- Bochnia platform
- Pasta tasting pizza
- Bottom bunk to Budapest
If this were some shitty novel, I'd start Day 17 something like this: 'It all started when I hit snooze on my alarm. If only I'd gotten up then like I'd planned and got the 06.36 train to Bratislava, then none of this would have ever happened. One tired moment's decision from my half-slumber, and my life changed FOREVER. I wouldn't have ended up stranded in the middle of nowhere for hours, I wouldn't have seen the racist graffiti, and I wouldn't have eaten a pizza that tasted like raw pasta. Here's how it all began...'
Or something.
But as it happened, I was all set to hit Bratislava. I'd booked a hostel, emailed the National Theatre asking for tickets to the Slovakian Ballet production of Swan Lake and I'd set my alarm for 5.45am to catch the early train. I'd only allocated one night to BSlava as my sister had heard it was a bit pants, and the guide said it was 'a bit Stag Do'. I'd had a bit of a rubbish sleep. Old Block Colours wardrobe had come in at a reasonable time with the same 'hello' that Stan's dad says in Southpark when his character arrives in World of Warcraft. But British. All normal, but then in the middle of the night, someone slowly opened our door. I looked up and saw a silhouette in the doorway but wasn't overly concerned, thinking it was Block Colours. But then, like in a horror film, I suddenly noticed his form ALREADY LYING IN THE BED NEXT TO ME!!!! Anyway, short story long, whoever it was had gotten the wrong room and quickly shut the door again, but I was restless from then on. SO when my alarm went early, I decided to snooze it and catch the later train.
The hostel computers weren't working but on my phone, it said I could catch the 9.36 and change at Katowice. So after a quick conversation with Block Colours (on holiday in Krakow for four days), I headed to the station. I queued for 10minutes, not realising I was in the 'Regional Tickets' line (somehow missing the easily translatable 'billet regionale' sign) and then I rushed half way down the promenade to the International queue to find no-one in the booth. I figured I'd sort it on the train and saw the only 9.36 train left from platform 3, so with a few minutes spare, I jumped (lumbered) onto it and found a seat. Only after 50minutes and three stops did the ticket man arrive and stare at me with horror as I explained my travel plans. "Krakow!" he kept saying, pointing back to where we'd come from. "Yes, I've come from Krakow but am going to Budapest via Katowice". "Krakow!" he kept pointing the same way. "Yes, Krakow that way, Katowice this way". "No, Krakow and Katowice", he pointed the same way. Uh-oh. "So, this isn't the right train?" "No", he cried. "This is definitely the wrong train?" "No", he cried. "You get off, Katowice that way".
So that's how I ended sitting on my own at Bochnia station. The man gave me a sympathetic look and it seemed I charmed him with my OTT thanks, as he smiled and wished me luck as he waved me goodbye (unintentional song quote) from the window, like some sort of Railway Children Scene.
So Bochnia. I was helpfully informed it had its own facebook page, though it took about 10 tactical google searches before I could find any train times. Seemed none of them would help me make it to BSlava or Budapest (my next destination) before the next day. Bochnia was desolate. I heard a baby crying, a siren going past and a dog barking. I imagine it's seen it's fair share of tumbleweed too. I had about an hour to kill, and rather than venture into town and/or go to the Salt Mines (I was fed up with Poland at this point) I decided to sit it out, and get back to Krakow as soon as I could, and book my train out of there.
I was joined after 30minutes by a Polish Chav who played games on her phone loudly and then talked to her mates even more loudly, but she soon got on the next train heading to Tarnow (where I'd accidentally been heading). I was gradually joined by a few elderly couples; I wasn't sure whether they were planning to get on a train, or were just having a day out to the station but they seemed content enough. After a fair amount of faffing, and a lot of help from Abbie in the UK, I decided to get the next train in the direction I'd come from, and hope for the best. Fortunately the next train said 'Krakow' on the front, so I was in luck. Unfortunately, it was a hot day and I was sat near a very sweaty man (I couldn't see the culprit, only smell his funky odour) and just as I'd got used to the smell, an even smellier homeless man came and sat behind me. He soon got moved on by the ticket inspector, who I'd prepared a paragraph for in google translate to explain my woe. He looked at it and just nodded (I'm not sure he really understood) and kept on going. So really, if it sounds like I'm moaning about this, I did get a free trip to Bochnia out of it. And baby crying aside, it was quite beautiful and peaceful. Sort of felt like I was in a one-horse town in the American deep south.
Back in Krakow, I paid for my overnight train cabin to Budapest (37 zloty) and then stashed my luggage with the man at the station, hoping his bad English meant he was agreeing to let me pick it up at 9.30 that night. So after being well and truly ready to leave Poland the day before, I now had another half-day to kill.
