Wandering within Warsaw

Warsaw had problems with the airport for the last few days (closed due to fog) and as such I am spending a full day here to break up my journey, visit some old friends, and take In some historical sights.

Yesterday when I left you, gentle Reader, I was off to the main square in Brussels to meet up with a friend of mine for a beer. As luck would have it, she too had an international flight (to London) at just about the same time that I did. So, our plan was to meet, drink, go to the airport together, drink some more, and board our planes.

The plan went pretty much like that, except that I did not expect to drink as much as I did. We were to meet at 10:30AM, which is not my normal libation hour, but I reasoned that it was late afternoon somewhere, and it was a Friday, and I would not be able to enjoy fresh tap local Belgian beer for breakfast in Brussels another time soon… so, armed with an air-clad justification for drinking in the morning, I sat in the pub and waited for my friend.

My friend is a Swedish attorney who several years ago happened to live in Fairfield County, Connecticut, where I am from. She arrived about half an hour late, but quickly caught up to me in full, fishbowl-sized glasses of dark, rich, frothy beer. I had ordered the medium, and when the man brought me a stemmed glass the size of a soccer ball I was not sure if I could drain it. Once I tasted it, however, I realized that it (and as it happened, the next three) would pose little problem.

So we sat and jawed for about two hours, until she, Katarina, told me that it was time to leave. But before we left, we had to see the famous pissing boy of Belgium. I had heard of this saucy fellow, who stands weeing a healthy and impressive stream from his member, into a fountain, but I had not seen it and indeed, did not even realize it was in Brussels. So we walked two blocks to view it. It looked about what one could reasonably expect from a statue of a little boy peeing. Then we headed for the train. I should note that cobblestone is lovely but not ideal for a pull piece of luggage.

When I was walking at a quick pace along the cobblestone, carrying my day bag and dodging Belgians and tourists in their own mad dash to get wherever they were going, I became acutely aware of the intoxicating consequences of the aforementioned beer. As much as I had enjoyed it at the time, it was playing havoc with my motor skills along the busy pedestrian walkway. Still, we managed to get on the train, disembarked at the airport, and I made my way through security.

They took away my hair gel and my Tom’s of Maine toothpaste, so I suppose I will have halitosis and unkempt hair for the next week. No matter. I will fit right in to where I am going.

I met Katarina on the other side of the gates and we sat to enjoy another beverage. I decided to change my game plan a little, and so I had a different type of beer. It went down smoothly. I felt comfortable as I was near to my boarding gate, and there were plenty of people there. Suddenly, though, the gate was completely empty. I maneuvered over to the gate (“walking” would be a stretch) and spoke the last remaining employee there, who mercifully and surprisingly allowed me to enter the plane. When I got to the bottom of the tube leading to the plane the door was being closed.

I plopped down in the first chair that I found, next to a very nice older Polish woman who spoke enthusiastically. Unfortunately she was not talking to me. She was telling, I now understand, the flight attendant to move me. I had sat in the first class area and, as it happens, on her coat. So I was transferred to another seat, deposited there, next to a window, and the only ting I remember about the two hour flight was that I once managed to speak the word “water” to someone, who brought it to me. Half of it went in me and half on me.

If I had to guess I would say that I snored loudly.

I landed in Warsaw and collected my bags, including the darling pink backpack, and met my friend Iwona at the airport. Iwona is a doctor in Warsaw, and was my student several years ago. I also saw her once in Krakow three years ago when I was passing through Poland on another trip. She took me to the apartment of her brother, Marek, who is a physicist and astronomer. He specializes in black hole mass. In fact he has just returned from a trip to China, where he and three other Polish scientists attended a symposium on some sort of scientific matter, and where he took thousands and thousands of photographs. He had wanted to take the Trans-Siberian Express but in the end he flew.

I ate, slept, and woke fully rested after the best sleep I have had in weeks. Now I am on my way to visit an old cemetery, and then, to the Jewish ghetto from World War Two. Tomorrow I will be headed for Romania.