Day 17: Krakow to Bochnia (not Katowice) to Krakow to Budapest (not Bratislava)

Highlights:

• 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

Day 16: Krakow

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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Day 15: Krakow to Oswiecim to Krakow

Highlights:

• All you can eat muesli - free Hostel breakfast
• Auschwitz (here I don't mean highlight in the 'Oh my god, that was SO cool' sense, rather that it was a key part of my day)
• Kindles now let you browse the web

It was pretty gloomy when I woke up, but I woke up in a private room to an inclusive hostel breakfast so I was feeling pretty chirpy. The sign in the kitchen read 'One sandwich but all you can eat cornflakes and muesli'. Yummy. Quite the expansive, continental breakfast. NON-INTERESTING SIDE NOTE I was trying to spell muesli, museli. I had to google it to verify that I was wrong. Apparently the mues in muesli means 'to mash up/puree' and muesli was invented by Dr Bircher to help his patients. And then I found 10 Zloty. 

I bagged a sandwich for lunch and ate my weight in chocolate MUESli. As it was so gloomy out, I figured today was as good a day as any to visit Auschwitz. I'd seen lots of tour options on offer, but my guide said you could just get a bus yourself from the station to Oswiecim (pronounced Osh-fyen-cheem) where Auschwitz-Birkenau are (Auschwitz, whilst a more famous name, was a smaller camp than Birkenau, and was originally the main prison for Polish political prisoners, Jews and Romas (Gypsies) whilst Birkenau was the larger, later built extermination camp). I bought my ticket for 12zl (just under 3 quid) and sat waiting on the lower platform of the bus garage, ridiculously fascinated by the traffic system the bus company had in place. It was so smooth and efficient. I could have sat watching it for at least another 20minutes longer than I did. But a little minibus pulled in to collect us, and we headed out of the city. 

On arrival at Auschwitz from the road, the first thing you see is a little hut with the words 'FAST FOOD' on the side, and then a huge coach park to the right. It seemed a little Alton Towers, but there really is no other way of doing it I suppose; it's important for people to come, more so here than to most other 'tourist' sites, so it's going to be busy and you've got to cater for them. It cost 30zl with my student card, and I quickly made the tour group just leaving. Quite sensibly, during peak hours you have to go with a tour guide to ensure flow of people around the site is constant, as certain areas did get a little crowded.

I won't go into detail about the camps. I think everyone really should visit themselves. Only by actually visiting these camps did that horrendous side of humanity really sink in to me, in a way history lessons and textbooks never really managed to relate.

One point though; in my tour group there was a disgusting, short, fat American lady, who used the reverse camera function on her iPhone to take photos of herself in front of, first the buildings at Auschwitz, which seemed weird but not outrageous, but then in front of piles of murdered victims' shoes, and then the gallows, and then the ovens where the dead bodies were cremated. It literally made me feel sick. I can't possibly comprehend why she needed herself to be in all of those photos, and why she even needed to take photos in the first place. 

It was raining the whole time. I leant my umbrella to a Scandinavian couple and my coat was soaked through by the end. After the shuttle had returned us from Birkenau to our starting point, I pegged it with an English couple to the road to catch our return bus. As their knees/hips started giving out (they were old), I took one for the team and yelled back 'I'll make them hold it for you!' and ploughed on. We all arrived at the bus, wet, tired but with a sense of satisfaction that we'd just made it, only for the bus to wait 15minutes before leaving. We shared an ironic look between us, before settling in to warm up.

Back in Krakow, I got off the bus a little early, proud that I already knew the city well enough to identify my local 'Family Dent' (this is a family dentist practice, but the quite expensive looking sign only has those letters, despite there being room for more. Apparently that's enough). I grabbed some food and a Polish beer and trundled back to the hostel, where I discovered I now had a roommate. The bed had been part slept in already, and resting on top were a pair of man-size burnt orange courderoys. Thundering footsteps passed by door and I saw a large group of French school kids heading to the common room. By French school kids, we're talking treize ans, rather than sexy Inbetweeners style dix-sept ans French exchange. The teacher sounded pretty foxy, so I was hoping he was the owner of the orange trousers, but then I saw him; a deceptively young sounding mid-50s guy wearing a T-Shirt saying Lucky Player. No no. 

I didn't really fancy being alone that evening. I'd left a note at the hostel of the Australian guys the previous day with my number, so when they sent a message, I agreed to head across town to meet them. They were staying in Kazimierz (the Jewish town) so after stopping off to ask the receptionist of my hostel how to pronounce Uwaga for my mate Tom (Tom - it's ooh-vag-ah. I'm using it all over the place now), I caught a tram (without paying) around to the other side of town. Spent the evening in a few bars in that part of town (it's REALLY cool down there. So many cool looking places to go to). Back at the hostel, I was woken at 2.30am when my roommate came back. Not a french teacher clearly, but a guy who seems to only wear block colours. I spotted all red pyjamas getting into bed and in a pile on the floor, a bright blue coat and a canary yellow sweater.

