Krakow, Poland

I spent this weekend in the incredible city of Krakow, Poland. 

 

We left Prague Thursday morning (and by "we" I mean about 80 students), and arrived in Krakow a whopping eight hours later. Our bus driver was probably the most the energetic, charming, and talented driver I've ever seen. He dutifully waved at every bus that passed us, and wove in and out of traffic without a care in the world. Oh, and he managed to parallel park the beast of a bus as if it was a smart car or something. I have no idea. He was amazing. 

Thursday night we were all pretty exhausted and hungry from the drive, so we meandered out of the hotel and stumbled upon a gem of an Indian restaurant just outside Krakow's main square. I'm not kidding when I say it was a gem. It was cozy, comfy, and exactly what we needed after the day's travels. 

Friday morning I woke up bright and early, only inclined to get out of bed because I knew there was free breakfast waiting in the hotel lobby for me. Food has amazing powers. If you give me food, I will probably do anything for you. Yes, it's that big of a deal. After stuffing my belly with the infamous yogurt that is so common around Eastern Europe (as well as a few crepes, shh), the group set out on a tour to see the the oldest parts of Krakow. Our guide was a middle aged Polish woman that looked Venezuelan, but spoke perfect Czech and would repeat the phrase "so this is what I would like to tell you" before telling us anything. She also liked to call her tours of downtown Krakow "ABC" tours, or "Another Bloody Church" because there are so many churches there (140 Catholic churches to be exact). She was adorable. 

We toured all around downtown Krakow, including the main square, the oldest street, and the Wawel Cathedral (pronounced Vavel). The main square has this huge building in it that was originally used to buy and sell textiles. It's now been renovated into a shopping area with boutiques and restaurants, but the middle is devoted to little Polish trinkets and souvenirs. 

Old Textile Trading House 

Some of the little trinkets sold in the textile markets

The Wawel Cathedral was located right in the middle of old town atop Wawel Hill (fitting, right?). This Roman Catholic church is extremely important in all of Poland, as it is the coronation site of all the Polish monarchs, as well as the place where Pope John Paul II was ordained into priesthood. So, kind of a big deal. I guess. Outside the Cathedral there was this adorable little man playing an accordion and singing what I assumed to be traditional Polish folk songs. He was so friendly, I'm pretty sure he could have been Santa in disguise, working a bit in the off season.
 

The Cathedral had so much history, and so many interesting aspects, there's no way I could describe them all here. It will have to suffice to say that it was outstandingly beautiful, both inside and out. I wasn't allowed to take pictures inside, but the couple I took of the outside don't begin to do it justice. 

Wawel Cathedral. Wowza.

After our tour of the city, we explored around the square for a little, stopping for lunch a falafel place (not the best in the whole world) and a little shop that sold ice cream and dessert waffles. Imagine our surprise when we discovered they also sold donuts that were as big as a human face. Doughy, glazed, deliciously filled donuts. I'm pretty sure this place was a small section of heaven. The donut was enough for five girls (barely), but we just simply weren't satisfied so we came back again on friday and indulged in the waffles. Warm and fresh off the grill, mine came with strawberry jam, whipped cream, and some of the thickest milk chocolate I've ever seen. I mean, does it really get better than that? No. The answer is no it doesn't.



Thursday I also visited the Salt Mines. The tour was incredibly fascinating, but a little long for my taste. We were down in the depths for two hours, and only saw about 1% of the entire mine. I can't even wrap my head around how huge that is! By far the best part of the salt mine experience was the opportunity to lick every single thing around you. Yep, that's right, I said lick it. Lick the stairs, the wall, the floor, you name it, because it's all made of SALT. Licking the wall was disgusting but satisfying at the same time...I tried not to think too hard about how many people had probably licked that wall before me. Gross. But it was so worth it because, really, how often in a lifetime are you invited to lick walls? 

 The night ended with an amazing feast at a traditional Polish restaurant. It was a giant four-course meal, with the star attraction being a huge platter of roasted chicken, dumplings, cabbage rolls, mashed potatoes, and steamed vegetables. It's safe to say I was close to bursting out the seams that night. Oh, and I can't forget the warm apple piecake for dessert. I say "piecake" because it was trying really hard to be pie, but just didn't quite make the cut. Thus, piecake. 

Saturday was a very sobering and emotionally intense day. I visited the concentration camps at Auschwitz and Birkenau, and even reflecting on it now I don't think there's a single word or expression that could accurately summarize my experience there. It almost doesn't seem real in a way. There were thousands of people there, walking the same paths, going through the same buildings as the prisoners did not so many years ago. The tour was very defined and informative, without much emotional intimacy, which was better in a way I think. It gave the facts. 

The only times I was aware of any strong emotion was when we walked through a room where hundreds of suitcases had been piled. The suitcases belonged to the traveling Jews who thought they would be going home someday. Many had written their addresses on them, in case they were lost or stolen along the way. They really had no idea. The other time was when we walked through a hallway lined with photographs of the actual prisoners. Those things--the suitcases and the photographs, made everything so real. So tangible. I think the events of the Holocaust are often talked about in very abstract terms, which makes it challenging to really feel the intense disgust I felt seeing those items. In a class room it's easy to feel hatred and to feel sadness and even maybe pity. But being there in the camps, being present where these people were once present, that is entirely different. 

"Even alive prisoners looked like dead ones."

