Poland - 1st Dec '08

Yesterday I stepped out into the blackness and walked the thrilling walk, backpack looking for its rightful resting place after nearly a year under the bed, to the train station. I thought I was better than the few I passed that morning. A few teenagers walking home. A cleaner on his drive around the paved undercover streets.

The flight touched down at Balice airport, eleven kilometres outside of Krakow centre, to applause. It had been a rocky descent. The English speaker on the microphone said, "No need for applause, I do this everyday". A nice joke from the steward who had earlier jovially danced with a female passenger, as he helped her to stow away her hand luggage.

I walked with my heavy backpack for over an hour, looking for a hostel. It had been easy finding the market square but I intended to find one a little cheaper further out. I gave up and found a lovely one, with an equally lovely receptionist, on the corner of the old town square. Tired I decided to push myself and walked the streets, beer in hand. On my second can a car pulled up and some young guys spoke to me in Polish. When I said I only spoke English they told me to come over and one jumped out. They were policemen.

"You are not allowed to drink oouside of the restaurant"

"Oh I'm sorry, I didn't know"

"Fine... you give fine... one hundred... you have?"

"No, I don't have", I looked subservient and chastened.

"I'll put it in the bin", I said, and unsure if he'd let me get away with it walked towards my redemptive vessell ten metres away. I wandered without looking back.

I drank in the Carpe Diem Klub, where Harleys hung from the ceiling and were parked on tables. The youngsters danced jive and rock'n'roll, like it was a long standing trend in these parts. They were great. I thought it hard for me to carpe diem on my first night and wandered to another basement club.

I sat at the bar and watched the two young female tenders chat with the young couple sitting at the bar. The girl looked into my eyes, demonstrating to the tender the point at which an erotic photo on the wall had been taken in relation to the body, putting her hand up to her breast and turning her body. Drunkenly looking into her eyes at that moment, she took my gaze, looking back and pausing a little as she spoke.