was asking if I had the 0.15 hry, which I didn’t, so out of a 10 hry, I ended up getting back 2.50 hry and a stick of gum. Guess that works out about right.

One of the teen-aged girls back on the bus asked me, in English, if I had some water. I did, but was going to save that for later since I was craving a cold, cold beverage at the moment. I asked her if she had a cup, which she responded “yes” to. I handed her my fresh, untouched bottle of water that she proceeded to rip open and drink directly from the spout, not withholding any sort of concern for germs or other people’s property. I cringed on the inside as she thanked me and handed it back. I get grossed out easily. I am a super germaphobe. I had no idea who this girl was, or where she came from. Sure, I had been using your mother (?) as a translator the entire ride, but still, that doesn’t give you the right to leave your slobber all over my stuff. Ew.

Twenty hours later, I arrived in Kiev. The nice Ukrainian family helped with a taxi to the apartment I was to be staying at that night. To make things more complicated, the girl forgot what day it was and wasn’t expecting me when I arrived. The taxi driver was more than helpful. I couldn’t tell if the tattoos he had on his hand were those from being in the military, or in prison. When things finally got situated, I immediately passed out in my private room.

I’ve always heard it’s the people you meet that make traveling great.

Wroclaw is a town that, unless you’re a college student looking to go out, doesn’t have much to offer the casual tourist, such as myself. Beyond the few hours I spent between the Panorama of Raclawicka (very interesting/controversial circular/3D painting) and the national art museum, the few days were made worthwhile because of the people I met, not just travelers, but locals as well (let’s not forget fabulous Paul and his Polish hospitality!).

On my last night in Wroclaw, I met another American name Rebecca – a girl who entranced me with her stories of working in Tanzania and the Galapagos, volunteering and photography and travel writing. With Rebecca, I dined out, which ended being more than just a casual dinner. We searched the square for cheaper places that just don’t seem to exist. It was getting late. I caved and took the easy route.

“Hey, there’s this great Georgian restaurant I ate at in Krakow, a few times, that gives huge plates of food for low cost,” I suggested. “They have one here, too.”

Dinner was fabulous, delicious, excellent, anything we could have asked for – until the bill. It was a mere 31 zloty. Since we both only had large bills, I dropped a 50 bill in the basket and set it on the side of the table, where it sat for a good 10 minutes while our server passed by. Finally, another girl saw the basket and picked it up. Finally, we could go on our merry way.

Rebecca and I talked so much; it took a bit before we realized we hadn’t yet received our 19 zloty in change. She went up to our server, who immediately acted like she didn’t speak English anymore. She was confused. Rebecca returned to the table concerned, only to be angered when yet another girl dropped a basket with only 7 zloty for us. Yeah, 19 and 7 zloty are almost the same.

Rebecca returned yet again to our server explaining this was incorrect, but she played dumb to the point where Rebecca drew it out on a piece of paper. This was her response:

“The girl who took your money went home. I don’t have your bill anymore.”

Uhm… You know what we got, and you printed the ticket off the computer. And, even though some other person took our money (when you had plenty of opportunities to take it) doesn’t mean that WE should have to pay MORE for one meal and a dessert. We asked for a manager.

The manager came and she, too, played dumb! “I no longer have the bill for you.”

What?! So what?! We can tell you what we ordered!

“But, I’ll have your server get your change.”

Server girl came over, gave us the most horrific look and said, “It’s not my fault, but I make enough to pay your dinner,” dropped the money, and stormed off. Absolutely amazing!

I think it was the first time we felt like we were taken advantage of as tourists in Poland. So much for the tiny piece of Polish hospitality I had two days prior!

P.S. I got my Wroclaw photos up here if you are interested.

Normally, if I heard that someone was serving HOT wine, I would run away as fast as I can. The same goes with hot beer, or hot soda, for that matter. Ew, right? However, when you see something on every menu in town, you start to get a little curious.

