Stagnant (and a little restless) in Madrid

I arrived to Hotel Regina in Madrid at around 2AM Friday morning and was not especially excited to wake up at 8AM in the morning. I was happy to meet some of the newbies, though. I am trying as hard as I can to avoid talking about last semester, but it is proving difficult, especially since I miss the dynamic so much. Last semester there were half as many people, everyone attended the International Institute, and everything was new to everyone. This semester, I attend La Universidad Autónoma de Madrid (a legitimate Spanish university with a campus and everything), had a one month intensive daily seminar before classes at la UAM started, and I will start an internship soon. Sure, change is great, but it is hard all the same. As much as I was surrounded by people I knew last semester, I am alone and isolated this semester, but admittedly improving my Spanish a lot more.

Found a nice little fatty in La Plaza de Colón

Natalie and I skipped the orientation presentations and waited until night-fall to start bonding with the new kids. We drank in our friend´s hotel room, went to El Tigre for cheap drinks and tapas and then to Club Joy to finish the night. It was a comforting and familiar way to start up the Madrid-party-weekends again.

On Saturday, I returned to my home-stay and anxiously awaited the arrival of my new roommate. Her name is Shana (pronounced like Shayna) and neither of us were particularly happy they put two people with such similar names together. However, she is smart, goes to BU and is good at Spanish, so I like her.

Sunday was my hibernation and gchat day. I also had to start reading for the 3-week intensive seminar I had (that I almost done with; THANK GOD). The seminar counts as a full class (4 credits) and took place before my classes started at la UAM in February. We had 2 hours of class a day, usually had to watch a movie, and had 1-2 hours of reading daily (so usually 6 hours of hard academic work a day). It was every day except Sunday. I am finishing my final paper for the seminar class now and it is as enjoyable as getting hourly paper-cuts between my toes.

On Friday, my seminar started later in the day, so Thursday I botellon´d in the streets with Shana and some other new girls in my program then went to Club Kapital (7 floors of epic-ness if you have forgotten). I realized at 4AM I had promised to skype with my Dad, so I may or may not have skyped with him in a drunken state.

Note the child at our table at the Bar

On Friday, Natalie and I went to see También la Lluvia (Spanish movie about the Bolivian “Water Wars”) and on Saturday, I went to a tourism fair as a requirement for my seminar and was very upset about the lack of free things they gave out. Highlights: A free piece of Jamón Ibérico (very expensive ham) and Carnaval dancers from the Murcia region (there was a male dancer gayer than Ricky Martin´s silver pants he wore to the Grammys; he was obviously our favorite). On Sunday, I met my 3 new roommates, who all sorority sisters at Syracuse University. Two of them have never taken Spanish and one started recently, so I am doing a lot of translating for them. Obviously this is both good and bad in terms of helping me with my Spanish. Having five students instead of four, like last semester, makes this place feel eerily like a dorm, of which I am not a particular fan. However, having been here last semester pacifies any strange feelings of being an outsider in the family. It took a while, but now I truly do feel like these people are my second set of parents and siblings.

Later during the day, Natalie and I went to a free exhibit on Dalí and Lorca at Caixaforum. That night, after a failed attempt to go out, Natalie I saw “Carne de Neón”, one of the worst movies I have ever seen.

Obviously Dalí

"Birth of Infant Jesus" Dalí. HAHAHAHA

Stopped in the Anthropology Museum to
see some really weird exhibits 

The next week was full of stress, reading, watching Spanish movies, writing reactions, and picking classes. Picking classes was more difficult than I could have imagined. There is no order to the Spanish university´s website and no way to know if classes are full until you try to officially join them. Even worse, there is no RateMyProfessor.com. So, if you go to BU and complain about registration in front of me, I will be tempted to slap you across the face.

Thursday night was a Kapital night again. Natalie and I went Dreams beforehand where they have a free open bar for girls on the weekdays (I HAVE NO IDEA WHY THEY DO THIS, I just know that it is absolutely amazing). On Friday night, I went to Maoz (a vegetarian chain in Europe) and had a delicious giant Falafel Pita, followed by a massive stomachache due to the size of said pita.

