The Polish Sunrise

This is a quick sketch that Jake wrote, detailing - delineating? our last day and morning in Wroclaw. I have posted it here because it's nice to have the story through someone's eyes, sometimes. Special thanks to Jake for allowing me to include it here, and regards to his friend Harry for digging it out.
Disclaimer: I don't own this. Jake does, though I suppose he would give me the rights if I asked. I don't own any of the people in the story except myself. All events and places are real, unsurprisingly. Jake says he thinks its badly written, but of course he would say that.


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Four o'clock in the morning and I regret six cups of coffee plus vodka in the bathrooms. For the first time in too long, I couldn't sleep.

I was a fool in the nude to my dorm mates, and now five hours later sobriety was kicking in. But the caffeine was running strong.
The first time on the road that I couldn't sleep.

You've been moving for what feels like forever, and at a moment like this you get a chance to stop and process everything. It wakes you up. Don't expect to sleep. I got up and got more coffee.

Drunk and sober in the same day is not a pleasant experience. You don't forget much. I remember rolling around the halls makes, showering in the nude. I remember that Pavlov guy and his nice hairy arse during the striptease.

I remember Vera. I vaguely remember Viv, but she left too soon. Church bells are ringing, and most of all as the receptionist avoids eye contact with myself in the kitchen, I remember my dick on CCTV. Tomorrow - or today? - you are leaving. Never play truth or dare in Poland.

Coffee, coffee, coffee. I knew four words so far for coffee. Coffee. Kafija. Kafija. Something I couldn't spell, but it sounded like kafija. And café.

Wake yourself up and listen to the bells for a bit. Sleep in the first car that picks you up. Don't talk to the receptionist. He probably wants to kick you out. And shit man, clean up the glass in the bathroom. Why in God's name did we get drunk in a bathroom?

I shot up stairs to the lounge with my coffee. The whole place is vacant. Two hours or so until Polish sunrise. You'll read a book or play guitar or something.

Pay attention to those bells and you're finished. So don't. For the life of me, I had no idea what I was strumming that morning.

As a ground rule, I don't sleep much in hostels. Someone is always doing something in squalor like these. Sleeping outside by motorways, or in public parks is good fuel for paranoia and bad experiences, but in a nice comfy dorm room full of people and a kitchen stocked with coffee I tend to indulge.

But this was pushing a limit. These things happen. I let time slide. Viv woke up as I was brewing another. Something vague... she was leaving for Germany this morning. Berlin.

Shock and horror at someone else waking up for daylight, so offer her a damn coffee. She wants you to walk her to the coach. Carry her bag, that sort of shit. Very civil. Go for it man.

Yeah I will, and yeah I did. So I'm carrying something or other and we make a way to the station. Daylight has spread, but Wrocław is practically empty at this time. I'm trying to make some sort of discussion, so I tell her all the wild shit that happened after she left.

I guessed she missed out. Maybe she did, maybe she's not that sort of traveller. Everything's sort of fuzzy at the moment. Sunrise doesn't help. Bright light should though. Wait it out for the return to normalcy.

What do you talk about? Talk about yourself. "You're hitch-hiking? How much money do you have?"

No, I'm not homeless. Okay, maybe I might be. Technically. Home is just somewhere else at the moment.
Cue the next two questions. The same ones everyone will ask you. The same ones everyone has asked you for the entirety of eternity since the trip began*

If you're born twice, the earliest memory onward seems like infinity. "Aren't you scared?" Or something. "What do your parents think?" Or something along those lines.

I never answer these things properly. Sure, they're fine with it. Who knows what they think? Fuck knows why I'm doing it. Try telling me what there is to gain. At least I have the privilege of uncertainty.