“Give me a hot wine!” I said to the waitress at the pierogi place.

**insert crickets chirping**

I pointed to the word on the menu that said grzaniec and they immediately understood that I wanted the hot wine. The cup was delivered steaming and the scent of spiced cider wafted across the table. The amazingly delicious taste brought life back to my frozen body, and continues to do so each time I get it. Ahhh… just what the doctor ordered!

I found a recipe from here for some hot wine in case any of you are interested in my new winter favorite!

After the horror that was my two days in Lublin, Krakow appeared as nothing more than a peaceful dream. Ok, maybe not too peaceful. There were those EIGHT Spanish guys in my room, and there were those two girls who were happy that some guy randomly spiked their drinks in Hungary (really?! are they still smiling looking back at that?!). Speaking English and signing up for organized tours to Auschwitz and the salt mines was definitely a bit of the “easy route”, so I think it left me dealing with nothing more than the tourist industry and not the true culture of Poland.

In order to get in touch with a little more of an authentic Poland, I headed off on a train to Wroclaw (pronounced vrots-laf) on the west side of the country. The train ride itself lasted only 4 1/2 hours, but when your stomach growls every five minutes while you watch your car-mates feast away - even after you think they couldn’t possibly have any other amazingly large piece of food left in their bags - the ride becomes excruciatingly long.

Hanging on by a thread, we arrived in Wroclaw, where I began my search for the elusive Tram 22 just as my hostel instructions instructed. I checked every tram stop outside of the station, but none with “22″ posted were found. This is where I usually start to get depressed because this is when I have to bust out my little piece of paper so I can point and gesture at the address.

I thought a good place to start investigating would be at a stand near a tram stop. They usually seem to be full of information since they view it all day after day. Since I was new to the town, I thought I’d give the phrase, “Do you speak English?” a whirl. Unfortunately, that got us (the stand owner and I) off to a bad start. The reaction quickly reminded me of Lublin, especially the time the guy actually stepped away from me in a “I don’t want anything to do with you” way when I just needed help finding a bus. The shop owner here wouldn’t even look at me in the face!

Disheartened, I moseyed down the sidewalk until I mustered up the courage to attempt with a lady walking down the sidewalk. She actually attempted to communicate with me, even thought it was all in Polish. She did, at least, seem concerned and proclaimed it was quite the journey, but I was still out of luck with Tram 22.

I walked back into the train station to hit up the information stand inside in hopes of them providing me with said information. I stood in line for awhile, during which time old men cut in front of me when I least expected (WTF?!). Finally, when it was my turn, I asked if the guy spoke English. He didn’t. He immediately pointed to some obscure location across the station, I think just to get me off his back. No way, buddy. You’re not getting rid of me that easily. You’re the information desk! I handed him my paper with the address and the words “Tram 22″. In response, he pointed to outside in a shooing kind of way. Fine, I’ll leave, but just so you know, buddy, I was already there!

I needed to think. I walked along the side of the building where the taxis gather. I didn’t want to admit defeat and take a taxi. I wanted Tram 22! Those taxis were looking mighty inviting, all lined up and ready to go to whatever address I so desired… so easy route… so not going to give up! Another man was walking around that area - someone young and well-to-do. I pressed if he spoke English, and to my shock he did quite well! Alas, he was not from around the area and so couldn’t say where the tram arrived. Just my luck! He suggested I try to ask someone waiting at the tram station. It was just my next plan of attack. However, the girls I asked were absolutely clueless to say the least. That was the exact point when I waved the white flag and decided to take a taxi to the hostel. I turned around just in time to see the last car in lin jetting off. “Hmm… guess I’ll ask around a bit more.”

My redeeming moment came when the lady at a ticket stand had at least a little more direction. She sported her glasses and began to jot down a bunch of numbers and some sort of picture. The picture made no sense then, or even now, and when she saw I was still confused she started talking to the guy behind me. Just as I was feeling jipped and pushed off, the guy she was talking to motioned for my piece of paper and spoke English to ME! Excellent! I bought a tram ticket and away we went, but not on the elusive Tram 22. Never actually found that one.