End of day 15.

P.S. My Kindle now lets you browse the web. Cool. 
P.P.S I've also noticed that Europeans generally start counting from the thumb. So to count three they'll use thumb, index, middle. Every time I see it I find it weird. It's index, middle, third finger, right?

Day 14: Krakow

Highlights:

• Hostel Deco
• Krolicze Oczy on Estery
• Planty

We were woken on the train five minutes before arriving in Krakow (I'm still not sure how to pronounce this. I've heard Krakow, Krakov, and I'm pretty sure the locals say Krakou and sometimes Krakouv). I heard an American guy in the next cabin saying how he'd been ripped off when exchanging cash on the street in Prague. Some slight of hand meant the middle section of his wad of cash was just newspaper. I didn't need to read the warning in the guide to know that changing money with a man in an overcoat on the street is a bad idea...if I'd been talking to him, pretty sure I'd have made a sarky comment about him only having himself to blame for being such a doughnut.

It was about 6.30am. The Czech man had got into bed at 8.30, and had promptly fallen asleep with no fuss, not waking until 6am the next morning. I knew he was asleep by the sporadic light snores he made, which unlike Eden's in Prague, had been slightly comforting. At Krakow station, we unlocked our door (a few guides I've read since say that theft is quite common on that train, and they advise either not falling asleep if you're in the general coach, or sleeping on top of your personal belongings. So the ticket lady's advice about locking the door was pretty useful). I jumped (yes) off the train, and made my way into Krakow. There didn't seem to be an actual station to walk through, so quite confusingly, you leave your platform and find yourself on this covered promenade, leading onto a shopping square. It was really foggy, and though I had a map from the hostel website, I couldn't really work out where I was. A Polish man came up to me and asked for "coins for Polish beer". It was 6.30am. When I told him I had no zloty, I think he interpreted that as me not having ANY money in the world, and he wished me good luck. Rather than stand falling prey to local drunks, I decided to make a leap of faith and start moving and found I was on the right track.  I stopped off to get some Zloty (about 4.3 zlotys are 1 pounds). My hostel was in the North West of Krakow, just outside the centre, which I liked because again it meant you were able to see a bit more of the city outside the tourist centre.

The hostel had a no show the previous night, so I was able to go straight into my room to a prepared bed. It was a 4-bed dorm but I was the only one there, so completely exhausted, I fell asleep for 5 hours. I woke to beautiful sunshine and after quickly looking around the hostel (it had a kitchen where a free breakfast was served every morning and a nice lounge. The deco theme of the hostel is pretty apparent, and it really looks very cool inside. My shared bathroom was like a hotel bathroom, not like the crappy, dirty hostel thing you'd expect). I dropped off my key at reception (a requirement) and slowly headed into the centre. It was hot. In English terms, we're talking 'shorts and T-Shirt weather and the sky was completely clear. I was still a little sluggish, and I'm ashamed to admit that I stopped off at a place/chain called 'Coffee Heaven' for an emergency coffee and muffin. It was my first stop at a chain since I've been travelling though. That's got to count for something.

The centre of town is circled by a thin park, with benches lining the path. It's called the nickname-sounding 'Planty' and was packed because of the nice weather. I had a wander around, passing several nuns, a baby that sounded EXACTLY like a Kazoo and lots of elderly couples, watching the world go by. I'd read that being fairly religious (they're clearly still HUGELY in love with Pope John Paul II - his picture is everywhere) in churches you had to cover up, but I felt myself getting odd looks on the street because I was baring my arms. As well as no socks, I somehow had also only packed It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia Mac style cut off t-shirts, so there's really not a lot I can do about this. 

The main square is in the old town and was very pretty. SIDE NOTE Someone had mentioned that Polish and Czech differ a lot in language, but Old Town is Stare Miasto in Polish, and Stare Mesto in Czech. Not that different. As it was out of season, the square wasn't rammed, though slightly annoyingly was full of people trying to get you into their restaurants/offering you flyers. The best or perhaps worst was a guy looking like Big Chef (from Big Chef/Little Chef) holding a wooden spoon. From here I wandered over to Kazimierz, which was the old Jewish part of town. One awful fact I learnt was that during WW2, ALL of Polands 3m Jews were killed, or relocated. After the war, the country had been completely ethnically 'cleansed' (horrible word, but I don't know how else to put it) leaving 98% of the population purely Polish. This part of town has consequently become the sort of poor/grungy area, so I felt sure I'd like it. I walked onto a square called pl. Nowy, which had some cool looking bars and restaurants, and stopped off at one called Krolicze Oczy on Estery because it was playing Grizzly Bear. Aside from Muse, music tastes out this way have been amazing. Yeasayer followed Grizzly Bear. I sat enjoying the music and had my first Zywiec piwo (pronounced Pivo) for 7 zloty (just under 2 pounds), so a little more expensive than Czech beer. Also, really not as nice as even the cheapest Czech pivo I had. 

