Oh The Places We’ll Go

I left Berlin at some insane hour on the 26th of April and headed out to Krakow, one of the two most recognizable cities in Poland (the other being Warsaw).  I wasn’t sure what to expect when I left Berlin.  I had heard so much about how amazing Berlin was and only left disappointed.  I had no money to go out and experience the nightlife of Berlin, which I hear is absolutely legendary, so much of what I saw was only what I walked around and got to see during the day.  Too much walking, too hot, and just the constant reminder that I am not at all prepared for summer.  Scotland has fucked up my internal weather tolerance, so anything above ‘mild’ is too much to handle.  Besides that, the hostel I stayed in, as much as it was immaculate, was boring and boring and I don’t mix well.  I couldn’t name you a single person I met in Berlin other than a Canadian couple from Regina in Saskatchewan, and the only reason I remember where they’re from is because supposedly people from Regina say they’re from ‘The Vag’… if you get the euphemism.  I’ll let you think about it.

Anyways, about Krakow.  I wasn’t sure how I felt about this long train ride alone on a singular train for 9 hours.  I got to the main train station in Berlin and hopped on the train with plenty of time to spare before it even left (my OCD about being early for trains/planes), and found my seat really easily with the little reservation card sitting above it.  Everything was going fine until some CRAZY woman, younger with pants that didn’t fit her quite right, looked at me in the seat and just went, “You are in my seat”.  After I explained to her that I had a reservation too, she just went, “Well I don’t really give a shit, I paid for this seat and this is my seat”.  Psycho woman.  OBVIOUSLY the woman sitting in front of you is in your seat, not me, if you just looked at the fucking numbers above you.  Of course I didn’t say any of this- I don’t want to step on anyone’s toes… it all got figured out anyways.  All I could think was Jesus, someone needs to calm down and have a drink… people are too high strung to just think and relax about things.  Why the constant need to freak out?

Once things calmed down, the first hour or two on the train I was daydreaming and thinking about plans.  It’s amazing how fast time flies when you’re just beside yourself thinking about things.  One of the things I learned to love traveling by myself was the pleasure of my own company.  You don’t NEED someone around constantly to really enjoy yourself.  Sometimes it’s nice just to sit back and relax.  After I got bored of just sitting around, and especially after I realized no creepy people would be sitting anywhere near me, I got out my iPod, listened to some music, read a book, and when all else fails what do you do?  Wander to the drink car.  As I got there, I realized, woops, I haven’t eaten yet today.  I should probably do that sometime.  Just as I ordered a sandwich I saw a woman pick up the most DELICIOUS looking soup I had ever seen and I just went, I need one of those.  Sandwich and soup in hand, I had the best (and cheapest) train meal of my life.  The soup, as I later found out, was goulash which is the GREATEST kind of soup in the history of the world.  Lots of meat, lots of potatoes, and pure deliciousness.

9 hours later on a train, a dead iPod later and another book finished, I arrived in Krakow with no local currency and no clue how to get out of the train station.  I’m not retarded or anything.  The Krakow train station is really close to the local mall, oddly VERY similar to an American shopping mall, so instead of exiting the station onto the street I somehow ended up smack dab in the middle of a mall.  With a huge backpack.  And no makeup on.  And looking like absolute ass.  Great… welcome to Poland?  People must’ve thought I was insane.  I finally figured out how to escape from the mall, found a currency exchange that was open at night, and eventually figured out how to get to Tutti Frutti hostel.  3 guys were standing outside having a smoke as I got to the hostel and greeted me with a friendly hello, but I was too preoccupied with my heavy bag and need to brush my teeth to even think of replying with anything but a ‘hey’.  I got inside, checked in, found my bed and put the sheets on, and headed out into the living room where the guys with their mate who I hadn’t yet met, making up the terrible foursome, were sat having a chat around the table.  As I would later learn, I was about to get to know these guys very well.  Dan, James, Alex and Adam are all friends from back home in Melbourne (Australia for those who don’t know geography) traveling around Europe together and wreaking havoc upon the planet.  2 people in my room were also from Australia.  Tess, who was originally from Australia but had been living in London for the last 10 months, and Johnny, her boyfriend who was technically Kiwi but had lived in Melbourne before moving to London with Tess.  They were all a really nice bunch.  I’m sure at first meeting I must’ve seemed so boring and dead… I was just exhausted.  The chat in me had completely disappeared, and though everyone was going out that night (post-consuming a vodka gun?  don’t ask… haha), I just couldn’t be bothered.  Too exhausted, too dead inside.  Give me a bed and I’m happy.