We remained on the tram for only a few stops and then walked a hell of a long way after that. I learned his name is Paul and he was a studying to be a sports teacher. He said that he learned German in school (makes sense since they are so close to the border in Wroclaw) but learned English just by chatting with his sister. It was quite impressive! Along the way, Paul motioned to help with my little red bag, but when I realized it had ALL my important things in it, I had to make some excuse to search for something in order not to offend him when I held it tight. After thanking him for his time and effort, he explained that it was quite common for Polish people to help out like this. Really?! Common?!? Maybe he meant “uncommon”. His English wasn’t perfect. This was definitely a far cry from being shooed and stepped away from when asking for help to this point.

Long story short, Paul walked me ALL THE WAY to my hostel, had to buy ANOTHER ticket for a tram from there, and absolutely refused my money for a new one with a stern, “No way.” It was extremely nice of him to go completely out of his way like this, which got my mind going on if I would be so helpful if asked for help back home. I’m not so sure! What about you? Here’s a little poll on the subject:

When asked for help by someone who doesn’t speak your language, how far would you go to assist?

• I’d tell them I couldn’t help them.
• I’d maybe draw a picture and leave them on their way.
• I’d follow through to the end to make sure they got where they were going.

View Results

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In the end, I settled into my interesting hostel with no help from Tram 22. After confirming from another group who was forced to take a taxi from the train station, I was assured it does NOT exist, no matter what the people at the hostel say. Most importantly, I was introduced to a side of “Polish Hospitality” I had not known up to this point in the trip.

The End.

Arriving in Krakow was no other than a joyous occassion. After dealing with the feeling of being a lonely outsider in Lublin, the familiar sound of the English word on every street corner in Krakow was oh-so-sweet. Seriously, the only word I got in English from the 2 days prior was “5 o’clock” when I got this mysterious “5 o’clock. Tak.” phone call at 4:45 am the day I had to get to the train at the crack of dawn. I didn’t quite know if he was giving me a wake up call, or if he had already called a taxi for me. I had to book it down the stairs only to find out he hadn’t yet called a taxi. Dude, get a watch.

It seems that anyone I talked to before my trip that knew about Poland ranted and raved about Krakow. “You will love it,” they said, and after being here for only a day I can in fact say, “Yes, I love it.” Krakow is more than just a major tourist stop… It is a big city full of life. The town center is full and festive with people celebrating the holiday weekend. Within minutes of exiting the train yesterday, I was in sight of Krakovians walking down the streets with their Easter baskets of bread pushing children in strollers holding baskets full of candy. (I later learned that they have to take their baskets to the church to be blessed before Easter.) It was an exciting thought to be in such a festive location for the holiday.

And just how did I celebrate my Easter Sunday? I woke up at around 7:00 am - that was when the 8 Spanish guys in my room got home from going out last night - and went downstairs for the hostel’s attempt at a typical and traditional Polish breakfast. Unfortunately, there was not enough to go around, so I decided to make my way to the city center to take photographs and join in the festivities. Everyone was out and about, so when in Rome… er… Krakow… You know the saying. I snatched up some amazing mystery pastry and a cup of hot wine (my new winter favorite!) and made-believe I was Polish for a few hours (minus the insane amount of blatent public drunkeness at early hours of day).

I also made sure to take some random video so you lovely people back home can pretend to be Polish, too, even if it is just for a few minutes. Enjoy!

Note: If anyone needs a mime in their next movie or play, sign me up!

I have now mastered the art of pointing and gesturing for things I need to survive while in Poland. The other day in Lublin, I went to a delikatessy and pointed to a random pastry in the window. It reminded me of something that would be fruity and sweet. I ran back to my hotel room so I could explore this awesome little Polish treat.

