to IRELAND (and beyond)

IRELAND

So, you want to know about Ireland huh? Well, I want to tell you, but you’ll have to wait, because first I’m going to tell you about the Charles de Gaulle airport, and Poland, and the Charles de Gaulle airport again. Tricked you didn’t I? heh heh.

 (Bet you want to know what this is...)

This trip took place over my "Winter Holidays" in France.  From February 27th through March 11th. Hillary came over just for the occasion and so we decided to make this a trip about our ancestral orgins. It lasted about two weeks and if you needed one way to describe the two weeks: I did a lot of walking.

A lot. I’m not just being cute when I say the soles of my shoes can speak for me. We covered a lot of ground, uneven, hard, and diversified ground. Look at my boots:

I bought these boots for this trip. Now an inch of heel is gone. I’ve actually worn through about three layers of synthetic/corkish material, making an ideal surface for skidding down rainy cement. I was reminded of this fact when I wore them again for the first time today and proceeded to skate down a stretch of sidewalk. I kept my balance and my cool during the whole 3 seconds. Whoop whoop. Boot-slidin' cement-skatin' fun.

If I chose to believe my beloved old roommates that I used to stomp around our house like a giant (you know who you are), I would blame this on myself.  Instead, I’m siding with the far likelier conclusion and blaming this on shoddy shoemanship (coupled with lots of impressive amounts of walking).

(This blog is turning less into a recounting of my adventures and more of my ongoing misadventures with gray boots.  My love of the aforementioned footwear always leaves me feeling disappointed and used. They never last. )

The trip started for Hillary a full 24 hours before me since she had to fly from Spokane to get to Nantes. When I met her at the airport she was radiant and fresh, not looking at all like the road-weary traveler who had just spent over 30 plus hours awake. Putain.

We didn’t have much time in Nantes before we rolled out to Paris to catch our plane to Krakow. However, we did spend a lot more time in the Charles de Gaulle airport than I wish.  We caught the last train into the airport (getting us there around 10pm) and stayed until the plane took off at 7 am, NINE HOURS LATER.

I was worried we’d be the only people staying in the airport and get kicked out or something, but that was completely false. Almost every chair in our wing of the airport was occupied. Some of the early birds had even staked out what little turf grass there was on the raised platforms and made camps there for the night. Lucky bastards.  At least they got to lay down. The rest of us had to try to sleep sitting up in hard airport chairs.

Home for NINE HOURS.

Not that sleeping was much of an option. Hil and I read or watched Arrested Development most of the night.  Then, a few hours into our stay we realized that we had chosen seats closest to the home of the friendly airport mouse. Before our discovery, we kept noticing people react strangely as they walked by, even shrieking “souris!!!” as they passed. Hillary doesn’t speak French and I couldn’t see anything so it just didn’t register.  Finally the mouse got a little more adventurous and starting making loops around our bench. I tried scaring it off by throwing food in different directions but it just huddled near my backpack or tried getting into my boots.  So we spent the night awake and watching that our little visitor didn’t find its way into our possessions.  

The home of the mouse. Did he roll up the tin foil? or is he still just trying to get inside?

We arrived in Poland the most tired I’ve been on a trip. Poland was freezing but we had sunny skies for four whole days. I got to re-experience a lot of the stuff I wrote about already and made it to new places as well.  I also got to partake in fine Polish cuisine again:

Delicious and cheap.

The biggest difference this time around was the night life. Short on funds and freaking exhausted from all of the walking we did in below freezing temperatures all day, Hillary and I were in bed by 9 almost every night. 

I love Mosquito Hotel.

Highlights of the trip:

Delicious and vegan friendly.

Hil and I found the most delicious vegetarian restaurant where we ate copious amounts of veggie masterpieces.  If I had one of these restaurants in Nantes I’d probably be considered a vegetarian by default. My only complaint? The same I have for all "salads" in Poland. Shredded cabbage, shredded carrots, shredded other things all scooped onto your plate in shiny globs. Do me a favor Europe, stop deconstructing your vegetables and calling it "fancy." It grosses me out.

 We visited the medieval museum under the market square. Hundreds of years of garbage and mud has raised the ground of the original market square by two meters. Below the cobble stones we looked at the garbage that only five hundred years could make so truly fascinating: pointy shoes, crumbling tools, broken jewelry, etc. And the best part? Hillary and I were for no apparent reason, let inside for free. The woman at the counter charged everyone before us. Then to us she simply said, “For you today it’s free,” and we were kindly ushered inside. Fantastic, I’ll take it. 

