Back in the next IC train, we cruised on to Warsaw, another 2.5 hours down the line.
I read, stared out at the countryside, and walked two cars up to the bar (dining car) for a Piwo Weizen (wheat beer).
Gail napped and read, I took photos and typed a little, and I finished my second book of the trip (Without Fail, a Jack Reacher book - thanks, Kathy).
We came into Warszawa Centrala at about 16:00 and walked short kilometer and a half to our guesthouse, the Chopin Boutique B&B. It is on a quiet street about two blocks off the main street, called the Royal Way. The building our B&B is in dates to 1910, but like most everything was destroyed in the war and is still being rebuilt. There are parts of the exterior left unplastered, on purpose, so you can still see the bullet holes.
Our room is very bright and sunny, with two huge windows and lots of space, and a certain "period" ambiance to it. It is a real deal at 350PLN a night.
Chopin is a huge deal in Poland; like Copernicus he was born here. There are Chopin concerts nightly in the churches around the city, and in private venues like the small drawing room of our B&B.
There is a concert here tonight. We are not going, but we listened to the guy practice as we settled in.
Warszawa is interesting. It's huge, almost two million people. Most of it was destroyed in the war, totally out of spite, as retaliation for the fierce resistance the Polish people put up against Hitler. So as you walk you pass through modern areas of glass skyscrapers and architecture, right next to blocky-plain communist style apartment houses, next to rebuilt period mansions (like we are staying in) from the early 1900s. The "old town" part of the city was destroyed, and almost abandoned, but the residents rebuilt it all after the war, using as much of the reclaimed material as they could. It is now a UNESCO Heritage Site.
I would say Warsaw is very interesting, but not "cute" like Krakow. It seems more "real" somehow.
There are funky little touches and details if you take the time to look. There is a pelican on the side of a building (pelicans seem big in Poland for some reason) and a bunch of colorful umbrellas sprouting out of the side of another building down the street. The road from the train station over to the royal way is called Jerusalem Street (Aleje Jerozolimskie - work it out...) and inside the roundabout at the main intersection is a huge, fake palm tree.
A palm tree.
Why? Well, the story goes that some rich lady lived on Aleje Jerozolimskie and went to visit the real City of Jerusalem. She saw all the palm trees there and decided that is what Aleje Jerozolimskie needed. And so it is.
Because... why not?
On the way downtown, we passed another statue of Nicolaus. One thing about Old Copernicus, he sure had great hair! At least, in every statue he does.
There are some great statues of people other than Chopin and Copernicus, but to be honest, I don't now who any of them are. One guy is wearing a "Statue-Of-Liberty-Style" Hat, and he is NOT very thrilled about it, though I think the gold beams look cool.
One statue is, I am pretty sure, the Goddess Of The Periogi.
Or perhaps "Pier, the Patron Saint Of Stuffed Dough."
At one church there is a cool carving of an alien bursting out of the chest of a saint somebody.
The metro stations look cool, and there are these funny signs of a girl with pigtails holding what appears to be a red balloon or big candy?!?!?
Interesting details, this city.
We stopped in at the local pierogi place for dinner. I had "Grandma's Chicken Soup" which was really good, and a plate of fried, mixed meat and mushroom pierogis. Gail had pork ribs. We both had awful beers.
The thing about pierogis is that they stuff you.
I am writing this the next morning, and honestly, I think I am about pierogied out.
Ugh.
This is our last day in Poland.
Gail slept in this morning, and then we had a leisurely breakfast and packed up. The Copin Boutique let us store our bags at the desk for the day, since we are heading out on the night train for Budapest at 21:15 tonight.
The plan: walk around, relax, and eat dinner before we get on the train.
Thinking about last night's Pierogi Pig Fest, I am thinking chicken soup might be in order. Or perhaps a pizza.
More funny and interesting sights:
The Professional Bra Adjuster at the "Busty Snoz" which I assume means "bursting out." Or something like that.
Actually it looks more like "Bust yer nose."
You look at the sign yourself and decide (see photos).
Hell, it's written in Polish. Doing the best I can here.
