Day two wasn't supposed to be Warszawa at all. As I had already visited in 2005 I was keen to fly in and then get out as fast as possible. Plan was to get on a train to Zamość first thing in the morning on Sunday... but, as is not uncommon, the plan unwove in the face of newly aquired information. Fact is, Warszawa city puts on a free outdoors Chopin concert every summer Sunday. How could I resist (and why would I?). So I forgot about the train for the moment and woke up to a gorgeous sunny day. I breakfasted with a couple of Czechs and a Canadian. One of the Czechs was wearing a John Lennon T-shirt, which made me chuckle to myself about my find the previous day. The Czechs had just come from Lublin, and they couldn't stop raving about how much they liked it. Remembering that Gosia had also recommended Lublin, I decided to put Zamość on hold and head straight there. But for the moment, I had a whole morning of lovely sunny Warszawa ahead of me before the concert at noon. First stop? With all of the museums and historical monuments that Warszawa has to offer, the attraction that most caught my eye was the statue of the Mermaid (Syreny). Mostly my reasons for going were literary; the name recalled Homer's terrifying and alluring singers, but also brought back childhood memories of "The Little Mermaid". I remember being sad when I reached the end of the book where the handsome prince married another woman, and the little mermaid becomes foam on the waves. And then being annoyed when I watched the Disney version and they changed the ending (you just can't please some people). But I digress. I set off in search of the Polish Syreny, which had the bonus of being situated just next to the Wisła (Vistula) which I had been dying to see. In the end, the Syreny was more remeniscent of Ariel than terrible man-eating beast, and the Wisła was shallow and murky. But I did see a boat put-putting along and a little kid with a balloon, so all was not lost in the picturesque department. Below you will find proof of the difficulty of auto-photography when you are trying to get yourself and a large, faraway object in the frame (note my perplexed look):
Here is a slightly better look at the statue:
After all that hard statue-gazing, it was clearly time to sample one of Warszawa's famed café bookshops (caffeine and ink - heaven). I decided to visit what is reputed to be Warszawa's oldest, Cuły Barbarzyńca, named in tribute to Czech author Bohumil Hrabal and his book "The Gentle Barbarian". It looked fabulous, crammed with bookshelves which were in turn crammed with thick, hardbacked volumes. I spied the coffee machine - a sleek and modern manual espresso the likes of which I had not spotted since Dublin (the "espresso" in Spain is made at the push of a button. Very disappointing). The top of the machine was lined with glistening white espresso cups, and I could easily imagine Warszawa's literati sipping dark-roasted short blacks atop the gleaming dark wood bar stools and island tables. Unfortunately, it was closed, but my trusty Warszawa tourist map pinpointed Kafka Café, conveniently within walking distance and also in keeping with what was turning out to be a very Czech morning. Kafka Café served the most delicious almond pastry I have ever tasted, and also the best coffee I could remember drinking for a long while. I dug further into "Men Who Hate Women", while sitting outside on the Kafka patio, enjoying the fresh air.
As usual for me, the book swallowed the rest of my morning and pretty soon it was time to head over to Łazienkowski park for the concert. Łazienkowski park is pretty huge, and I had no idea where the concert was supposed to be. But, on reaching the park borders, I simply turned on my best sheep impression and followed the streams of Warszawians until I reached a massive stone reproduction of Chopin, which I took to be the Chopin Monument. I parked myself in the sunshine and waited for the music to begin. What piece was played I unfortunately cannot say, as the announcement was made in Polish (however, they did explain in English at length about the concert series and pianist, who was also Polish). I can tell you that it was in "F molla", which I am assuming is F minor.
I enjoyed the concert thoroughly, though next time I will avoid sitting directly in the roasting sunshine and opt for the shade of a large tree. Warszawians are lucky to have this kind of free cultural event - I can't remember the last time I heard a classically trained professional play in Melbourne or Dublin for free (not counting Irish "fiddle dee dee" music). It seems classical music, literature, jazz and other expressions of supposedly "highbrow" culture are more part of Poland's national consciousness than in other countries, or perhaps it is just keenness to exploit one of their few internationally recognised citizens?
I had purposely not booked any accommodation, preferring to take it one day at a time and book as I went. So I needed to buy a Polish SIM card for my phone, to save precious złoty on mobile calls to hostels and tourist offices. Gosia told me to go to any kiosk and ask for a "Starter". Unfortunately, that was the only word I knew, so I put on my most inquiring tone of voice and said, "Starter, prosze?", to which the first two kiosk vendors replied...well, something long in Polish involving "Nie", so I figured they didn't have any. The third one did, and she handed me a box with Polish written on it, but two numbers (thank goodness for the universality of Arabic numerals!) on it, one of which I assumed was the price. There was a 5, and a 29. I figured 5 złoty was too cheap for a SIM (just over one euro) so I gave the woman 30 złoty, to which she said "Nie nie nie nie!" and pointed to the five. I handed over five złoty and gave thanks for the honesty of the Polish - had that been Spain or Argentina they would have grabbed the 30 złoty without even smiling.
