Thinking of Grandma Betty, aka Basia, in Krakow

Well, we took the night train, first time in a sleeper. It felt so old-worldy, so film noire. The thing about traveling in both Krakow and Prague was the true humility I felt. As many know, I love languages, have studied and proudly am fairly adept in French, dabble in Italian after a year's study and many visits, and can communicate very basically in Spanish after my month's lessons in Guatemala. Here, in Eastern Europe, I knew nothing, I mean truly nothing. Money felt like play money because I didn't truly grasp the exchange in either place. I believe that, as crazy as it sounds, it's important for everyone to experience such inadequacy at least once. (of course, my current experience has me feeling that way daily...)
So, we left at night, slept on fold-out bench-like "beds", equipped with sheets, pillows, and blankets, which we had to make up ourselves. Marilyn Monroe in Some Like it Hot without the curtains. Not very well rested, we arrived in Krakow at 6:30 am, to a light rain.
We trudged up the cobblestone streets to our hostel, checked in, and Jean-Luc took off for a few hours for some independent exploration while I settled in. Meeting later on in the Old Square, we began our only day together in Krakow - Jean-Luc left for London the next morning to spend a day with Cayal in Oxford and then to fly back to NY.
I loved Krakow. Much smaller, much more manageable, many fewer tourists, it felt real to me. As usual, we walked - everywhere. We ate beets and dumplings, went into St. Mary's in the Old Square, the most beautiful church, with all of the intricately painted walls, and bought a few trinkets for friends. We found the best bookstore I've seen in Europe so far and both bought books (a love we have in common). I spoke with a lovely young woman there who directed us to some sights for later on. Toured the castle and searched for the Buddha Stone, one of seven in existence in the world, hidden in the castle courtyard.
It was colder than Prague, but we stopped for tea, bundled up, kept going, and somehow, I didn't mind it. The day was a bit hard, being so tired from the night's travels, but we managed to see a lot.

We continued on and walked around the old Jewish ghetto. Thousands of Jews before the war, and according to what we read, about 100 remaining in Krakow today. I thought of my grandma. I don't know where in Poland she came from, but waved and smiled to a little old lady in the window and thought of her.
After looking around, we found ourselves in a very funny restaurant. Huge, almost a beer palace, with massive portions of food, all heavy and about six different things on each plate. I'm sure that it was a place mainly for tourists, but we had a beer and had fun. Neither of us could finish our meal.













Next morning, a gray rainy day, Jean-Luc left for a train to the airport and I joined up with two guys from the hostel and headed off for Auschwitz. The weather was somehow perfect for the visit. Dismal. Can I explain the trip? Not really. We all know the history. I felt absolutely compelled to go there, to see it and experience it for myself. It was intense, to say the least. Overwhelming. The barracks. The barbed wire. The towers and exhibits of thousands of eyeglasses, shoes, luggage. The mounds of human hair. Standing in a cell for special prisoners. Plodding through the muddy walkways. All of it. The guide who led us through was amazing. Knowledgeable, compassionate, passionate. I don't know how she could do this daily and asked her. She said yes, it was difficult, but...


The juxtaposition of the soft and beautiful scenery outside the window during my bus ride back into the city.

That night I found what came to be my favorite little restaurant during my stay in Krakow - I went back again the next night, too. The city is small enough that I ran into several people from my hostel, and ended up talking to two guys at the next table, traveling around, from Australia.









The following morning found me on a bus to the salt mines, a must according to Maja, my friend of Polish ancestry. It was pretty incredible. This room is made entirely of salt, carved into walls, floors, chandeliers, sculptures, even a replica of The Last Supper, in relief. Our guide told us we could lick the wall and see for ourselves. Deciding that I wasn't quite up for that, I did lick my finger, rub it on the wall, and - voila! - it really was salt. This is just one exhibit amongst many, each made up of salt carvings, created by the miners over the years.


Loved coming across these two scenes, the wedding pictures being taken in the green park, the planta, running around the Old City center, and the photographer and model in the Jewish Ghetto, one of my favorite shots.
My last evening I came across the last bit of a walking tour in the Jewish ghetto, led by a young man, so personable, he was truly special. I was invited to join the group for a drink in a little cafe nearby, which of course, I accepted. I sat and spoke with a couple from Sweden (and thought of Kim) and had a lovely time.
It's funny how many preconceived ideas we have about things - I had no idea that I'd enjoy Poland so much...