I took a train from Berlin to Warsaw, arriving in the afternoon at a station that was, unfortunately not the main station.
Great start.
But in true "I've been traveling for over six months, I've got this shit" mode I calmly figured out where to buy tickets to the main station (by wandering aimlessly in the station until I located a machine) and hopped on a train shortly afterwards.
I made my way out for dinner down the street at, of all places, a Mexican restaurant, which despite hopeful high reviews turned out to be disappointing. Which wasn't surprising, given I was in Poland, which is quite far away from Mexico.
But then again if they can have perfectly decent Thai and Korean restaurants in Paso Robles, California, why can't anyone figure out how to successfully transplant Mexican food in Europe?
But I digress.
That evening I stopped by the local market where I picked up a cider and a paczki, the polish answer to a jelly doughnut and one of my new all-time favorite desserts. They're traditionally filled with rose jam, and they are unbelievable.
I called it an early night because I was still not over the stubborn cold. Story of my travel life.
The next morning I walked to grab brunch at one of the local "milk bars," which are popular polish eateries so-named because of the high prevalence of dairy on the menu. Whatever, lactose intolerance, you're just going to have to deal with it.
The milk bars are extremely popular and give you a taste of the real-deal Polish cuisine for a very, very reasonable price. Upon my arrival and realization that there was zero possibility of me translating any of the menu (Polish is the most impossible language) I simply asked the waitress what was good and she matter of factly sold me an order of "pancakes with cheese." What this turned out to be was something I would describe more like dumplings stuffed with fresh cheese and topped with cream and sugar. Was it good? Yes. Was it even remotely healthy? No, not even the tiniest bit.
After all the sugar I wanted a little savory, so I went back to the counter and ordered a beet soup with white beans. Which was also good, though oddly sweet, rather than earthy or savory.
I then wandered towards the old town, on the way stumbling onto some sort of military parade (I to this day have no idea what exactly was going on, but it was interesting).
I eventually made it to old town where I walked aimlessly taking photos for a couple hours.
I don't know who this guy is but I love him.
Entering old town, Warsaw.
The mermaid with sword and shield is the city symbol.
Gotta love the random unicorn.
That evening I found a Polish restaurant where I ordered a traditional sour soup (so delicious and definitely a favorite) and mixed pirogis (which I enjoyed less because 1. I was already full and 2. I still do not like mushrooms so two of the eight were deemed immediately inedible by master foodie Swan).
Yuuuum.
Another relatively early night, for I was heading onward to Kraków the next morning.
I arrived in Kraków and, after a lengthy walk through the rain (note: hostels always lie about how long it takes to reach them by foot. Whatever it says, add close to double the time and you're closer to reality) I made it to the Little Havana Party Hostel. Obviously, it was Cuban themed, and included not one but two bars.
But my first night I behaved and went to bed early despite temptation, because I had an early morning tour to Auschwitz scheduled. I can think of few things more disrespectful than being hungover while touring a nazi death camp.
Also, there was dinner - potato pancakes with spicy goodness.
So despite my drunk room mates and the bar going off I did manage to get some sleep and got up early the next morning.
When I tell people I visited Auschwitz they always ask, "how was it?" I don't think there is a way to accurately describe that experience. It was heartbreaking, educational, heavy... It was emotional. It makes it feel more real to see it for yourself. Some things you cannot understand until you are actually there. At a certain level you have to distance yourself, emotionally disconnect, in order to make it through the tour. I think being a guide there has to be one of the most difficult jobs in the world.
The iconic "work will set you free" sign. Words cannot describe how this makes me feel.
This photo is of people who were immediately killed.
Gas canisters.
Eyeglasses.
Confiscated crutches and artificial limbs.
Suitcases with names. This is where it started to get really real.
And this is where I started tearing up.
Photos of prisoners complete with death dates. Most only lasted a few months.
Where "criminals" were executed.
Gas chamber at auschwitz.
Crematorium.
Entering birkenau.
One of the train cars used to transport prisoners, now a memorial.
So we don't forget what happened here.
Written in dozens of languages.
Remains of one of the main gas chambers. There were four at birkenau, and each could hold 2,000 people. In 20 minutes 8,000 people could be murdered.
One of the women's "dormitories."
I don't know what else to say about it, except that I think it was important for me to go there. Did I enjoy it? Not at all. But it was necessary.
We must never forget history or else we run the risk of repeating it. Unfortunately, we forget all too often.
That evening I went out with the pub crawl, which arguably was an attempt to bury my feelings about what I had seen that day. I woke up the next morning feeling properly horrendous, having been stupid enough to not drink any water before passing out. I can just hear dad saying now, "you're a slow learner aren't you?"
Lunch, a painful trek to the train station (no sunglasses, sun, and hangover? The struggle is real), and a nap later, I felt like I might live (at least). Despite the encouragement of my room mate I did not go out again, opting for bed before 10pm.
The next day was my last in Poland, as I had a train booked for that evening to Slovakia. I went on the walking tour where I leaned about the legend of the dragon (who apparently liked to eat young pretty virgins but was eventually foiled by being tricked into eating a sheep/sheepskin stuffed with spices which made him blow up? These are the things that stay with me...). And that's about all I remember, to be honest.
The local grannies aren't too keen on the statue to the left from this angle. Also, I love the kids climbing all over it.
This is where the local amorous teenagers hide out during the colder winter months. Fitting, since it represents the blindness of love.
Lego architecture,
Sweet pirogis, so good but so much dairy.
At 10pm I hopped on a train where I discovered to my surprise I had a sleeper, which turned out to be useless because the air conditioning didn't work and I had to be awake by 5:30 to get off in Bratislava. Lucky for me, my bed was free on arrival, so I promptly went to sleep.
Next up, Slovakia!
~Swan
