Three things of note occurred on my Easter Monday:
1. The Rudniks left Poland for the Czech Republic. It was so, so, so nice to have them here, especially over the Easter holiday. Originally, they were to come to Europe on an "Annie's Greatest Hits"-type tour and have her as their guide. Even though it didn't quite work out that way, I give them major props for making the trip anyway.
They arrived on the Saturday I got back from Budapest, and we miraculously met up outside the station. I think it was a good omen indicating an auspicious trip. I've got my fingers crossed that they actually made it to Valašské Klobouky by now...
I hope they had a good time and felt like they saw enough of the city. What was nice is that I haven't been inside all of the Wawel Castle or explored the Kazimierz neighborhood, but being with them it was a great opportunity to get around town. And, of course, we explored the Easter market on the Rynek, meandered around Old Town, heard the trumpeter about two dozen times, went to Easter Sunday mass at the Kościół Mariacki, and ate some great meals. (I was especially grateful for their invitations because even the grocery stores were closed for Easter and the days before and after.) I also did my best to introduce them to the more outstanding drinks this region has to offer. Within 12 hours of their arrival, they got a taste of Żywiec beer, krupnik (honey vodka), Żubrówka (bison grass vodka), and even some Hungarian peach pálinka (kind of like vodka). The quote of the weekend belongs to Mrs. R upon her first taste of Żubrówka and apple juice: "This is delicious! This is like breakfast juice... only better!" Thatta girl, Mrs. R!
2. Easter Monday a.k.a. Lany Poniedzałek a.k.a. Śmygus-Dingus
I'm not sure what kind of ancient tradition this day is related to, but throughout Eastern Europe it is an Easter Monday tradition for boys to throw water on girls. I've heard it is supposed to represent a cleaning, purification ritual, but if you ask me, it's sounds like its origins aren't altogether Catholic. No matter, besides from the snowy/rainy precipitation, my Lany Poniedzałek was a dry one.
3. Less than one week to my half-marathon. Yesterday I went to the gym to run so I could keep track of my time and distance on the treadmill. 10k is no sweat, so running one half and run-walking the second half, I can finish in less than 2:30. I think I am ready. (I better be ready because I bought my train ticket to Warsaw yesterday as well.)
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Monday, March 24, 2008
Budapeshhhhht: Many large men in many tiny swimsuits
Budapest is magic. Imagine soaking in outdoor thermal baths under a nearly full moon. Imagine a place that goes from 50 degrees and sunny to blowing snow from one side of a castle to the other. Imagine a golden sunset view of a city sprawling across the rolling hills of the Carpathian basin cut in half by the Danube. Imagining won't get you close to the deliriously delicious chocolate and ice cream. And last but not least, imagine a place where Támas is actually on time to meet you. ;) Such is my impression of Hungary. And until next time, only an impression it must remain. 72 hours is not nearly enough time to sink your teeth into this mysterious, romantic, and deeply historical place.
There was, of course, the pressure to squeeze in such a trip before Tom left for Germany, but there was also another reason that made all the train and bus travel worth it -- ice cream. OK, I am not so shallow as to only be motivated by sweets. Another friend of mine, Péter, was going to be home. The Hungarian countryside was a nice contrast to the hustle and bustle of the city, and time spent with Péter is always time well spent. Getting to him involved me buying my first -and most likely only- ticket in Hungarian. (I may have accidentally bought two, but I can't tell...) I spent the morning in the picturesque town of Kecskemét and, despite the language barrier, a most enjoyable afternoon in Péter's home with his generous and good-natured parents. Now you may be asking, where are the sweets? Péter's family owns an ice cream parlor in a small resort town maybe 100 km from the capitol, hence ice cream. And did I also mention chocolate? ;)
Back to Budapest. The architecture and city planning are at times astounding. It might be the place with the most statues and monuments per capita that I have ever visited. But what really struck me was the contradictions I felt in having to remind myself that I was in still in Europe while surrounded by decidedly non-European language. The city has the look of another Vienna, but it's soul is decidedly its own.
And I suppose I can't finish this post without explaining the allusions to Europeans in Speedos in the title. With the concurrence of Tom's mother, I left their house in the morning with the intention of finishing the day relaxing at the famous Széchenyi Baths. First I needed a suit. Sure you could rent one there, but Tom's mother insisted I check out a cheap clothing store just down the street from their house. There, her and I mixed and matched suits and underwear, bottoms and tops until I found an acceptable combination. She even walked in on me in the dressing room to offer her observations like a true mother. With a bra and little boy's red speedo-like bottom in my bag, I was ready to hit the town.