The next day I decided to be a good little tourist and wander around Krakow for a bit.  As it turns out- who knew- Krakow is BEAUTIFUL.  The entire Old Town is lined by a park with trees everywhere cascading across the sidewalks and little benches set up everywhere.  I was there in ideal travel time, April, so it wasn’t crowded and the weather was absolute perfection.  I got around to the main square, the Jewish quarter, the castle and the river that goes through the city, snapping pictures and being a good little tourist before heading back to the hostel to relax and pick up my new book (The Pillars of the Earth).  It was only then that I realized why Polish people are so crazy for Pope John Paul II.  He was Polish.  From Krakow.  Woops, forgot about that.  I guess he used to be the head cardinal and got his start in Krakow or something?  He’s kind of a big deal.  Anyways, as I was dipping into my book I ran into a guy who, go figure, is from Sacramento.  As in grew up 20 minutes away from where my parents live.  Cue “It’s a Small World” right now.  We got to chatting, he’s a Republican studying in Durham doing all different kinds of graduate work, and as we were chatting I got conned into going on the inaugural pub crawl through Krakow.  Thank god I did because Jesus did I have a good time.

It was at this time I got to know all the Australians better, including Kane, another Australian from Brisbane.  All the pubs we went to were really cool, laid back pubs.  Plus, the beer is INSANELY cheap in Poland (like everything else is), and cheap and I mix very very well together.  Lots of Polish beer drinking ensued, lots of bar hopping and meeting people.  I even met the nicest Australian girl who dragged me to the club with her and we got to chatting away about traveling alone and meeting people.  Gosh, I wish I remembered her name or got her email or something.  She even bought me a drink (in a non-sexual, friendly kind of way).  Once we got to the final destination and I had wandered around the club, the girl and I sat down at a table with the anti-social French people on the pub crawl with us, whose names I never learned… as they are French, anti-social and didn’t introduce themselves.  As I was chatting away to the cute French boy, trying to get him to understand what the words “chick magnet” went, he interrupted me and just went “My friend is drinking your beer.”

“What?”

“My friend is drinking your beer.”

I turn around and, to my horror discover that yes, the French bastard is guzzling away at my brand spanking new and free, mind you, thanks to the nice Australian girl, beer and all of its deliciousness is slowly disappating into this asshole’s mouth.  I grabbed the cup from him and just said, “Listen buddy, I don’t know who you are or where you come from but where I come from, you drink my beer, I chop off your penis.  Understood?”

I think he got the point.

An hour later, dancing with crazy French people (in a French accent- “Come, we dance Rock N’ Roll!) to the YMCA and other really really bad 80’s and 90’s pop songs, I got my kiss from the cute Frenchie and got on my way back to Tutti Frutti to crash on the bunk bed and get ready for the emotional day that was coming my way the next day- my day to Auschwitz.

I had reserved a spot on a tour to Auschwitz mainly for one reason- I was getting too lazy to actually go somewhere and figure out the different trains/busses/smoke signals I would need to send to get there.  Give me a tour with a ‘board here’ and personal tour of the place and I’m happy.  I’m too lazy to you know, read.  Who reads anyways?  (Obviously, as a Lit. major… reading not necessary… haha).  Anyways, I didn’t do much other than eat to make my stomach stop hating me and read to get my mind right before getting to the tour at 2pm to head to Auschwitz.  Actually, before I was at Auschwitz, I shamefully headed to a McDonalds (don’t judge me) to get food and met an older Baton Rouge couple who had just come from Auschwitz.  They told me they were scared of Polish food and just stuck to good ol’ McD’s.  It was after this that I decided I couldn’t eat American food traveling around anymore… I don’t want to end up like this crazy Louisiana couple.

On to Auschwitz.  The tour left Krakow at around 2 and on the bus they show you this really really graphic video of the original liberation videos from a Soviet camera crew who were the first to get to Auschwitz and document its liberation.  It’s got all different kinds of information about what the people were like when they got there, the different people who had been experimented on, and for me the worst part- the autopsying videos of little children who had been experimented on or starved to death.  I ended up turning my head away for half of it… I couldn’t handle it.  As we got closer to the city of Oscweim (? I don’t remember how to spell it), the tour guide asked if anyone in the coach was British, to which he stated that Gordon Brown (the Prime Minister) was at Auschwitz at the moment, and that we had to go to Birkenau first before heading to Auschwitz I.  Damn you Gordon Brown, fucking up all of the plans.

Birkenau is ENORMOUS.  We couldn’t go and see the wooden barracks, thank you Gordon Brown, or use the bathrooms (bombs in the toilets possibility, of course…), so we were stuck with the brick buildings and the ash pool near the ruins of the old crematoriums.  You could just see from the vastness of the space how many people must’ve been kept at this camp, especially considering over 1,000 people used to be in each barracks.  Yes, 1000 people.  The Nazis destroyed most of the buildings before the Soviets got there so there are only half a dozen or so of the wood buildings and half a dozen brick buildings, but the foundations of the old barracks are left in tact.  As we left Birkenau I got a long distance glance at Gordon Brown and the press following him around.  All this bullshit for one stupid man, go figure.