Another highlight: running into French tourists in stalls and understanding exactly what they were saying. They thought they were being so sneaky in French.  “Look at this hat?” “Oh, so stylish.”  “Margot looks funny.”  Etc, etc. Looks like I'm actually the sneakier one. Operation-become-sneakier continues successfully.

Another highlight: being mistaken for natives or people who spoke Polish. Our first day walking around we were approached by a Polish girl asking for directions (I think). We responded, “Sorry, we only speak English!” and she looked embarrassed, said her goodbyes, and hurried off. This happened a couple other times in Krakow. 

Can you spot me or Hillary in this crowd of Polish people? Me either. Sneaky aren't we?

We went to Kościuszko mound just outside of Krakow. This was a cool monument, with steep winding paths carved up the face of a grassy man-made hill. When we reached the top we were given a spectacular view of Krakow and the surrounding countryside and forests. We were also barraged by a very strong wind.

However, what was most memorable on this particular journey was that I lost my newly bought hat (a necessary purchase because of the freezing weather!).  We spent an extra hour or so retracing our steps and walking up and down the road and paths (precarious with ice traps). I eyed nuns suspiciously as they walked past as they were the main pedestrians on the road. Luckily, we found the hat around the base of the mound. Then, I found my style. Check out that picture.

Stylin' in my winter accessories

Downsides of the trip:

IT WAS COLD!

We left way too soon. We didn’t have nearly enough time, just like the last time. 

My French debit card became locked (you can only enter 3 false pins over the lifetime of your card). This would prove problematic for the rest of our trip in Europe. 

Read my next blog to see just how problematic that debit card problem becomes.

do Polska: Day I

After Krista, Kristi, and I roused ourselves the next morning and sucked down some apple sauce out of pouches that resemble capri-suns and aptly named 'Pom-Potes' (a curious invention but handy when traveling), it was already close to noon. We decided to do our own exploring of the city before the next walking tour at 3pm.

When we stepped out of the hostel's building, we realized we were stepping smack dab into a market place. The hostel is in a building one block down from a covered, communal market place, but the market seemed to have sort of spilled down the rest of the street as well, in the form of little old men and women hunched over piles of stuff on the sidewalk to sell. We actually had to step around a rack of clothes when we were walking out of the hostel doors itself. This was our first initial culture shock I think. It was a sad sight. Unlike other market places I've seen, these sellers and vendors were not spritely, vibrant solicitors of their wares. They just stood their, looking at you or the sidewalk, but less enthused than anything. When I looked at their wares, I could see why. Their products seemed to be anything they could get their hands on, the type of bras and undergarments you could find at Walmart, old bottles of lotion, trinkets that looked like left overs of western culture from the 90's.

We decided to check out the market place itself. Walking up a block brought us to this scene: all sorts of goods in cramped, tightly quartered stalls. We were constantly tripping over pigeons that flew down from the low rafters and onto the narrow walkways. Then they would shoot up in a startled explosion of feathers over all of the goods being sold. Vegetables, prepackaged foods, mushrooms, sweets, nylons, hats... it was all being sold in the chaotic atmosphere of crowded junk. But the sellers themselves were not chaotic. Again, most of them were older individuals, though not as elderly as those standing outside our hostel. They stood there stolidly, or with a grimace, and waited from someone to show interest. It's not like the stalls in France where if you make eye contact with the seller they start a conversation and aggressively suggest you buy their wares. The atmosphere was, again, sad to me.  Even though there appeared to be plenty of locals walking through and purchasing their daily needs with pleasant-faces, the cold, in addition to the dinginess of the market atmosphere, made me remember that we were not visiting a rich country. It wasn't a bad marketplace, just different than what I'm used to seeing. I'm sure us American girls stood out like an unwelcome hurricane in their midst, all bright faced and speaking English, startling pigeons into flight and not purchasing anything.

After this market, we decided to walk in the opposite direction, towards the Main Market Square. We were immediately greeted by pieces of old fortifications and beautiful old walls that screamed of the middle ages. After we ventured through the gate of the city walls and passed a few musicians, we were on the main street that led directly to the main market square. Modern shops and stores, restaurants, fast food stalls, and solitary vendors selling their wares in empty doorways, lined the street. The street itself was filled with pedestrians, and sometimes a slow driving car trying to get through. Because the buildings are so tall and level on this particular street, it appears to be bathed in perpetual shadow, and so it was extra chilly. Overall, we were extremely lucky with the weather in Krakow for October. It was freezing, 5-10 degrees Celsius most days, but the sun was usually out and the sky mostly blue.