On Saturday, I finally went El Museo Thyssen-Bornemisza, which holds one of the largest private collections of art in the world. At night, Natalie and I walked around La Calle Huertas and stopped in Chocolat, which is our new favorite café. They have the best chocolate con porras (thick churros) I have ever tasted and OFFERED free water, which is very rare in Europe. We went to Museo del Jamón (a chain bar in Spain) to get 1 euro sandwiches and catch a fútbol game after that. Our night plans went awry because we are cheap and refuse to pay to get in anywhere. Hmph.

Water fountain in a museum in Europe! 

The following Monday, our seminar broke into two sections, economics and my section, literature, which meant a lot more reading and a significantly more horrible final paper than the economics section. I did enjoy the week of literature much more than the previous weeks talking about Islam in Spain, though. I did NOT enjoy going to the office of international relations daily at La UAM through the week to try to find classes that would work in my schedule and for my majors.

For one day of our literature section we had a lecturer discuss immigration and integration. “At what point is an immigrant truly integrated into his or her new country?” She asked.

She asked us about American cultural intricacies that would impede integration. We could not think of anything. She gave us an example she experienced in Spain. In the cafeteria of a school in which she worked, the daily meal had ham (no surprise because the Spanish are obsessed with ham). The ham was a problem when more and more Muslim children started attending the school and their parents asked if they could leave the ham out. The “Spanish” parents were furious, questioning why they should have to adapt their customs for new people. After hours of debate, the “Spanish” parents said they would allow for the dish to exclude ham for some, but not all, days of the week.

No one could think of an similar example from their experience in the U.S. to satisfy her; she was shocked. We all explained, in our own way, how much America truly feels like a mix of cultures and thus, stories like the one she told were very uncommon. While I love that we can be relatively tolerant in America (I will admit our society is not perfect), at the same time I sometimes feel that we lack a unified culture. While, I love being able to discuss cultural backgrounds with fellow Americans and feel like I live in a truly diverse country, I will always be a little envious of the cultural unity many countries in Europe have. Catch-22, can´t have your cake and eat it too, whatever you want to call it, it’s one of those truths that if you have one thing, you must forgo the other. Clearly, I really enjoyed the class controversy this professor stirred.

That weekend was GastroFest in Madrid, so there were deals at restaurants all over the city. I went to Estado Puro, a very sheek bar (probably too sheek for my friends and I) to have some Mahou (Spanish version of Bud) and the best jamón croquetas I have ever eaten. We went to Club Riviera after that to dance the night away, drink, etc, and I FINALLY experienced the joys of the Madrid Night-bus (my excuse for never using it before is that I did not have a monthly transportation pass)

Estado Puro Bar

Anna, Natalie and I at Estado Puro

Natalie and I at Riviera

The next day Natalie, myself, and a girl-posse went to Aranjuez, a quaint city just South of Madrid. It is home to a Royal Palace constructed in the second half of the 16^th century (while Phillip II was in power), adorable pastry shops, and royal gardens. Not everything was as green as we would have liked (it was February after all), but the weather was amazing and I was so happy to get away from the city for a day.

Aranjuez is famous for Strawberries...in the summer. woops.

Palacio Real in Aranjuez

Natalie and I in front of the Palacio Real 

Super Cute duck pastries at a Pastelería

On Wednesday, I was very pleased to finally be able to go out with my host sisters, Maria and Marta. We went to a local bar (I mean very local; it seemed like everyone knew everyone- Madrid ‘Cheers’ status) to watch a friendly Spain vs. Colombia fútbol game. I unfortunately had to go home early to do reading for my seminar. Blah.

Marta, Shana, Maria, and I

Maria and I!

 BUT... Friday... Sevilla, España... would make all the reading and horrible-ness disappear.

(Insert Generic British Phrase Here)

Sometimes you go on that one trip where everything works out perfectly: the flight there, the flight back, the intricate plans of each day’s travel. My London trip was SO not one of those trips. Although I had a great time in the country whose asses we kicked some 200 years ago (ok, the French helped. WHATEVER), it was punctuated with waiting, confusion, and complete failures in planning (none of which were my fault). Ok, well… maybe they were my fault a little bit.

I already abbreviated my travel from Warsaw. I made what should be a 3-hour trip take 12 hours, saving about $100. Yes, it was worth it. $100 is $100. Here was my London plan:

Stay with “Cousin Nick” (my sister’s boyfriends cousin) and his family of 7 (7!) in Coulsdon, near, London from Thursday until Monday.

