Skip ahead to yesterday

Having a physical journal and a blog at the same time is not easy. So... I don't think there can be anymore intricate updates with elaborate descriptions and photos. Instead... I don't know.

But yesterday, the last day of April, I was riding my bike along my usual route and on one street there was bumper-to-bumper traffic for three blocks. I got to the front of the line expecting to see an accident, construction, or a red light. But instead I saw a nun trying to parallel park, with three other nuns standing all around the car directing her. 

Also yesterday, while bicycling home around sunset and in a hurry, I was catching my breath on the final stretch and a bug flew into my mouth. I swallowed. 

By the time the sun had just disappeared over the horizon, I was sitting on a cliff overlooking a deep lake which was inside an old quarry. An oasis in the middle of the city. Along the cliffs people were drinking, listening to music, and grilling.

By nightfall we were in a valley surrounded by trees and the cliffs beyond which lies the lake. The air was much colder. We all gathered wood and I was somehow responsible for starting the fire. We found a spot with several huge logs on which we could all sit. By midnight there were 15 of us, and everyone except me and two Belgians was non-stop singing old Polish hymns, patriotic songs, childhood (Polish) campfire songs, and the occasional song in English. I roasted two kielbasa sausages and ate them on soft bread with mustard. I longed for marshmallows. But at least there were no mosquitoes. 

Sleep

As my classes have finally started, I have been struggling to adjust to the sleep schedule required to feel energetic throughout the day. A few days ago, for example, I woke up after a night of drinking feeling so congested that I remained in the flat for almost the entire day, declining the invitation to go out that night. This was Saturday. On Sunday, after having slept for many, many glorious hours, I woke up feeling a bit better. That night I planned on staying in again, but felt so lonely that I forced myself to go out, hoping to drink a couple cocktails, dance a bit, and come home around 1 or 2 a.m. Not to mention I have generally been staying in when everyone else has been going out, and honestly I have missed out on quite a bit of fun. Well. I did drink a few cocktails, strawberry Mohitos to be specific (which were amazing), at a very relaxed bar with candlelit tables, where I talked and talked to other Erasmus students about the reality of living in America. Of course they were all so shocked to find out how much American students have to pay for college (or rather that they have to pay at all), and also sympathized with my political apathy and frustration. All in all, I was having a decent time, but was growing tired. I agreed to walk home with one of my American friends, under the assumption that we'd be headed home relatively soon. Then the plans changed, we were going to another club, and I decided to go despite being exhausted because a) I didn't want to be the one walking home alone and b) I was really curious about this particular club. The place was empty, as it was a Sunday night, and quite tacky, but in a sort of  charming way I suppose. I'd definitely like to go back on a more crowded night, and when I'm feeling less tired. I entered the dance floor once that night, where I remember singing "We Are the Champions" at the top of my lungs with a group of Polish girls and my American friends, slinging my beer around in a state of momentary ecstasy. But this was the only moment. We finally left the place as the sun began illuminating the night sky, and by the time I got home it was, for the majority of Krakow's citizens, already a bright new mundane Monday morning. People were on the trams, on their way to a new workday, and I was exhausted, cold, sober, and had to pee probably the most badly I've had to pee in years. Somehow, everyone else has managed to stay out until 7, 8, even 9 a.m. several times since we've been here, but I simply cannot do it. 

Yesterday, after sleeping for only an hour or so, I went to my morning class feeling miserable. Between classes I went to pick up a roll of film, only to find that none of the pictures had turned out. When I came home, I diddled on the Internet instead of taking a nap, stupidly, and then went out to eat a quick bowl of tomato soup with a friend before my second class. The tomato soup here, luckily, tastes almost exactly the same as the tomato soup my Babci has been cooking for me since I could remember (except, of course, it's still not quite as good as hers). One strange cultural difference I've noticed is that Poles seem to eat so much more than I could ever possibly eat in one sitting, while drinking a small glass of juice or water, or even nothing at all. Are they not thirsty? Are they not dehydrated? I can't manage eating a full meal without anything to drink, and if I do have something to drink, I gulp it down. I need to practice simply sipping. But more importantly, I need to somehow attempt to maintain a regular sleep schedule. On second thought, nah. If I never stayed up late I could never really talk to my love, or my friends back home, and that alone will kill me before any sort of sleep deprivation could. 