I am so glad I allowed myself to be convinced to go to the baths. I arrived to observe my favorite time of day, where the sun's waining light cast golden hues on the clouds and on the already yellow building. The warm water outdoors evaporated into visible wisps of steam in the chilly spring air. Jumping from sweltering sauna to a 10º C pool (5oº F) was invigorating. And I felt no trace of self-consciousness with my makeshift bathing suit because, like I said, based on some other choices of swimwear among locals and tourists alike, let's just say that no one was lacking a healthy body image.
Relaxed, well-fed, and blessed via a Good Friday service (my first, and most likely only in Hungarian), I reluctantly headed back to Poland. The Rudniks would be waiting for me! But first I had to pass through the mountainous Slovakian landscape. Contemplating the snowy peaks and the villages below (between catnaps because I was up at 4:45 that morning!) I couldn't help but think again that this trip was pure magic.
Never before in my life had I ever considered traveling to Budapest, so here is how the scenario came to be: with the dozens of Hungarians that go to my school here in Kraków, I have made friends with some of them. Of course you from know from previous posts that Tomi and I pretty close, and if anyone could be a walking tourism bureau, it would be him. This guy, the son of a travel agent, is a certified tour guide in Hungary, and he'll never miss an opportunity to invite you to his favorite city. Back in November for my birthday, I was presented with a certificate for a "Free Walking Tour of Budapest, (valid only in March 2008)". So with a few days of Easter vacation (plus one because I am a bad student who never goes to class anymore), and a $20 bus ticket, I headed south.
There was, of course, the pressure to squeeze in such a trip before Tom left for Germany, but there was also another reason that made all the train and bus travel worth it -- ice cream. OK, I am not so shallow as to only be motivated by sweets. Another friend of mine, Péter, was going to be home. The Hungarian countryside was a nice contrast to the hustle and bustle of the city, and time spent with Péter is always time well spent. Getting to him involved me buying my first -and most likely only- ticket in Hungarian. (I may have accidentally bought two, but I can't tell...) I spent the morning in the picturesque town of Kecskemét and, despite the language barrier, a most enjoyable afternoon in Péter's home with his generous and good-natured parents. Now you may be asking, where are the sweets? Péter's family owns an ice cream parlor in a small resort town maybe 100 km from the capitol, hence ice cream. And did I also mention chocolate? ;)
Back to Budapest. The architecture and city planning are at times astounding. It might be the place with the most statues and monuments per capita that I have ever visited. But what really struck me was the contradictions I felt in having to remind myself that I was in still in Europe while surrounded by decidedly non-European language. The city has the look of another Vienna, but it's soul is decidedly its own.And I suppose I can't finish this post without explaining the allusions to Europeans in Speedos in the title. With the concurrence of Tom's mother, I left their house in the morning with the intention of finishing the day relaxing at the famous Széchenyi Baths. First I needed a suit. Sure you could rent one there, but Tom's mother insisted I check out a cheap clothing store just down the street from their house. There, her and I mixed and matched suits and underwear, bottoms and tops until I found an acceptable combination. She even walked in on me in the dressing room to offer her observations like a true mother. With a bra and little boy's red speedo-like bottom in my bag, I was ready to hit the town.
I am so glad I allowed myself to be convinced to go to the baths. I arrived to observe my favorite time of day, where the sun's waining light cast golden hues on the clouds and on the already yellow building. The warm water outdoors evaporated into visible wisps of steam in the chilly spring air. Jumping from sweltering sauna to a 10º C pool (5oº F) was invigorating. And I felt no trace of self-consciousness with my makeshift bathing suit because, like I said, based on some other choices of swimwear among locals and tourists alike, let's just say that no one was lacking a healthy body image.Relaxed, well-fed, and blessed via a Good Friday service (my first, and most likely only in Hungarian), I reluctantly headed back to Poland. The Rudniks would be waiting for me! But first I had to pass through the mountainous Slovakian landscape. Contemplating the snowy peaks and the villages below (between catnaps because I was up at 4:45 that morning!) I couldn't help but think again that this trip was pure magic.
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Catholisicm and the Middle Age Imagination
Someone way back when, in Poland's olden days, thought they knew what palms were. They read in the Bible about Jesus' arrival into Jerusalem and figured that palms must have been really special and beautiful things to have been brought to welcome him. As if anyone at that time in Poland knew what palm trees really looked like... So they came up with these:
Explanation: Today my school went on a field trip to Lipnica Murowane, a town near Kraków where every year there is a famous contest for the best palma wielkanocna, or Easter palm. Most people there were walking around with palms maybe a foot or two long, but as you can see, the biggest of them reached past the treetops. Multi-colored dried leaves, crepe paper flowers, ribbons, pussywillows, other feathery plants. They are quite a sight to behold. Not to mention quite baffling as to how exactly the are supposed to resemble palms. I see elaborate brooms...
