Nine people I’d like to know better (Tag Game)
I Got Tagged, Here You Go
Tagged by @gwen-tolios
One-sentence byline: Strange creature of a person who dabbles in many things arts and sciences and likes spreading good feelings.
Last song: Suzie Noma by Muthoni Drummer Queen, found it through the video game Beyond Blue and am quite happy. Did not like swimming around open ocean, that's a nope for me.
Favourite colour: I suppose purple. It can be very lovely in all shades and brings a nice richness or lightness, depending if it is jewel or pastel.
Currently watching: I don't really watch much, as I don't pay for subscriptions. Sometimes anime, my favourite is Mushi-Shi. Someone has me started on Into Your Eternity but it's not getting watched because I have been on gaming/creating recently.
Last movie/tv show: Children of the Sea (Kaijuu no Kodomo), second rewatch finished today. I had my wisdom teeth extracted so I took it easy for a couple of days there and rewatching things has my brain happy.
Spicy/savoury/sweet: Sweet, mostly. Savoury is getting up there. Spicy is a no.
Relationship status: Single-pringle, happy about it, relationships are not my thing.
Current obsession: I’m going to make another shirt today. Or at least cut it. This is going to be the Christmas-themed fabric I got, my last one was the gnomes.
Last thing you googled: Boor-Zwah Dress from Fable II. I know someone who wants to recreate the dress and was trying to find high enough quality screenshots of it for her to do so. It kind of went alright, I only found two decent ones but it is a front and a back.
Tagging: @foldingfittedsheets, @moth-queer, @unashamedly-enthusiastic, @myidealhousehaschickenfeet, @worksfrogressadministration, @mapplestrudel, @ajaxbird, @zooarchaeologyatdinner, @thegaythespian
16 notes
·
View notes
Day 144: Going East
Today, after two and a half months in (mostly) English-speaking countries, it was finally time to dive back into continental Europe. And we'd be diving pretty deep--all the way over to Poland.
After our last British breakfast, we took a taxi out to the Inverness airport. Our flight was at 10:55, and our host had recommended leaving at 8:30 to make sure we had plenty of time.
Back when we first arrived in Scotland, we'd thought that flying out of Dublin was as easy as it could get (not counting the Burger King incident). But Inverness was on another level. Checking in, dropping off our bags, and going through security took less than 15 minutes total. That left us plenty of time to browse the airports impressively stocked whisky shop and admire the airport's three gates. Not three terminals--three gates.
Our flight was with KLM Royal Dutch Airlines and included a layover in Amsterdam. We were a little nervous about the layover because it would only be 35 minutes long. But the tickets had all been booked directly through KLM, so we figured that we could trust their judgement.
It worked out, but I’m not so sure about their judgement.
Our flight from Inverness actually left early, and we arrived in Amsterdam over ten minutes ahead of schedule. Which was a very good thing, because we were at the far end of one terminal while our next flight was at the far end of the opposite terminal. And half of the moving walkways were out of service. And we had to go through passport control.
There was a fast-track lane for short connections at passport control, but an attendant told us to go into the main line anyway. This wasn’t an Inverness or even a Dublin line–this was a major-international-hub line. After waiting in this line for about ten minutes, our mental math was raising red flags. We would have a hard time getting through the line before our flight took off, let alone getting all the way to the gate, which was still a considerable walk beyond the passport control desks.
Just as we were getting ready to ask again, another attendant came up and shouted for us to get over into the fast-track line.
Passports stamped, we speedwalked straight to the gate, bypassing several badly needed bathrooms, and only just made it to the gate at the scheduled opening time. If our plane from Inverness hadn't arrived early, we might not have made it to our gate even if we hadn't gotten stuck at passport control.
Luckily for us, our next plane was also late, so we had time to use the toilets and grab a cold beverage from a vending machine before hopping on the bus that took us to our plane. It was smaller than the plane we took from Dublin to Edinburgh, but it did have jet engines instead of turboprops–so I still count it as an upgrade.
The flight was smooth, and soon enough we were stepping out into Krakow's John Paul II Airport. We decided to get some Polish Złotys (pronounced “zwah-tes”) from the airport ATMs (or "Bankomats") before hailing a taxi from into town. We ended up withdrawing way more money than we needed--the interface had been designed to make it look like you couldn't pull out smaller amounts unless you looked closely.
As it turned out, we probably would have been better off skipping ATMs in Poland altogether.
I always imagined Eastern Europe as a very cash-based place, but that couldn't have been further from the truth--at least in Krakow. Everyone there seems to use credit cards for everything. Spending the 100zł bills that we'd gotten from the ATMs (worth about $25 US) was nearly impossible. Even at large grocery stores and tourist sites, the cashiers would just shake their heads and smile at us condescendingly as if we were simpletons trying to pay with rocks.
We eventually went looking for a bank or currency exchange that would break some of our larger bills for us and gave up after a frustratingly unsuccessful hour of searching. Two of the currency exchanges (or "kantors") practically laughed us out of the doors.
I have to admit that I got angry once or twice over this odd phenomenon. There are ATMs everywhere in Krakow. How is it possible that everyone is using them when the money they dispense is worthless?
