Jaro and I step off the train, and look at our bleak surroundings. Besides the fact that its after midnight, drizzling, and homeless bums are pandering around the train station, we have no idea where our hostel is.
Let’s see. What did Ewa say? Just look up a map in the city center… Find our street, and go from there. Sounds simple enough.
But where’s the city center? Is there even a city map in the city center? And what if the hostel is on the outskirts of town? Crap. We are completely unprepared for this.
Ok, Jaro is saying. First things first. We find the nearest non-stop and buy a beer. There is no way we are doing this sober.
Agreed.
Two blocks later we enter a non-stop with an old lady behind the counter. She starts talking in this completely non-intelligible language. Oh my god, what is that? That’s Polish, stupid. Oh, right.
At the point that she pauses, when it’s clear she’s just asked both of us a question, I just stare at her, thinking maybe she can read minds. Jaro, on the other hand, has another idea.
Zsu-Zsa-Zsu-Zsa-Zsa-Zsa-Zsa-Zsa-Zsa-Zsa.
The lady is staring at Jaro like a frightened child, and so am I. What are you doing dude?
I’m speaking her language, he hisses back at me.
I wait for the meltdown. C’mon, he just made complete fun of this woman’s language. We’re fucked. I’m watching behind me for the skinheads that are surly going to come to their mama’s rescue.
But the atoms never smash together. Instead, she gives him a wry smile and keeps talking to him. Oh Christ, can we just get out of here? I’m saying. Grab the beers and go before we get into some real trouble.
We pop the tops out in front of the shop, and I’m shaking my head at Jaro. Nice. Just smooth dude.
What? Their language is insane. Might as well make fun of it.
This coming from a guy who’s lived in Hungary for three years, and speaks a fair amount of Hungarian; arguably one of the most difficult and ‘insane’ languages on the planet.
We both take swigs, and then look at each other. Now what? We’re stuck in Wroclaw, with no idea where we are, or how to get to our hostel.
Hmm.
Let’s just start walking that way. I’m pointing up what looks to be a main street, and praying the city center is down that particular way.
We start walking and talking and looking at the architecture, which, as per Central/Eastern European status, is always fun to look at (nevermind those Soviet blockhouses).
After about 20 minutes of walking, with no sense of let-up, I’m worried. This is not going well.
And suddenly, Jaro stops, and says, I have an idea.
Well what is it? It better be genius or we’re in big trouble.
He points to something behind me.
I look over my shoulder and see it: Holiday Inn.
Oh thank god for American chains.
The most important lesson I’ve learned while traveling through Europe: if you ever get lost, get to a hotel and ask directions. No matter how posh the place is, they will help you. And they absolutely will speak English. And since Holiday Inn is in just about every city in Europe (not to mention the States), it makes life easier when you run out of ideas. Plus, they usually have free maps of the city.
It turns out I’m the designated direction asker this trip. You go in, Jaro is saying. I’m going to stay out here and people watch. There’s a small club around the corner of the Holiday Inn that looks to be a teenie-bopper affair. Everyone looks like they’re 12. But they’re all drinking alcohol.
Umm, ok, you do that.
I walk in to the hotel, and don’t even try to act like I know Polish.
Hello, I’m lost. Please help me.
That’s about as clear as it gets.
The guy looks at me, and then whips out a map of the city, and asks in crisp perfect English, Where are you trying to go?
I show him the street name and he nods and bends over the map. Here’s us, he says, pointing to the red dot on the map that looks to be in a central location. It must be a Holiday Inn sponsored map.
Then he starts tracing his other finger from the Holiday Inn red dot on the map, moving farther and farther away from the warmth of the dot. Uh oh.
His finger finally stops. Here we are: Grunwaldzka Street!
I’m staring at the length between his two fingers and it reminds me when Calvin and Hobbes decide to go to the Yukon, and look on a globe and think the couple inches between the Yukon and their home will be no sweat to travel by foot.
Shit. No way are we going to walk that, I’m thinking.
What? He asks, eyes arching.
Umm, that’s far. Do you have night transportation to there?
He blinks, obviously thinking, and then, Of course! Just let me look up the correct line.
This guy is good.
So for the next 15 minutes, the Holiday Inn Front Desk Man is diligently looking up my route. It seems difficult to get there, because it takes him so long to find the line. He’s on the internet, calling people, talking with another attendant. And I didn’t even pay this guy.
Jaro comes in, goes straight to the bathroom.
That’s my friend, I’m telling him, when he gives Jaro the death-what-the-fuck-do-you-think-you’re-doing-using-my-bathroom-when-you’re-not-a-guest look.
Finally: Ok! You walk up this street, get on the first tram. Take it to the bus station. Get on this bus. And it should take you to your street.
So it’s pretty far from here?
Yes.
Damn. Oh well. Jaro finally comes out of the bathroom. So? We know how to get there?
Yup. Let’s go. I turn around to the attendant, and say, Köszi szépen, thanking him in Magyar and forgetting I’m in Poland. He just looks at me with a confused look on his face. You’re welcome? Is all he can say.
Outside in the cold, as we walk towards our fate, Jaro is asking, So what took so long?
We had trouble with the exact night transport route.
