Lubię Gdańsk! i Polska! Days 1-4

With a scant number of people waiting in arrivals at the Warsaw airport, it was easy to spot Fuddy’s friend, Marcin (who Fuddy nicknames Tolsty, meaning chubby in polish). I had only met him once when I was about 12, but I was getting used to pretending I knew people in order to make things more comfortable, so I was fine with it. We headed to his car and made the 2-hour drive (yes, he loves us 4 HOURS worth!),  to his hometown, Wloclawek (pronounced VWATSWAVEK. hahaha Polish has the funniest language pronunciation I have encountered to date).

We spent a lot of our trip listening to a Polish navigation system and stopping
 for delicious and cheap gas station coffee. Amazing.

Fuddy and I had a lovely recuperative nap and treated Marcin to dinner that night. Of course I got pierogi (and learned pierogi is the plural form of the word, so don’t make a fool of yourself in front of your Polish friends again and say pierogis). I also decided to try duck blood soup since Marcin said its polish. I am a sucker for any “traditional” food, but unfortunately, I hated it. It had a semi-sweet taste, giving me the feeling that I had bit my lip while I was eating regular soup. I feel like this is the one “normal” food that the Cullen’s would enjoying eating. Yeah, I said it.

Duck Blood soup. 

Happiness is... a no-smoking sign.

The next day, w picked up Tolsty’s girlfriend, Gosha, and went to Torun a university city (where there is “a lot old shit” according to marcin) where Copernicus was supposedly born. We obviously went to lunch at a delicious pierogi place. Turun is famous for gingerbread so I got the restaurant’s flavored coffee and it was the most amazing gingerbread coffee I have ever had, hands down. We walked around, peeked into some shops, and generally enjoyed the city until we lost complete feeling in out toes.

Cathedral in Toruń

Fuddy, me and Pierogi. Look at how adorable the coffee cups are!

Pierogi Restaracja. NOM.

The famous...

Leaning tower of Toruń!

  Toruń town Square

Disgusting historical story alert! Don't read if you get grossed out easily:
This donkey statue is new, but the history behind it dates back hundreds of years. It is a recreation (built in 2006) of an old wooden donkey used in Medieval times that stood in the same exact place. It was use to punish criminals. They were forced to sit onthe sharp back of the donkey and were flogged repeatedly... and very publicly. Sometimes the punished had weights tied to their feet as well to, um, heighten (?) the effect. Damn. Ouch.

We headed to Gosha’s apartment after that to play with her kitty and drink wine. We ended the night watching The Town and ordering pizza and beer from the local parlor. It was so American and felt fantastically familiar to see Fenway Park and Back Bay on the screen, even though I was halfway across the world; I was starting to feel a bit more at home in Poland.

The next day was a Gdansk day. Gdańsk is a beautiful port city that had to be almost completely rebuilt in its original form after being damaged by Allied and Soviet air bombings in WWII. Because the city looked so perfect, Fuddy described it not so much as Gdansk, but 'Gdansk World' because it looks like a beautiful Disney-Land-type-place made only for your entertainment (cue Adam Lambert song?). We all agreed and called it Gdansk world for the rest of the trip. You may already know the theme song; it's the Wayne' World theme song, replacing Wayne;s with Gdansk, naturally.

New City gate



...and again.


Marcin is a great photographer for many reasons.
Reason #1: he can make Fuddy and I look tall.

Hello Gdańsk, you are very pretty.

I think I went just-the-right-amount-of-board on the Gdańsk photos.

 Gdańsk = Amsterdam with a pastel overlay

Triton Statue appropriately in this Polish port city. 

Reason: 2. He can make Tomas, Fuddy and I look warm

Fuddy, Marcin and I

We met up with Fuddy’s friend (and Marcin’s cousin), Tomas, who lives near the city, and went to a Mexican restaurant (yes, in Poland. Whatever, it was delicious). We spent the rest of the day walking around and shopping until we completely lost feeling in our toes. 