Armed with my new communications device, it was time to make a move. Warszawa had been kind to me, but I was keen to keep moving and get some momentum up. I hauled my rucksack onto my back, slung my backpack onto my front, and, walking very very carefully keeping the "Peru Nose Incident" in mind, I toddled off to Warszawa Centralna. I had my Interrail pass (which thankfully was not still on the kitchen counter) meaning I didn't need to have a scary "ticket buying in Polish" moment just yet. Once I had the train timetable figured out, I was on my way to Lublin.
Here is a slightly better look at the statue:
After all that hard statue-gazing, it was clearly time to sample one of Warszawa's famed café bookshops (caffeine and ink - heaven). I decided to visit what is reputed to be Warszawa's oldest, Cuły Barbarzyńca, named in tribute to Czech author Bohumil Hrabal and his book "The Gentle Barbarian". It looked fabulous, crammed with bookshelves which were in turn crammed with thick, hardbacked volumes. I spied the coffee machine - a sleek and modern manual espresso the likes of which I had not spotted since Dublin (the "espresso" in Spain is made at the push of a button. Very disappointing). The top of the machine was lined with glistening white espresso cups, and I could easily imagine Warszawa's literati sipping dark-roasted short blacks atop the gleaming dark wood bar stools and island tables. Unfortunately, it was closed, but my trusty Warszawa tourist map pinpointed Kafka Café, conveniently within walking distance and also in keeping with what was turning out to be a very Czech morning. Kafka Café served the most delicious almond pastry I have ever tasted, and also the best coffee I could remember drinking for a long while. I dug further into "Men Who Hate Women", while sitting outside on the Kafka patio, enjoying the fresh air.
As usual for me, the book swallowed the rest of my morning and pretty soon it was time to head over to Łazienkowski park for the concert. Łazienkowski park is pretty huge, and I had no idea where the concert was supposed to be. But, on reaching the park borders, I simply turned on my best sheep impression and followed the streams of Warszawians until I reached a massive stone reproduction of Chopin, which I took to be the Chopin Monument. I parked myself in the sunshine and waited for the music to begin. What piece was played I unfortunately cannot say, as the announcement was made in Polish (however, they did explain in English at length about the concert series and pianist, who was also Polish). I can tell you that it was in "F molla", which I am assuming is F minor.
I enjoyed the concert thoroughly, though next time I will avoid sitting directly in the roasting sunshine and opt for the shade of a large tree. Warszawians are lucky to have this kind of free cultural event - I can't remember the last time I heard a classically trained professional play in Melbourne or Dublin for free (not counting Irish "fiddle dee dee" music). It seems classical music, literature, jazz and other expressions of supposedly "highbrow" culture are more part of Poland's national consciousness than in other countries, or perhaps it is just keenness to exploit one of their few internationally recognised citizens?
I had purposely not booked any accommodation, preferring to take it one day at a time and book as I went. So I needed to buy a Polish SIM card for my phone, to save precious złoty on mobile calls to hostels and tourist offices. Gosia told me to go to any kiosk and ask for a "Starter". Unfortunately, that was the only word I knew, so I put on my most inquiring tone of voice and said, "Starter, prosze?", to which the first two kiosk vendors replied...well, something long in Polish involving "Nie", so I figured they didn't have any. The third one did, and she handed me a box with Polish written on it, but two numbers (thank goodness for the universality of Arabic numerals!) on it, one of which I assumed was the price. There was a 5, and a 29. I figured 5 złoty was too cheap for a SIM (just over one euro) so I gave the woman 30 złoty, to which she said "Nie nie nie nie!" and pointed to the five. I handed over five złoty and gave thanks for the honesty of the Polish - had that been Spain or Argentina they would have grabbed the 30 złoty without even smiling.
Armed with my new communications device, it was time to make a move. Warszawa had been kind to me, but I was keen to keep moving and get some momentum up. I hauled my rucksack onto my back, slung my backpack onto my front, and, walking very very carefully keeping the "Peru Nose Incident" in mind, I toddled off to Warszawa Centralna. I had my Interrail pass (which thankfully was not still on the kitchen counter) meaning I didn't need to have a scary "ticket buying in Polish" moment just yet. Once I had the train timetable figured out, I was on my way to Lublin.
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