Anyway, a few other sights of note were in this little town. First we saw a 12th-century church that has been named a UNESCO World Heritage Sight. It still appears to be in great condition, but gosh does it smell old. Then we went to another church named for St. Sebastian of Lipnica, where they have a some sort of bone relic of his AND a water pump that supposedly has curing waters. I am not totally convinced of the latter because after drinking, I still have a terrible stomach ache... Next, we were waiting for the contest to begin, but of course their was first a blessing of the palms. What Palm Sunday would be complete without a some holy water being launched over a crowd.
Then, what was to be a culminating moment, the raising of an enormous palm into the air, came to a tragic end. A group of us had been watching nearly all morning as men in the trees and on the rooftops lashed ropes to the trunk of the palm and fastened them to the nearest telephone pole and houses. This palm had to be at least 20 meters tall or more. The lashing done, the men began to hoist, and just as the palm was at about 45 degrees, the top half snapped off. The whole thing had to be lowered back to the ground like a soldier laid to rest. It was so dramatic.
And that was what I woke up at 7 am on a Sunday morning for. It was nice though. Good weather, good company, a bit of sightseeing, some local food and a blessed beverage. Why not?
In case you'd like to see some more "palms," you can take a look here.
See you in a week, Rudniks!
Explanation: Today my school went on a field trip to Lipnica Murowane, a town near Kraków where every year there is a famous contest for the best palma wielkanocna, or Easter palm. Most people there were walking around with palms maybe a foot or two long, but as you can see, the biggest of them reached past the treetops. Multi-colored dried leaves, crepe paper flowers, ribbons, pussywillows, other feathery plants. They are quite a sight to behold. Not to mention quite baffling as to how exactly the are supposed to resemble palms. I see elaborate brooms...
Anyway, a few other sights of note were in this little town. First we saw a 12th-century church that has been named a UNESCO World Heritage Sight. It still appears to be in great condition, but gosh does it smell old. Then we went to another church named for St. Sebastian of Lipnica, where they have a some sort of bone relic of his AND a water pump that supposedly has curing waters. I am not totally convinced of the latter because after drinking, I still have a terrible stomach ache... Next, we were waiting for the contest to begin, but of course their was first a blessing of the palms. What Palm Sunday would be complete without a some holy water being launched over a crowd.
Then, what was to be a culminating moment, the raising of an enormous palm into the air, came to a tragic end. A group of us had been watching nearly all morning as men in the trees and on the rooftops lashed ropes to the trunk of the palm and fastened them to the nearest telephone pole and houses. This palm had to be at least 20 meters tall or more. The lashing done, the men began to hoist, and just as the palm was at about 45 degrees, the top half snapped off. The whole thing had to be lowered back to the ground like a soldier laid to rest. It was so dramatic.
And that was what I woke up at 7 am on a Sunday morning for. It was nice though. Good weather, good company, a bit of sightseeing, some local food and a blessed beverage. Why not?
In case you'd like to see some more "palms," you can take a look here.
See you in a week, Rudniks!
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Things as they are
Two observations:
Until Sunday, I had avoided going to any of the "Mexican" restaurants that are in the central, Old Town part of Kraków, but when a friend proposed dinner after a nice walk to the kopiec, the prospect of a margarita sounded like the perfect cap to the afternoon. The margarita, in fact, was good. The vegetable enchilada was also pretty good (could have been spicier, but hey). The most attention-calling moment of the dinner was that instead of rice and beans, my enchilada was served with two sides of cabbage. Two! Sides of cabbage! Just in case I needed any reminder as to which country I'm in...
And today I gave in. I finally bought one of those stove-top espresso makers. No more inch-think layers of grounds in the bottom of the cup for this girl! 31 złotych (about 13 dollars) isn't bad for a 3-cup machine. (And of course, as a coffee-guzzling American, I intend to use all three cups for myself.) Again, there is an upcoming surprise here. When I took the machine out of the box, I noticed a strange separate item wrapped in paper. As I began to unravel the layers of paper, the bundle began to take the shape of a little spoon. And, lo!, the bundle became three mini spoons! That is exciting ...for me! And it suggests the sophistication of the European coffee tradition. There wasn't any indication on the box's outside illustrations that the spoons would be inside waiting for me. Thanks European coffee! And now I get to go to class all jacked up on three cups of "espresso." Should be fun.
Until Sunday, I had avoided going to any of the "Mexican" restaurants that are in the central, Old Town part of Kraków, but when a friend proposed dinner after a nice walk to the kopiec, the prospect of a margarita sounded like the perfect cap to the afternoon. The margarita, in fact, was good. The vegetable enchilada was also pretty good (could have been spicier, but hey). The most attention-calling moment of the dinner was that instead of rice and beans, my enchilada was served with two sides of cabbage. Two! Sides of cabbage! Just in case I needed any reminder as to which country I'm in...