• My whole family has met cousin Nick, but I somehow missed this momentous experience every time. 
• My message to him went something like “I have never met you, but know you live in London and my family loves you so…”
• He returned the message with a simple 'absolutely' and what station was closest to his house
• Switch to stay with Liz (LIZ!!!!!) at the BU London dorms in South Kensington, London.
• Return to Madrid and hibernate. 

During my time in the Gothenburg, Sweden Airport, sans internet, I realize I only have the name of commuter station where I have to go in order to be close to Cousin Nick’s house, but no phone-number or address. I decide to wing it. DID I LEARN NOTHING IN KRAKOW?? I blame sleep deprivation and cabin fever for this idiotic decision.

I arrive to London at 11PM and to Liverpool station at 12:30AM. I ask the bus driver how to get to Coulsdon South Station. He speaks with a heavy middle-eastern accent and I can’t understand him. “I was so excited to visit a country where I spoke the language perfectly!!!” I sputter. I blame sleep deprivation and growing up in New Hampshire for this comment. 

A British man notes my distress and points me to the police station across the street. A man in uniform and with a British accent put me at ease… until he tells me the next train to Coulsdon South is at 6AM. He points me to the 24-hour dinner. After 3 hours, I decide hey, what the hell, why not order a full English breakfast. I see my fair share of bacchanalians, night-shift police, and creepy-looking night romers, but never feel unsafe at this place.

New Favorite/least favorite place in the world

This picture was captured at: 4AM. I am so working class I can't even handle it.

There is a euphoric hour of internet where I tell Nick my stranded situation and ask for his number and/or address. Internet  access ends. It starts to rain outside. It is 6AM. I still don’t know where to go. I find out an internet café around the corner opens at 10AM. I wait. By 7AM, after being awake for 23 hours, I break. I give myself 5 minutes to cry in Liverpool station and none of the British commuters take notice. Finally the café opens. Nick has messaged me with his address and phone number. I go to Victoria Station and after more confusion than anticipated get to Coulsdon South, call cousin Nick, and he is already waiting there. I am inexplicably happy.

He gives me a quick tour of the house, but I am zombielike. Did he just say “pool” and “sauna” and “gym”? After sleeping until dinner, I realize that the family’s house, is, in fact, completely beautiful and I had heard correctly. That night we go to Nick and his wife's friend’s house for a birthday party where we eat some delicious curry succeeded by a whole lot of alcohol.  

It turns out Cousin Nick used to be a tour-guide and knows seemingly everything about London’s quirky history, his favorite thing to talk about being the Tower of London (next to the Tower Bridge), so we head there first. We get in a cab after that to hit all the major sites in an hour before he has to go to go be an adult (re: go to a meeting with a client). 

Tower of London to the left and the Tower Bridge to the Right (NOT THE LONDON BRIDGE. Nick informed me multiple times how Robert McCulloch bought the "London Bridge" to bring to Arizona and when it arrived he was very unpleasantly surprised to see he had bought the wrong one) 

Big Ben!!

Another section of the British Parliament (Big Ben is a PART of the monstrous building)

Westminster Abbey

Such Cool cabs. Inside and out. 

The Victoria Memorial at the East Front of Buckingham Palace

Buckingham Palace. You may have heard of it.

London Eye! Nick and I were going to go on it but it was closed until January 20! Sad sad sad.

The Southbank of the River Thames (pronounced Tems) was one of my favorite areas of the city

Before he leaves me to discover the city for myself, though, he buys me a ticket to see the musical Jersey Boys in Soho!! Because he has already let me stay in his home, eat his food, and showed me the whole city, I didn’t expect him to do even MORE for me. Craziness.

JERSEY BOYS!!! SPOKEN IN MY NATIVE TONGUE (ok, the trashy version of my native tongue)!!

The next day, I plan to go to Stonehenge with my friend’s friend, Richard (rent-a-friend, as Cousin Nick calls it), a Portugeuse South African who has lived in London for a couple years but still has never been to the lovely pile of rocks. I told him to book us a ticket for a tour, but when we met up that morning he informs me he hasn’t. Fine. We can get one, it's only 10AM. Well, 10AM is too late to go on a Stonehenge tour. I hide my anger successfully from my new rent-a-friend. We do a day of site-seeing instead and I return to Cousin Nick’s just in time to experience a “proper British roast” at their friend’s house. Really, how did I get so lucky?