Photo courtesy of Krista Schilling

(http://thesagaofone.blogspot.com)

We explored the surrounding streets, looked at old buildings that had no name or history for us yet. The square itself, with varied architecture, is beautiful and grand, apparently the largest and oldest open market square in Europe. There is a cavalry of horse drawn carriages waiting on the edges of the square to pluck up any willing riders. Little stalls crammed full of bright souvenirs fought for attention. But what I noticed most of all was the color of the buildings. Pale yellows, creme oranges, blues, and white trim, all gorgeously re-finished. Definitely the tourist section.

Market Square

We decided to venture into St. Mary's Basilica Cathedral, on the edge of the main square, and probably the most iconic building in Krakow. This was my first moment of 'awe' in Poland.

I've visited cathedrals in Paris and Nantes so far. They are awe-inspiring in size and glory, ornately carved and decorated with breath-taking stained glass. But they also seem relatively austere on the inside, endless stories of vast cold stone that disappear into high dark corners, like the recesses of a cave. It's as if their constructors spent too much time trying to command Heaven's attention to earth rather than opening the buildings up to receive anything back.

By comparison, this cathedral in Krakow is warm and beautiful and reverential, a cacophony of color and worship. The ceilings are high and the detail ornate, made even more overwhelming than their French counterparts by the use of so much color. The combination of design and color make for an atmosphere of celebration. The color combination isn't garish like a circus, but lovely in the way of jewel toned bible pages inked by monks hundreds of years ago. Blue, red, orange, white cover the walls and ceilings in intricate, detailed designs. An alter at the back of the church, Altar of Veit Stoss, fills up the entire back wall with beautifully painted statues and carved biblical scenes. You are surrounded by inspiration on every square inch of wall space.

Besides a few tourists mingling in the public section of the church, in the 'prayer' section, little old people filed in and out and kneeled in the pews. I think the silence and praying is what balances the vibrant color of the place and makes it feel sacred. The expressions on their faces were serious and devout, sad or dutiful. I almost felt like I was trespassing on their private time with God.

We had an hour before our walking tour at 3pm so we decided to visit "Coffee Heaven," a coffee chain started out of Warsaw. The atmosphere was familiar: artificial warmth and comfort coupled by the pragmatic, no-nonsense approach of customer service. Not so exciting, but it reminds me of similar coffee chains in America. Krista and Kristi settled into their comfy chairs with their hot chocolates, and I with my mocha.

Krista lounging in a comfy chair.

Kristi with her hot coco.

 



Ah, overpriced, so-so coffee in big cups. I'm home!











Our highlight of the day started at 3pm. We met the Free Walking Tour, afternoon edition, at St. Mary's Cathedral. If any of you readers ever visit Krakow, I'm not recommending that you go on one of these free walking tours, I'm insisting. The guides are English speaking, Polish natives with a deep appreciation of history and a sharp sense of humor. They work completely off of tips so, as they'll tell you themselves, they have to be good in order to get paid.  http://freewalkingtour.com/

Our tour guide, Martin, holding the sign.

I regret to say that I'm not sure of the Polish spelling or pronunciation of our guide's name, but the English equivalent is Martin, so that's what we'll call him here.  He was fantastic. Hilarious and thought-provoking, he took our group of 30 or 40 people on a hurried march through the city and to the Jewish quarter of Krakow, engaging us with the history of the Jewish occupants of Krakow from their arrival in the middle ages, to their horrendous mistreatment in WWII, and after the war.

Street where part of Schindler's List was filmed. 

I had no idea before the tour that Schindler's List was filmed in Krakow or in front of the same buildings where we lingered, or that all of the horrendous mistreatment displayed on the screen actually happened on these same exact streets where we trod. Martin shared all of this information with us, and dispelled Schindler myths, and also gave a very insightful look into the events that took place during WWII in this neighborhood.

At one point we were standing in a large square filled with a monument of oversized, empty chairs. He explained that this was the entrance to the Krakow ghetto and this is where all of the foot traffic in and out, for the German, Polish, and Jewish, transpired.

Much of this foot traffic resulted in death and an unimaginable, unjustified loss of life. It was eerie to think that here we stood in the place where so much blood was shed and torture inflicted, and now today, people cross it every day on their way to work or home. I have so much respect for this city and this country now that I've been given a more intimate look into their history and what they have been put through over the past hundreds of years, especially just in the last 70.

Photo courtesy of Krista Schilling (http://thesagaofone.blogspot.com)

The large metal chairs of this particular memorial all point the same direction. They represent what happened towards the end of the war, after most of the murders had taken place in the ghetto, and the Nazis were throwing all of the resident's furniture into the square to search for hidden jewelry and money. Martin also added that the empty chairs represent all of those people who perished here and will never be able to sit in these chairs again. It was a really somber feeling.