The rest of Saturday we roamed around downtown Krakow, and eventually went back to the Indian restaurant for dinner (apparently I was a creature of habit on this trip...not much variety food-wise. But it was just so good!). Sunday morning was a small tour of the Jewish Quarter and the area where the infamous movie Schindler's List was filmed. It was cold and rainy, so our tour guide let us do most of the tour from the bus. I told you she was amazing. She was choc-full of interesting facts about people that lived in the Jewish Quarter. Apparently Estée Lauder, the beauty and cosmetic icon, was Hungarian Jewish and spent some time in the Krakow ghetto. The most astonishing fact was that of the 70,000 Krakow Jewish people sent to camps in WWII, only 5,000 made it out alive. The magnitude of those numbers still shock me. 

The drive back feels like a blur now, with the in and out of sleep and the endless green pastures that boarded the highway. This weekend was an incredible experience, and I feel beyond blessed that I had the opportunity to travel to a place so rich with history and culture. But as we pulled into the bus station in Prague early evening on Sunday, the beautiful feeling of familiarity came over me. This is my place now. This is my town.
I was home. 

Does This Make Me More Holy?

Today I decided to go to church. 

Many, but not all of you, know that I was raised Catholic. Up until the age of 18, when my parents deemed me old enough to determine whether or not I wanted to attend Mass, nearly every Sunday at 4:30pm you could find me kneeling in the pews of Holy Name Catholic Church. I think like many people my age, church wasn't something I particularly looked forward to. I've always considered myself a spiritual person, but the whole "being condemned to hell for sinning" thing was just a little too literal for my taste.

But, as I've realized, it's all about perspective.

And today, at St. Thomas' Church Catholic Church, I gained some serious perspective.

Yes, this is St. Thomas' Church. This is where I attended one of the most spiritually stimulating Masses I think I will ever attend. It's not that anything extra special happened, or that the priest was extra holy. Besides the fact that people don't hold hands during Our Father, and sing barely loud enough for anyone to hear, this Mass was ceremoniously equivalent to any other I'd been to. And it was this exact "sameness" that made the Mass so special for me. It made me feel safe and nostalgic. Like I was home. I barely held it together when the choir announced we'd be singing 'On Angel's Wings,' which is my Mom's favorite church song. I stared remembering those good ol' Mass days--when my Dad would turn heads with his laugh, and my brother would create dance moves and sing at the top of his lungs to the choir songs. 

 

And I decided then and there that church for me is not so much about what is literally said, but the message that I can take away from it. Maybe I don't agree with everything the Catholic Church has to say (I don't), but I liked the feeling of being there, and observing the fact that there is something greater than myself. Going to church today made me feel good. And best of all, attending was a decision I chose to make. That in itself makes it far more eventful than being dragged kicking and screaming each week. So does that make me more holy? I don't know. But it's given me a newfound appreciation and perspective on what it really means to "be religious." 

This week was also eventful in the sense that I helped celebrate my wonderful roommate's 21st birthday. Considering the fact that she's legally been able to drink since getting here, 21 wasn't as crazy as it might have been in the States. But she was still spending this birthday away from her family and her boyfriend, so we wanted to do something to show her it could still be special! We started planning weeks in advance for a surprise party--ordering a cake from her favorite bakery (Bakeshop Praha, which I've mentioned in here before), getting decorations, talking to her boyfriend about presents, and making sure she wouldn't catch on. She is very sharp. We honestly came up a rebuttal for every possible protest she could have had to us bringing her back to the house for the 'surprise.' But in the end, it was an incredible success. 

My beautiful roommates, Abi and Lacey (the Birthday Girl!)

We had dinner at a quiet restaurant on the Vltava River, where I witnessed hundreds of ducks take flight simultaneously take flight. In the dim evening night, it was nothing short of breathtaking. The meal was amazing, as every meal here has been. The best part was definitely once we got home and Lacey was greeted with a fully decorated living room, our friends from upstairs, and (of course) the most perfect cake. Seeing the joy and absolute surprise on her face made it so worth it! It was an incredible evening, and I felt so blessed to be able to share it with her on her birthday. 

"Happy Birthday Lacey" in Czech

Oh, and the cake was divine too. Layers of chocolate cake and mousse, with the occasional hidden gem of a coffee bean. Perfection, I know. 

And the Beaming Birthday Girl!!

And on an entirely different note: this week also included a visit to a klub (club, just in case you couldn't tell). This klub, all five stories of it, just happened to be the same one that the movie EuroTrip was filmed at. I'm not going to lie, heading there I was pretty excited! I do love to shake my groove thang occasionally, just like any good person. I'm just going to come out with it though and say that the klub was...meh. Absolutely nothing special. Someone had rented out the top two floors (who DOES that?!), and the bottom floor (an Ice Pub) costed more money, which left only two open dancing floors. With the choices being 'Oldies' or a crappy version of 'techno-dance-dubstep.' It was fun for a while, and I really loved dancing to "Footloose" on the Oldies floor, but Thursdays are apparently not a huge night for the klub, and it honestly felt like we were the only ones there. Which is fine by me because my dancing tends to take up a lot of space, but after a while the vibe just got dull. The only reason I would ever go back is if Mason or my brother wanted to go, but other than that my experience with the supposedly most amazing klub was none other than unsatisfactory. Take that EuroTrip. 

And now, just because food is life and pictures of food make everyone happy, I've included me eating the most gigantic and amazing falafel pita. For around $3.50, I got this monster. And yes, I did eat the whole thing. No, I did not use a fork. Life on the edge folks. 

"And whatever you do, make sure it makes you happy. " 

Čau for now!