Wandering around Warsaw

Dober Dan! Greetings from Poland. I’m here after leaving Riga, heading south through country Latvia and crossing through Lithuania into Poland. The party on the lake the night before had ended well. Karlis’ Brother Gustav, having just gained his driver’s license, had enthusiastically taken on the role of designated driver to and from the party. Sucker.

I had a really good time, and despite the lack of sleep and copious Latvian beers and a few sips from the bottle of whatever foul spirit was being handed around, I otherwise didn’t feel too shabby – no hangover or anything. However, I did need to pull my finger out and hit the road. Karlis’ family actually lived in a small village about 15km out of the centre of Riga. It was a nice house but it was sort of in the middle of nowhere. You couldn’t drink the water without filtering it first, and even when having a shower, I could feel the water on my skin and it was a mildly slimy sensation. I chose not to have a second shower that morning because I felt cleaner after swimming in the lake the night before. I did ask if the water was safe for drinking, and Karlis told me that we shouldn’t as the river was polluted by the Belarussians upstream (in Belarus) and there wasn’t a lot the locals in Latvia could do about all the industry and pollution occuring upstream, because Belarus was apparently a pretty uncooperative country. So they used it for gardening and showers, and had to filter their drinking water or source it from a local well. Boo to the Belarussians!

The bus pulled out of Riga and we went on a long and windy journey through Latvia, Lithuania and finally ending up at Poland. Along the way I got to stop off at Kaunas, and also Vilnius, the capital city of Lithuania. I didn’t think I was going to get to see Vilnius, so was quite happy when we did pull in and I was able to look around for a short time. At about 11pm, we arrived at Warsaw, and without any accommodation organised, I headed into the city centre and began knocking on hostel doors. The one recommended by Lonely Planet, the Oki Doki Hostel, seemed not to want any visitors since there was no sign pointing to the entrance and I spent about 15 minutes trying to find a way in. When I eventually did, they were of course full, but I stuck up some conversation about my bike trip with another guest, and the night clerk. Eventually, when I explained my predicament and told them a bit about my trip, the night clerk at the desk offered me the option of just crashing in the communal lounge room if I needed to, which was great. But I thought I’d at least try one more hostel across the road first, because I really was looking forward to a bed. When I headed over to the Camera Hostel, they did have a lovely cheap bed and a safe place for the bike. The security guards in the building were especially keen when they saw my bicycle fully loaded up. Such was their fascination, there was no problem getting them to look after it for the night and they gladly kept watch on it where I left it locked up inside the hostel reception. My bike, Bessie, has a couple of AUS stickers on the front and back so that at a glance, people can easily identify me as being from Australia. This has been very helpful on many occasions, from people who simply are curious and strike up a conversation whilst they cycle next to me, and also to make it easier to get by in general day to day tasks. I’ll have my bicycle with me when I’m looking around the city, or stopping for lunch, and people are frequently a bit more helpful and genuinely interested in serving me when they can identify that I’m from half-way around the world. So thanks for sending those luggage stickers across Mum!

I had a pleasant walk around town after sorting out my bike and luggage at the hostel. Even though I had been travelling all day, I still wandered the streets until about 3am. It was after all a Friday night, and there were loads of people roaming the city and all the bars and clubs and cafes were pumping. I ended up chatting to a group of friendly (and drunk) Pols in the streets, who eventually kindly pointed me in the direction of cheap booze, so I loaded up on a few local brews and headed in a loop around some of the main streets in town. Dinner was a kebab, and I have to say, I was very impressed with the Polish take on a Turkish kepab, with a fluffy ciabatta roll cut in half, and a load of delicious garlic and chilli sauce over the lamb and salad. Beyadaful!

The next morning, a bit more refreshed and having slept in and caught up on some sleep since my Riga lake party, I left my luggage behind at the hostel whilst I wandered around Warsaw for a few hours. Cycling around on Bessie without the luggage is fantastic; I’d forgotten just how light she really is and I was absolutely hooning around easily without having to drag an extra 6 bags and 35kg of stuff with me.

There’s plenty of cool stuff in Warsaw. They are big on Chopin, the famous pianist composer. There are park benches and seats around the city that play Chopin’s music when you sit down and press a button. In fact, apparently Chopin’s heart has been preserved and is kept inside one of the plinths of the main church in the square next to the opera house or something.

Down the road, there’s the Parliament building, and I noticed the flags were at half mast and a little shrine was setup out the front with a bunch of candles, lanterns and flowers. Then it dawned on me; the nation was officially still in mourning for the loss of their Prime Minister. Several months ago, nearly the entire executive of the Polish parliament, including the Prime Minister and his wife, were killed in a light plane crash. The nation was devastated, with I think something like six of it’s top government officials dead. Outside the Parliament were a series of photographs taken during the public’s outpouring of grief. The only other time I’ve seen a similar image was when Princess Diana died; there were countless flowers and candle lanterns and people gathering in town squares all over Poland to pay tribute to their lost leader. I remember I was in Wales at the time this happened, and had forgotten about it until now, but months later, the media were still parked out the front of the building with their cameras and vans, and evidently there were still matters unresolved from the whole incident.

Further down into the main area of Warsaw, I came across the reconstructed buildings of the Old Town. If you didn’t know that the whole area had been bombed flat during the WWII, you wouldn’t have been able to tell since the buildings have been painstakingly rebuilt from the foundations up, with immaculate precision, from the original plans. It was quite magnificent, and there was a small festival going on near the old town square, trumpeters playing from the tops of buildings, horse and carts wandering around and not too many tourists that it was unbearable. I liked it a lot, and spent a bit longer than planned wandering around, before heading towards Warsaw central station to jump on a train to Krakow.
Tonight I should be wandering around Krakow, the biggest tourism destination in Poland, and I hope to grab a day trip to the Auschwitz concentration camps tomorrow. I’ll report back then!

Be Sociable, Share!

• 
•