St. Paul's Cathedral, built in the 17th Century 

Richard at the Tate Modern! Oh, and Monet's Water Lillies

SO PROUD.

Shakespeare Theatre

The Rosetta Stone at the British Museum!!!

I am determined to go to Stonehenge Monday so I wake up with the sun and get a nice, cheap 20 pound tour. After 2.5 hours of attempted sleep, we arrive to Stonehenge, pick up our audio-guides and start learning about this 4000(ish)-year old rock formation. Yes, we only spend an hour there. Yes, the travel time was 5 hours. Yes, it was worth it. IT’S FRIGGEN STONEHENGE and I am sick of people telling me it isn't worth it. 

Stonehenge, me, and a do not cross sign

That night, my rent-a-friend, who is my real friend at this point, and I go to Brick Lane for some Indian food. There is a promoter outside of every restaurant offering a free bottle of wine with our dinner or a free appetizer, or 25% off our check and every other deal imaginable. Warning: when getting Indian food in London, know that it will be delicious, but not at all spicy.

Meeting up with Liz the next day proves very difficult, especially since I have to depend on pay phones (yes, the red ones). I transverse the very large city twice before finally meeting up with Liz and Kat at Starbucks in the VERY posh neighborhood of South Kensington. We go to Harrod’s Department store, which is like a more expensive version of Saks, get lost in there for an hour, then to dinner with her floor. It is so weird to feel like I am at BU while I am still thousands of miles away. 

Sorry to be American but OHMYGOD NOMMMMMM CHIPOTLE!!!!!!!!! 

One of the many ridiculously ornate rooms in Harrod's Department Store

We go to Imperial College Bar (the bigger, better version of BU pub), where I feel even MORE like I am back in Boston, but in the best way possible. I see about 20 people I know from BU and one person I know from high school! Even weirder, she is roommates with a girl I knew from Freshman year at BU. I swear the world is shrinking as I see more and more of it. 

SAM!!! This girl keeps me young.

Being the huge nerd that I am, I go to the BU’s orientation lecture on British Politics at 10AM and see literally 100 people I know (naturally, since there are over 300 people in the program and it is required to attend the lectures). After that, I take the short walk to the Natural History Museum, the Victoria and Albert Museum, and the Science Museum. ALL PUBLIC MUSEUMS ARE FREE. Win. 

Science Museum. Not a must see.

Tapestry room in the Victoria and Albert Museum, which IS a must see. 

Really cool entrance in the Natural History Museum. This place would have
been a lot better without screaming children running in circles around me.

At night I go to Top Shop with Liz and her roommates, which just upsets me because I can’t buy anything. God, I hate shopping. At night, I decide I should insert myself even further into BU London life and go to the orientation comedy night. Stand-up, wine, and dinner for 7 pounds? It was impossible to resist.

I cannot leave London without seeing Platform 9¾, so the next day I go there with Sam (my summer roommate) and Liz. It is nearly impossible to find and a huge disappointment when we finally do. Sam runs off to class after that and Liz can only hang out for a half hour longer, but we say good-bye knowing we will see each other in Berlin in a few weeks. 

Feigning excitement to go to Hogwarts

How could I NOT take one of these pictures?

Liz and I in front of the London Eye!!!

Parliament Square

I decide I need to get fish and chips before I leave the city. I am a fan. I am not a fan of the ‘mushy peas’ that go with it, nor the feeling I get a half hour after eating, though. 

Fish N' Chips. yum. Mushy Peas (yes that is their official name). Not yum. 

To end my London epic (look at how long this post is; it is an epic), I meet up with Kat to see Abbey Road (I will not explain to you what Abbey Road is). It turns out this is a crosswalk without walking signs and people from London are ACTUALLY cold meanies, so crossing proves difficult and terrifying.

Casually crossing Abbey Road with Kat.

