Just a note

Now I'm back in Moscow, I will continue to keep this blog.  It won't be so regular, but I promise to try and keep it amusing.

Just thought I'd warn you now... 

:o)

Back to reality

So, I'm back in the Motherland.  It's apparently really cold, but it feels like nothing compared to the chill in Warsaw.  

For the rest of the day in Riga I basically ambled the streets taking as many photographs as I could.  I also visited the museum of the Occupation of Latvia, which was rather moving.  It told the story of all the occasions when Latvia has been occupied.  It begins with the declaration of freedom for the country after the First World War.  It then chronicles the modern history of the country (and to a certain extent the other Baltic States), detailing the first Soviet Occupation and incorporation into the USSR; the Nazi 'liberation' and occupation, then the post-war (WWII) re-occupation by the Soviets.  There was graphic detail of the fates of political dissenters, and a reconstruction of a camp bunk room.  There were artifacts and personal stories and all manner of things to make the stories as personalised as possible.  It was a very interesting museum, and like the museum of the Warsaw Uprising it ate away a large part of my afternoon.  When I was leaving there were some people asking if they would be allowed in with forty minutes until closing.  The response of the woman at the counter was that they were welcome, but they would need at least an hour so maybe they should come back.  No kidding - I was in there for about 2 and a half hours.  My (not so hidden) inner history geek was revelling in delight.

After the museum I only had an hour and a half or thereabouts until my train, so I did waht any self-respecting expat on her way to Russia would do and visited the timeless standard for culinary snobbery that exists in Eastern Europe - Stockmann.  I initially intended merely to get the essentials, such as a bit of cheese, some salami, some bread, maybe a bit of fruit or a yoghurt.  Then I noticed the hot deli and bakery counters.  I ended up walking out with the following:

- a ciabatta loaf

- 3 miniature spinach and cream cheese pasties

- a half-cut ciabatta pizza

- a raspberry jam and some other substance (cream? custard?) danish pastry

- 200g of potato gratin

- 100g of roast potatoes

- 150g of roast pork (the most delicious, tender and flavourful roast pork I'd had for quite some time, I must add)

- a packet of lactose free cheese

- a can of Coke

- a can of Fanta

- a bottle of water

As you can see, I really went on a health kick.

After my shopping extravaganza I decided to head to the station, where I loitered until the train arrived.  I had purchased a 2nd class ticket, and I found myself in a train carriage with what could be construed as benches cum bunkbeds.  I knew immediately that I had no desire to be sleeping on the top bunk as a) I was wearing a skirt so getting up there would be potentially embarrassing and b) I have a fear of heights and getting down off the bunk would be an actual nightmare.  So, I sat down.  I was opposite a youngish girl and her grandma.  The girl spoke a little English, which came in useful when an objectionable old fellow started shouting at me.  It turned out he wanted to sit by the window, because that was his exact seat number.  So, I moved everything and sat in the middle.  Then his mate came along, and wanted to sit next to him, so I  was now perched on the end. The girl's granny got off the train as she wasn't actually travelling.  Another middle aged man took her place.  On the bunk/seat by the window on the other side was a young couple.  More about them later.  I was sat on the end, feeling a bit miserable.  Working out the logistics of the situation, I figured that I'd either be forced to sleep on the top bunk, or to share the bottom bunk with one of the middle aged men, who by now I had also noticed, by the tell-tale tattoos on their hands, were prisoners.  Whether they were ex-prisoners or escaped ones I don't wish to speculate.  However, they were friendly enough until I heard one of them mocking my inability to speak Russian.  This prompted me to tell them, in Russian, that as much as I'd love to be fluent in every language in the world, it's not going to happen due to the fact that I am not a genius and I also have to work several dozen hours a week instead of studying linguistics.  Or something like that, anyway.  I don't think it came out as articulately as that but never mind. 