And today I gave in. I finally bought one of those stove-top espresso makers. No more inch-think layers of grounds in the bottom of the cup for this girl! 31 złotych (about 13 dollars) isn't bad for a 3-cup machine. (And of course, as a coffee-guzzling American, I intend to use all three cups for myself.) Again, there is an upcoming surprise here. When I took the machine out of the box, I noticed a strange separate item wrapped in paper. As I began to unravel the layers of paper, the bundle began to take the shape of a little spoon. And, lo!, the bundle became three mini spoons! That is exciting ...for me! And it suggests the sophistication of the European coffee tradition. There wasn't any indication on the box's outside illustrations that the spoons would be inside waiting for me. Thanks European coffee! And now I get to go to class all jacked up on three cups of "espresso." Should be fun.
Sunday, March 9, 2008
Two Lovely Weekends
#1:
My dad came to visit! I will add more about this later, once he sends me pictures that we took. But for now I'll just say that I am really happy that for the first time in 27 years my dad set foot outside the North American continent. He was really open to Poland, and I think a visit this short allowed him to see everything in a positive light and not be bothered by the occasional difficulties of trying to live here.
Of course I was also happy for him to come for the reason that we would get to do some cool stuff in cool places, the first of which was a brewery tour right outside of Wrocław. A few years ago father-son team from Winona, MN bought a 600-year-old brewery in a town called Namysłów. From the looks of it nowadays, it seems to be doing good business. It was great to make a hometown connection halfway across the world like this. Ryan, the son, was incredibly nice and hospitable and generous and all kinds of superlatives that describe a good person.
Wrocław itself was nice too. It is a town I think I could get used to. It has a more cosmopolitan feel than Kraków, but I'm not sure why I felt that. Maybe it was because we stayed in the Radisson...
My dad and I also made a stop in Częstochowa, he made the trip to Auschwitz while I had class, and then we popped over to London for two days so he could spokojnie catch his plane back to the States. Oh, the jet-setting lifestyle I lead. Right.
In London, to contrast my ever-cloudy Poland, the weather was fantastic. And I was glad I elected to skip even more class to join him there (believe me, I really was conflicted). I got to do some things that I didn't get have time for in November. Dad loved London as well. He is pretty brave, I'd say, for such a homebody.
Good times. I already said a lot, didn't I?
..................
#2
When I came back from London I had a play at the Teatr Słowackiego to look forward to. Adam had invited me a while ago to go with a group of his friends to a performance there, and why would I say no? The building is reminiscent of some grand French opera house, and I have always wondered what it would be like inside.
My first Krakow theater experience was, well, an experience. As you may have guessed, the theater itself was in fact gorgeous. The inside is so ornate and perfectly preserved. The main sala wasn't so huge, which was good for viewing. And all 14 of us sat in boxes on one side of the room. I don't think I have ever been in theater boxes before. It was just like you'd see in old movies or in books: only four seats to a box, a door that opens directly to the corridor, and red velvet everywhere. I would even go so far as to say it was downright luxurious. In the midst of all that 19th century Eastern European splendor I felt like I was in that scene from War & Peace where Pierre first sees Natasha.
The play itself was... interesting. "Kordian" by Juliusz Słowacki himself. I could appreciate that the actors were outstanding and that the staging was superb, but that was about it. Which is to say that I could understand a darn thing. Ask me what the play was about and I'll just shrug. And try finding anything about online in English! Basically, it is a 19th-century work about Poland under Russian occupation, and there was a young Romantic hero, who dies in the end... I think... But I shouldn't feel bad because Adam and all of his friends couldn't understand it either. One of them even used the intermission to look up some kind of Polish cliff notes on his phone. Then again, they are all chemical engineers and not lit majors. ;)
I mentioned that there were 14 of us. 7 guys and 7 girls. Everyone was in a legitimate boyfriend/girlfriend pair. Except for Adam and I. Yet again I got to assume the role of the girl who isn't my escort's girlfriend but who puzzles the others present as to what my relationship to said escort really is. At least here in Europe, I pretend that I am one of those Daisy Miller-esque American girls, and that is all the explanation I need to provide. I was the only one dressed in a color on the warm side of the color wheel, after all.
Utter incomprehension and initial social awkwardness aside, I had a great time. And, it turned out that March 8th is "Dzien Kobiet" in Poland, or "Women's Day." Adam explained to me that it began as a Soviet holiday where the authorities would go into the factories and present all of the ladies with flowers. However, I remember that about this time of year there was a "Día de la Mujer" in Argentine. Ah well. Nonetheless, yesterday nearly every girl you saw on the street was carrying a stem of some kind of flower. I wasn't left out. Adam met me at Piast with some pink carnations, goździki, which is the traditional Dzien Kobiet flower, I guess. For me, I'd say it's a nice tradition.
