Literally in Poland/Germany/Netherlands/Belgium (the long ashcloud trip home part 2)
Once we got off the bad roads it seemed that Eurostar added an extra train. About half an hour later everyone on the bus had a ticket, so we were all going to Brussels. It made the trip fairly easy (as easy as it can be with no real room) from there on in, most people slept, myself and some others tried of Garfield one and two, and then started buying DVDs at services. I now own a German copy of the Hangover.
Our only major stop was for dinner. We asked our drivers to stop somewhere nice and they somehow found the worst Service station in Germany. I had something that was like a hamburger but tasted like how I assume my own ass does. The best service station was one in Poland, it had an aviary that was hidden.
Other than a few trips to services in Germany and Holland, we just pushed on. In Germany we refused to pay to piss, so we ended up pissing near the woods, myself and another guy separated, so we didn’t look like we were about to suck each other off, and he thought he saw a bear. Even a bear ate him, it surely would have better than being arrested in Germany for public sodomy.
I don’t sleep much on things that move, so when he hit the hard over night part of the trip I listened to smodcasts by Kevin Smith and Scott Mosier while everyone else was asleep. Without the smodcasts I have no idea what I would have done. Luckily I came late to the smodcasts, so I had hours of old ones to get through, and even luckier still, my iphone held strong. Somehow Kevin Smith’s brilliant bullshit and Scott Mosier’s deadpan stylings were a perfect match for a packed snoring bus.
When we hit Brussels we had more problems, our bus driver was obviously falling asleep at the wheel. Most people on the bus were asleep, but for those of us awake, we were shitting ourselves. He was drifting between lanes, and because of road works, was struggling to know where he was going at all. For the first time that trip I put my seat belt on. I’d like to thank the drivers though, they decided to make a few bucks instead of watching their president get buried, hooray for capitalism.
19 hours after we set off he got us to the hotel that was organized for everyone else (we had an apartment booked, but they weren’t open over night) to sleep and shower in during the day. We stayed for a bit before making our way to our hotel. We formed amazing blitz style friendships on that bus, but I don’t think we’ve had contact from anyone since we left that hotel.
It was a great trip considering how bad it could have been. Even if 14 hours in it didn’t feel like it.
When we told people about it, they always countered with stories of what happened to friends. Everyone could recite a story worse than yours, “That’s nothing, in Uzbekistan my friend had to crawl through broken glass for 2 miles before fighting an ex-Israeli paratrooper with a switch blade for the last seat on the bus, and when she got on the bus she realised someone had brought several deadly snakes on the bus and they’d got loose…”
We still had our 19 hour ash cloud battle scars, there was integrity in our journey, even if our asses were sore.
After a well deserved nap, we had a look around Brussels. We found a café with beer and steak, and just relaxed. Until “It’s oh so quiet” by Iceland’s own Bjork started playing. It was a cruel joke, even if it was an accident.
Literally in Poland/Germany/Netherlands/Belgium (the long ashcloud trip home part 1)
When we first heard about the Ashcloud we couldn’t believe our luck. By leaving for the wedding early we’d managed to arrive without any delay. We even felt sorry for all those who hadn’t made it over.
That lasted about 24 hours, and then we realised that the ash wasn’t going anywhere.
Our first foray into seeing how we could get home was on Friday afternoon; it involved working out if there were ships from Sopot, where we were, via Denmark or anywhere else, to the UK. That lasted about 20 minutes. I learnt a bit about Denmark and cruise ships, but nothing that could get us home.
Then one of the other wedding guests (one that would go on to put a nappy on my head the next night) contacted us and told us of their plan to get hire a bus and drivers to take us to somewhere near a train or ferry to the UK.
Short of any other options, we decided that this cross continent trip would be the best for us, and then when we were near the UK we’d hopefully get a train or ferry across. During the wedding, before the Vodka took over, we did as much recruiting as we could to fill the bus, and we ended up with 16 people on the bus.
The morning after most people had hangovers; I was fine, being so drunk the night before I passed out early and had a huge sleep. Plus I don’t really get hangovers from spirits. There were so many conversations going on at once with everyone with a computer trying to book a train from Brussels once we knew he was going and who wasn’t.
