Poland trip, Part 1

Ok, I was in Poland from July 25 to August 4 and I am only now getting around to writing about it. Sorry. But here's the thing: this trip was so phenomenal and had such an impact on me that I needed some time to make sense of it. I'm going to write about it in three parts to make things easier on us both.

Saturday, July 25

My brother was cool and took me to the airport at nine in the morning on a weekend. Steve must really love me, because he was even showered when I showed up at his place. My flight from Columbus to Newark, NJ was quick, on-time, and pain-free. I had a connection there, as well as one in Frankfurt. Frankfurt was the one that worried me. It is one of the world's busiest airports and I had only 45 minutes to catch my flight out of there to Warsaw. I would need to change terminals, pass through customs, endure the security screening, collect my boarding pass, find my departure gate and get on that plane. And that's if my arrival was on time.

I had my boarding pass for Newark already, but the Continental ticket counter in the US could not print a boarding pass for Lot Polish in Frankfurt, so they advised I speak with the Lot Polish counter. The Lot Polish counter was closed, and due to open at 3:30. I grabbed a sub and a Coke and made a phone call and played Sudoku. At 3:30 I tried again and no one was at the Lot Polish counter. I was really starting to hate New Jersey. I'd found a relaxing place to sit (a cold air vent by a window) and do more Sudoku when the loudest, bitchiest teenage girl I have ever encountered took up residence alongside me. She shouted about her problems to her friends (or maybe they were convicts forced to listen to her to atone for their crimes?) for the next hour. Finally staff showed up at Lot Polish. They kindly told me to collect my boarding pass in Germany.

The transatlantic flight was quite pleasant. I had a lot of legroom and a very cheerful English-speaking German student named Anna as a seatmate. She had been taking English lessons in the Bahamas and the only part of the US she had seen was the Newark airport. At first this seemed a travesty of America. As I thought about it though, it was perhaps in many ways representative. She was of the opinion that while there might be a few enlightened Americans, most of us were cowboy-hat wearing, semi-literate, gluttonous slobs with no idea what was happening in our own country or anyone else's. Familiar with that American stereotype, I didn't tell her what the stereotype of Germans (beer, S&M, Hasselhoff, electronica, Nazis?) was in the states. I wish I had. It would have made for a good moment of reflection.

Sunday, July 26

I slept a short time on the flight and arrived in Frankfurt around 10 AM local time. All the women were tall and blond there and spoke perfect English. It is the most beautiful airport I have ever been in. The airtrain passes from terminal to terminal every two minutes. The terminals were clean and I caught a momentary whiff of organza blooms as I speed-walked towards my terminal. For the tremendous number of people there, it was never crowded. My engineer father would love it there. Maybe it is where he'll retire.

I made my flight, a small jet, boarding without the boarding pass that had been my singular obsession for the previous twelve hours or so. Frankfurt is a good sized city and yet forests grow right to its outer rim and there is heavy tree cover within the city as well. Anna had told me Germans must plant two trees for every tree that is cut down. From Frankfurt to Warsaw I sat in the aisle seat next to the prototype for the Russian mafia. My new friend wore black shades a la Risky Business with a black suit, starched white shirt, and red tie. He had a crewcut that was downright Putinesque. I whispered "Gangsta..." to myself in the manner of McLovin, only to discover that my neighbor, a plausible thumb-breaker, spoke good English. He hadn't seen Superbad.

In Warsaw I arrived tired but in high spirits. Gabriela was waiting there for me with a red rose. I hadn't seen her in three weeks and I ran to her joyously. Her family was with her and I hugged them all as well. We stayed at her aunt and uncle's home in a nice neighborhood in the city. Her dad's parents live only a few blocks away and they came over for dinner as did some other friends and relatives. We ate a delicious six-course meal and drank beer and wine. Tyskie is my favorite Polish beer. It can be found in the states, and it's a crisp light beer.

Monday, July 27

I was so sick the next morning that the sound of people's voices made me want to throw up. Jet-lagged, I went to bed all morning while Gab and her sister Eva went for a walk in the city.

That afternoon I went into the historic district with the girls and toured the Royal Castle. There we saw enough gold to make one wonder if it is indeed rare. There was a magnificent throne flanked by some twenty Polish eagles, all done in gold and precious gems. I am working on making my cubicle at the credit union look like this.

I should also point out that as much as I like the bald eagle on the back of the quarter, the Polish eagle is an absolute badass. Whereas the American eagle might cause one to think of the wonder and majesty of a great land, the Polish eagle causes one to wonder how much cash one is carrying and where is the nearest police station/emergency room. His taloned claws are extended and his wings are raised in a manner that suggests he might punch you. I have never been punched by a bird, but if any question remains as to his prowess and authority, this eagle has a crown perched on his head. Don't make eye contact.

We didn't see a lot of the same architecture that I would marvel at in Cracow. When the Nazis invaded in 1939 they leveled 80% of the buildings in Warsaw, the capital, to prove a point. Thus, much of the architecture today is Soviet, built by and in the style of those who chased the Nazis out. It is not to my taste, and even the Poles have debated tearing much of it down. Outside the palace in an adjoining galery we saw a collection of Persian rugs that were hundreds of years old and took us tens of minutes to find. We saw teenage dudes with rocker hair skateboarding and heard children playing with noisemakers and were contentedly whisked along amid the throng of tourists and people who make their living off tourists. We had missed each other's company for three weeks. We were together in the grand old city.