Reason #3: He can make the viewer feel my pain at the point when I could not feel my toes.



Tomas, Marcin and I



Marcin loved quoting Cartmann, from South Park, and thusly
ended every sentence about himself with "and he's not fat at all."
What I am trying to say is, he was a fantastic tour-guide.

We drove back to Marcin’s hometown to get some beers with his friends in a sort-of secret feeling bar- too secret for photos (at least that is my excuse for not having any), I apologize.

Marcin's beautiful Polish cat. We got along well, since she spoke English. 

The next day was a day for which I was not excited, one that involved a 7-hour train ride. More importantly/horribly, I had to say good-bye to Marcin AND Fuddy. I couldn’t find any seat on the train nor person that spoke English to help and cried for the first 10 minutes until I finally found a seat in a cabin with a nun reading the bible, which made me think The Big Guy was on my side. 

Because I changed my plans at the last minute, deciding to go Krakow two nights earlier than I planned, I couldn’t find a cheap hostel online before going. I decided to wing it. I SHELAGH MOLLOHAN, DECIDED TO WING IT. This is something I do not do… and for good reason.

I got into Krakow at 6PM and quickly realized how cold, tired, hungry and ALONE I was. This was a marked new chapter of my winter travel. Scratch that. It was a different book. 


There were no English signs or speakers in sight or earshot and, not being a winger (why isn’t there a real world for “one who wings it”??), I had no idea what to do. I walked aimlessly, hoping to find a hostel and failed in that endeavor. I stopped in the internationally dependable McDonalds to get free WiFi and found “Mama’s hostel,” a cheap, centrally located hostel with a supposed opening. I walked to the address and timidly rang the bell, reserving my other hand to cross my fingers as tightly as possible; I clearly needed some good luck at this point.

10 Hours in Budapest.

I really wanted to make a pun out of my Hungary trip title, but I resisted. Your welcome.

The tiny plane we took from Cluj, Romania to Budapest. Two hours in this beauty.

We had planned to go to Ukraine, but the airline deities did not want us to do that, fiscally speaking. We decided to go from Cluj to Warsaw and deal with an overnight layover in Budapest. Finding a 5Euro a night hostel made the decision of going into the city very easy.

Confused and freezing in search of our hostel

Being the day after Christmas, everything was a little dead, but that did not stop our immediate aggressive touring. Every historical building and museum was close so we settled on seeing the exterior then going to dinner.

St. Gellért Monument

Amazing freshly baked pastries that Fuddy and I literally followed
our noses to find. Quick, stop looking at them or you'll get fat 

Happiness.

...more happiness.

Hungarian street food. No joke.

Buda Castle 

Parliament! One of the biggest (and definitely most
beautiful) parliament building in Europe

St. Stephen's Basilica

The Great Synagogue, largest synagogue in Europe

The Great Synagogue, largest synagogue in Europe 

Rollin' deep with 10,000 Florints... except 1 florint= less than $0.01

Hahahaha oh Hungarian florints, you are so silly. 

Freezing on the bridge in between Buda and Pest 

Fuddy freezing in between Buda and Pest 

Fuddy and I decided this and the next
picture were worth the trip to Budapest.

...and our case rests. 

We had an amazing dinner of goulash, steak, truffle frites, and ravioli with wild mushrooms at Centrál Kávézó. We definitely did not leave hungary (ok, sorry, I said I wouldn´t do it in the title). The best part was we had saved exactly the amount of money we needed to pay for the dinner and the taxi the next day. We thought this until we received the check and (SURPRISE!) there was a 15% extra tip charge. We were very confused and angry and felt like we got scammed AGAIN (I will never forget that horrible Turkish experience), made a slight fool of ourselves, scrambling for cash, and left angry that we were in no way warned about the extra-charge. Given that my sister and I split a small water and one soup (who splits soup?), I was especially angry that the waitress did not take notice that we were very cheap/poor. Despite the experience, the food was still delicious.