I walked back to my hostel slowly to freshen up, stopping to buy an ice-cream and the helpful man let me practice my polish (another example; 'Thanks' in Czech is pronounced dje-koo-yi, in Polish it's djen-koo-yi). I walked back through Planty and up into a park called Krawicki (or something) which was dotted with these odd sculptures. Pretty cool. I passed a lot of places called 'Piekarnia' which I hoped meant 'Pie Carnage', but I think probably meant Bakery. SIDE NOTE There were a few tourist carts taking people, with the translation of 'old town' on the side in various languages. Old town in Italian was 'Ghetto'. I just looked it up and apparently the word ghetto comes from 'Borghetto', meaning either Little Borgo (Borough) or Borg-Ghet (meaning waste borough), which was an area in Venice outside of the city walls where Jews lived. The best Polish word I've seen so far is 'Uwaga', which means caution. UWAGA. Amazing.

I crashed at the hostel for a bit, then headed into town to a bar called Buddha Bar, which my alternative guide had said had a nice garden. It had one table outside... Inside I grabbed a beer and then listened in horror at a woman in a group of English people say 'Well Jell' THREE TIMES IN A 30 MINUTE PERIOD. I was so embarrassed, I wrote a Tanka about it. 

End of day 14.

Day 13: Prague to Krakow

Highlights:

• Letenske Sady, obviously
• One last Kozel Cerny for the road
• Night train to Krakow

Standard start to the day, Letenske Sady, followed by Kaficko (Brazilian coffee, followed by honey cake). There have been different staff every day at the cafe, and todays were my favourite. A friendly man and his young son, having a little banter and alternately serving me. It was empty again apart from two older German ladies who joined later on. 

The day before, the Kiwi Nicola had looked at me like I was mental when I said I hadn't visited the tourist-infested old clock tower, and then was only slightly less shocked when I said I hadn't had a curled doughnut cake thing. So I reluctantly trudged along into the centre of town, unfortunately missing the big display on the hour (it's supposed to be BRILLIANT...) but locating a nice vendor of the doughnut thing. I can't remember the name of it, but it's made out of some leavened pastry, rolled round a metal rod and then cooked over some fire. Once complete, it's then rolled in sugar, vanilla and almonds. It was alright. It was no honey cake.

I'd booked to stay another night, but with my interailling pass, I'm allowed 10 journeys in only 22 days, so it seems wasteful to use them with long distance travel. I headed to the station and bought a cabin add-on for the 20.17 train to Krakow that night. 10 Euros. SIDE NOTE One thing I've noticed since travelling is that Americans and Kiwis have been using multiple Euro in the singular. That's not right, is it. Pound/Pounds, Dollar/Dollars, Euro/Euros. It really winds me up. 

I leisurely strolled back to the hostel to pack up and plan my next steps, and bought a 10kc (30p) Kozel Cerny, my favourite Czech beer and then became distracted first by my book (I've nearly finished Kafka on the Shore - it's getting really good, and the character keeps listening to Prince and Radiohead) and then by a group of travellers in the bar who had just been sky diving. Whilst high the night before, they'd all agreed how much they wanted to sky dive and so first thing, they went out and booked it. Pretty cool. I don't think they liked my comment about how Felix' dive sort of stole their lightning. There was a guy from York (Harry Job) who was staying in Prague for a few months whilst some friends he knows work out here, and started with a "you're English too, aren't you? I heard your accent last night. He's just going to chill out for a few months, which seems to be what every traveller I meet is planning. I'd love to be going for a few months!!! An American girl who had a few loud Skype calls with her boyfriend and mum which I eavesdropped on (of course) and a Czech girl.

Three of the Aussie guys were also going to Krakow that evening. They were from Taronda (or something...) in Australia, and were travelling for a few months before starting uni. Adam, Henry and Sven were pretty spaced out, but we hung for a while and then I guided them to the station (I'm not sure they'd have got the train if I wasn't there). We parted ways as I headed off to my luxurious cabin, and they followed a huge group of Warsaw ice hockey fans (who had spent the past 30 minutes banging a drum and chanting, and going up and down the escalators; we presume they'd just beaten Prague). As the train departed and I snuggled down in my bed, I could hear the fans from a few carriages down. I was in a 6-birth cabin, sharing with a Polish man who wore glasses and had a hat like Thernardier from Les Mis, and a shy American couple, who seemed to shrink away from any comment I made (such as "Sorry, do you mind if I just squeeze past" and "can I turn the light off now?". Intimidating stuff). Slightly disconcertingly, the ticket inspector showed us clearly how to lock the door and advised we do it...

The train was arriving before 7am, so I was panicked that I wouldn't wake up in time and had a pretty crappy night's sleep. A bumpy ride into Poland as well.

End of day 13.