WARSAW, Poland -- Several Hours 8.21

Landed in the Warsaw Airport, which was very nice and quite new-looking, around 10am on 8.21.08. Upon deboarding the airplane the passengers walked up a short series of ramps that were a permanent part of the buildings architecture; I would come to find out that every gate was designed this way. So after walking up the ramps everyone is put on the second floor of the airport, much of which is a network of catwalks with glass panels for walls--very modern. Most of the airport's color-scheme was a palette of different shades between pure white and pure grey, with orange and other colored signs. It may sound funny, but I was very impressed by this airport. I guess when I think of Poland I mostly think of old Polish women with green/olive decorative-print scarves around their hair, acting as a headband in front and laying like a triangle over the top of the head--*not* ultra-mod anything, you know? Anyway, My flight for Denmark was not until 18:10. I had many hours to kill. I ask myself: should I stay in the airport and not risk missing my flight for any number of possible reasons or should I--obviously I found the tourist info desk and was directed on how to get bus tickets and head downtown, which was about a half hour away. The lady selling tickets at the airport convenience store did not speak any English and looked contemptuous of me for not speaking any Polish, even though I used a very humble tone when I asked her if she spoke English. Just as I was about to bow out of the situation a very nice young (early 30s-ish) woman translated for me and I got my tickets and a pack of apple flavored gum, which really sucked and lost its flavor quickly, but that is beside the point...Stored my large backpack at a place you could set-up temporary storage in a different part of the airport.

So. Haha. Anyway, I waited at the wrong bus stop but the bus I needed to be on zoomed past me and stopped at a stop about 50 yards away, I quickly ran to the other bus as a lot of people got on. Getting on the bus I learned things were mostly on the honor system, as you don't show your pass to the bus driver, you simply put it in the little scanner boxes that were scattered thoughout the bus.

The bus ride was interesting; from the airport to the city (40 minute ride) one can see a lot of the outer suburbs, which were not exactly charming actually. There was tons of graffiti everywhere, even on nice-looking apartment buildings and whatnot. Some cool graffiti but for the most part not. The graffiti would pervade the city as well. Now, one of the strangest parts of the Poland excursion: ok, imagine riding the bus, seeing fairly shabby but livable places all the way into the city which is also fairly unattractive, but fairly distinctly Polish (can't define why but this was the genuine feeling). Now insert periodic episodes of being ambushed by George Clinton. Yes, the bust of multicolor-dreadlocked, aging George Clinton was displayed prominently at basically every-other bus stop; I was on safari in Warsaw, hurling though the Polish bush and it felt like I was under threat of a dangerous pack of George Clinton. Needless to say I felt like reality was malfuntioning or something. As I moved into the city this feeling dissipated. I would later see a bus stop poster for a Kraftwerk show, this made me feel better as this matched up with my European expectations much better. Lesson learned: expect the unexpected, or maybe try not to have expectations.

I walked around the fairly unspectacular city, sort of using this very large maybe former-government/church(?) building that had a clock tower on it as my maypole. The weather was a bit grey. I ate at a Cafe--a very good pre-made sandwich, the lady spoke english--and then commenced stroling a walking street with many uninteresting clothing shops among other things, and then ran into some Mormons. Again, Poland, wtf? Turns out they were on their mission trip, as I had silently guessed to myself. One of them was from...don't remember...but what is important to know is that these guys were not converting anyone with their crash-course training in Polish and insistence that the people in this 99% Catholic country convert. They seemed like they were not having a good time at all; Schadenfreude for Nick, who actually chose a cool country to live in for a few months. I walked through a small park nestled between some concrete walls and apartments and this was probably the most pleasing part of my excursion, as the graffiti here was layered and layered, and was nicely juxtaposed to the old trees and grass. From here I went to a magazine shop, discovered that in Europe people get all of the American magazines in translated form. Walked down in the shallow subway halls in order to cross busy streets, which was what most people seemed to be doing. One of the tunnels was filled with an unfamiliar, nice, food-aroma. Near the exit of one tunnel, which led out to a sort of courtyard area, sat a four-piece band comprised of old Polish men. I listened to them for some time; I really enjoyed their music, which included lyrics I did not understand.

On the way to the mall, which was very nice, but extremely American, I ran into a group of young teens whom I bought a pen from to benifit homeless youth in Warsaw. They were cool kids, a bit bashful, but spoke pretty good English.

Back at the airport, where I had to wait 2 more hours before my flight, I found that I was extremely tired and had been up and in daylight for a long time. I had taken off in the evening, in full daylight from New York. After a while on the plane they shut all the windows. I vagely remember seeing what looked like a sunrise when the lady next to me, who had bought a whole bottle of vodka from the Flight Attendant to take home, lifted the window-shade briefly. The later part of the plane trip, windows shades up, arrived to Europe in full morning light...

I was tired, but content.