We have had great weather this trip. Short sleeve shirt weather the whole time (60-70) and no rain to speak of, with the exception of getting off the plane in Gdansk, the drizzle while we were driving around Klonówka, and the four drops that hit me at Sopot. But it is plain hot today, and we are heading south from here.
The guesthouse has been slowly renovated, from five rooms to seven, until now they have 24 rooms. But out on the street, they did not patch up two parts of the wall. On purpose.
Two sections full of bullet holes.
A reminder.
The Polish Resistance had meeting places around here. It was heavily damaged.
Then they were all killed and it was destroyed.
Out of spite.
A reminder, says the owner.
There are famous artworks displayed around the city, near the things that were painted. You can look at them and compare the current scene.
In front of one church favored by Chopin, there is a bench. You can sit on the bench, press a button, and listen to Chopin as you gaze at the church.
We sort of saw part of the Polish changing of the guard ceremony in front of the castle. But not much, really. Guns and drums. That's it.
You know those kids who sell lemonaide in front of their house? And you know that only mom and dad buy it, right? Well, you would really take pity on the guys trying to sell lemonaide here. Their mom doesn't come around as often as she used to.
We decided to wander and eat street food today. I had the worlds worst, limp, grey hamburger. It was boiled.
Think about that last statement.
Then I found the worlds worst fries.
Yucky ice cream. That was NOT limoncello.
"Snot" maybe. Or "Puke." Not lemon-lime.
We finally ducked into a café in the square for two glasses of "street wine." That was better.
We made it out the walls of the city and down to the Vistula river where there is a long fountain. We sat by the Marie Curie statue and watched the water. Marie is holding a curious silver orb. See if you can figure out the "secret code."
(I am assuming here that you took chemistry in high school.)
There are gaggles and flocks of school kids out on field trips, even first or second graders on overnight, all pulling their little suitcases, all color coded with red or yellow or green or orange scarves, attended to by a few adults.
Teenage groups, standing bored while they receive the history lecture.
"...this brick was touched by Martinski Lemonewiski in 1765..."
Did you know you can get a dozen pierogi, salad or soup, meat dish and two half-liters of beer for about $24 ? If you are not sick of pierogi, that is.
We crossed over the line into the Jewish Ghetto. It is an actual line, marked out on the sidewalk.
We watched British boys stagger around the streets on a "Stag Party." I swear the U.K. tourists are the worst drunks. Insulting random people on the sidewalks, bumping into others the posturing up for a fight, loud and obnoxious... and that is during daylight hours. Late at night you can hear the curses echo off the walls as they stumble home.
Japanese tourists.
Oh the Japanese tourists.
Love the way they dress... pink sweatshirt and ballet tutu, high high spike heels on cobblestones (with a short short skirt) flowing gauzy dress like s princess... how much luggage do they bring? And the photos... I watched as a girl posed on all four corners of a street intersection, then took over the camera as her friend did the same. And not just standing poses. Trained poses. Like they went to school for it. Foreign Photo Posing 302F.
The beggars come in all shapes and sizes, from the typical Roma-with-hip-baby to the young cute girl, to your average Polish Grandmother (see photos).
Well, I found the perfect response and it worked like a charm. They speak Polish, which I don't understand. So.. I act like I don't understand!
The last beggar who came through, I held up our tourist map of the city, mumbled really fast in English and German, and pointed out where we were. Then I shoved it at her, as a gift, insisting she take it as I pointed down the road.
See? I am helpful and compassionate. I perceive a need and try to fill it.
I am NOT a "black heart" as my friend loves to call me.
OK. Maybe I am.
Anyway, she couldn't wait to leave and I got a good laugh out of it all.
Little kids playing nothing on the accordion. I think you pay them to stop.
Little girl and her dad singing, beautiful really, until you realize they know only ONE. DAMN. SONG.
Over and over and over...
A lot of people drink their beer through a straw.
No comment.
And so we passed a restful warm day, drinking our way through Warsaw, until it was time to fetch up our luggage and head to the Warszawa Centrala for the night train to Budapest.