Auschwitz I is a lot smaller and, dare I say it, nicer than Birkenau.  Take away the ‘Work Will Set You Free’ sign, the death signs and the fact that people (a lot of them) died here, it could actually be… nice?  At least there are trees around and green during the spring.  The buildings almost look like council flats.  Crazy.  Inside the buildings are a lot of what you see at any Holocaust Museum.  Piles of hair, shoes, glasses, pots and pans, etc.  The tour guide was milking the emotion a little bit too much.  Plus she said “Ladies and Gentlemen” enough times to make someone go insane.  The worst part of the whole thing was going inside the crematorium, officially the most depressing place I have ever been in, and from the moment I stepped inside I just went, “Alright, that’s enough… now get me the FUCK out of here”.  Being in there with a bunch of Hacidic Jews didn’t help the situation much.  Loads of emotional Jewish people surrounding me in Auschwitz… ugh.  Too depressing.

Sometime around 6 I hopped back on the coach and got to chatting with Brenna and Anita, who was from Milpitas in the Bay Area, who were both on Fulbright living in Europe for a while.  I had never heard of Fulbright before and I guess it’s all a pretty big deal?  Who knew.  Anyways, we all got to chatting and, dare I say it, laughing, as we left Auschwitz and headed back for Krakow.  Is that wrong, to laugh post-Auschwitz?  I don’t really know, but all I did know was that I was too depressed to continue feeling like shit so the laughing/joking was a good pick me up.  As we got to chatting I got invited to dinner by the Krakow-resident Anita with Brenna and their friend Stephanie.  We got into the Old Town and met Stephanie at the statue of the sideways head (yes, you read that right) and headed to this absolutely delicious Italian food place right next to the square.  I had forgotten how nice it was to meet new people in places.  After my draught through Berlin and Copenhagen, Krakow was starting to make things look up.  Dinner was really delicious and fun.  Lots of joking, chatting, gaining good travel advice, etc.  Just good girl chat.  I even got invited to hang out at the pub after but I had a 6am train to catch the next morning, so I had to pass.

Once I got back to the hostel I had to pack my bag (in the dark) since it was almost midnight and most people were asleep.  I plugged my phone in to charge, set out clothes for the morning, and slipped away to sleep until I awoke to a light turning on, a bang, and really loud people talking in CRAZY accents wandering through the room.  Catherine, meet the Preston boys.  They were all chatting about kebabs and where they had been all night, and just when I thought it was all over, another one wandered in.  Great.  Sure enough I had to wake up 30 minutes later so I just said screw it and woke up early.  I got up, grabbed my iPod from the side table and the guys were sorry about waking me.  I said not to worry about it, I had to wake up in 20 minutes anyways so it wasn’t a big deal.  One of the guys was complaining about how he couldn’t sleep so I chucked him a pair of earplugs and his friend, who I later learned was Craig, told me in his drunken state that I had beautiful eyes.  I got my bag together, told the boys I had to leave, and was nicely ushered out of the hostel as I made my way to the train station to wait for my train to arrive.  As I waited for the train I had remembered that I didn’t recall packing my camera in my backpack, and after realizing it wasn’t in my entire pack (and it wouldn’t have been in the big bag), my horror came over me.  I left it somewhere.  I got on the train with 15 minutes before it left, called the hostel and was overcome with relief when the receptionist told me someone had brought it to the counter earlier the night before.  Thank GOD.  I had to miss the train, though, and there were only 2 trains a day to Prague.  1 that I was about to miss, and one at night.  Shit, I have to call the hostel in Prague.  I got back to the hostel in Krakow as the light was coming up at 6am (too early, yes I know), called Prague and said I was taking the night train instead, and the receptionist was so nice as to set up a bed for me on the couch so I could fall back asleep.  Nice, eh?

I woke up, again, to crazy Preston boys asking me why I was still around, and after I explained about the missing camera fiasco they insisted on inviting me out with them.  As it turns out, they were with a stag party group for their mate’s pre-wedding bash and their plan was, quite simply, to get absolutely pissed every day while they were there.  Sounds good to me.  I told them I would meet up with them in a bit, that I needed a shower and a hair straightening, but I would meet up with them for a pint or two before heading off to my night train to Prague.  After I got myself together I met up with the boys at a pub in the square in Krakow and was quickly convinced (and had my room paid for) by the Preston boys, who wanted to take me out with them for the rest of the night for some pint-drinking Manchester United-watching debauchery.  You had me at pint-drinking, boys.  For the next god-knows-how-many hours I had a good time being the crazy, sassy California girl who says “huh” too much, got bought EVERY SINGLE ONE of my pints and didn’t drop a single dime of zloty the entire day.  I love English boys.  Got to squeeze in some football watching with big Manchester United fans and show off my footie knowledge, which always goes well with the boys.  I ended up wandering around with two of the boys after splitting from the rest of the crowd, and after a drunken and hilarious bed hopping musical chairs (nothing too exciting but nothing that I can post on here), I got to sleep around 3am and two hours later was on the train to Prague.  Hungover and tired, one thing was certain- Krakow is the bees knees, that’s for damn sure.