full disclosure... I'm a dufus

I'd done my research (as usual!) and there was a nice train from the airport into Warsaw central, where I could catch a train to Radom.

If I'd done my research more thoroughly I'd have learned that going into Warsaw central was back tracking, and it would be much more efficient to catch a bus from the airport to Radom. And dammit, more thorough research would have saved HOURS of confusion and many public tears.

So I took the train from Chopin into Centrum, where couldn't find the handy machines to purchase my ticket to Radom. But I did find a big map of the station. And in the Legend of the map was the "i" -- the international symbol for the information desk.

But sadly, I couldn't find the "i" marked on the map... only in the legend. I could find the showers... I could find Starbucks... I could find escalators... but I couldn't find the "i" desk...

(Until today... when I was looking at my video through stress-free eyes... because it was in a different size and color from all the other icons... but this explanation doesn't make me any less of a dufus.)

speaking of latkes

I've been here almost a month now, and no one I've asked here knows what a latke is........

I say “it’s a potato pancake, that’s what we call it in the US”. And they say, “no, a potato pancake is a psymznkzszszsskyskysky”…

wat up wid dat?

velcome to Poland...

When I got back to Warsaw Chopin from London, things started going sideways again immediately.

On Thursday the Border Control guys I'd dealt with had assured me that if I leave and come back on Sunday -- when my Polish Work Visa begins -- I'd be set up in the system and everything would be hunkey dory. So I expected to just blow right through Passport Control and into the lovely land of latkes.

But, nooooooo.

There'd been a shift change since Thursday, and now my friendly, smiling border control guys had been replaced with stern, unsmiling border control girls.

Hmmmmmm.... you say. We all think it but won't say it... But dammit, as a card carrying girl, I'm allowed to say it.

Why do girls in positions of authority always have to act so much tougher than guys?. Why do they need to exercise their power? Why? What is the use of having a dick-measuring contest, if I'm refusing to participate???

This Kashia lectured me on how the Polish Consulate should have never defied Schengen and given me a visa - to which I asked "Do Schengen border rules trump Polish sovereignty?"

Later she came back and asked me if I obtained a Polish work visa in response to receiving a border ban from Schengen -- to which I responded "I obtained a Polish work visa in response to receiving a job offer in Poland".

Then she called my employer to measure dicks with him for a while.

All in all she made me wait for HOURS while she called her Swiss overlords and searched for ways to deny me entry. But eventually, gritting her teeth, she walked me through to Latke Land... getting a final word in... "Do you plan to travel in Europe while you're on this visa?"... to which I answered "Oh, no, I'll be traveling only in Poland".

A Radom Friday night

Apple cake (no ice cream!!!), kick ass Polish beer, and working to translate Italian documents to English... 

My trip to Pizza Hut

In Radom we have a fiiine mall, and inside is a Pizza Hut.

Why does an American company use the British flag on their menu to show it’s in English? 

Pepperoni on traditional crust and Pepsi.... not exact, but close enough for government work... 

My trip to Subway

Sometimes you just need a taste of home!

The small US drink is the large drink in Poland  

Wait until corporate headquarters hears I got FOUR napkins!!!!! 

Day in Warsaw: Pancakes

Day in Warsaw: Along the Royal Route

Day in Warsaw: St Anne’s

Day in Warsaw: Royal Palace Details

Day in Warsaw: Royal Palace

Day in Warsaw: St. John's Archcathedral

A heavenly host was singing….

Destroyed in the war and painstakingly reconstructed

OK, he’s here, church can begin now…..

Getting out of order, yet again!!!

On Sunday I went to Warsaw sightseeing with students/friends. It's about 1.5 hour drive from Radom, so we had lots of time to discuss 20th Century Polish history... WWII, Soviet, Solidarity, and now the new rebirth of Poland.

Did you know that Warsaw was 90% destroyed during WWII?

I clearly remember discussing current events in university classes, the importance of Lech Walesa and the revolution he was starting in the Gdańsk Shipyard, and now to hear about from people who were living it from the inside. Fascinating!

We had a great time, visiting the National Cathedral of Poland (St. John's Archcathedral), the Royal Castle (where they have two Rembrandts), the almost Rococo Church of St Anne, and then strolling in the fabulous weather along the Royal Route.

After a great lunch of pancakes and ice cream at the large central mall, we strolled by the Polish equivalent of The Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, and Wall Street.

It was a great day with friends, and we hit 14,000 steps!

Heathrow PTSD

My alarm rang at 3:30am because my flight Heathrow to Chopin was at 6:30. AM. Cab came exactly as scheduled, at 4:15.

The signage in the terminal at Heathrow was a little confusing and I went up an escalator and then had to go down again. And while trying to wrangle onto the escalator pushing one overweight bag in front of me and pulling one overweight bag behind me, I lost control of the one in front... and it went tumbling down the escalator and actually tapped the legs of the only other person crazy enough to be in the airport at that time of morning.

Seriously, the freakin big orange suitcase bumpitied down the steps of this two-story escalator and juuust touched the legs of a lady almost at the bottom.

And she looked up at me... And I'm screeching "Oooh! Oooh! excuse me... sorry." And she didn't even acknowledge... which in a way could be a good thing, because while she didn't wave as if to say "no problemo", she also didn't start yelling as if I was the biggest American idiot ever to grace the escalators at Heathrow... which is what I felt like, so perhaps she knew I was already being punished.