[Side Note: There are still some very strong traces of gallantry such the flowers on Dzien Kobiet among the young gents of this country. At first when we all took our seats, I wondered why Adam chose to sit behind me rather than next to me (where it would be easier for me to whisper my questions about the play to him), but then I noticed that all the guys sat behind the girls so we could have the better view. It was just the assumed practice. Hmmm.]
Red dress, red shoes. That's me. ;)
And that was just my day yesterday. Today, the sunny London weather made it over to Poland, and it would have been utterly unacceptable to stay indoors. Therefore, I went with a few of my friends to the Krak Mound in the Podgórze district. You, reader, must learn more about these strange, strange monuments, and you can read about them here. I think I should make it a goal to visit all of the Cracovian mounds before I leave. Today's visit makes three. I think Annie would approve.
Now I am finally ready to attend my first full week of second semester classes.
My dad came to visit! I will add more about this later, once he sends me pictures that we took. But for now I'll just say that I am really happy that for the first time in 27 years my dad set foot outside the North American continent. He was really open to Poland, and I think a visit this short allowed him to see everything in a positive light and not be bothered by the occasional difficulties of trying to live here.
Of course I was also happy for him to come for the reason that we would get to do some cool stuff in cool places, the first of which was a brewery tour right outside of Wrocław. A few years ago father-son team from Winona, MN bought a 600-year-old brewery in a town called Namysłów. From the looks of it nowadays, it seems to be doing good business. It was great to make a hometown connection halfway across the world like this. Ryan, the son, was incredibly nice and hospitable and generous and all kinds of superlatives that describe a good person.
Wrocław itself was nice too. It is a town I think I could get used to. It has a more cosmopolitan feel than Kraków, but I'm not sure why I felt that. Maybe it was because we stayed in the Radisson...
My dad and I also made a stop in Częstochowa, he made the trip to Auschwitz while I had class, and then we popped over to London for two days so he could spokojnie catch his plane back to the States. Oh, the jet-setting lifestyle I lead. Right.
In London, to contrast my ever-cloudy Poland, the weather was fantastic. And I was glad I elected to skip even more class to join him there (believe me, I really was conflicted). I got to do some things that I didn't get have time for in November. Dad loved London as well. He is pretty brave, I'd say, for such a homebody.
Good times. I already said a lot, didn't I?
..................
#2
When I came back from London I had a play at the Teatr Słowackiego to look forward to. Adam had invited me a while ago to go with a group of his friends to a performance there, and why would I say no? The building is reminiscent of some grand French opera house, and I have always wondered what it would be like inside.
My first Krakow theater experience was, well, an experience. As you may have guessed, the theater itself was in fact gorgeous. The inside is so ornate and perfectly preserved. The main sala wasn't so huge, which was good for viewing. And all 14 of us sat in boxes on one side of the room. I don't think I have ever been in theater boxes before. It was just like you'd see in old movies or in books: only four seats to a box, a door that opens directly to the corridor, and red velvet everywhere. I would even go so far as to say it was downright luxurious. In the midst of all that 19th century Eastern European splendor I felt like I was in that scene from War & Peace where Pierre first sees Natasha.
The play itself was... interesting. "Kordian" by Juliusz Słowacki himself. I could appreciate that the actors were outstanding and that the staging was superb, but that was about it. Which is to say that I could understand a darn thing. Ask me what the play was about and I'll just shrug. And try finding anything about online in English! Basically, it is a 19th-century work about Poland under Russian occupation, and there was a young Romantic hero, who dies in the end... I think... But I shouldn't feel bad because Adam and all of his friends couldn't understand it either. One of them even used the intermission to look up some kind of Polish cliff notes on his phone. Then again, they are all chemical engineers and not lit majors. ;)
I mentioned that there were 14 of us. 7 guys and 7 girls. Everyone was in a legitimate boyfriend/girlfriend pair. Except for Adam and I. Yet again I got to assume the role of the girl who isn't my escort's girlfriend but who puzzles the others present as to what my relationship to said escort really is. At least here in Europe, I pretend that I am one of those Daisy Miller-esque American girls, and that is all the explanation I need to provide. I was the only one dressed in a color on the warm side of the color wheel, after all.
Utter incomprehension and initial social awkwardness aside, I had a great time. And, it turned out that March 8th is "Dzien Kobiet" in Poland, or "Women's Day." Adam explained to me that it began as a Soviet holiday where the authorities would go into the factories and present all of the ladies with flowers. However, I remember that about this time of year there was a "Día de la Mujer" in Argentine. Ah well. Nonetheless, yesterday nearly every girl you saw on the street was carrying a stem of some kind of flower. I wasn't left out. Adam met me at Piast with some pink carnations, goździki, which is the traditional Dzien Kobiet flower, I guess. For me, I'd say it's a nice tradition.
