Poland

We are in Poland now, and have been for the past five or so days. Every computer we have thus far encountered, to be fair only two, has been linux, which does not seem to mesh with our cameras. So... no pictures until Lithuania, which will be, God willing, Monday or Tuesday. Our first stop in Poland was Wroclaw, pronounced Roslav. I had taken to pronouncing it phonetically, which amused the cashier who sold us the ticket to Wroclaw from Prague. He gave a little laugh, and then quieted suddenly and stared at me hard. No really, he said without humor, in the first passable english I had heard in two days [from someone other than Spencer]. Where do you want to go?
Spencer called it, and sometimes still does, Warclaw. He is only joking.
Wroclaw was like Prague, that is, dissapointing for various reasons. I won't get into it other than to say that we expected more quaintness and met only sprawl and what looked to me a bit like USSR industrialization. Churches made of brick was a novelty at first, but then made me think of firetrucks leaping out of the great steel double doors, priests blessing them on their way out, each fireman with a cross emblazoned on his hat, the number of his firestation/church [firechurch] in the center of the cross. I laughed about this image before it unsettled me.
I don't know much about the effects of USSR indulstrialization on Polish architeqture though, so it might have been just my imagination. What I do know was that Wroclaw felt much different to me in its design than any other city I have yet been too. I was a bit worried that this feeling would last through my entire stay in Poland. Thankfully, such is not the case.
Krakow.
Krakow is so far a wonderful city. We have only been here two days. I think I have said before that in some pretty important ways, how much I like a city is a pretty random affair, dependent more on the people I meet there than any vagary of the city itself. That said, I have liked some cities, regardless of who I spent them with, much more than others. I had some pretty miserable times in Budapest for instance [ though overall my stay there was pleasing]. But overall, despite the bad times, I found it to be a fantastic city because of something about the city. Its soul, or something. Its own particular cityness. Here, this is it. All the cities that I have come to remember fondly were those that were able to make me wonder what it would be like if I were to live there and my imaginings ended up with me happy.
My point in this anecdote is that Krakow is one of those cities that I find pleasing regardless of, even in despite of, the company I kept there. It is a CLASSY city. The classiest, even, that I have gone to so far. Perhaps it is its close proximity to Auschwitz and Birkenau that sobers it. Whatever the reason, there is no open and rampant prostitution, like there was in Prague [the only city where I was propasitioned to exchange my goods for certain services SEVERAL times in one day]. I did not see any tasteless shirts on display in souvernir store windows announcing how famous for drinking Krakow is, or how loose its women are, or how tremendous the parties are there. Every city I have been in so far has these tasteless shirts, all with the same message and pictures, the only thing changed being the name of the city. I cannot for a fact tell you that there are no such Krakow versions of these shirts. Only that, in my walk through the tourist clogged main square, the second largest in world apparently, I did not see any. This was shocking and refreshing to me myself, who has gotten so used to seeing them in every city I go too.
Sadly, were are only spending about four days here, and this is a pretty concrete fact. We have even gotten our tickets to Warsaw. I hoped to have gotten a ticket straight from Krakow to Vilnius, or next major destination. But alas, I am forced to do what I have become so accustomed to doing on this trip: stumbling to the next destination and hoping that I there will be a way to go further along my ultimate path from there. Its a bit like climbing the next hill knowing only that its upward slope leads in direction you are traveling. Sometimes when we get to the top, theres a plateau we may travel, other times a gentle and pleasant slope downward. Sometimes theres a cliff.
I spent last night with some Irish people, which I have learned is always good for a laugh. Between trying to decipher their accent and also being handed dozens of drinks [truly an enlightened nation, where the girls can drink more and buy for the reluctant boys], its always entertaining. But there have also been some Portugest staying at our hostel, and I have no doubts in saying that they have been so far the sleaziest people we have encountered so far. It is not uncommon to wake up in the morning, stumble to the bathroom, and on the way out pass two or three of them propositioning the hostel receptionist vigorously and repeatedly. Now, I don't mean to say that all Portugese are like this. I know I tend to make a lot of generalizations about peoples and classes and dialects and whatever. Irish do this. Hungarians say this. Croatians girls think this.
But this is because I think stereotypes are funny and revealing in what we think of them, which is much better than just funny, and much much better than just revealing. And anyway, when am I next going to be able to ask a drunk welshman what their national stereotype of the English is? I know its not flattering. But I don't know what it IS.
Pictures in Vilnius, I promise.