Oh. So it’s pretty far huh?
Yeah. Just remind me to kill Ewa the next time I see her.
Let’s see. What did Ewa say? Just look up a map in the city center… Find our street, and go from there. Sounds simple enough.
But where’s the city center? Is there even a city map in the city center? And what if the hostel is on the outskirts of town? Crap. We are completely unprepared for this.
Ok, Jaro is saying. First things first. We find the nearest non-stop and buy a beer. There is no way we are doing this sober.
Agreed.
Two blocks later we enter a non-stop with an old lady behind the counter. She starts talking in this completely non-intelligible language. Oh my god, what is that? That’s Polish, stupid. Oh, right.
At the point that she pauses, when it’s clear she’s just asked both of us a question, I just stare at her, thinking maybe she can read minds. Jaro, on the other hand, has another idea.
Zsu-Zsa-Zsu-Zsa-Zsa-Zsa-Zsa-Zsa-Zsa-Zsa.
The lady is staring at Jaro like a frightened child, and so am I. What are you doing dude?
I’m speaking her language, he hisses back at me.
I wait for the meltdown. C’mon, he just made complete fun of this woman’s language. We’re fucked. I’m watching behind me for the skinheads that are surly going to come to their mama’s rescue.
But the atoms never smash together. Instead, she gives him a wry smile and keeps talking to him. Oh Christ, can we just get out of here? I’m saying. Grab the beers and go before we get into some real trouble.
We pop the tops out in front of the shop, and I’m shaking my head at Jaro. Nice. Just smooth dude.
What? Their language is insane. Might as well make fun of it.
This coming from a guy who’s lived in Hungary for three years, and speaks a fair amount of Hungarian; arguably one of the most difficult and ‘insane’ languages on the planet.
We both take swigs, and then look at each other. Now what? We’re stuck in Wroclaw, with no idea where we are, or how to get to our hostel.
Hmm.
Let’s just start walking that way. I’m pointing up what looks to be a main street, and praying the city center is down that particular way.
We start walking and talking and looking at the architecture, which, as per Central/Eastern European status, is always fun to look at (nevermind those Soviet blockhouses).
After about 20 minutes of walking, with no sense of let-up, I’m worried. This is not going well.
And suddenly, Jaro stops, and says, I have an idea.
Well what is it? It better be genius or we’re in big trouble.
He points to something behind me.
I look over my shoulder and see it: Holiday Inn.
Oh thank god for American chains.
The most important lesson I’ve learned while traveling through Europe: if you ever get lost, get to a hotel and ask directions. No matter how posh the place is, they will help you. And they absolutely will speak English. And since Holiday Inn is in just about every city in Europe (not to mention the States), it makes life easier when you run out of ideas. Plus, they usually have free maps of the city.
It turns out I’m the designated direction asker this trip. You go in, Jaro is saying. I’m going to stay out here and people watch. There’s a small club around the corner of the Holiday Inn that looks to be a teenie-bopper affair. Everyone looks like they’re 12. But they’re all drinking alcohol.
Umm, ok, you do that.
I walk in to the hotel, and don’t even try to act like I know Polish.
Hello, I’m lost. Please help me.
That’s about as clear as it gets.
The guy looks at me, and then whips out a map of the city, and asks in crisp perfect English, Where are you trying to go?
I show him the street name and he nods and bends over the map. Here’s us, he says, pointing to the red dot on the map that looks to be in a central location. It must be a Holiday Inn sponsored map.
Then he starts tracing his other finger from the Holiday Inn red dot on the map, moving farther and farther away from the warmth of the dot. Uh oh.
His finger finally stops. Here we are: Grunwaldzka Street!
I’m staring at the length between his two fingers and it reminds me when Calvin and Hobbes decide to go to the Yukon, and look on a globe and think the couple inches between the Yukon and their home will be no sweat to travel by foot.
Shit. No way are we going to walk that, I’m thinking.
What? He asks, eyes arching.
Umm, that’s far. Do you have night transportation to there?
He blinks, obviously thinking, and then, Of course! Just let me look up the correct line.
This guy is good.
So for the next 15 minutes, the Holiday Inn Front Desk Man is diligently looking up my route. It seems difficult to get there, because it takes him so long to find the line. He’s on the internet, calling people, talking with another attendant. And I didn’t even pay this guy.
Jaro comes in, goes straight to the bathroom.
That’s my friend, I’m telling him, when he gives Jaro the death-what-the-fuck-do-you-think-you’re-doing-using-my-bathroom-when-you’re-not-a-guest look.
Finally: Ok! You walk up this street, get on the first tram. Take it to the bus station. Get on this bus. And it should take you to your street.
So it’s pretty far from here?
Yes.
Damn. Oh well. Jaro finally comes out of the bathroom. So? We know how to get there?
Yup. Let’s go. I turn around to the attendant, and say, Köszi szépen, thanking him in Magyar and forgetting I’m in Poland. He just looks at me with a confused look on his face. You’re welcome? Is all he can say.
Outside in the cold, as we walk towards our fate, Jaro is asking, So what took so long?
We had trouble with the exact night transport route.
Oh. So it’s pretty far huh?
Yeah. Just remind me to kill Ewa the next time I see her.
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