As I pack up my things, I realize how ready I am to return to my new home and new language. I was lucky enough to meet some unbelievably generous Brits, but unfortunately, they were the exception, not the rule. Who knows if they are defensive, bitter, or just generally unpleasant to anyone who asks for directions; to me, half of the natives I met seemed to be pissed off about something. Of course, this was only MY experience, so I challenge you to go London and find the other half.

So my 3.5 weeks of travel came and went and I had an amazing time, but I anxiously anticipated going "home" as much as I did all my other destinations.

Next Stop: Barajas Airport. MADRID. Semester 2. 

Przystaneky w Polska. Days 4-10

“Oh sorry, I don´t think we can help you”

I pretended I didn´t hear. I waited a couple seconds.

“yeah, we only have one bed.”

HALLELUJIAH!!! Because I am such a loser and I was in Krakow alone, I only needed one bed at the hostel! 

I booked the bed, planning to be antisocial while there. I have no good explanation for this desire, I guess it was probably because I was so pissy and had not showered in a while; surely no one would want to be around a whiney smelly girl. After I showered and got some tea, I couldn’t resist initiating conversation when I heard a girl name next to me speaking with an American accent; there are a scant number of Americans in Eastern Europe. Kristin was from Seattle, and an aspiring fiction writer; I was totally fascinated by this and asked her a million and two questions. Together, we met an Australian girl, Vanessa, taking a gap year to teach English in Poland. Later, Kristin lent us her German friends and we all hung out in the hostel kitchen drinking Polish beer and playing Loopin' Louie (CHILDHOOD WAY OF LIFE IN THE MOLLOHAN HOUSEHOLD. I flipped out when I saw it). Our drunken revelry caught the attention of some more Aussies, Kathryn and Anthony. I have a very vague idea of what time I went to bed that night, but I do know I did so having failed in my attempt to be antisocial.

New Years Eve set-up (lifted my spirits on the walk to the hostel with my 15 pound bag)

Kristin and I at Mama's Hostel

I uncustomarily woke up late the next day and headed to the Jewish quarter, toured some synagogues, attempted (and failed) to find the old Ghetto walls, and visited Oskar Schindler´s old factory, which is now a museum. The Museum was very informative and I liked it a lot… until I realized there were 2 more floors to see. As the Spaniard on which I was eavesdropping said “es bueno, pero hay demasiado” (it´s good but there is too much).

Krakow Opera House

Oskar Schindler's Factory


Jewish Quarter, Krakow.

City Hall of Krakow (I think)

Cloth Hall- basically the oldest mall in the world

Main Market Square

Main Market Square again

By 5pm, I was semi-starving, so I tried out some Polish kielbasa in Main Market Square and it did not disappoint. When I went back to the hostel and used the computers, the guy next to me looked SO familiar, so I guessed I had met him the night before among Loopin Louie and Zywiec beer. I went to my room to nap and this familiar guy was coincidentally in the bed next to me. I tried to paid no attention, but it was difficult. We woke up from our naps at the same time and he finally said “Do you go to BU?”

YES! I was so excited that I was not crazy.

“Yeah! I thought you looked familiar!”

“Uh, no actually. I just, well, you are wearing a BU Central shirt”

Oh. Right. Why I am such an embarrassing disgrace?

I figured out I met him at a party over the summer and had a mini-conversation, none of which he remembered. A very unfortunate characteristic of mine is that I remember almost EVERYONE I meet, details of their lives included. I think I freaked this kid out quite I a lot when I told him he was a pre-med major with an older sister, and that he was possibly from New Hampshire. This first unfortunate characteristic goes with Shelagh-vice #2: I forget to hide my extensive knowledge/memory about the live’s of these people I remember (whether I was drunk during said meeting or not, I will pretty much always remember). So, long story short: I enlisted this kid to be my friend.

We went to the kitchen for the hostel’s free champagne and met up with the aussies I met the night before. We quickly realized the champagne would not be sufficient, went around the corner to get a liter of vodka and quickly finished it. Then, we went to the main square to see Kelis perform her one popular song. From what I remember of the countdown, it included an indistinguishable collection of screams, people yelling in Polish, English, German, and Portugese, among other languages.