[Side Note: There are still some very strong traces of gallantry such the flowers on Dzien Kobiet among the young gents of this country. At first when we all took our seats, I wondered why Adam chose to sit behind me rather than next to me (where it would be easier for me to whisper my questions about the play to him), but then I noticed that all the guys sat behind the girls so we could have the better view. It was just the assumed practice. Hmmm.]
Red dress, red shoes. That's me. ;)And that was just my day yesterday. Today, the sunny London weather made it over to Poland, and it would have been utterly unacceptable to stay indoors. Therefore, I went with a few of my friends to the Krak Mound in the Podgórze district. You, reader, must learn more about these strange, strange monuments, and you can read about them here. I think I should make it a goal to visit all of the Cracovian mounds before I leave. Today's visit makes three. I think Annie would approve.
Now I am finally ready to attend my first full week of second semester classes.
way to end on an upbeat
THE NETHERLANDS
It was cold. I was tired. I was also cranky from being cold and tired. All in all, my 6-hour introduction to Holland via Eindhoven was not as interesting as it could have been. I think Tom summarized it best when he said that the city is like one big duty-free shop for the Eindhoven airport. Lots and lots of bicycles though.
There were some other upsides as well, like going into my first Bjorn Borg store and then meeting our friend Fanney, who came from Amsterdam to catch our flight to Katowice. She was smarter though to take the shuttle back to Krakow and not have to so a repeat performance of the bus-train combo. Oh well, I just ate my chorizo and manchego with some Dutch bread and was happy.
No pics this time. You should instead look for some tourist bureau material; those photos actually make the place look nice...
It was cold. I was tired. I was also cranky from being cold and tired. All in all, my 6-hour introduction to Holland via Eindhoven was not as interesting as it could have been. I think Tom summarized it best when he said that the city is like one big duty-free shop for the Eindhoven airport. Lots and lots of bicycles though.
There were some other upsides as well, like going into my first Bjorn Borg store and then meeting our friend Fanney, who came from Amsterdam to catch our flight to Katowice. She was smarter though to take the shuttle back to Krakow and not have to so a repeat performance of the bus-train combo. Oh well, I just ate my chorizo and manchego with some Dutch bread and was happy.
No pics this time. You should instead look for some tourist bureau material; those photos actually make the place look nice...
Saturday, March 8, 2008
and I came home with chorizo and manchego :)
ESPAÑA (con ANNA!)
This was what I had been looking forward to for about four months: Spain. The country that I'd dreamed of visiting for so long but which has always eluded me. I mean, I was finally going to see the places I had first set eyes upon in my 7th grade Spanish textbook. I was going to see a much-needed familiar face, a Sarah Lawrence friend. I was going to speak Spanish again, a language I actually know! I was going to have a good cup of coffee again, not to mention tons of other delicious goodies. Oh, to be in a Mediterranean country!
Of course, it couldn't all go smoothly, could it? Thanks to a thick batch of fog in the characteristically overcast Belgian sky, our plane from Charleroi to Madrid was horribly delayed. So we sat, and we sat, and we sat around for hours. Apparently, conditions were different at another airport in this vast country that we could be allowed to leave from a different airport. That meant we all got on a bus destined for an airport one hour away, checked in AGAIN, went through security AGAIN, got our boarding passes ripped in half AGAIN. By this time it was about 10.00 pm, and there was no one in this dinky Liege airport, which sees about 4 planes a week go in and out. The worst of it was Tom and I had been planning to meet my Bostonian-turned Madrileña friend, Anna, at her apartment that evening. Since we arrived in Madrid about 2.00 am, when the metro had conveniently stopped running for the night, we decided that rather than pay through the nose for a taxi and disturb Anna's entire apartment, we would catch some Z's right there in the terminal until daybreak.
[Some of you readers may be aware of Tomi's and my bad luck with at least one connection every single time we travel together - London planes, Czech trains, and now. He blames it on me, but now what can he do. Three times now makes it a tradition.]
After an uncomfortable night in front of Turkish Air, we then hopped on the Metro and without further complications found Anna's apartment, in it's amazing location, complete with a dazzling view of the Almudena Madrid Cathedral. After a big terry cloth hug from Anna, who greeted us at the door in her bathrobe, our Madrid adventures began.