Ten minutes later, the first part of answering my problems was solved.  One of the men offered me some of his whisky.  In any other situation I would have agreed wholeheartedly.  However, without one of my trusty sidekicks with more Russian than me, I didn't want to attempt semi drunken Russian conversation.  I politely declined with a bombshell revelation - that I was pregnant.  (I'm not, by the way, so no fretty-frets any of you!)  Russians love children.  They are also highly respectful of pregnant women.  A trick that myself and a colleague or two of mine have used in the past on the Moscow Metro is to feign pregnancy in order to get a seat.  Which is exactly what I did here.  It did have a side-effect in that I had to go an entire 18 hour train journey without a cigarette - that sucked - but it was worth it for the following pay-off.  The couple next to me were separated when a woman got on at the next stop and wanted to sit down (as you do, on 18 hour train journeys).  The man sat on the seat opposite me and listened to his music while the woman thumbed through a copy of 'My Baby' magazine.  A little kid was hovering about and was alternately highly fascinated by my big bead necklace and the woman's magazine.  After some time, the middle aged prisoner opposite me went back to his own bunk space, and there was a gap on the seat.  The female half of the young couple sat next to her man, and started looking like she was going to sleep.  Quick as a flash I asked her if I could steal her seat - she replied in the affirmative - so I relocated all my stuff to that area.  Now I was in business.  Sat next to the window, facing forwards, I had a table - bargain.  The other woman asked me if I wanted the top or the bottom bunk - I replied the bottom one - and my battle was won.  I felt like the smuggest, most comfortable person in the world when I'd converted the seat into a bed and I was snuggling down under my blanket (which I'd nicked from the hotel in Warsaw...it's ace, it's white with a red criss-cross pattern on it).

I slept for a good 9 hours on the train, and only got up and sorted stuff out because the woman opposite me wanted to sit down again.   The train arrived at the prescribed time, and I made my way to the Metro.  I travelled home, unpacked, put up my new fridge magnets etc.  After that I went to meet some friends, and ended up having a couple of drinks, as does happen on these occasions...

Sorry, wrong info...

Just checked weather.com and it turns out that it was actually -19 yesterday evening in Warsaw, not -10 like I just tried to tell you. I thought it was a bit chilly...

A distinct chill...

...is in the air, in my bones and, well, everywhere at the moment. I boarded the coach to Riga as planned last night. It was actually early - by 25 minutes - so I got on early, ambled in a carefree manner to the back of the coach and proceeded to make my nest. It wasn't long before I was nice and settled, and after a while the coach set off. Only then did I realise a slight flaw in the coach - the fact that from somewhere there was a draught of freezing cold air permeating the window. I managed to combat this irritation by skilfully manoeuvreing myself so that my shoulder was just below the window pane and my head was on my rolled up hoodie, and then I used my coat as a blanket. Result! At least, until the lovely peoplein front decided to recline their seats as far as they'd go (a 45 degree angle, in this case). This left me with approximately 4 inches of legroom...but I was asleep, so when I woke up, unable to move my legs, I was understandably worried until I relaised what had actually happened. Oh, people.

So, I'm now in Riga. We arrived around 07:30 (much earlier than scheduled) and it was dark. I found the train station after a bit of a trek (well, 5 minutes always seems that much more when you've got a 100L pack on your back) and booked my train ticket back to Moscow. That sorted, I got rid of my bag, and then decided to venture outside. I have decided to have a little internet time before I start the hardcore trekking round town as a) It's not 100% light yet and b) nowhere's actually open yet.

...back to Warsaw...

So, yep. When I finished up writing yesterday I'd just got my ticket sorted, correct? Well, I decided to explore Warsaw after that, and I walked out of the bus station and down the road. After ten minutes of walking, I was no closer to the centre, and so I caught a bus. In ten minutes I was in town, and I first of all went into the shopping centre that's attached to the train station. What a shopping centre! There was a shop selling Marmite! I was in awe.
After that I went to the information centre to find out how to get to a museum I wanted to go to. Sadly she pointed out that it was cosed, but she also suggested that I go to a different one - the museum of the Warsaw Uprising. I followed her directions, and arrived at the museum. I was absolutely enthralled. It's actually one of the best museums I've ever been to. The displays are mainly bilingual, English and Polish, and they chronicle the uprising, the preceding events and the subsequent events in great detail. It was also a multimedia extravaganza. There were photos, memorabilia, posters, video, audio interviews with English subtitles, and a lot more. There were little pull out drawers with autobiographies of key figures, and on the middle level were three corner walls filled with photos of those who died. It was a really informative and interesting place, and before I knew it I'd spent 3 hours in there. At the end was a cafe and they had Bigos (the hunter's stew I told you about) and I had to have a bowl. It smelt so good, how could I not?