Krakow at Midnight 2011 (taken by Anthony)

President of the Polish government stopped by (taken by Anthony)

I woke up the next day and sat around with my new friends for hours in the kitchen until we went to lunch and got hot chocolate at Café Kafka, a super cute café across from Mama’s Hostel. While every trip to a bar is not necessary to mention, I feel I must include that this particular night I met a guy with the most ridiculous profession ever. He is a professional poker player (mostly online, but he did spend some time living in Vegas as well). He has the craziest life of anyone I have ever met and we had one of the most intense conversations about life I have ever had.

Before dinner with Vanessa, Kristin and Dave (from Kristin's camera)

Cafe Kafka (from Kristin's camera)

Vanessa, Dave, Kristin and I at Main Market Square on New Years Day

On Sunday, I planned to go to breakfast and Aushwitz with the Aussies, but got super lost on the way to meet them. Fail. I went on the later tour instead. A Jew going to Aushwitz is some serious business, so I previously decided I would not talk to anyone. I would be mournful, contemplative and silent. This plan got a little foiled when I saw that David (my fellow BU New Hampshirite) happened to be with the same group, but in the other van.

“We just saved your life” the guy sitting next to me said when we got on the bus.

He sort-of did, since I wouldn’t have been able to go on the tour if this guy and his friend hadn’t joined at the last minute, causing the tour company to add another van. I looked over, nodded, smiled, and turned to face forward a again (remember, this was the commencement of sad-Aushwitz time, not new friend time). I then realized how good-looking this guy and his friend were. I could resist, though. Then, they started speaking French. Plan: absolutely and positively foiled. Their names were Mat and Nick, both of them were 25-year-old civil engineers from Quebec City. Yay for meeting people under 30!

I was having such a great time talking to these guys on the 90-minute ride to Auswhitz… then we got to Aushwitz.

First, we went to Aushwtiz II, saw the remnants of one of the gas chambers, one of the bunks, the grounds, and learned a lot about who exactly was in Aushwitz-Birkenau and from what countries they were from.

Remnants of Gas Chambers destroyed by the prisoners

Aushwitz II

Monument to those who perished in the Gas Chambers with a special passage
written in 21 languages, all of which (except the English translation) were spoken at the camp


Aushwitz II

After that, we went to Aushwitz I, where political prisoners of war were kept. It now serves as a historical site and museum. The guide told us that whenever someone escaped, ten inmates were killed as a punishment (and warning for anyone who wanted to escape in the future). She told a story of one group of men chosen to go to be gassed. One man, Franciszek Gajowniczek, started screaming and pleading for his life, mentioning his wife and children. Father Maximilian Kolbe (taken to Aushwitz for helping to hide several Jews) offered to take his place and the guards miraculously obliged his request, leaving the Franciszek eternally grateful and in complete disbelief. It is supposedly the only time anything like that ever happened at a death or concentration camp. It was the singular example of kindness the tour-guide mentioned, so it inavoidably stuck out in my mind. She was a perfect tour-guide; she spoke with a heavy polish accent and her voice and demeanor were everything they should be… mournful, furious, sensitive, thought-provoking.

Aushwitz-Birkenau. "Arbeit Macht Frei" Work brings freedom.

Shoes of prisoners that the Nazis did not have time to send back to Germany 

(so a very minute percentage of the shoes previously owned by the prisoners)

We watched a movie about the liberation on the way back and it was the most disturbing part of the whole visit, showing real footage of the dead bodies at the camps, completely emaciated. Even the survivors looked like skeletons with skin stretched across their bones. I am not at all squeamish, but there were parts when I had to look away.

The guys invited me to dinner with them, so we went to a polish place and I got some MORE pierogi. The bromance these two guys had going on was the most adorable thing I had seen in a long time. I quickly fell in love with both of them. I was so grateful at how willingly they adopted me as their third wheel (I like to think it was a tricycle situation, though. The three wheels felt right). After dinner, we napped, got some Vodka at an Alkohole (yes, that is what they are called) and finished it a little too quickly. We finished the night at Zinger, a well-known bar in Krakow where people start dancing on the tables at about 2AM. I spent the night pretending to be the fiancé or girlfriend of Mat and Nick, on a rotating basis to keep preying girls away. I am not quite sure why they wanted to keep them away, but I was happy to be of assistance to my fellow tricycle wheels. 

I had to say good-bye to them the next morning and after spending about 24 straight hours with them (somehow without any pictures to show for it), I was pretty upset that they had to leave (and that I had to do some solo touring). The prospect of seeing my friend Matt, from my fall program in Madrid, later that night made me feel better, though.