I took a sniff, but that’s not sweet I smell! That’s garlic and spice! Taken aback, I didn’t quite know how to feel. It’s like asking for a birthday cake, but getting a savory quiche instead. I broke it up to find some greenish stringy pieces filling the flaky dough – maybe cabbage? Finally, convincing myself that even though it was not sweet, it could still be delicious, I took a bite.

My eyes lit up with excitement. It was absolutely fantastic. And why wouldn’t I like it? It was garlic and pastry dough, together as one, just as they were always meant to be. I don’t know the name of this amazing mystery pastry, but would recommend one if you ever get a chance!

The second mystery pastry was tasted today in the Old Town center square of Krakow. I saw person after person carrying these little fried pieces of dough with toothpicks and sauce drizzled about. I scurried around from stand to stand until I discovered the root of what looked so amazing. Not knowing what they were, I again busted out my mime skills to gesture that I wanted one. It seems to get the job done time after time.

I found a bench and sat down for this one. The center of the pastry was filled with some sort of cheese, and the cranberry sauce was definitely sweet, yet the pastry had a savory and meaty taste to it underneath. I believe they fried the pastry in ham grease. It was a delightful little treat that only cost me 3 zloty. Not bad!

I still don’t know what either of these pastries are called (thus, the “mystery”), but if anyone does know the name feel free to post it in the comments. Thanks!

…and many more to come!

It all started in the airport in Dublin. I turned the corner and there was this guy, that from afar, had the same facial shape, skin tone, and body structure as Brian. It was one of those things where you have to take a second look to know it is in fact not that person. There was also a spotting of someone resembling an old friend from school. Then, on the plane, one of the flight attendants looked just like Megan, and finally, I saw my brother in a German guy in Warsaw (from across the room in dim lighting). And, let’s not forget the Polish Lindsay Lohan strutting her stuff down the street. It is like I get all excited at first to see a familiar face, just to be let down (I don’t think that applies to Lindsay Lohan).

I started wondering why I was getting flashes of random people throughout my day, when (duh), it hit me - I’m in Europe where many Americans’ ancestors come from! When you’re in the States, everyone is mixed together from all over, meaning those prominent characteristics of a certain group aren’t so… prominent. But, here, it is easy to scan across the crowds and see those features, and for some reason, my mind is quickly pulling up any person it can think of back home that also displays them.

Well why is that?

The only answer I have is that I’m traveling alone, which can be no other than lonely at times. Sure, I wish I had a travel buddy - no doubt. I’m really just not used to being on my own just yet, and I really miss Brian. I ended up buying a pay-as-you-go cell phone here in Poland (I can get another sim card in Kyrgyzstan) so Brian and my parents have another way to keep in touch. So far so good
Speaking of being alone - I booked a private room in a hotel in Lublin, and since it was so cold, I spent most of my time in the room trying to keep myself entertained. I made a little video, which you can view here, of my evening in. Sometimes I don’t understand why I do what I do… but at least it makes me laugh!

I’m heading off to Krakow very early in the morning, so I need to get packed up and to bed. Bye!

Dear Diary,

You should have seen the sea of green I flew in on. Unknowingly, I picked to fly into Warsaw on Aer Lingus with a stopover in Dublin on none other than St. Paddy’s Day. Sometimes I couldn’t even tell if there was a person in the seat because their clothes were green, the cushions were green… green green green! Maybe that’s why I couldn’t sleep the entire trip. Whatever it was, I wasn’t able to actually celebrate said holiday when I landed because I was too tuckered to stay awake! Oh, Diary, it was quite the predicament.

However, I did make it out to see the city eventually, and what a city it is! (Diary, you’d love it!) The Old Town has such flair… such pizzazz… with ornate buildings sporting colorful walls that reach up high to the sky. It felt a lot like Austria, but with less mountains towering over us, making us feel claustrophobic. I couldn’t wait to visit all the museums!