Our lovely dinners. Look at how adorable the french fry presentation is. 

We got back to the hostel at around midnight, took a 3-hour nap, woke up to catch a cab to the airport, and jetted off to Warsaw, Poland to continue our tour of the most freezing European countries. 

Opposites attract… the same two American tourists: Part 2

Our first two destinations could not have been more different. Turkey was lavish, loud, colorful, full of uncomfortable accommodations and annoying people. It was hot and full of must-see sights. Romania was simple, austere even, quiet, gray, there were perfect accommodations and generous people. It was cold, but full of family.

We arrived to the tiny airport in Cluj-Napoca, Romania and were greeted by Fuddy’s friend, Ali, and her husband, Tibi. They brought us to their car (that they made fun of for its size every change they got) and drove us to their flat in the city.

First Translyvania sighting!

When we got their home, we took our shoes off at the entrance and Ali searched through a bag of slippers for us to wear inside. “That’s so nice of her! And kind of weird…” I said to my sister later that night. Fuddy had been to Romania once and told me it was actually a sort of social tradition ("a kind of must"says Ali). Almost every home has slippers for people to wear inside when they take off their shoes. Every home we went to in Romania, did, in fact, have slippers for us to wear inside. They take that Chinese no-shoe rule to a whole new level.

Ali and Tibi insisted we sleep in their bed while they slept on the coach. This was only our first taste of the unassailable Romanian hospitality.

The next day, Ali had to work, but Tibi got the day off, so he drove Fuddy and I to some of his favorite places. First we went to Salina Turda in the city of Turda (pronounced like Tuer-dah, stop being a 5-year-old), which is a huge old Salt Mine that was created in 1075. Since 1932 it has been a tourist destination and used for children with Asthma to help improve their symptoms. Tibi explained that was the reason why the biggest area of the mine had a ferris wheel, mini gold, bowling and row-boats, among other kid-friendly features. At the end of the visit we went to the gift-window (I can’t bring myelf to call it a gift shop) and Tibi let us each pick out a souveneir he insisted on buying us. This is when we started to call Tibi 'Dad'.

Getting to the Salt Mine through a seemingly-never ending tunnel

Rudolf Hall in Salina Turda (Salt Mine of Turda)

Official Goonies section of the mine. Ok, maybe not "official"

Fuddy and I in the Salt Mine


Mini Golf section of the Salt Mine, of course


Supposedly real salt, but I didn't lick it, so I can't be sure...

Next we did a short impromptu hike to Cheile Canyon, a beautiful canyon near the Salt Mine. The pictures look fake; it was so perfect.

We got Tibi’s favorite for dinner, Kebab. We knew we would get our fill of authentic Romanian food soon, so we were fine with it, especially since it was delicious and in a cool underground cave. At night we went to the town center to look around then to Ali and Tibi’s their friends for drinks and the tried what I can only describe as the Romanian equivalent to moonshine, made by one of their friends. This stuff was ROUGH. 

Freezing on top of a mountain in Cluj.

National Opera house in Cluj

A real ram in the nativity scene... that you could pet like a dog.
This beats the sheep in the Brussels nativity scene.


Fuddy and in front of St. Michael's Cathedral and the
statue of Mathias Rex, former king of Hungarian Empire


Orthodox Cathedral of Cluj and Christmas lights!


Gymnastics in Romania! I had to. It's like a pilgrimage
for anyone who has ever done a back-tuck.

The next day was Christmas Eve, so we drove through numerous adorable villages to Ali and Tibi´s hometown, Simleu Silvaniei.

Adorable Romanian Village

Ali and Tibi tell us this is normal Romanian traffic behavior


A village in Romania that is really famous for onions...
This is their onion statue.