People were trying not to get upset with each other, especially as no one really knew each other that well. You could hear the tension (and smell the hangovers). Anyone on a computer was under maximum pressure to find seats.
Ofcourse there was no seats available.
So we set off leaving the groom and the groom’s father to try and book something for us. We left for Calais, with an eye on Brussels. It seemed like everyone on the bus had some agent trying to find us tickets on anything, and we were first.
It was Sunday afternoon (the day Poland’s president was buried), but my sister in law found tickets on a train for Wednesday morning. But only for my wife and I. We thought about it for a second and then decided to take them so we knew we could get home. The only problem we would have was if no one else could find tickets from Brussels. Due to the driving restrictions of Polish drivers they could only take the bus to Brussels or Calais, not both.
That was still a long way off, we hadn’t got out of Poland yet, and by the state of the roads, that was never a certain bet. I’ve traveled a fair bit on unmade roads in Australia, this was way worse. Mostly their roads were fine, but one bit of freeway seemed to be made of broken bits of concrete.
My wife was trying to sleep during this bit, but her head was flying around and smacking down on my shoulder. That said, it still took her a while to wake up, I couldn’t believe she didn’t have a broken nose by the end. If I was a wife basher this information would have come in handy.
Literally in Poland (Mourning)
We arrived in Poland only a few days after the Katyn air disaster. I knew very little about Polish history going in, but arriving at a country just after the President dies is a weird time. It wasn’t just their president as I would find out. It was a big part of their political, cultural and historical elite.
As wiki states it: “In addition to Kaczyński and his wife Maria, on board were the military joint chiefs of staff (army, air force, navy), the national bank governor, a deputy foreign minister, head army chaplain, head of the National Security Bureau, three deputy parliament speakers, Olympic Committee head, head civil rights commissioner and at least two presidential aides and widely known national lawmakers (including core members of the Law and Justice party), the Polish foreign ministry said.”
That is a fair slice of important people. It doesn’t even account for everyone, as it doesn’t mention people like Anna Walentynowicz (the Polish Rosa Parks). A woman who started a revolution against shithouse communism. Not that I am against communism as such, just shithouseness. I deplore shithouseness, and I’m not afraid to say it.
Anna Walentynowicz
All these people were traveling to a place like Katyn to mourn the fact that over 60 years ago a similar tragedy happened when the Russians killed the Polish officers. The suck never ends.
It would be hard for me to say that Poland was in mourning, as I’ve never been to Poland before, so I have no real judgment on that. But I can say that while I was there I saw more flags flying than I had seen in any country in my life, and I’ve been to America. It did seem quiet for a thriving city.
at the shipyard
The wedding we were going to was even going to stop booze as a sign of respect, the priest who was supposed to do the actual service did pull out.
It was an interesting time to be in Poland.
At almost every major Gdansk landmark there were these lanterns lined up. Including the Neptune statue and he didn’t die.
At the shipyard there were heaps of people just coming in with lanterns, flags, pictures and drawings. Old ladies were surrounded by school children. Everyone was quiet and solumn, I started taking heaps of photos, but then I felt bad, so I just let them mourn.
The Gdansk local council didn’t let them mourn, and so while these people cried for their country and lit these lanterns and put up these flags three council workers picked up the lanterns and everything else and put them in a bin. It was very odd.
It was also a good show of what Poland was, because someone was making a fortune off these lanterns, and the council was still cold hearted enough to throw this stuff away while people mourned around them.
We sort of did the shipyard wrong, because even though these people were very emotional it hadn’t touched me much, but straight after I went to the Shipyard museum and I could see why these people were all hurting.
The museum was as good a civil rights or historical museum as I had been to. So thorough and touching and with some amazing videos (including watching a government official run over a striking worker). There were jackets with bullet holes in them for fuck’s sake. We must have been in there for a few hours and that whole time there was only one other person in there.
It was a full on museum and at the end you had to write what you thought of freedom and then read what someone else had said about freedom.
I think I said a lack of freedom is fucked up, and funnily enough the one I got back said what Polish translators thought was “a lack of freedom is ass. Or they thought the person was illiterate, either was apt for me.
