Highlights:
- Listening to Bon Iver in Cafe Karma
- Seeing 74-81 French President Valéry Marie René Georges Giscard d'Estaing
- Polish, Spanish and English speaking alternative receptionist at hostel, who moved to Bounemouth in the Summer.
First, forgive any errors. Due to one misfortunate event, I'm having to write this on my phone which can't handle this website.
So I woke and stole a glance at my roommate. He looked a bit like someone I know called Mark Rainbow. He had a delicate foot protruding from his duvet and his rainbow (coincidence) clothes were piled on the floor. I had another huge bowl of muesli and some instant coffee (something I've missed most since being away. Nothing like a sub-quality Kenco to remind you of normality). I had a stroll through Krakowski park again (with it's odd sculptures) and was wandering along Krupnizca when I spotted a sign for Fritz Cola. Fritz Cola! I went in and bought my favourite Melon Lemonade and sat listening to Bon Iver playing in the background. As I went up to the bar, the chef was belting out some half-lyrics of the chorus of Creature Fear. The barista said they had to put up with it as he was the boss.
I've not picked up much Polish here, and hate being a typical 'do you speak English?' tourist. Polish is difficult though. There's no point of reference in the language to anything I know. At least Czech had some German influence. The Polish have a different alphabet and completely unexpected pronunciations. 3 days isn't enough to learn even the basics. Still, I ordered a Kawa and Mleko (coffee - kava - and milk - mlecko...) I also did a sort of potluck selection of the cakes, ignoring the guy's offer to identify each one, and ended up with some sort of double layer flapjack tin-loaf cake, with a thick layer of mushed dates in the middle. I wouldn't recommend.
So after reading that Polish history had been wrought with division and war, I decided to head to the National Museum to learn a bit more. I'm pretty ignorant about all things Polish. The only key figures that seem to have come from here are John Paul II and Roman Polansky, and they haven't given me an overly broad view of the country and people.
It was more than shorts and T-shirts weather. It was shirtless-man-wearing-flipflops-in-Tesco-buying-loads -of-fosters-for-a-bbq weather, so I was pretty overdressed as I headed round the main A Mickiewicza road to get to it. I passed a Kino on the way, and briefly contemplated trying out this Polish film that had been advertised. It looked pretty unwelcoming though, despite the now ridiculously familiar sight of a big-arse Skyfall poster. That's well and truly big news in Europe. Almost as popular as Pope John Paul in Krakow. The entire platform in Alexanderplatz in Berlin was filled with posters of Judy Dench and co.
I found the museum, but then looked in horror as the advertised rooms were titled 'the history of polish Armour' and 'Polish Decorative Arts'. I made a hasty exit. Not for me.
I followed the road down to the river. Nothing better than a riverside walk, I've found. It was pretty nice. As you round the corner, the Castle appears up on the hill, and with the blue sky and green grass, it looked like an easy postcard shot.
There was a crowd waiting up by the wall and some security men. I never used to follow crowds. I'd stubbornly refuse to see what people were looking at, even if it was probably cool. I stopped this year as I think I've got a bit nosier. That's how I saw Mo Farah.
Anyway, I went up to the small crowd and saw a row of old men behind a microphone, loads of photographers and a big old Polish band. One guy was speaking at the mic, though the cameras seemed focussed on this other guy in the line who I didn't recognise. Then there was some clapping and the band started playing. I'm only slightly embarrassed to admit that I recognised it at first being the intro to the Beatles 'All You Need Is Love', then as the song the little Edith Piaf belts out in La Vie en Rose, before a quick glance at the ' Plac Wielkiej Armii Napoleana' sign helped me place it as the French National Anthem. A quick bit of google imaging showed me that I was looking at Valéry Marie René Georges Giscard d'Estaing (or just Valéry Giscard d'Estaing to his friends).
So I listened to the French National anthem, took a few photos and then a minute later I was walking past a moored boat restaurant playing 'girls just wanna have fun'. Something for everyone in Krakow.
I followed the river round the castle, finding Krakow's slightly odd version of Hollywood's Walk of Fame. Containing a few Polish actors and then Shameless' David Threllfall. That's weird, right?
I curved up and down the streets of Kazimierz to check I hadn't missed anywhere cool and took some photos. Turns out my generic European features also look Polish-Jewish. Some woman yelled at me in Polish for a while to try to get me to join her crowd going into the Synagogue. When I responded with a sympathetic smile and the word 'Anglii' she muttered to herself and waved her hand dismissively at me.
I stopped briefly in a bar just off Plac Nowy, wrote a few postcards and listened to (I think) a version of My Baby Don't Care For Me by Florence Welch (does that exist?). The owners alternated going outside for cigarettes. There's a lot less inside smoking here than in Czech Republic. I definitely prefer Prague over Krakow though. This is a nice enough city, but it feels too small and purely like a tourist getaway, whilst fortunately the area of Prague I saw felt like it was somewhere you could visit as a tourist, but also somewhere you could set up base.
I wandered back to my hostel and then struck up a conversation with the receptionist guy who'd introduced me to Uwaga (ooh-vag-ah), as he made a joke about my interest in the word. He had a shaved head but with dreadlocks coming out of the back of his head, just above his nape. I never learnt his name but he was Polish, and had studied in Spain for 7 months and had moved to England to Bournemouth this summer looking for hostel work. Because of the awful English summer, there were no tourists in Bournemouth (are there ever?) and he found himself working in a factory with other poles. We spent the afternoon talking about European linguistics, and he informed me that Hungarian is actually much similar to Estonian and Finnish than any other language, being part of the Ugric branch. It's not a Slovak language like Polish, and to some extent Czech. He said that Poland and Hungarian had very good links due to Hungarian once donating a Catholic gift to Poland, and so every time he visits Budapest, they treat him well. He was a really interesting, and mentored Spanish students on his time off to keep up his language skills but had to eventually get back to work.
I went into the common room and watched the England v. Poland match with just one other Polish guy in the room. Then I went out to buy one of these round pretzely/bagel things they sell everywhere in Krakow and came back for an early night, expecting to get up at 5.30 the next morning for a train to Bratislava.
End of day 16.
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