We met Ali’s mother and sister, ate some lunch (but Ali’s Mom made us take a shot of irish cream whiskey first- NOT the delicious Baileys kind, the hard-romanian-life kind), walked around and saw everything there was to see in their town, then to Tibi’s parents for a Hungarian Christmas Eve dinner (his mother is from Hungary). Fuddy and I were left confused and feeling more foreign than ever a lot of the time when Ali and Tibi were visiting with friends and family. Listening to Romanian was perfectly fine with me, though, and I could actually understand some of it! It is like a mix of French, Spanish and Italian; it may even be my new favorite language (sorry Spanish!) After dinner, we returned to Ali’s to open our presents. We were excited to have one present each that Fuddy brought from home (Thank you Auntie Karen!), and we so very pleasantly surprised when Ali gave us presents as well.

Ali's mom, Fuddy, Ali, Oana (Ali's sister) and me at Ali's

Supposedly there is hidden treasure in this mountain. Oh, Romania.

After that was when the fun really started. In Romanian villages there is a special tradition wherein groups of friends go from place to place, sing Christmas carols, are invited in (because everyone knows everyone else in these villages), fed, given a whole lot to drink, then go to the next house. It's like Halloween, except you sing instead of say "Trick or Treat" and you get alcohol and pork instead of fun size skittles. Don't worry, kids get in on the action too, they go around, sing, and get the equivalent of $2 a house... which they probably use to buy alcohol. We went to six houses and finally got to sleep at about 5 AM. The ironic part is I used to WAKE UP at 5 AM on Christmas to be the first to see what Santa had left. It's funny when your life goes full circle. 

At one of the many homes in which we ate and drank on Christmas Eve

One of the many Christmas Eve traditional spreads we encountered.

There was some lovely cultural confusion during the night but our favorite was when Tibi’s friend (I forget his name, so we will call his Dracula, since we were in Transylvania) asked how to say “noroc” (the Romanian word for “cheers”). Before we could answer, he guessed “church” and I decided to tell Dracula that yes, it was “Church.” We drank to church for the rest of the night (and the rest of the euro-trip), appropriate since it was Christmas day. Our second favorite part of the night was when one young guy shut everyone up and asked Fuddy from across the room:

“Excuse me, I just heard you are 30 years old. And you are not married? Why?” He said it not with disdain, but with genuine confusion and concern. 

Thank god Fuddy has adequate self-esteem. As you can see, Romanians do not tip-toe around feelings, as we Americans so, but I would not have it ay other way; it’s refreshing.

We awoke on Christmas at about 2 PM and had some MORE pork and clementines. Pork and clemetines were the theme of the holiday season for us- every meal, every day. Good thing we aren’t good kosher jews. We napped afterwards, as if we needed any more sleep, then went to where Ali and Tibi had their wedding to meet up with their friends and have drinks. 

Fuddy and I with "DAD" at the location where he and Ali had their wedding

"Dad" and I!! 

What did we do Christmas night? We went to a club in a random village, of course! It looked like a barn or warehous from the outside, but was FULL inside. It was fun but SO smoky, with absolutely no emergency exits (problematic, but clearly we got out alive). When our eyes started to burn so much from the smoke that we couldn’t keep them open, we knew it was time to go.

Fuddy and I sober on Christmas day.


Fuddy, Ali, and I... less sober on Christmas night. 

Ali, Fuddy and me at the club on Christmas

We drove back to Cluj the next day and talked about politics the whole way, including Tibi’s swine-flu conspiracy theories that actually held some weight, American greed, the communist influence and quality of life in Romania, and a bunch of other heavy topics. He was a surprisingly good debater for having such rudimentary English skills and hardly any chance to practice (...and I continue to feel inadequate with my own language skills). We got back to Cluj, packed, and headed to the airport to say goodbye to Ali and Tibi. Before we left, Dad gave us some candies for being good. Saying good-bye to Romania was certainly a lot harder than bidding adieu to Turkey.