It actually seemed like there was a shortage of small bills and coins going on. When I tried to buy 41zł worth of groceries with a 50zł note, the cashier was visibly distressed at the prospect of having to scrounge together 9zł in change. When Jessica managed to rustle up a 1zł coin from her wallet (bringing the change to a single 10zł bill), the cashier's face lit up with relief and gratitude.
All of this wouldn't have been a much smaller deal if my credit card hadn't stopped working back in Scotland. We never figured out why, but at some point my credit card's chip had gotten corrupted and slowly started working less and less reliably. By the time we reached Krakow, it had stopped working altogether. I eventually got comfortable using Android Pay at places that took it, but Jessica ended up making most of our in-person purchases for the remaining two months of the trip.
But all of that was still ahead of us in the coming hours and days. For now, we happily made our way to the airport taxi stand with cash in hand and got a ride into town.
The first thing that struck me about Poland–and I noticed it from the airplane window before we even landed–was the totally unique landscape. I’ve seen forests, farmland, and urban sprawl before, but never mixed together quite so thoroughly. On the 30-minute drive from the airport into town, we passed through dense forests, low-density farmland, and a wilderness adventure park. Even in the suburban periphery of the city, apartment blocks are separated by cornfields as well as vacant lots.
This patchwork aesthetic extends to the architecture of the old city itself. On any given street, the buildings form a mosaic that tells the long and turbulent story of Poland’s past, from the middle ages through the 21st century. Many struck me as ironically eastern European, with inward-sloping buttressed walls and steep, almost pagoda-like roofs. Others looked straight out of Renaissance Venice or Imperial Vienna. And, of course, there are the Brutalist mementos of Soviet austerity.
What holds it all together is a charmingly rough-around-the-edges spirit of making do with what you have. Concrete walls patched with plaster, plaster walls patched with plywood. Walking down an alleyway between two buildings, you might tread on tile, cement, and gravel all in the space of thirty yards.
But this is not a third-world country. Enter into one of these unassuming domiciles, and you might find a surprisingly luxurious abode.
Like ours.
Poland is not a wealthy country. But that means that a little money can go a long way. And while you may trip on a pothole or slip on a patch of sand outdoors, you can come home to a bathtub bigger than any I’ve enjoyed in the States.
The second thing I noticed about Poland are the people. They are both the most reserved and the most outgoing people I’ve met in Europe.
Professionally and in public, everyone is just a blank face in the crowd. Our taxi driver from the airport did not make a single attempt at small talk the entire ride (not that I’m complaining!), and shopkeepers have no trouble flatly declining to assist you if you ask for something they don’t want to do.
But if you engage them personally, as a friend, guest, or tour companion, you’ll have trouble getting a word in edgewise as they talk your ears off with kind enthusiasm, sincere questions, and thoughtful advice.
Obviously, this is a stereotype and doesn’t apply to everyone in Poland. But it’s exactly what Jessica–who spent a summer here in 2010–told me to expect, and it’s exactly what I’ve experienced.
Another funny quirk is that two of Poland's biggest chain stores are named after animals. The main supermarket chain is called Biedronka, which means ladybug, and the main convenience store chain is called Zabka, which means frog.
After checking into our Airbnb and stocking up on groceries, Jessica could hardly wait to take me into the old town. Rick Steves says there isn’t a better city in Europe for just wandering around in, and I can’t say I disagree.
The main market square is spectacular–like Venice’s San Marco Square and Madrid’s Puerta del Sol rolled into one.
The old Renaissance merchant hall dominates the center of the square, and St. Mary’s Basilica stands proudly overlooking its northern corner.
Technically, the church only has one tower. The taller tower on the left–the one with the crown encircling its spire–is officially a city watchtower. According to legend, a 13th-century watchman was struck silent by an enemy arrow in the middle of trumpeting an alarm. Now, every hour on the hour, a trumpeter plays the same traditional anthem almost but not quite to completion in his honor.
The curtailed call is also used by the Polish national radio broadcaster, so it is a familiar sound across the country.
After taking a peek inside the market hall and up at the nearby clock tower–the remains of an otherwise-demolished medieval city hall–we meandered up the main road to the barbican gate–one of the few remaining parts of Krakow’s medieval walls.
Unlike the many European cities that turned their medieval walls into ring roads, Krakow turned their walls into a green belt surrounding the old city center. Like many Polish names, it was unintentionally amusing to us as English speakers--Planty Park.
As we walked back down the main tourist drag, Jessica noted how much the place had changed in just the past eight years. A local café she'd wanted to take me to had been replaced by a Starbucks, and there were a lot more ethnic restaurants than she remembered seeing before. Though not all of them looked especially authentic.
Tired and thirsty, we headed back to our flat after stopping for drinks at a Zabka along the way. It was a warm night, but thankfully the windows were big and opened wide. As much as I had feared a culture shock, and our currency-related annoyances notwithstanding, our arrival in Poland had been surprisingly smooth. We were comfortable, well-fed, and excited to see what the city had to offer.
Next Post: Schindler’s Factory and St. Mary’s Basilica
Last Post: Resting Up (Markets, Museums, and More Pizza)
1 note
·
View note