Then, directly after during 'picture time,' I noticed one small group of friends posing around the chairs for pictures, doing peace signs and grinning, even attempting to sit in the chairs themselves. I was aghast. I couldn't help but judge them, as I was still just reeling over the thousands of deaths our guide had just described and the amount of suffering contained within this square.

Had they not just heard of all the atrocities that had happened here? Did they not hear what the empty chairs represented? And now they wanted to sit in them and smile? The only thing I could think of is that maybe they weren't native English speakers and hadn't caught on to all that our guide had said. I also thought that, if I hadn't been on this tour, I might have thought this was just a funny sculpture filled with a bunch of empty chairs, like a modern art exhibition, and maybe I would have taken goofy pictures too.

After the tour of the Jewish Quarter, our guide invited us on the 'unofficial' part of the walking tour. It was quite cold out, freezing for me really! and so Martin invited us all back to the part of the old Jewish Quarter which now houses all the best clubs and bars in Krakow. He assured us that hot mulled wine was exactly what we needed after our freezing trek through the Jewish quarter and he was absolutely right.

This is where I wish I could brag and brag about how great the Polish hospitality is or how much fun the locals are (and the other fun tourists who were on our tour), but some things you'll just have to experience on your own. ;) We had mulled wine, food, and other Polish specialties that night that left me feeling truly excited to be spending my holiday there in Krakow.

do Polska!

(Jennifer Goes to Poland!)

Krakow Castle

Disclaimer: to any Polish speakers out there, I’m sure that my title is so grammatically incorrect that it's got you grimacing into your half liters of beer right about now.  Whatever ensuing Polish phrases/words that I drop into this blog will probably also have the same affect.  But I need to show off the mad Polish speaking skills I've developed while I've still got em. So, pull up a chair, pick up your glass, and say with me my favorite Polish expression “Na zdrowie!” (For English morons like me, that’s pronounced something like ‘Naz – drovia’)

Poland. To sum it all up, I had four amazing days and five nights in this country. My time there was filled with history, friends, food, and adventure. So instead of overwhelming you with one long post about the entire trip, I'm going to dole out bite sized portions one day at a time.  Choose what you like, but remember to chew it well. There’s a lot of sentiment and info in these bits.

Pre-ramble:

I’m gonna call it a pre-ramble because the following description is somewhat like a prequel to the trip, but mostly just me rambling about whatever I want to. So, consider this the prequel to Day I.

For some back story, there were moments when I wasn't sure if this trip was going to happen. The Friday before we were supposed to leave, a big unpleasant flu decided to roil around in my stomach. By the end of the workday, I had had to teach two of my classes with a fever. Imagine this, a room full of excited 12 year olds at 4pm screaming my name and begging that they get to be in my group. This scene should make me the giddiest teaching assistant in Nantes, but when I have a migraine that made my brain feel like it was dislodged from my scull and rattling around its walls, their little piercing “Jennifer!”s made me want to pass out.  

Krista, in her own right, was developing a major cold (probably a nasal infection at this point), that was going to make breathing through her nose impossible and flying in airplanes probably the least pleasant activity for her poor ears.

On the American side of things, Kristi missed her connection flight in Seattle because there was too much fog to land. Unsure of when or how she was going to get to Paris in time for our flight, she was emailing Krista and me frantic updates from her snazzy iPhone throughout the day.

Add to this the uncertainty that all of the strikes had left France in. Gas shortage, angry workers, and garbage-strewn streets. I just wanted to curl up into a ball and sleep through the holiday.

But, after lots of medicine for Krista and me, and lots of ticket finagling on Kristi's part, we were all together Friday evening in my apartment and more or ready to head off to Paris the next day.

Besides her smiling American face, Kristi brought Krista and me the best presents ever: a 3lb jar of JIF peanut butter and a full sized bag of Reese's Cups each. 

Krista and Kristi with the goods.

Oh, sweet melt-in-your mouth Reese's, this is my ode to you. Chocolate encasing peanutty brilliance, the perfect balance of salty and sweet. Had I known how much I would miss thee, I would have filled my suitcase with you instead of socks and pants. 

But because of my flu, I knew I would have to wait until after Poland to enjoy the creamy goodness of Reese’s.

The grèves didn't affect our train to Paris or our flight to Krakow. In Paris we stayed again with one of the nicest American girls in France, Anna Marie. She provided us with a free place to stay and took us to the pharmacy before we left. She loaded Krista up with all sorts of good cold medicine and the coolest liquid zinc tablets ever that you shoot out of glass vials. This was fun to do at the airport.