Still, it gave me time to view Daniel Craig's gun pose from a few more angles and I really got to know John Paul II's twinkly eyes. Also, I found a few more PieKarnia Awiteks, which, given their frequency around town, I presume are the Greggs of Poland. I also found the well-taglined authorised Apple reseller 'iMad: Because we're mad about technology' and later another; iSpot (because we spot technology?).
I probably could have done without seeing the WHITE PRIDE graffiti on the toilet wall in Krakowski park. I'd talked about racism with Mr Poland the day before, and he'd predicted another war in Serbia before too long, given that he said a large number of its population do not actually consider themselves Serbian. He said the whole East was stricken with a level of racism, he felt in Poland largely due to their to-the-core Catholic beliefs. It was quite nice hearing him appeal to the sky (presuming he was appealing to the people of Poland) to just be good people to each other, rather than treat people unkindly or cruelly in the name of religion. Hear hear. (I didn't say that, just sort of nodded and smiled intelligently).
It was now already about 2pm, so I decided to treat myself to something beyond beer, and got a Prosecco from a place formerly known as Paparazzi, just north of the main square (I've abandoned UK big drunken nights and have taken up a one-a-day style of drinking). It was amazing, and had a cherry at the bottom. I sat for a few hours, just about managing to write yesterday's blog by alternating between my kindle and blackberry (both incompatible browsers for blogger apparently) and ordered a margherita pizza. It tasted strangely like undercooked pasta. I couldn't work it out. I ate it all though. Can't turn down food. I only left the restaurant when they played Elton John's 'Sacrifice' for the second time in 15minutes.
From there I went to the Photography Museum with my unexpected extra Krakow hours. It wasn't far from my hostel or the station, so I walked and arrived around 4.45pm. Given that the museum shut at 6pm, I didn't expect such a frosty and reluctant welcome. It was a pretty small museum as well, and the lady shut two of the interesting rooms from me so I was out in 40minutes anyway, even after deliberately taking my time when I could see she was looking at me. I spent about 10minutes looking at a photo of a man on a horse. I saw a play not too long ago called 'Travelling Light' which was about the origins of photography and had been set in Eastern Europe. I'm not sure how factual the play was, but I figured this museum might have some insight into that. It didn't really, other than explaining that the French company 'Pathe' (which I recognise as having something to do with films or cartoons or something) did something back in the day, and the Germans made a lot of camera equipment in 19th century. When I was in Rochester, NY a few years back, I went to George Eastman's (founder of Kodak) house, and so I smugly nodded at the info cards about it, pretending it was old news to me, hoping that the moody lady was watching. There was only so long I could drag out that experience, so I went to enjoy the dying sun in the park and read my book.
Later I searched for 'Polish Photography' on my kindle** and got '3 Titles, Sorted by Relevance'. 1 and 2 were by Foto Fetish Studios about Brandi's feet and 3 by ErotiPics about Skater Boy James wanting a polish. Didn't think that had been a particularly dodgy search phrase.
As my mum pointed out, I've generally been living off of beer and coffee since I started travelling, so I determinedly went to a supermarket to pick up some water. I've been generally outwitted by the labelling since I've been travelling and nearly always accidentally end up with sparkling water. We're talking a good 95% of the time. I think some water must have been mis-labelled. Poland is the first time I've got it right, though (as per my mum's 'once you've tried something twelve times, your tastebuds adapt to it' rule*) I've now reached a level indifference about sparkling water (or gazawana, as the Polish call it. I worked this out after presuming niegazowana meant no gas...owana).
I headed back to the station, getting lost twice (presumably as a deserved slap in the face after my smug knowledge of the city a few days before), to give myself good time to get the train. I had a few herbatas (Polish for tea) in the shopping centre and then went to buy some food for the train journey. I've got this massive paranoia that I'm going to end up being stuck on the train for days like those people in the eurotunnel who were hungry and then had to allocate one carriage for the toilet and almost lost all sense of their own humanity, so I always stock up on food and tissue before I go. In my panic at being in a foreign supermarket, I forgot I'd already had pizza that day, and bought some identical pizza bread (not sure that water can balance out a two-pizza a day diet) and a chocolate milkshake which I figured I could pretend was hot chocolate and would hopefully lull me into sleep on the train if I was sharing with a snorer. After collecting my baggage, I was pretty pleased to be leaving the country with only 1zloty and 13grotzy. About 25p. I can't imagine I'll be back in Poland anytime soon.
Got on the train, scored the jackpot getting the lower bunk and sharing with only one other guy. Though I bet he's a snorer.
End of Day 17.
*doesn't work for mushrooms
** I've been pretty lucky so far with kindle book samples. For free, I've downloaded the essential key phrases in most European languages, read a few short stories, and know almost all of why Krakow has so many dragon toys/pictures everywhere
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