Once I left the museum it was dark. I decided to try and see some sights, so I got on a tram. However, it went right across the riveer and although I could see the main castle and so forth out of the window, getting out of the tram would have meant I had at least a half hour walk to actually get to the things that were nice to see. So, I didn't bother.

I have come to 2 conclusions about Warsaw.

1) I'm sure it's lovely in Summer, but in the Winter it's actually quite...meh. It's not the fact that there's nothing to see or do - the museum was amazing, and in the far distance I could see lots of nice looking buildings. It's just that when the temperature is -10 degrees celsius, you don't *really* know how to get to places, and nobody whom you ask actually speaks your language, the possibility of seeing some lovely buildings just isn't attractive enough. I *will* return to Warsaw, just not in the Winter.

2) Warsaw is a telescopic city with really odd perspective. It is a city of illusion, where everything looks so much closer to you than it actually is. For example, the central station has its very own friendly neighbourhood Stalin building. This building is visible from the Uprising museum, and appears to be just behind a block of flats. It isn't. If one attempted the walk it would be at least half an hour.

So yes. I shall, revisit. Just when it's a bit warmer...

I

3,5,0,1,2,5, Go!

Warsaw. I arrived last night, after a 5 hour train journey from Krakow. I had 2 hours until my coach, so I tried to find the bus station, apparently 2km from the central station. I hopped on a bus and travelled for about 15 minutes. No sign of the station. So I got off, and asked for directions. turns out I was on the right bus, it's just a little further out than my guidebook indicated. So, I arrive. I ask where my bus will leave from - platform 13 - and settle down to wait. I enjoy a lump of minced meat wrapped in cabbage leaves, then sit outside. My coach is due at 19:30. That time comes and goes. Then it's 20:00. I speak to an Engliah couple (from Leeds!!! Whooo!) and they're going to Vilnius. Their coach is due at 20:30. It arrives on time. A Russian woman asks me what coach I'm waiting for, and I reply that I'm waiting for the Eurolines to Riga. She's also Riga bound, but with another company. He coach is due at 21:00. That time comes...and goes. We wait. We ask - we are told to wait. We wait. We wait a bit more. We divide our time between the bus station and the outside platforms. It is now -7 degrees Celsius. At 23:00 the security lock up the bus station. At 23:30, I give up, on the verge of hypothermia, and go into a nearby hotel. I get a room and slowly thaw out.

This morning I went to the coach office, angry and worried. Turns out there was a misprint on my ticket - the bus is supposed to be tonight. Pah!

I now have about 8 hours to explore Warsaw. I'm going to do just that.

Well, my intentions were good...

I went to bed last night at 10pm. I fell asleep almost immediately. I had intended to get up early today (7am) so I could slink off around 8ish and go on an excursion before my trip to Warsaw. Despite having over 8 hours of sleep, I slept through my 06:45am alarm, and what must have been about 10 snooze resets, before finally waking up at about 09:20.
The moral of this story? Don't know if there is one. but, I'm happy to learn that it's not just on workdays that I can't wake up in the morning.

So, my plans for this morning and the early afternoon are, actually buggered. I had planned to visit a place that has, since I first encountered it in history lessons at school, held a kind of fearful intrigue for me. I am of course referring to Auschwitz, the site of the most horrifying death camp during the Nazi occupation and the second world war. It takes about an hour and a half to reach it by bus (probably more today due to the thick carpet of snow that's appeared overnight) and then the same to come back. There's a 3km walk between Auschwitz I and Auschwitz II (Birkenau) and then of course the walk back. So, considering I now have only about 5 - 6 hours before I'd need to be on a train to Warsaw, I'm going to have to take a pass. Oh yeah, and it closes during the winter months at 3pm. I would actually consider staying another night if it wasn't for that as I could always change my ticket to Riga.

Never mind.

Now I'm going to finish my tea, re-pack my rucksack, and then head to Warsaw...

An interesting day...

...in many ways.