Morning walks

It seems as though I have been living here for ages, and yet somehow it hasn't even been two weeks. My daily routine has changed very little since I've moved into my flat. Generally I wake up, putt around the house, eat or not eat breakfast, and pile on several layers before stepping out into the cold. When I walk to my morning classes I walk briskly, listening to the rhythm of the street, the voices, the cars, sirens, and most primarily, the clicking of my new boots against the sidewalk. After about ten minutes of tripping over cracks as I peer inside the shops I pass by, I reach the start of a stretch of intense construction: workers smoking cigarettes, jackhammers, deep trenches, and most importantly, a sidewalk that is no longer a sidewalk but a rough, narrow path with little wooden bridges and frustrated people shuffling awkwardly past each other. On especially cold mornings, it's painful to think that if it weren't for this construction, my morning journey would entail simply getting on a warm tram for free and arriving a hundred yards away from my class within five minutes...but I try to appreciate the walk for what it's worth. Often I get stuck behind an elderly woman along the narrow temporary sidewalk, and I listen as the cluck cluck cluck of my shoes decelerate into cluck...cluck...cluck. I am of course overly conscious of the slow woman's thoughts, wondering perhaps if she's worried about being so slow, but of course she isn't, and I'm just too awkward to pass her despite the fact that now people are passing both me AND the old woman. Eventually the construction ends, and I walk through a corner where there are several vendors, one selling bread, the other hats, gloves, and scarves, and the other, cigarettes and magazines. I cross the street when the pedestrian light turns green (the police here are quick to ticket jaywalkers, unfortunately), pass by a tram stop and then the park that circles the city center. And then I am finally on Ulica Sławkowka, just a few minutes' stretch to the main market square. This point in the journey is roughly pictured below (the park, to my left as I pass by).

As I enter the square there are usually already people bustling around, stands selling bread, students walking to class, tourists taking pictures in the morning light, and of course pigeons waddling around cooing and bobbing their heads, freshly awake to start another day of being constantly fed. My classes are generally held in the square itself, building 8, which is quite convenient. As I hurriedly walk in, I continue until I reach the end of a hallway, and then begin climbing 3 sets of stairs. By the second set I am sweating and breathing heavily, as at this point I am usually still bundled up, steaming beneath a thick scarf and hat. Once I finally reach the top I find the rest of my class, waiting for the professor to arrive to unlock the big wooden doors.

Arrival

I've been living in Krakow for almost a week now and have already fallen in love with the city. I live in a cozy flat on Ulica Długa, which is about a fifteen minute walk from Rynek Główny, or the main city center/market square (where the majority of my classes are also held). My flatmate is Leanne, a quiet but incredibly sweet girl from California who never curses. We share a quaint little kitchen with big windows and a tile floor that could be pulled straight from my conception of "vintage" and "European", alternating cream and orange with lots of dirt in the corners.  Our bathroom boasts an array of large forest green and marigold tiles, with a standup shower in the corner, to the left of the sink and cabinet. The water in our flat gets hot almost instantly. The bidet is, and will probably always be, unused by either of us. To myself, I have a lovely, spacious bedroom with wooden floors and green shades. My landlady, who is seemingly quite serious about her job, also left me with a myriad of cabinets which I will probably never fill and a large desk facing four tall corner windows overlooking two intersecting streets. I love my room way too much.