We spent some time sight seeing before we left. Look at some of the photos I took. These have nothing to do with Poland, but they are still pretty to look at, and show just what a lucky girl I am to get to travel the world. 

Sacré-Cœur

Place de la Concorde

My picture with Poseidon.

Paris by night.

After our connecting flight to Prague, we arrived to a nearly empty Krakow airport around 11pm, not really sure what to expect. Anna, Jen G.'s Polish friend, had sent two of her friends to pick us up from the airport. Jen and Anna were in a different part of Poland and couldn't meet us until Wednesday.  So Chris and Michael, Anna’s friends, were our tour guides for the first night in Poland.

They drove us in a tiny car going very very quickly down and around narrow roads (I’m still getting used to European driving!) to our hostel, Mosquito Hotel. Horrible name, but great atmosphere. This being my first time in a hostel, I think I was spoiled (especially after staying in the merde Parisian hostel on our return trip, but that story is for another day). It's on the third floor of this domineering, ten story building, not far from the city square. At night when you have to walk through a couple of big metal door entrances and buzz yourself in several times, you wonder what sort of neighborhood you're in.

Inside though, the hostel is great, painted in orange and blue and with a full kitchen and comfy seats. The guy on staff gave us a wicked cool map with all sorts of bars and clubs and Polish sayings on it, then spent 10 minutes going into great detail about all of the things we should do and places to go in Krakow.  This was probably around midnight and we had been traveling all afternoon. Still, he spoke perfect English, so this in itself was like a vacation for our brains after living in France for a month. Afterwards we felt like we knew more about Krakow than Chris and Michael. And we bragged to them that we did.

After we were settled into the hostel, Chris and Michael took us to a couple bars, the first of which was called Showtime and had live music. This is where we discovered that beer is usually served as a half liter here.  So imagine your two liter bottles of soda in the states, now pour out a quarter, and down it. Okay. Now you understand. Yes, that’s the normal size. You can also get larger glasses.  And this probably only costs about $2-$5 max. Woot!

Considering that the beer is sold on the złoty in Poland (local currency) and that Chris was paying, we all decided to try the most expensive kind on the menu, a light cherry.  I give it a so-so rating.  The cherry in combination with the lightness of the beer gave it a watery, cough medicine taste.  But later on, Poland redeemed itself with a really good dark porter. However, the name of this porter is something that I cannot pronounce, therefore it will forever be shrouded in mystery. 

We were sitting at a table in good view of the stage area where a party of Polish friends danced and drank to a live band.  This is what they danced to: imagine Daughtry with the voice of Creed playing wedding band covers of old American favorites such as “My Achy Breaky Heart” and “Easy like Sunday Morning.” Sometimes they give these classics a reggae touch.

Again, I don’t know the name of the band, but they actually had a good sound.  Our waitress told Michael that the band was enjoying somewhat of a celebrity status in Krakow, having just won a Polish reality TV show for cover bands.  (Aren’t we lucky girls!) This was easy to see why, as the band plays well together, the singer has a strong voice, and they have an engaging stage presence. But half way through “Easy like Sunday Morning,” Krista and I realized what had been bothering us about the lyrics. 

Mind you, these were Polish non-native speakers of English members in an American cover band, so I sympathize with their confusion over certain words and consonants.  I’ve heard my French friends describe the sounds they produce when trying to sing a song in English as “yogurt.” When they aren’t sure of the words, they sort of half hum, mumble English words that they’ve deciphered from the gibberish they don’t understand.  I think I do this too with some American songs.  I definitely do it with French sentences… I sort of make a jelly roll out a bunch of probable sounds and hope I come up with something intelligible. So I’m stealing their expression and putting it here (Thank you Wafa and Marie).  I believe this band was displaying Polish yogurt for us. 

The chorus of that song should go like this: 

“That's why I'm easy...(oooahoo)… easy like Sunday morning.”   

What Polish Daughtry was singing is this: 

“That's why I’mmm mmeeeeaaaaa-zay ..(oooahoo).. meeeaz-ay like a sunnnn-ay mooornin'.”  *

Polish American cover band gettin' down with their fans.

So, first impressions of Poland were quite good. After our introduction to the Krakow night life, us three American girls returned to our Mosquito Hotel and settled under the warmest, most comfiest covers in the whole of Europe.

Thanks for reading. Until next time, this is Jennifer, wishing you a meazy, sunny morning.  

*Updated per Krista Schilling's expert advice.  She was totally right, I did not do justice to the moment. :)