And, Diary, what do we both love that makes a European city great? Kebab shops on every corner, that’s what! I swear, kebab shops are like Warsaw’s McDonald’s (I’ve only seen one) – you’re never far from one. Hey, I’m not complaining!

I know you were wondering about the language barrier before I left, and yes, it has been a problem at times, but there are ways to adjust behaviors to make everyone’s life easier. For instance, when ordering food, keep it simple. When I order a kebab, I just let them make it how they want instead of me asking for it without tomatoes, for example. I just have to spend a few extra minutes perfecting the meal before I can eat, but at least it was easier than trying to pantomime “leave off the tomatoes” in front of everyone.

I got very lucky the other day when a huge group of Canadians invaded my room. They sounded very un-Canadian to me most of the time until they started busting out their “outs” and “abouts” and then it was just absurdly stereotypical Canadian. I still laugh thinking about it. They invited me to tag along for the day, which was way better than walking around by myself. One of the Canadians comes from a very Polish family (she was actually born in Chicago - aka Poland outside Poland), so she is fluent and was our tour guide and translator. Even though it was terribly, terribly cold, we kept walking around Warsaw in search of this mermaid. Imagine the look on my face, Diary, when this is all we got out of the cold hike!

In order not to bore you with a long story, I’m going to close with saying there have been many highlights during my stay in Warsaw, but here are my top three:

1) The Warsaw Rising Museum – This museum is fantastic. Not only is it an interesting montage of information of the Polish fight against the Nazi oppressors in 1944, but it is also done in a very aesthetically pleasing way. This museum makes you want to look around and learn more about this piece of history while featuring movies, recreations, and even a large section on the postal service during the era.

2) Pierogies rock! – Polish-Candian girl took us out to a pierogi restaurant for an authentic dinner. We indulged in pierogies stuffed with meat, pierogies stuffed with potatoes and cheese, and pierogies stuffed with fruit for dessert.

3) The drunk guy in the mall. – We made a trip to the overpriced upscale mall, and while we were coming down the escalator, I see this man trying to go up…the down side. Now, at first I didn’t quite understand it. He wasn’t getting anywhere, and a very strong look of frustration took over his face. This guy was seriously trying to go up without ANY luck! When I passed him, I definitely got a strong whiff of alcohol. He almost fell on his face trying to do this. It took another level of escalator before any of us could process what just happened because really… was that for real?!

There you have it, Diary. I have decided to head to Lublin tomorrow, so I will definitely be writing more soon!

Yours truly,
Brooke

Funny you should ask. I have been very, very busy as of the last 2 weeks. Brian and I drove all the way to New York, strategically calculating how best to avoid the approaching winter storms. Luckily, we stayed ahead of the fronts the entire journey. After laughing at state advertising, my boredom on the two-day drive set in. It led me to making an impromptu “Vote Obama ‘08″ sign, which I then placed in the window in hopes of influencing Ohio and Pennsylvania voters into supporting my man, Barack. Apparently Ohio voters drive with their eyes shut because I’m sure if they had actually seen my amazing artwork, there would have been no other way to go. Alas.

We’ve been living in corporate housing in White Plains and searching for Brian’s new apartment in the meantime. We were very fortunate to find him an awesome place in the city, just a few minutes walk from Grand Central at an under-the-market value. YAY! We were so glad to put an end to the hunt. Apartment shopping in New York is a completely different experience!

I upgraded the website to a newer version of wordpress and a new template, only now I am having issues with my collapsible page menu plugin. It should be compatible with this version of wordpress, so I think it has something to do with my template. If anyone can help me out, it would be much appreciated!

On top of all this, I’ve been preparing for my upcoming travels. I leave for Poland later today! So, I’ve been spending tons of time with Brian, indulging in foods I may not have for a while (the cannoli above!), and packing my bags. Oh man, I’m leaving today. I still can’t believe it!