To tell the truth, it was surreal, and surreal in an unsettling way. I think it was because, in contrast to Belgium, I had so many expectations of Madrid which ended up preventing me from enjoying the city for what it is. Don't get me wrong, I loved it all! It is an amazingly beautiful place replete with gorgeous architecture, parks and people :). I think I was just impatient to feel the city, to let it completely absorb me and to belong to it that I didn't slow down. (Then again, traveling with Tom you can never slow down...) More often than not I felt like I was back in Buenos Aires, a feeling which also added to my disorientation. On the other hand, the sheer Western cosmopolitan atmosphere wasn't without similarities to New York. Neither could I believe that I was could be at the Plaza Mayor and El Corte Inglés, places that I first read about in the dog-eared pages of my textbooks of 10 years ago. Surreal. And in many ways magical. The transcendental moment for me was when I went for a walk by myself one afternoon and found myself at the top of the Casa de Campo with a view of the sprawling city below and the rugged landscape beyond. With the city of Madrid at my feet, I finally understood that I was smack in the middle of the Iberian peninsula at 23 years with possibilities on all sides.
There is so much there to go back for! I had an amazing time seeing the sight, and like I mentioned, it was some good therapy to see Anna. (And I know the experience was reciprocal.) Many of the things I had hoped Spain to be and that I had hoped to do I got to check off my list, such as eat tapas and tortilla, drink delicious wines, go out on the town, see the Prado, pay homage to Cervantes, lounge in cafes, wander about parks, and hablar some español.
There were even some unexpected moments that made me so happy to be there: the utterly incredible Picasso exhibit at the Reina Sofia, walking around sin chaqueta in the springlike sunshine, cooking Hungarian lesco in Anna's apartment, the drama that was Anna's apartment in the light of the search for a new roommate, meeting up with a Minnesota friend, watching "Friends" in Spanish, chocolate con churros (!), finding that I retained much of my Spanish (complete with my Argentine accent), realizing that it is diffucult for me to get drunk after after having become accustomed to Polish vodkas, laying eyes upon the original Real Academia Español and Instituto Cervantes, going through the Palacio Real three times (folks, it can be done in just over 9 minutes if you keep a brisk pace)... if I keep thinking I can certainly add more to this list.
And just to make it an even number of nights we would spend at the airport (read with sarcasm), Tom and I ended our Madrid stay back at Barajas at midnight to wait for our 6 am flight. This one, however, we had planned on, and this time we found a much quieter and a minimally more comfortable nook.
En serio, Spain, I will definitely be back. After all, one thing that Tom said to me merely as a passing comment I really took to heart: he said that he has never seen me so happy as when I was speaking Spanish.
This was what I had been looking forward to for about four months: Spain. The country that I'd dreamed of visiting for so long but which has always eluded me. I mean, I was finally going to see the places I had first set eyes upon in my 7th grade Spanish textbook. I was going to see a much-needed familiar face, a Sarah Lawrence friend. I was going to speak Spanish again, a language I actually know! I was going to have a good cup of coffee again, not to mention tons of other delicious goodies. Oh, to be in a Mediterranean country!
Of course, it couldn't all go smoothly, could it? Thanks to a thick batch of fog in the characteristically overcast Belgian sky, our plane from Charleroi to Madrid was horribly delayed. So we sat, and we sat, and we sat around for hours. Apparently, conditions were different at another airport in this vast country that we could be allowed to leave from a different airport. That meant we all got on a bus destined for an airport one hour away, checked in AGAIN, went through security AGAIN, got our boarding passes ripped in half AGAIN. By this time it was about 10.00 pm, and there was no one in this dinky Liege airport, which sees about 4 planes a week go in and out. The worst of it was Tom and I had been planning to meet my Bostonian-turned Madrileña friend, Anna, at her apartment that evening. Since we arrived in Madrid about 2.00 am, when the metro had conveniently stopped running for the night, we decided that rather than pay through the nose for a taxi and disturb Anna's entire apartment, we would catch some Z's right there in the terminal until daybreak.
[Some of you readers may be aware of Tomi's and my bad luck with at least one connection every single time we travel together - London planes, Czech trains, and now. He blames it on me, but now what can he do. Three times now makes it a tradition.]
After an uncomfortable night in front of Turkish Air, we then hopped on the Metro and without further complications found Anna's apartment, in it's amazing location, complete with a dazzling view of the Almudena Madrid Cathedral. After a big terry cloth hug from Anna, who greeted us at the door in her bathrobe, our Madrid adventures began.
To tell the truth, it was surreal, and surreal in an unsettling way. I think it was because, in contrast to Belgium, I had so many expectations of Madrid which ended up preventing me from enjoying the city for what it is. Don't get me wrong, I loved it all! It is an amazingly beautiful place replete with gorgeous architecture, parks and people :). I think I was just impatient to feel the city, to let it completely absorb me and to belong to it that I didn't slow down. (Then again, traveling with Tom you can never slow down...) More often than not I felt like I was back in Buenos Aires, a feeling which also added to my disorientation. On the other hand, the sheer Western cosmopolitan atmosphere wasn't without similarities to New York. Neither could I believe that I was could be at the Plaza Mayor and El Corte Inglés, places that I first read about in the dog-eared pages of my textbooks of 10 years ago. Surreal. And in many ways magical. The transcendental moment for me was when I went for a walk by myself one afternoon and found myself at the top of the Casa de Campo with a view of the sprawling city below and the rugged landscape beyond. With the city of Madrid at my feet, I finally understood that I was smack in the middle of the Iberian peninsula at 23 years with possibilities on all sides.