Beneath our apartment building stands an elaborate farmer's market, where people have set up stands filled with flowers, meat, candy, produce, pastries, clothing, bags, and almost anything else imaginable. I've shopped there only once--and bought a pair of leather gloves--but have yet to try my luck at bartering. I do not foresee myself acquiring any amazing deals, as I am usually so nervous in trying out my Polish that I hardly consider arguing over the price. The more elderly Poles working in the market always approach me kindly, offering me items and telling me that I am grzeczna dziewczyna, or a good girl. From my bedroom window I can see several large buildings (some are pictured below); the rooftop of the building on the right is almost always a perching place for a flock of pigeons that constantly vacillates between our rooftop and that one. I often sit on my bed and stare at them flying back and forth--it's an uplifting sight as I drift off for midday naps.

The last few days have been spent growing more and more accustomed to new surroundings and cold weather; I've already found several places to go for cheap and delicious Polish food, bars with great atmospheres, and coffee shops wherein I can pass the time writing my daily journal entries or chatting with friends. One of my favorite drinks to order here is hot chocolate, or czekolada naturalna/goraca, which is essentially a mug filled with hot, melted chocolate. I can only describe it as such; it's like drinking a bar of chocolate, so rich and thick, so amazing. Every corner I turn here is so picturesque, even on the shabbiest of streets!

The most fascinating aspect of the city for me is its immense history, as many of the buildings date back to the 12th century. Poland is a land steeped with tragedy, but holds a great deal of resilience, perseverance and beauty. There is a story behind everything, so much so that I feel disinclined to even attempt to relay some of the information I've learned so far. Such tidbits will have to be saved for my handwritten journal, or my brain, or my voice. 

This (above) is one of the largest of my university's buildings, called Collegium Novum. Like many of the buildings here, or perhaps everywhere in Poland, this building has a sad history. In 1939, as part of the Nazi German action called Sonderaktion Krakau, 183 professors of the university were gathered for a "mandatory" meeting to discuss Polish education. Instead, they were arrested and later taken to camps in Sachsenhausen and Dachau. This was just one part of the Nazi German action plan Intelligentzaktion, through which the Germans could exterminate the Polish intellectual elites. 

St. Peter and St. Paul's Church. 

My favorite picture so far; Rynek Główny. In the background is St. Mary's Basilica, a beautiful church originally built in the 1220s. Its altar is filled with wooden sculptures so accurate that researchers have used them to determine which types of diseases the people of the Middle Ages had endured. The wood used to make these sculptures is now over 1,000 years old.

So far, our group has gone on one excursion--to the Wieliczka Salt Mine, a 700-year-old mine 15 km outside of the city. It was absolutely incredible. First, we had to descend some 500 steps to reach the 3rd level of the mine, 100 meters below the surface. Even though I felt we were already so very far below the surface, I then came to find that we were only on the 3rd out of a total of 8 levels in the mine! Below you can see the view to the bottom as we descended the steps. It was pretty unreal--even in person it was impossible to discern where exactly the staircase ended. 

The mine was filled with countless chambers, somewhere around 2,000 total I believe, and most of them were excavated by hand using simple tools. Some of the larger chambers took over 100 years to carve out! Moreover, each chamber was adorned with salt carvings and intricate sculptures created by miners throughout the centuries. The last photo depicts a chamber that was voluntarily carved out between 1862-1880 by miners who wanted another chapel in which they could pray while working down below. It's called the Chapel of St. Kinga. The floors, walls, chandeliers and banisters are all carved from salt! In this chapel there are also several basrelief carvings, which are practically flat, but are so dimensionally sound that they appear to have a great deal of three-dimensional depth to them. 

My experiences so far, just in the last few days, have already been life-changing. I have so much to learn, so much to see and do, and so many people to meet...but it's still hard to conceive of the fact that I will be living here for the next 5 months. I miss everyone back home so very much--and I wish nothing more than for them to be able to share these experiences with me now or someday. Every corner I turn, every sip I take, I think to myself, you would love this. You should see this, taste it, feel it.

The day before departure

A day filled with stress, packing, tears, goodbyes, and... snow.

Oh, how quickly time passes.

When will it finally hit me?