The whole museum is underground and just a few hundred feet away from the Shipyards where Iron Wall began to fall. For such an important museum in your countries history you’d think it would have been in a huge building right next door, not hidden away with only a tank at the entry so you know you’re in the right place.
I’d suggest anyone going to Gdansk should check it out.
Or you could just find this boat.
This is my kinda boat.
Literally In Poland (Service & Airports)
This is my attempt to illustrate what happened to me when I went to Poland. I apologise now for burying the lead, but you’ll have to wait a couple of days for me to get to the minibus ride.
I cannot mention my trip without talking about the Gdansk airport, which was stunningly efficient. You essentially walked 50 yards to get off the plane to the Border Control, which had lines for EU, Polish and everyone else. Then was a 20 metre walk to the baggage, before about another 40 steps or so until you get to the taxi rank.
If only all smaller airports could be made so user friendly.
When I first got to Gdansk central, were in the main square in old town, I was quite excited as everywhere I looked I saw signs for Amber. This soon went when I realised that the Amber was not beer, but actual Amber, as in the sap from trees. I ended up buying dice made of Amber as that seemed like the right tourist thing to do.
One of my favourite things about Gdansk was the difference in service. You either got white glove American style treatment, or you got Iron Curtain rudeness. It was great, the majority of the service was white glove, but the minute you were off the main drag your chances of getting a smile was limited.
A personal favourite was the woman who ran a corner shop watching my wife and I try and pick up all the items we bought and put them in our pockets while she stared at us with utter contempt.
But our best experience had to be the restaurant.
One night we couldn’t work out where to eat so we rolled my new Amber dice to work out where to go to dinner. The place the dice picked had changed into a Buddha Wanky Western style restaurant so we kept walking for a while until we found a classy looking place with a menu we could get behind.
It is important to say that upon walking in there were two waitresses and a corridor so it seemed like a good enough place.
Without a word being spoken we were taken into the restaurant proper where we were the only people there. And this wasn’t some modern place; this was some gothic medieval type shit. With large backed ornate chairs. Arched ceilings. Old sculptures. Waitresses in ye olde Polish dresses and Seal playing on the radio. We certainly didn’t feel kissed like a rose.
The two waitresses were talking to each other and chain smoking. It was such a welcoming environment.
I couldn’t think of a worse place to be the only customers in. It was like we were in a Polish Hammer film, and had Christopher Lee come out it would have been the least surprising thing about the place.
We order off the near mute Waitress, and our food came out. My entrée was of a spectacularly low standard, I’m pretty sure I could have got better from a supermarket.
While waiting for our mains there was some sort of banging going on in the kitchen, this banging could only be the head of someone being rammed into a wall. It went on for ages as Whitney Houston songs played (except for a brief time when there were two radios playing two different tunes at once).
But the main meals were even better. I think I counted 10 different vegetables on my plate plus three lots of fruit. My wife’s meal just had random fruit stuck all over it, and all of this seemed to be because they were hiding the fact there was no real main to the main course.
What was there was a shocking meal that was hardly worth eating.
The whole meal took forever as the waitresses never really came over and then making the food was not a quick process. It also seemed like longer as we were waiting for our deaths.
Even after our mains had gone there was still a banging in the kitchen, and since there was no more food to be cooked you the battered head theory was probably right.
All we had to do from there on in was get the waitresses attention and pay the bill. By now the two green dressed waitresses were so busy in conversation that getting their attention was almost impossible, plus both of us were frightened of looking rude while the thudding noise was going on in the kitchen.
Eventually we got their attention, paid the bill, and ran out of there to a local pizza place (In Poland there seems to be pizza places on almost every corner) and ate two whole meals while laughing about how lucky we were to be alive.
Look at his fly, haha, his fly is undone. Sucks to be you fly down dude.
Now for the close up.
(All these are my original photos.)
the longer than anticipated trip to Poland
On Wednesday I went to Poland.
On Sunday I went to Germany.
On Monday I went to Holland and then Belgium.
On Wednesday I came back to London.
That is the spine of it, but there is much more to tell you, but i’ll put it like this for now, I may never listen to a sigur rós album again.
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