I got on my coach from Padova at 8pm last night, after no less than two other coaches bound for Poland bamboozled me and 4 others into believing we were about to get a reprieve from the freezing Italian winter. Once the coach *did* turn up, it was jam packed full of people, all of whom were reluctant to let me or anyone else sit next to them and take away their precious bag-space. One woman grudgingly let me sit down beside her and then spent the next ten minutes huffing and puffing whenever I dared to so much as take off my coat/move a bag/breathe etc. I found it highly difficult to sleep on this journey due to the fact that I was in an aisle and unable to bed down against the window. It also didn't help that whenever I turned round to move my head and sort of sleep on my side, the woman actually spread herself wider over the seats and did her best to skewer my ribs with her elbows. Oh, well. I think I got about 3-4 hours altogether of broken sleep.

The coach stopped a lot, I lost count after a while but I think it stopped 5 times in total. The second two were very enjoyable. We stopped first of all at a restaurant and petrol station in the lower reaches of the mountains. After admiring the view and using the facilities we got back on the coach. There was a kind of stewardess woman, and she was so nice she even spoke English to me (and smiled at the same time - a rare skill once you get East of Germany). She asked everyone if we wanted breakfast - might as well, I thought. I was expecting a crappy bread roll or something to that effect, typical transport food. Nope. We stopped at a restaurant at what seemed like a ski lodge. There, I was presented with a MASSIVE bowl heaped high with a kind of soup - shredded cabbage, lumps of meat, sausage, onion, all in a really tasty broth with paprika. After studying menus and tourist guides here in more depth, I discovered that what I had for breakfast this morning is actually known as 'Hunter's Stew', and is apparently a bit like Marmite: you either love it or hate it. I loved it so much I could happily have eaten it for every other meal this week, but I guess that's not going to be easy so I'll settle for keping it as a recipe to keep me fed for a long time in cheap times once I get back home.

and the city...

So, yes. Krakow. As the bus pulled into the outskirts, my initial reaction was that it appeared to be a lot like Moscow, but a bit crappier in a Brezhnev era architecture sort of way. As I saw nothing but concrete, my heart sank. The stewardess claimed we were in the centre - it looked a bit like the stereotypical rubbish Eastern bloc-ness that in past experience doesn't actually exist. And luckily, once I was off the bus and started looking about, I found out that I was wrong.

The old town is full of small, cobbled streets and squares, not unlike the Italian streets I was walking yesterday or those of Tallinn, where I was the other week (I *will* write about Tallinn soon, I promise you). Street vendors sell pretzels and there are lots of Christmas lights hanging about at the moment. I walked for hours, upon the delicious crisp snow that is similar to the Italian stuff in that it is marginally less slippery than Russian snow, yet more like the Russian in that the second it's been stepped on by roughly 5 people or more, it turns into a big grey mass of gloop. And it soaked through my boots - my feet are not impressed.

Still, I saw the sights, went to a restaurant and enjoyed a big lump of pig meat smothered in herbs and spices with some roast potatoes (probably the last decent meal I'm going to have until I get back to Moscow and cook my pasta feast...assuming the cheese I bought doesn't turn into yukkyness). I then walked, walked and walked a little bit more until I was painfully aware of a prety large headache growing, which I've attributed to very little sleep since I left Hungary and my uncanny knack for forgetting to put my hat back on when I step outside of a building.

something odd...

...happened to me this afternoon, too. I was walking around hunting for a restaurant in my guidebook. Three people approached me, and began asking me where something was. I was about to pull my new trick of pretending to be Russian and a non-Polish (Italian/Magyar/German) speaker, when it occurred to me that they *were* Russian. And I'd understood them. And I was able to help them. In Russian. Bet of all - they actually understood me!

My plans for tomorrow involve visiting a place which I still haven't decided whether I really do want to go to yet. I'll let you know if I do.

I'll also be getting a train to Warsaw and then a bus from there to Riga, overnight. I shall treasure tonight's sleep in a real bed as tomorrow night I'll be on a coach again (though this time I *will* have a window seat, preferably at the back so I can nestle into the corner) and the following night I'll be in the 3rd class seating of an overnight train to Moscow. Again, I think I'll aim for a window seat...

Bef0re I go, I want to pose what for me is an eternal question:

Why do Eastern European countries, where it is a given that winter will bring snow, always insist on having steps and pavements made of marble??? It's the slipperiest substance known to man once there's a layer of frozen water on it. I know it looks nice, but for me that's not a good enough reason! Any other ideas?