The first 36 (give or take)

I'm in the common room of my hostel, watching Polish TV.  I understand very little, besides that it is awfully cheesy.  But it's amazing how little language you need to understand cheesy sitcoms.  It's been a roller-coaster the last few days, but I'm pretty much glad to be where I am.

My flight was smooth, but long, and the seat I was sitting in was ergonomically designed for someone two to three feet taller than me.  I was wedged in next to an older Polish lady who seemed very sweet, but who could've stood to lose more than a few pounds, and was therefore sitting half on top of me the whole trip.  When I tried to put my sweatshirt on, I pulled something in my neck.  No joke.  Basically, it was an economy-class flight across the Atlantic, so by the time I landed in Warsaw, I was sweaty, exhausted, and beginning to wonder what I'd been thinking.  But a smooth trip through passport control, some (delicious) cherry juice, and a few hours of personal space and book-browsing in the airport Virgin store was sufficient to improve my mood a little.  The plane to Wroclaw (which, alas, I was only to be on for thirty minutes) was much more comfortable.  I arrived in the city I was going to live in feeling optimistic.  Unfortunately, it was not an easy afternoon.

By the time I went to sleep last night, if I'm honest (and I hate being honest about this), I was homesick.  The first night, and I was homesick.  I couldn’t understand half of what was going on around me:  I’d wandered the city center for 45 minutes looking for a pay phone, only to find they didn’t work without the cards sold at the post office.  So I went to the post office and was told (surprise, surprise) they didn’t have any karte telefonyczna.  At all.  Nie mam.  I finally bought (for 140 zlotys, less than $50) what was probably a hot phone and starter prepaid kit from a guy selling them out of a closet with a window in an alley off of Ulica Swidnicka and managed to place a call to my mother to assure her that I’d made it in one piece and to hear her calming voice.  I was a little bit afraid to order food or drink, so I was thanking god for the snacks I’d tucked in my backpack, both from Kristy and from being  offered an obscene amount of food on the plane and accepting all of it (for later). I’d had high hopes of arriving and being one of those hopelessly cool travelers who can pull off calm, collected, and funny while on the move, but I was tired, overwhelmed, and my Polish was, in a word, shit.

But I don’t give up that easily.  I was not about to resign myself to the possibility that this was (so quickly) a mistake.  After all, the hostel employee I knew was incredibly nice, and so had been my taxi driver.  I still hadn’t met any of my classmates or visited my school – they would be able to speak my language, at least, and would hopefully become good friends.  People were singing karaoke out my window, which would probably get old, but was pretty awesome for the moment.  I had managed to get my ass to Poland, explain to a taxi driver with very little English where I was going, maneuver all of my heavy luggage to my hostel, buy a phone, and somehow be mistaken for a local twice (not my language – my looks), all without more than an hour and a half of sleep or more than a couple hundred Polish words in my arsenal (which sounds like more than it is).  I was doing fine.  I took a deep breath, reminded myself that the good stuff never comes easily, and hoped like hell that I would feel a lot better on the other side of a shower and a good night’s sleep.

And I did feel better. I showered and slept, and once I’d woken up, brushed my teeth, and gotten acceptable looking, I rolled downstairs for breakfast.  And it was much better than I expected.  Bread, a million types of cheeses, two kinds of cereal, coffee, tea, jam.  For thirty-five dollars a night, this place is the bargain of the century – I don’t care how small my room is - and it isn't large, but it's big enough for just me.  They gave me a view, a bed, a table, a place to shower, a map, a guidebook, breakfast, and kindness.  Deal. 

But the truly amazing thing happened when I stepped out my door with a clear mind.  I fell in love with this city.  It is astonishingly, breathtakingly beautiful.  The first three-hour walk I took resulted in no photographs, since I'd (D'oh!) left my memory card in my computer at the hostel.  But I have never (never!) been to a city with more beautiful architecture, streets, or people in my life.  Not even Paris holds a candle.  Even crumbling back-alleys hold sculptures and treasures (this is, mind, the city center...I'm sure much of the suburbs are as dilapidated as any European metropolis).  The weather was beautiful, the smells were rich, and today (probably because of an attitude adjustment on my part more than anything else), everyone seemed so friendly and accommodating about my shit Polish skills.  I managed Polish numbers quite well, bought a heavy bag of groceries (for 6 dollars!!!), and tried my first zapiekanka - a delicious pizza-like food served on french bread with (inexplicably) ketchup on top.  I wasn't so sure about the ketchup, but it turned out to be just right.    I saw things today that, as much as it kills me to be this sentimental, honestly brought tears to my eyes, they were so beautiful.  Most of them on Ostrow Tumski, Cathedral Island, the ecclesiastical center of Wroclaw, full of churches, monasteries, and convents.  All architectural gems.  And beautiful waterfront parks.

Here is one thing I will say that pisses me off.  Despite living in a city that obviously prides itself on its aesthetic beauty, and perhaps even more offensively, despite the fact that this beauty is largely the result of painstaking reconstruction after World War II, many of the inhabitants seem to think nothing at all of marring the face of this sparkling city with graffiti.  Almost nowhere is exempt.  Except, seemingly, Ostrow Tumski.  I guess they really are devoutly Catholic.

Anyway, overall, it's lovely, and I'm completely charmed, but also glad I'll be starting school soon.  It's weird to have so much day stretching before me with no idea how to fill it all.  I walked for five hours today, and it was wonderful, but my feet are starting to blister.  For now, I'm going to move on to my bed.  It's nearly midnight, and I'm trying not to let the jet lag defeat me.  More later.