I have waking nightmares about what would have happened if I'd lost control of the overweight orange suitcase I'd been pulling onto the escalator behind me... would I have lost balance of myself and both suitcases and the whole group gone bumpity down two flights of grooved metal steps, crashing into the anonymous lady in front of me... I've had serious escalator PTSD ever since!

Just a little college town

We strolled with our guide Eugene through the streets in the rain, learning various bits about Oxford, but the rain made it impossible to concentrate. I did catch that there really isn't anything called Oxford University... It is simply a village where several colleges came to be. And the various colleges within the village have their own individual flags and colors...

Eugene turned us loose for 1 hour before the bus would leave, and I popped into a souvenir shop to buy a big sweatshirt to change into. Though I asked several of the shopkeepers, none of them knew which college Endeavor Morse attended, so I just bought a generic Oxford University hoodie.

The shops were filled with Harry Potter paraphernalia, because apparently Hogwarts was based on Oxford... Who knew? Full-sized Dobbys were everywhere!

Then, I cut down a little alley to a pub, where I had a kick ass warm porter with a nice couple of Causton -- yes, Causton!

And my time grew short, so I ran through the wet streets with a buzz on, lest I become the one the bus left at the last stop.

In actuality, I would have made it home in half the time, if I'd simply taken the train from Oxford to Hayes and Harlington... Live and learn.

And nary Morse, Thursday, nor a wizard sighting while I was in Oxford!

The inspiration for Nearly Headless Nick

Our intrepid guide

No clue who….

“Bad Dobby!:

A very old country

Upon arriving in Oxford we crawled through the streets toward our disembarkment spot. At one point I caught out of the corner of my eye a pile of rocks, only to look closer and see that it was actually a very old house.

There was a single window on the wall facing our bus, and a guy was standing there looking into a mirror, tying a Windsor knot... And I wondered with amazement at how many other men, through how many years and years, had stood in that house, by that window, getting ready for some academic function.

The old country

As we were leaving Stonehenge we were given our box lunch.

How strange to me to see that a disgusting sandwich my father used to eat is apparently a British staple (which I'd actually heard mentioned on some movie or TV show)... a Ploughman's (???). I remember cringing when he'd eat cheddar, sweet pickles and jelly on bread...

Who knew poor people in the southern US held on to so much heritage from the old country!

Unhenged

A couple didn't make it back to the bus as the scheduled time, and we waited a generous 2 extra minutes and then left them in the dust... or the mud, actually, as the rain was pelting by this time.

I caught some Z's en route to Stonehenge and on waking found that the rain had only gotten harder.

I took the obligatory walk around the circle through the gravel pools and streams with McDonald’s Marcus, feeling none of the magic one reads about, or sees on Brittania. Popped into the unheated bathrooms, which could have been picked up from any National Park in any country in the world, and ran back to the bus to treat my trench foot.

Nary a Druid spotted during my time in Stonehenge… just some magical sheep.

What happens in Windsor...

I had to leave Hayes and Harlington about 7:30am to make it to Victoria station in time to catch my big bus tour, and it was overcast and windy, but dry when I set out. I did indeed bring my raincoat stashed in my backpack.

I found the bus no probs and luckily chose a seat in a row where the second seat was broken, so I didn't have to contend with a seatmate during the entire day. There was a group of about 10 Canadians sitting around me, and we chatted some.

We started on time, heading out for our first stop, Windsor. Flags flying indicated The Queen was in residence that day.

While waiting in line I made acquaintance with Marcus, a German guy about my age who had spent his entire 10 days in London eating at McDonald's to save money. I also chatted up an Italian couple with whom I was able to parle un poco. "Scorso anno ho abitato a Milano. Sono una insegnante Inglese."

I toured the apartments, and made it back to the gate to see a) the changing of the guards; b) the beginning of the rain.

Nary a Royal spotted during my time in Windsor.

CityStay Heathrow

My second AirBNB booking in London really was a joy! CityStay Heathrow.

Huge room with fabulous sheets and comfy bed. Ginormous TV (ok, so, big enough for a forced vacation -- and hey! the shows were all in English ENGLISH!! Truth be know, most of the shows were American), fabulous shower, blow dryer (though you're not allowed to plug it in in the bathroom...), fantastic compact kitchen with tiny tiny tiny dishwasher and dorm-sized fridge... View... 24 hour desk with coffee/food/alcohol. Fabulous experience!!!

AND -- maybe this is common now, not sure because I usually only stay in AirBNB-types -- a mobile phone to use for planning and executing my sightseeing in London!

SO, since I'd had a thoroughly unproductive day except my serendipitous meeting with the Brabants, I decided to get down to business on London Day 2 and book a full day guided tour on a giant bus and everything... I usually group these excursions in the same category as the anti-Christ and cinnamon-sugar in grits, but desperate times... Or as my favorite British cops on every Netflix show I watch would say "needs must"...

So I booked myself on the Windsor/Stonehenge/Oxford special for Saturday.

And then, though I had such high hopes for hitting a real English pub -- though I guess they'd just call it "a pub" -- and having some warm beer and maybe sausages, and one such pub was really close to CityStay, and highly recommended by the desk staff, I decided to just get a pizza and a beer from the bar downstairs, and eat it on my bed like the rain-sodden, Schengen-fugitive, couch potato I am.

Tiny, tiny, tiny, tiny dishwasher

Three Bears size stovetop

Tiny kitchen sink