Warszawa, part XIII - Stare Miasto, more Barbakan Warszawski and a little more Jewish Ghetto

The day was so beautiful that I would have wept, if I was that sort of person. It was one of those days where the skies were the colour of speedwells and there was that sensation of expectation hanging in the air. It was very beautiful, Warsaw of my dreams, and the sun shone dully and brightly in the skies. I got some more soft ices and then more vanilla milk, and I walked around the Stare Miasto enjoying the sensation of transition, of between places and going places.

Warszawa, part X - Stare Miasto, continued

I found Warsaw after the rain beautiful in a raw way, like a freshly painted watercolour painting. I walked around the Stare Miasto and bought myself some more soft ices, and thought about Gdansk, in that summer that will not come again. I remember Mikhail. I can't concentrate with the sound of high heels tapping around. Fuck high heels. I need to leave this thralldom.

More than anything, I wondered if I would see Gdansk again. Something tells me I will, but it will not be the same. Nothing will ever be like that summer when I was preparing to dive into my master's dissertation, when I was in my very early twenties and when the world was fresher. What was it I said to Rosa? You see the world through a fresher pair of eyes when you're young. Younger. I said to her that I envied her the experience of doing this for the first time. I said that to Lital, too. The freshness, mainly. What I dislike about myself this time round was that I've become far more cynical. I have a drawerful of sweatstained Tshirts that all say "I've been there and done that." I was far, far less of a jerk when I first started travelling.

One night, Lital and I emailed each other to catch up, and we agreed to meet in the common room that evening. I'd already had my dinner, and she hadn't eaten yet. I waited for her a bit, and lounged on the sofa. There were two Australian guys on the sofa across from me, talking to a blonde girl in a blue tank top. I remember the blue tank top. Across from them lounged a thin blonde, Slavic - looking blond guy with his hair shaved in a close-cut Eastern European buzz cut. He had a cap and he kept throwing dirty looks at the Aussies and their posse, but didn't do anything about it - not just yet.

The Aussies were talking rather loudly, and they asked the girl in blue what country she was from. Finland, she said. The skinhead guy started, and shouted, at the Finn girl - go back to where you came from. Our country does not welcome you.

The Finnish girl goggled, and did not say anything, whilst the Aussie guys looked at the skinhead guy askance and asked him where he was from. Poland, the skinhead said, and then loudly repeated his first statement - you are not welcome in our country. He then added that they were welcome to visit or travel, but they were not allowed to stay there indefinitely. Funnily enough, he turned to the Aussies, and said - this is not your fight, you're okay as you're just travelers, but these other Europeans, they're not allowed here.

What the fuck are you talking about, man, the Aussie guys said belligerently. I picked up my phone and retreated to a corner, as it looked like things were about to get ugly any second. For a moment it seemed as if the skinhead was planning to escalate things, but he probably noticed that the Aussies were rather large and sturdily built, and that more importantly, there were two of them and only one of him, so he desisted, saying one last time to the shocked Finn girl - go back to your country - before retreating to the farthest end of the sofa.

Shocked doesn't really cut it - I thought I'd seen a lot of shit, but this was honestly a first for me, hearing someone actually tell a fellow traveler, in a travel hostel no less, to go back to their own country. Lital came up about 5 mins later and I pulled her away - "You will not believe what just happened" - and, in a quiet urgent voice, told her what had just transpired. Unsurprisingly, she was just as disgusted as I was - "It's a hostel for crying out loud? What sort of people does he think comes here? Also who the fuck does he think he is?"

Madame Curie

Rossmann my old friend

Warszawa, part IX - Zamek Królewski w Warszawie, Krakowskie Przedmieście and plac Zamkowy

Enter through the narrow gate..

I went back to the hostel after the Chopin museum. It had rained, and there was that fresh earthy green smell in the air that usually follows these afternoon showers. I went to one of the Carrefour expresses on the Krakowskie Przedmieście and got some vanilla milk, because apparently I've never really grown up, and walked slowly, sipping my vanilla milk as I went, enjoying the view.

I returned to the hostel and sat around for a bit, and then when I'd gotten my second wind, went out to the Zamek Królewski w Warszawie, or in English as it is known, The Royal Castle in Warsaw. It was right across from the hostel so was very accessible.

Facade of the Castle

Inside the courtyard

There was something very beautiful about the royal castle near dusk. The sun was setting and everything was darker, yet not in a forbidding way, but rather evoking the sense of rest and rebirth, even.

And then I walked out of the arch and turned, and saw this.

Something about the way the sunlight filtered down from the row of restored buildings resonated within me. That, and the lushness of the drying cobbled pavements. It was a rather magical moment, for reasons I'm unable to put in words, or describe in any language. The closest analogy I can find is that moment in Interview with the Vampire, when Louis first awakens as a vampire: "I saw as a- vampire," said the vampire, his voice now slightly detached. It seemed almost distracted.... "

Housman, maybe, says it the best:

Then I saw the morning sky:
Heigho, the tale was all a lie;
The world, it was the old world yet,
I was I, my things were wet,
And nothing now remained to do
But begin the game anew.