The Inescapable Vortex that is Krakow

First, let me call your attention to the links at right, the first being my (apparently) long awaited pictures. Flickr somehow ate a bunch of them, and/or my memory card failed me horribly. But this is what I have left. Also, Nino's blog is linked if anyone feels like reading about Europe through the eyes of a married man. His last entry on the validity of the "hot Italian woman" stigma is actually a pretty worthwhile read. If you're not an Italian woman, that is.

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Ahhh Krakow. I arrived there a couple weeks ago, and fell in love almost immediately. Well, that's not true actually. In fact, I was out until after 3am the night before, and had to get up early for a 9am train out of Prague. Made the train no problem, and slid directly into a sleep as deep as the Mariana. That was fine, until I woke up at 12:40 to a heated pantomime display from a local Czech guy who'd apparently been sharing my cabin. I eventually, and painfully discern that he wants to see my ticket, and I'm mostly just wishing he'd shut up so I can go back to sleep. After about 3 more minutes of wild gesticulations, I learn that I passed my transfer about 70 minutes ago. Due to some unfortunate train schedules and delays, that little snafu cost me about 8.5 hours of my life that I'll never get back. But if there's one thing I have a lot of these days: it's time.

By the time I arrived in Krakow, it was about 11pm, and it was pouring. Worst part; I had planned on asking the information counter where my hostel was located, but now that it was late, the booth had closed. So, by the time I actually found my hostel, I was gnawing on the insides of my face to get a drink in me. And no, the three Kozels I had on the train with the nice, though equally snobbish gay guy from Brown were not sufficient.

First, the hostel: I thought I'd hate it. I'd never stayed in one before, but there are as many, if not more hostels in Krakow than there are hotels, and I figured it'd be a good way to meet people and that I should try it once. And I have to say, hats off to the Flamingo in Krakow. Granted, I felt compelled to tell everyone I was 26 at first. To which the most common response was "Really? I would have guessed 23 or 24." No shit. I'd like to think this had everything to do with my youngish complexion, although I tend to lean towards thinking it probably says much more about my maturity level when I'm not surrounded by double-pleated Managing Directors with overactive Blackberries. Or is it Blackberrys? That's actually a decent question. Does the y change to an ie when used as a proper noun? Someone? Anyone? Sure, there are many strawberries in that field over there, but had there been many Darryl Strawberry(ie?)s on the Mets in the 80's, we'd have won a lot more titles. And that's true too, by the way. We would have. That guy was nasty.

But as for the hostel, it was clean, well run, safe, and it felt exactly like living in a dorm again. And I mean that in a good way. Mostly. People are over-the-top friendly, perhaps because they have to be (especially if travelling alone), and you immediately have people to go out with. Though there's a flipside to the hostel coin; that being that people are over-the-top friendly, and you immediately have people to go out with. Rather than survey the scene and pick out some fun people, it's somewhat of a potluck hinging on who is in the common room at the time the drinks start getting poured. And then you're stuck with those people, for better or worse, for the rest of the night.

For me, this worked out pretty well, actually. Generally speaking, people who travel in either a small group for long periods of time, and/or by themselves (like me) seem to be the coolest motherfuckers on the face of this here Earth, son!!!! Actually, they do seem to be generally good peeps with interesting stories and such. However, there are also those that think they know everything about everyplace, and you often find the conversation frequently being jolted back to Dublin or Stockholm and you're left wondering why. When you eventually find out that those are the only two places they've ever been that don't rhyme with bouquet*, all becomes clear.

Then there's the inevitable "where you from?" round table that takes place every time a new crop rolls in:

"Hi, I'm Lisa from Sydney and I like to ride bikes and drink."
"Yea, I'm Fernando from Cuidado de Mexico and I like tacos and mustaches."
"Yea, I'm Toby from Leeds and I like to fuck Australian girls because they're always drunker than I am."
Lisa: "Hey, know where I got the drunkest ever and got rooted by a whole water polo team in an elevator once? In Stockholm, the best city ever!!!"

These are the times I wish there was a W hotel in Poland. And I'll post a whole list of new words I've learned in the next few days. That'll be fun.

But in this case, I got hooked up with this 25 year old nurse named Colette from North Carolina, and a 22 year old history major named Matt out of Arizona St. Good times, and probably half the reason why my two day Krakow plan morphed into eight. But as a team, we wanted nothing to do with leaving. One day ran into the next, and each day the girl at the front desk would ask me if I was checking out. By day five, I would just leave 65 zloty in an envelope with a heart on it and they knew the deal. Smooth as sandpaper, baby. I remember when I showed up and they told me that after six nights, the seventh is free, and I thought to myself "like I'm staying in a hostel for seven straight days..."

They know. They know all too well the allure of Krakow.

What's so attractive about Krakow, you ask? I mean, besides the women? To that effect, the Polish women are easily recognized by their above-average height and insanely light eyes. But beyond that, the food of Poland is outstanding. Especially this place. Don't let their retarded website fool you; I ate there 4 times and was never anything but overwhelmed.

Lastly, the clubs and the music scene in Krakow is phenomenal. The clubs are all subterranean, brick labyrinths with stylish decor and great music and sound. I could not believe how many great DJs I heard mixing in these places. Granted, it's not NYC, London, or just about anywhere in Spain, but for Poland... I was pleasantly surprised. Kind of like when you are hooking up with a chick who's chest you thought was mostly bra, and you come to find out there's a good deal of honesty in there. I didn't really expect much in the way of clubs and lounges, and thought the tourist district around Market Sq would bring about some shitty joints... but I stood corrected, and I may just call this girl back. Krakow definitely earned a second date.

Many places feign a door policy, and I've actually seen a few knobs get turned away, only to find about 200 more inside. In fact, the door policy is more a way to screen for foreigners and charge them cover. Saying "hello" in Polish is evidently so difficult for foreigners, that all a Polish person needs to do is walk up and say "Czesc" and they're in for free. Luckily, we had a polish girl with us a few nights and she managed to enlighten us.

Ok, so basically, Krakow was impossible to leave. Food, music, clubs, good times.

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* - U.K. um, duh.