I lived and died by these (and Pierogi) on my trip. They are basically
huge bagels that cost the equivalent of $0.50

During the day, I went on a tour of the Krakow Salt Mine (which took about 45 minutes to get to), a mine that continuously produced table salt from the 13^th century to 2007. I shouldn’t have been surprised when I saw David (yes, the BU guy) coincidentally in the tour van as well. This was getting ridiculous.

The salt mine was cool, if not a little cheesy at the beginning, with models of men showing how the mine functions. The most interesting part was learning about the salary of the miners in the middle ages. They were paid relatively well and received salt bonuses, which, in the middle ages, didn’t make you fat, it made you a status symbol (weird!). The guide said salt was much like how we perceive gold today. At one of the meeting areas, I heard someone say my name and immediately got excited (because, honestly, when you have a name like mine, you don’t assume the person is trying to get someone else’s attention). It was my friend Matt! We only had a second to talk, but we had already planned to meet later that night, so it just made me that much more excited to see him a couple hours. I hope you still get as excited as I do about these chance encounters.

Going down to the mine... and Dave's foot.


Made out of sand and I AM sure because I pseudo-licked it.

I met up with my friend Matt and his cousin Kristen and we went to a restaurant where I had… more pierogi (it’s so delicious and cheap!). After dinner, we went to the Krakow House of Beer to hang out for a couple of hours. I can’t even make a joke about how fortunate I was to have been in Krakow at coincidentally the exact same time as my friend, Matt. I had such a great time reminiscing with him about the past semester and getting to know his cousin.

Matt Walsh!!!!!

Sure, we look happy here, you should have seen us POST pierogi


Lovely establishment

I woke up the next morning to catch my train to Warsaw to meet up with my friends Klaudia and Magda, two Polish girls who worked with me as camp counselors in New York in the summer of 2009. They picked me up at the train station then we went to Magda’s parents’ house and ate… NOT PIEROGI! We actually had steak tartar (I guess it is not as much of a delicacy in Poland) and citronowka (cheap, but delicious lemon vodka). Later that night, we went to ‘Sketch’ to have delicious strawberry cocktails. They showed me old town, the remnants of communism (and the stories behind a lot of the building and statues) and their university. We went to a typical standing bar for cheap vodka and blackberry juice to end the night.

Klaudia and I with our delicious cocktails

This is what restaurants look like in Warsaw. No joke

REUNITED AFTER 2 EXCRUTIATING YEARS APART!!!

Because Magda had class, we woke up early Wednesday morning to go to their school. Klaudia and I had coffee and went to “Center of Knowledge” with her friend Ola. It was basically the Museum of Science in Boston (Re: enjoyable and made you feel like a kid again). We met up with Magda and more of their friends that night to go to W Oparach Absurdu, a VERY bohemian bar in the artist district of Warsaw with mismatched furniture (including separated old movie seats), candles everywhere and a generally hipster vibe. I had my first “warm spiced beer” there… it was ok. After that, we botelloned in the freezing cold in a park with our new friend, citronowka. We went to a club that night that can be best described as a dirty rave-like atmosphere. It was completely crazy and I loved it.

Really cool hippy/artsy bar (not my picture)

Klaudia and a whole bunch of vodka


Polish kids at the most freezing botellon ever

Magda and I and our accidental team uniform... woops.

As Klaudia was driving me to the airport the next morning, I could hardly believe I had to leave her and Magda, not to mention Poland in general (I had been there for 10 days). I was really starting to love the country and I was even picking up some of the language (Thank you, Magda and Klaudia, for being the best teachers and hosts in the world and forcing me to say inappropriate things in Polish to your friends!)

At the airport, some silly Wizz employees thought they could get me to pay to check my bag, but they failed. I walked proudly past them, with my Turkish rug, laptop computer, sweatshirt and camera- all stuffed into my winter coat. WIN. As I waited at the gate, I prepared myself mentally for the 2.5 hour flight to Gothenburg, Sweden, the 8 hour layover in it’s one-room airport, and the 2 hour flight from their to London. Oh, and the 80 minute bus ride to the center of London. Dear lord, the things I do to save money.