There is so much there to go back for! I had an amazing time seeing the sight, and like I mentioned, it was some good therapy to see Anna. (And I know the experience was reciprocal.) Many of the things I had hoped Spain to be and that I had hoped to do I got to check off my list, such as eat tapas and tortilla, drink delicious wines, go out on the town, see the Prado, pay homage to Cervantes, lounge in cafes, wander about parks, and hablar some español.
There were even some unexpected moments that made me so happy to be there: the utterly incredible Picasso exhibit at the Reina Sofia, walking around sin chaqueta in the springlike sunshine, cooking Hungarian lesco in Anna's apartment, the drama that was Anna's apartment in the light of the search for a new roommate, meeting up with a Minnesota friend, watching "Friends" in Spanish, chocolate con churros (!), finding that I retained much of my Spanish (complete with my Argentine accent), realizing that it is diffucult for me to get drunk after after having become accustomed to Polish vodkas, laying eyes upon the original Real Academia Español and Instituto Cervantes, going through the Palacio Real three times (folks, it can be done in just over 9 minutes if you keep a brisk pace)... if I keep thinking I can certainly add more to this list.
And just to make it an even number of nights we would spend at the airport (read with sarcasm), Tom and I ended our Madrid stay back at Barajas at midnight to wait for our 6 am flight. This one, however, we had planned on, and this time we found a much quieter and a minimally more comfortable nook.
En serio, Spain, I will definitely be back. After all, one thing that Tom said to me merely as a passing comment I really took to heart: he said that he has never seen me so happy as when I was speaking Spanish.
Fries and Chocolate
It's almost been a month since Tamas and I went on our little westward excursion. Even so, I'd still like to note some of the highlights, if even just for myself.
BELGIUM
After a night of no sleep thanks to a midnight train to Katowice and the subsequent bus/plane connections, we arrived in Brussels on a sunny Tuesday morning. That was worth it for me right there - sunshine. Add to that the fact that the among the breathtaking architecture, the city center constantly smells like waffle cones. There you have Sarah's dream city. Isn't that how it goes, though? When you have no expectations of a place (or no idea what to expect) it comes to pleasantly surprise you in everything.
Anyway, two days in Brussels was overall fantastic. The Atomium, the parks, dog walking, the city, the peeing boy fountain, the food, the beer, the family and friends, lunch at the European Commission (in the heart of the heart of Europe - haha), good coffee, being surrounded by French without all the pretension that I imagine is in France, being surrounded and confounded by Flemish, bilingualism in general, funny mannequins of the Royal Family in the subway (what's up with Belgium's government anyway?).
These were all the wonders shown to us in the seat of the European Union thanks to our friend and tour guide extraordinnaire, Nelly, who just finished a semester at the Polish institute with Tomi and I. What was really interesting staying with her family is how their conversations fluidly changes from English to Polish to French and back again. They are fabulous people which makes you realize how much good there still is in the world.
I know I've said it before, and I'll say it again, it's nice to have friends in fun places who you can go and visit...
NOTE: The Delirium Bar and a mitraillette sandwich are must-try's. Delish.
BELGIUM
After a night of no sleep thanks to a midnight train to Katowice and the subsequent bus/plane connections, we arrived in Brussels on a sunny Tuesday morning. That was worth it for me right there - sunshine. Add to that the fact that the among the breathtaking architecture, the city center constantly smells like waffle cones. There you have Sarah's dream city. Isn't that how it goes, though? When you have no expectations of a place (or no idea what to expect) it comes to pleasantly surprise you in everything.
Anyway, two days in Brussels was overall fantastic. The Atomium, the parks, dog walking, the city, the peeing boy fountain, the food, the beer, the family and friends, lunch at the European Commission (in the heart of the heart of Europe - haha), good coffee, being surrounded by French without all the pretension that I imagine is in France, being surrounded and confounded by Flemish, bilingualism in general, funny mannequins of the Royal Family in the subway (what's up with Belgium's government anyway?).
These were all the wonders shown to us in the seat of the European Union thanks to our friend and tour guide extraordinnaire, Nelly, who just finished a semester at the Polish institute with Tomi and I. What was really interesting staying with her family is how their conversations fluidly changes from English to Polish to French and back again. They are fabulous people which makes you realize how much good there still is in the world.
I know I've said it before, and I'll say it again, it's nice to have friends in fun places who you can go and visit...
NOTE: The Delirium Bar and a mitraillette sandwich are must-try's. Delish.
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